stopped, then turned and walked to the door. “You will have much catching up to do when you see her. For tonight, you rest.”
The warmth of the bathwater and the weariness of her body made Roxy agree without argument. There would be plenty of time to ask and answer questions tomorrow.
“You call if you need anything, Miss Roxy.”
“I will. Thanks again.” She let her eyes drift closed a second time.
Home. A hot bath. A freshly made bed. Clean clothes. A kitchen stocked with food. Heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer. Fortuna to make over her as she had when Roxy was young. Home.
“Mmmmm.”
She slid deeper into the water, letting her head submerge until only her nose remained above the surface. She felt light as a feather. For at least these few moments, she didn’t feel like a failure. She didn’t feel used. She didn’t feel rejected.
Wyatt’s image drifted into her thoughts, dispelling the brief sense of well-being. She recalled the look in his eyes — a look that said he saw the real Roxy. Suddenly, she felt a desire to cover her nakedness.
She hated the feeling.
=
Jonathan moved toward the living room, his footsteps slow, his heart heavy in his chest. His joy over his daughter’s return was muted by the realization of how beaten she seemed. Not on the outside, but on the inside. Whatever brought her back to Idaho, he doubted it was a desire to mend fences with her estranged family.
He paused when he reached the living room. Wyatt stood near the windows. What did the young man think about Roxy’s return? What changes, what dangers, were around the next corner for Jon- athan’s loved ones?
Wyatt turned toward the doorway. “Is she settled in?” “Getting there.” He entered the room.
“Kind of a shock, seeing her like that.” “Yes.”
“It’s been a long time.” Wyatt drew a breath. “She looks . . . different.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should call Elena and tell her that Roxy’s come back.”
Jonathan looked at his watch. Elena might be at the hotel by now, assuming her flight arrived on schedule. “I’ll give her a little time to settle in.”
As if on cue, Wyatt’s mobile phone rang. He popped it from its holster and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s her.” He flipped open the phone and held it to his ear. “Hey there.”
Jonathan’s daughters had been closer than two peas in a pod when they were young. After their mother died, Elena assumed responsibility for her little sister. At first, it seemed a good thing, but in retrospect, he wasn’t so sure. There were others who tried to be a surrogate mother for both girls. Their grandmother Ruth — Jonathan’s mother — for one. Fortuna Rodriguez for another. But Roxy turned to Elena most often.
Then his youngest entered junior high, and she began to chafe under Elena’s constant scrutiny. The battle of wills started. The sisters’ differences became more evident, their similarities fewer.
“I’m with him now . . . Yeah, he’s glad to hear we’re ready to set a date . . . No, I don’t think so . . .”
Jonathon listened to the one-sided conversation. What was Wyatt thinking? The younger man’s eyes were guarded, his expres- sion stoic and unreadable. Did Wyatt remember the love he once felt for Roxy? Would those memories bring heartache to Elena?
God help us.
He held out his hand.
Wyatt understood. “I think your dad wants to tell you some- thing. Let me give him the phone. Hold on.”
=
Elena sat on the ottoman and kicked off her shoes as she waited for the phone to change hands.
She hadn’t expected Wyatt to still be at her father’s house, but it didn’t surprise her. The two most important men in her life had a close relationship, and it pleased her that they were friends.
“Elena?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“How was your flight?” “Uneventful. The best kind.”
“To be sure.” Her dad cleared his throat. “I can’t say the same here.”
“Were you surprised we moved
The warmth of the bathwater and the weariness of her body made Roxy agree without argument. There would be plenty of time to ask and answer questions tomorrow.
“You call if you need anything, Miss Roxy.”
“I will. Thanks again.” She let her eyes drift closed a second time.
Home. A hot bath. A freshly made bed. Clean clothes. A kitchen stocked with food. Heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer. Fortuna to make over her as she had when Roxy was young. Home.
“Mmmmm.”
She slid deeper into the water, letting her head submerge until only her nose remained above the surface. She felt light as a feather. For at least these few moments, she didn’t feel like a failure. She didn’t feel used. She didn’t feel rejected.
Wyatt’s image drifted into her thoughts, dispelling the brief sense of well-being. She recalled the look in his eyes — a look that said he saw the real Roxy. Suddenly, she felt a desire to cover her nakedness.
She hated the feeling.
=
Jonathan moved toward the living room, his footsteps slow, his heart heavy in his chest. His joy over his daughter’s return was muted by the realization of how beaten she seemed. Not on the outside, but on the inside. Whatever brought her back to Idaho, he doubted it was a desire to mend fences with her estranged family.
He paused when he reached the living room. Wyatt stood near the windows. What did the young man think about Roxy’s return? What changes, what dangers, were around the next corner for Jon- athan’s loved ones?
Wyatt turned toward the doorway. “Is she settled in?” “Getting there.” He entered the room.
“Kind of a shock, seeing her like that.” “Yes.”
“It’s been a long time.” Wyatt drew a breath. “She looks . . . different.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you should call Elena and tell her that Roxy’s come back.”
Jonathan looked at his watch. Elena might be at the hotel by now, assuming her flight arrived on schedule. “I’ll give her a little time to settle in.”
As if on cue, Wyatt’s mobile phone rang. He popped it from its holster and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s her.” He flipped open the phone and held it to his ear. “Hey there.”
Jonathan’s daughters had been closer than two peas in a pod when they were young. After their mother died, Elena assumed responsibility for her little sister. At first, it seemed a good thing, but in retrospect, he wasn’t so sure. There were others who tried to be a surrogate mother for both girls. Their grandmother Ruth — Jonathan’s mother — for one. Fortuna Rodriguez for another. But Roxy turned to Elena most often.
Then his youngest entered junior high, and she began to chafe under Elena’s constant scrutiny. The battle of wills started. The sisters’ differences became more evident, their similarities fewer.
“I’m with him now . . . Yeah, he’s glad to hear we’re ready to set a date . . . No, I don’t think so . . .”
Jonathon listened to the one-sided conversation. What was Wyatt thinking? The younger man’s eyes were guarded, his expres- sion stoic and unreadable. Did Wyatt remember the love he once felt for Roxy? Would those memories bring heartache to Elena?
God help us.
He held out his hand.
Wyatt understood. “I think your dad wants to tell you some- thing. Let me give him the phone. Hold on.”
=
Elena sat on the ottoman and kicked off her shoes as she waited for the phone to change hands.
She hadn’t expected Wyatt to still be at her father’s house, but it didn’t surprise her. The two most important men in her life had a close relationship, and it pleased her that they were friends.
“Elena?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“How was your flight?” “Uneventful. The best kind.”
“To be sure.” Her dad cleared his throat. “I can’t say the same here.”
“Were you surprised we moved
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