Chapter Twenty-one
Aidan knew when he pulled into the driveway of Waterford Farm that something was amiss. No, he didn’t expect the drive to be full of cars or the pen to be full of dogs. It was after eight, and the last of the early June day was fading over the mountains in the distance.
But he couldn’t ever remember seeing the place so deserted. He should have texted Dad and told him he was coming over after they finished dinner at Slice. But he was afraid Dad would have turned it into a thing—a late dinner, a couple of drinks, an invitation to crash here.
And the only place Aidan was crashing tonight was at an apartment upstairs from a pizza parlor.
He couldn’t wait to get back to Beck, hopefully with the news that Dad was all over the idea of a Waterford plane to transport rescues. He glanced again at the empty drive, wishing Garrett had hung around, because his support for this project would be massive.
But even the house looked dark, without a light on. Very weird.
Well, if no one was home, he’d get back to Beck sooner and set up something definite tomorrow. Or at Wednesday night dinner, because Liam and Andi were coming with the newborn, or at least stopping by. Maybe he and Beck could get Carly to cover the restaurant and be here instead. He didn’t want to miss…
He gave a dry laugh as he climbed out of the Jeep. Since when were Wednesday night dinners a priority?
Since Beck.
He walked up to the porch, squinting into the kitchen, which was freakishly dark. Not a light over the stove, not one in the distant family room, either. He lifted his hand to knock, then stopped, realizing how wrong that was.
This was his home, but he didn’t have a key.
Still, he reached for the knob, and it turned easily, wide open.
Again, it felt strange to B&E his own home, but he did anyway, stepping inside and opening his mouth to call out and at least warn a sleeping dog that he was here, when he heard a soft chuckle. Then a low, male voice he instantly recognized as the baritone of his father.
But normally that voice boomed. It owned this house and echoed in every corner.
But nothing echoed tonight. Dad’s voice was soft, as if in prayer, and coming from the formal living room where few Kilcannons stepped if it wasn’t Christmas. Aidan headed toward the wide center hall to the front of the house, moving stealthily on instinct.
He didn’t want to startle him, or freak out Rusty, but something deep inside told him he shouldn’t interrupt whatever private moment this was. He paused outside the living room, standing at the bottom of a large staircase wrapped with a bannister he and Garrett used to slide down when no one was looking.
In the living room, still out of his sightline, he heard Dad laugh softly again. Who the hell was he talking to?
“You’d have laughed at Liam if you’d seen him, though. More nervous than I was when you were having him.”
Aidan blinked at that. You? He was talking to…Mom?
“But I was nervous with every one of ’em,” Dad added. After a long pause, Aidan heard the distinct sound of a glass being placed on a wooden end table. The whole scene became as clear in his mind as if he’d taken the last three steps and stood in the arched opening.
Dad, sitting in his favorite chair next to the fireplace, a whiskey, neat, at his side. Mom used to sit in the other chair sometimes, but now only her face was in the room, one of many portraits and family photos that hung on the wall above the fireplace.
And Dad was having a moment with her.
“No, babe, Liam’s certainly not your unhappiest right now. So you can stop worrying about him. Molly, too. You wouldn’t believe how she glows with love.” Another chuckle. “Good thing you whispered Trace Bancroft’s name to me all those years ago. He could have come and gone from Bitter Bark without me knowing and doing my usual wrangling to get those two together.”
At least he openly admitted his matchmaking meddling, Aidan thought with a smile.
“Garrett and Shane are all settled, too, as you know. I’ll be expecting another trip to that hospital for one of those two in a year or so.” He let out a heavy sigh. “You always wanted this place filled with grands, Annie girl. I’m telling you, I’m doing my best. Listening to all your advice.”
Aidan leaned silently against the wall, closing his burning eyes. How had he dared think any of them—especially Dad—had sailed on without the agony of grief? He just hid it well. He was classy and cool and kept his pain secret. At least, until someone walked in on him.
Without moving, he glanced left and right, wondering if he should clear his throat, make a footstep, or slip out as silently as he’d come in.
“Now, Aidan? There’s a problem, babe.”
Or he could stand here and be analyzed by his father and his mother’s ghost.
“Restless as a newborn terrier, looking for something to sink his teeth into, digging in his own emotional dirt.”
Was that what he was doing?
“Suffering from some sort of PTSD, though he’d never admit it.”
Like hell he—
“But I worked some magic. Got some help from someone I suspect you’ve run into up there, but things look good. So you tell Charlie Spencer thanks for me when you see him. I think this girl’s good for Aidan. He’s ready.”
Aidan swallowed, kind of stunned that he’d forgotten how well his father and, when she was alive, his mother, understood their children. It was uncanny, really. And something he should never take for granted.
“Here’s the thing, though, Annie. He’s got one foot out the door. I can’t think of a way to get him to stay, if she doesn’t. And she doesn’t even live here. I know, I know. They don’t all have to be in Bitter Bark. Big family, all adults, it’s crazy to try and leash them up and keep them in our pen.” Another pause, followed by the whiskey thud. “But I need them all,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the only way to bear it without you. The only way.”
When his father’s voice cracked, Aidan looked side to side again, planning his escape. He couldn’t intrude on this. It would embarrass his dad.
As he took a step, his foot made the softest scuff on the wood, and he froze, praying Dad hadn’t heard. But instantly the tap-tap-tap of four paws crossed the living room floor, followed by a quick bark.
Damn. Dad might not have heard, but Rusty had.
He backed up, letting his boot hit the floor with a purposeful thud. “Dad? Gramma? Anyone home?”
Rusty vaulted through the doorway, barking noisily.
“Hey, dude. Where’s your master? This place is like a morgue.” Whoa, that was some bad choice of words, he thought as he got down to rub Rusty’s head and press his face into the fur, composing his emotions.
“Aidan.” Dad came right out behind his dog. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Where is everyone?” He stood slowly, almost afraid to look at his father, half expecting tear-stained cheeks and the red eyes of a drunk on a bender. But he couldn’t have been further from the truth.
His father’s face was its usual color, maybe a tad tanned as the days inched closer to summer. His blue eyes were clear, his smile as real and wide as the day Aidan had come home from the Army. And the hug he got in greeting was as warm as always.
“What are you doing in there?” Aidan asked.
“Finishing up some paperwork. I get bored with the office and need a change of scenery occasionally.”
Right. “Where is everyone? Darcy? Gramma?”
“All at Vestal Valley General with Liam and Andi and baby Fiona.”
“Fiona?” He grinned. “Good Irish name.”
“Fiona Harper Kilcannon,” he said proudly.
“Mom’s maiden name for the middle? Love it.”
Dad beamed. “Isn’t it perfect? I was with her all day, and I can tell you she’s got Andi’s spirit, Liam’s heart, and a heaping dose of that Harper beauty.”
“You could tell this by holding a one-day-old newborn who probably didn’t open her eyes?”
Dad laughed. “No, Liam told me, and anyone in earshot, for that matter. I only held a precious baby. But that was enough, and they all wanted to go to the hospital and have the first family gathering to indoctrinate the child.”
“And no one thought to call me?”
“Pretty sure every one of them called you.”
He’d never looked at his phone. He’d been making pizza and stealing kisses and planning to come over here to talk to Dad without even looking to see if anyone in his family needed or wanted him. The only call he’d cared about was Beck’s, and she had been with him.
“You can probably catch the tail end of the festivities if you leave now.”
For a split second, he considered it. That was how much he didn’t want to miss out on this latest family fun. That was how much he…belonged.
“I would, Dad, but I want to talk to you about something.”
His brows lifted. “Of course.”
Aidan nodded toward the living room. “In there?”
He started to frown, making Aidan think maybe he didn’t want to go in there and have to admit there was no “paperwork” unless it was the label on the whiskey bottle. But then Dad gestured him in. “Sure. I could use the company and a break.”
There was a glass on the table, but it was water. And files were spread out over the coffee table. A pang of guilt threatened, but Aidan tamped it down. He had been talking to Mom—that much wasn’t debatable.
Dad took his seat and gestured for Aidan to sit in that opposite chair. Mom’s chair.
“I’ll sit over here,” he said, choosing the end of the sofa near to Dad’s chair.
His father chuckled softly. “Not one kid will sit there,” he noted. “She wouldn’t mind, you know. But what’s on your mind, Son?”
He took a breath and considered a long-winded build-up and rationale, but knew in his gut it was never wise to beat around the bush with Dad. “I want to do something new and different for Waterford Farm.”
His father’s gaze was steady, but even in the evening light, he could see the twinkle in his eyes. “Go ahead.”
“I think we need a plane. A small, private plane that I could use to take rescues to new homes, to pick up dogs from around the country, and maybe even start an animal air transport service for customers. The K-9 training op would grow if we could reach out to law enforcement beyond North Carolina and we could even fly in private trainees. Liam sometimes has to drive for days to deliver a new schutzhund once he’s trained one, and Trace’s service dog business could really expand.”
The twinkle flashed to a full blown spark. “That’s brilliant. It makes us national, not statewide.”
“You’d have to fund the plane, and take money from the profits to pay off the loan.”
“We can do that.” There was zero hesitation in that response.
Aidan nodded, encouraged by the response. “Then I’ll run the operation, fly the plane, and take a salary commensurate with the work.”
Dad leaned back, exhaling. “And you’ll stay here in Bitter Bark?”
“Unless I’m flying.”
With a quick laugh, his father picked up the water glass and held it toward the pictures over the fireplace. “Annie girl, you do work fast.”
Aidan had to smile at that. “With all due respect to Mom’s powers, I had the idea yesterday. Well, to be honest, Beck did.”
“I knew I liked that girl. And I like this idea, Aidan.”
Aidan grinned. “I kind of hoped you would. So did Beck.”
“Then she wasn’t upset about the DD93?”
Aidan’s smile faltered. “I haven’t told her.” At his father’s questioning look, he added, “Not sure I can, Dad. Ruff’s settling in with her, and she’s happy, and…and I care about her.”
“I can tell,” he said.
“A lot,” he added, suddenly wanting the very advice he’d been running from for several weeks.
“I’m glad to hear that, Son.”
“So, could you and, uh…” He glanced at the wall. “Mom work some of that black magic to keep her here?”
He laughed. “No black magic, Aidan. Just love. And my advice would be to show her how you feel, and be honest. Including about that DD93.”
“You don’t think I’d lose her if I took a hard line about Ruff?”
“You’d lose her if you aren’t truthful. You both agreed that Ruff should go where Charlie wanted, not where you wanted.”
He nodded, considering that.
“If you care about her, you’ll be honest.”
“I do care about her. A lot. A hell of a lot.” He gave a quiet laugh. “Feels so good to admit it.”
“I know the feeling,” Dad said. “Remember it well.”
“Do you?” Aidan leaned forward. “How’d you know? Why was one woman so different than any other?”
Dad thought about that for a moment, dropping his elbows on his knees to let his chin rest on his knuckles, his inward gaze somewhere in the distant past. “I’d never met anyone so strong,” he finally said. “Fierce, you know? Nothing threw her. Nothing made her doubt or second-guess.”
Aidan nodded, thinking about Beck’s strength, too. The thing he’d totally missed about her the minute they’d met. “Did you see that instantly?”
“God, no.” He laughed. “I’m sure you’ve heard about our conspicuous blind-date meeting.”
At every anniversary, they’d insisted on sharing that with their kids. “You were dating Mom’s friend, right?”
“Katie Rogers,” he said. “Nice girl who made a strategic mistake trying to do a favor for a friend.”
“Setting Mom up with your friend?” Even though he knew the story, it never really got old.
Dad chuckled. “I remember walking into that bar where the four of us were supposed to meet and seeing Katie’s friend, Anne Harper, sipping on a white wine, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and the godawfulest shit-kicking boots I’d ever seen. Katie was all dolled up in a dress, and all Mom could do was joke that she’d been working at a dog kennel all day and didn’t need to impress some guy she’d never met.” He grinned and pointed playfully at the picture. “She impressed the hell out of me, though. By the end of the night, I knew I had to end things with Katie and pursue the woman of my dreams.”
“You knew that from one night when she was out with another guy?” Maybe the story had gotten romanticized over the years.
“I knew I wanted to sleep with her.”
Aidan choked. “Did I need to know that? She’s my mother.”
He tipped his head. “Be real, Aidan. We’re human. You think we had six kids by praying for them?”
“Uh…TMI.”
“You asked how I knew. It starts with a pretty basic instinct that is, one hopes, mutual and all-consuming.”
Perfect description, which reminded him that his basic instinct was at her apartment, waiting for him. “And then what?”
“And then…well, I broke up with Katie ASAP. It took one call to your mother to know the attraction went both ways, and then…” Dad took a deep drink of his water, as if talking about those days parched his throat. “Then I realized I’d found a woman who made me the best possible version of me. When you find that, you keep that. No matter what it takes.”
“But Beck’s leaving.”
“Well”—Dad shifted on the sofa—“I suppose you could follow her. Or visit her in the Waterford private plane.”
He waited a beat, then looked right into his father’s eyes. “I don’t want to leave, Dad. That’s the irony of what she’s done. She’s helped me to see that this is where I want to be, with my family and with my own place here. But…” He didn’t want to do that without her.
Dad shook his head. “That’s advice I can’t give you, Son. You’ll have to figure it out. Or…” He shrugged and angled his head toward the fireplace. “Ask your mother.”
Aidan laughed nervously. “I don’t generally talk to her.”
“I do.”
“You talk to Mom.” He did his level best to sound surprised.
“All the time, Son. When I wake up, when I go to sleep, when I’m driving, when I’m alone in this big old house, which is rare, but does occasionally happen.”
“Do you think that’s…healthy?”
Dad raised both brows in question. “I thought you were the one who said we didn’t talk enough about her.”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t have to. I know my kids the same way, someday, you’ll know yours.”
Aidan averted his gaze for a moment, feeling a quick splash of shame. “I guess we all grieve in our own ways,” he admitted.
Dad leaned forward. “I’m glad you finally realize that. I know you think we’ve moved on, but—”
“I don’t—”
His father lifted a hand to stop the argument. “There’s something you should know about grief. It could help you, with your mother and Charlie.” He took a moment, sipped his water, and Aidan waited for the pearl of wisdom he knew from experience would probably be exactly what he needed. “It’s okay to grieve as long as you have hope.”
“Hope?” What hope did Dad have? “Do you mean all this joking about you dating again? Is that what gives you hope?”
With a dry snort, Dad looked skyward. “God, no. I would no sooner get involved with a woman than I’d…I’d…” He flicked his hands, as if he couldn’t even think of anything further from reality. “That’s not what gives me hope.”
“Then what does?”
He looked at Aidan a long time, then nodded slowly. “You already know.”
But he didn’t, unless Dad meant Beck.
“Waterford,” his father said simply. “Hope is this place. It’s the business. This isn’t a distraction from grief, Aidan. And it’s more than honoring a woman’s legacy or building her dream facility posthumously. Waterford Farm, the dogs, the rescues, the purpose, and the fact that we do it as a family…this is the source of all our hope. All our peace. All our understanding of why the good Lord only gave Annie to us for a short time.”
Aidan tried to get his arms around that idea, ignoring the sting in his eyes. “What you’re saying is Waterford Farm is how Annie Kilcannon lives on, every day. You haven’t moved on. You’ve kept her alive.”
He smiled slowly and nodded. “And that’s why I can talk to her. And you can, too.”
Aidan inched forward, reaching out over the space that separated them to put his hand over his father’s. “I don’t have to, Dad. Because I have you.”
From the look on his face, nothing could have made his father happier.