Charlee and swiped newly calloused fingertips across his jaw. “Bloody hell. I can’t imagine how hard it is for her.”
“She manages.”
“Manages? But she’s a child,” he said. “Kids are meant to be able to do what kids do. Play rough-and-tumble games, run and jump.” He turned back to Leah. “What’s the prognosis?”
“It’s imperative she keep active to keep the muscle strength up, even though the ball and joint need time to heal. In the past, they would operate, or she’d be in one of those spinal beds for years, encased in a plaster cast from her waist to her toes. I have to keep up her physical therapy.”
Mac heard the desperation in her voice and understood it. He wasn’t that heartless. “Has the therapy been a problem?”
Her mouth parted as if she were about to speak, but she said nothing. He noted her guilt. It scored deep in her eyes and told him everything. “Bloody hell. Leah, what sort of mother are you? You haven’t kept up with the physiotherapy, have you?” Mac knew he was right. Rage boiled deep inside him. “Your child needs help and you…you can’t be bothered.”
“I never said that.”
“You haven’t taken Charlee to therapy since I arrived. Instead, you spend all your time in the olive grove, ignoring your daughter’s most important need. You’re just another mother who doesn’t care enough. A mother like…”
“Of course I care. I love her.”
“Really? It seems to me that the grove so important that you would neglect your child. That you won’t put money aside for the extra therapy.” He fisted his hands. He wanted her to deny it, but she didn’t, adding fuel to the proverbial fire. “Why haven’t you sold the place?”
“It’s all I have. It’s my security.”
“What’s the use of security if your child is ill, hurting? Why can’t you see that? What about Curtis?”
“What about him?”
“He was her father.”
“In name and DNA only. Being a parent wasn’t part of his plan.”
The invisible king hit to Mac’s gut slammed brutally. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Your beloved brother didn’t care about his family. Sound familiar?”
Bitter guilt resurfaced, and he turned to his niece playing with her dolls in a house made of chairs and blankets. The simplicity of it all tugged at his heart. She was so sweet and innocent.
Though Charlee was his only family, he’d never thought he’d care so much. He hadn’t until now. Watching her stirred a sense of protectiveness in him that scared him.
Mac hadn’t wanted this new responsibility. He’d been content with the way he’d mapped out his life, but something inside him wouldn’t let him walk away. Curtis’s death had forced it. There was only him and Charlee, the last of the family, and his brother’s email had made him face up to that responsibility, made him realise after all these years how important family was.
Leah pulled out one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen table and slumped onto the seat. “I could cope with Curtis hating me,” she said, rancor tainting her voice, “but how could he hate his own daughter? It was almost as if he disowned her because she wasn’t perfect, because she was disabled.” She dabbed at her eyes, angling herself away from Charlee’s view. Mac strained to hear her next words and then wished he hadn’t.
“He called Charlee damaged goods.”
“Shit!” His response flew from his lips before he had time to think. “She’s my niece. I’ll pay for whatever she needs. Let me know who to send the check to.”
Leah blinked, relief washing away the guilt. “Thank you.”
Just then, Charlee called out. “Mummy, can you get me a drink, please?”
“You know the rules, Charlee.”
“But…”
“No buts, darling,” she said, a sad smile pulling at her mouth. “If you want something, you have to get it yourself. Remember we discussed this.”
“Woman!” Mac couldn’t believe what he heard and threw up his hands in disgust.
“She manages.”
“Manages? But she’s a child,” he said. “Kids are meant to be able to do what kids do. Play rough-and-tumble games, run and jump.” He turned back to Leah. “What’s the prognosis?”
“It’s imperative she keep active to keep the muscle strength up, even though the ball and joint need time to heal. In the past, they would operate, or she’d be in one of those spinal beds for years, encased in a plaster cast from her waist to her toes. I have to keep up her physical therapy.”
Mac heard the desperation in her voice and understood it. He wasn’t that heartless. “Has the therapy been a problem?”
Her mouth parted as if she were about to speak, but she said nothing. He noted her guilt. It scored deep in her eyes and told him everything. “Bloody hell. Leah, what sort of mother are you? You haven’t kept up with the physiotherapy, have you?” Mac knew he was right. Rage boiled deep inside him. “Your child needs help and you…you can’t be bothered.”
“I never said that.”
“You haven’t taken Charlee to therapy since I arrived. Instead, you spend all your time in the olive grove, ignoring your daughter’s most important need. You’re just another mother who doesn’t care enough. A mother like…”
“Of course I care. I love her.”
“Really? It seems to me that the grove so important that you would neglect your child. That you won’t put money aside for the extra therapy.” He fisted his hands. He wanted her to deny it, but she didn’t, adding fuel to the proverbial fire. “Why haven’t you sold the place?”
“It’s all I have. It’s my security.”
“What’s the use of security if your child is ill, hurting? Why can’t you see that? What about Curtis?”
“What about him?”
“He was her father.”
“In name and DNA only. Being a parent wasn’t part of his plan.”
The invisible king hit to Mac’s gut slammed brutally. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Your beloved brother didn’t care about his family. Sound familiar?”
Bitter guilt resurfaced, and he turned to his niece playing with her dolls in a house made of chairs and blankets. The simplicity of it all tugged at his heart. She was so sweet and innocent.
Though Charlee was his only family, he’d never thought he’d care so much. He hadn’t until now. Watching her stirred a sense of protectiveness in him that scared him.
Mac hadn’t wanted this new responsibility. He’d been content with the way he’d mapped out his life, but something inside him wouldn’t let him walk away. Curtis’s death had forced it. There was only him and Charlee, the last of the family, and his brother’s email had made him face up to that responsibility, made him realise after all these years how important family was.
Leah pulled out one of the wooden chairs from the kitchen table and slumped onto the seat. “I could cope with Curtis hating me,” she said, rancor tainting her voice, “but how could he hate his own daughter? It was almost as if he disowned her because she wasn’t perfect, because she was disabled.” She dabbed at her eyes, angling herself away from Charlee’s view. Mac strained to hear her next words and then wished he hadn’t.
“He called Charlee damaged goods.”
“Shit!” His response flew from his lips before he had time to think. “She’s my niece. I’ll pay for whatever she needs. Let me know who to send the check to.”
Leah blinked, relief washing away the guilt. “Thank you.”
Just then, Charlee called out. “Mummy, can you get me a drink, please?”
“You know the rules, Charlee.”
“But…”
“No buts, darling,” she said, a sad smile pulling at her mouth. “If you want something, you have to get it yourself. Remember we discussed this.”
“Woman!” Mac couldn’t believe what he heard and threw up his hands in disgust.
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