Wilmington. A mislaid cigar by their father had burned the beautiful mobile structure to the ground and caused a rift in the family that hadn’t healed. To this day, Fergus MacAteer had not spoken to his daughter, nor had he met his grandchildren or stepgrandchildren. Pity. The old man’s stubbornness kept him from reaching out, and he’d missed a lot. Kids only stayed young for so long, and after those childhood years disappeared, the man he called father might end up grieving that lost time.
It may not have been a tiny house, but Owen had put his own personal stamp on the camper. The inside had been gutted to make room for a bed big enough to accommodate Owen’s size. There was still the small kitchen area that wasn’t good for any serious cooking, but adequate for his needs. The shower was expanded just enough to fit, and since the woodshop had a bathroom installed, Owen planned on taking out the camper’s toilet for the near future. Not that it made much difference. He’d seen both of Connor’s young stepsons whizzing off the back deck and getting yelled at by their older sister.
Beverly and the kids had gone to their church services earlier this morning. She worked as the pianist there, and Owen marveled at both her talent and her weekly workload. She had invited him and Connor to come along, however they both declined in favor of getting the camper situated while the kids were occupied.
He shut off the engine to his big black truck when he saw the red Audi jerk to a stop in the driveway. Melanie got out and hurried toward them.
“Hi, MacAteer male type people. Is Beverly around?”
Her light tone and bright fake smile didn’t fool Owen. Something was wrong.
Connor wasn’t fooled either. “She texted after the services finished that she was gonna do a grocery store and Arby’s run on her way back. Should be here soon. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m fine. Just peachy.” The dark streaks under her eyes didn’t support her lie at all. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d come see everyone for a bit.”
“You don’t look fine, Mellie. Come in the house and sit down. I’ll call Bev and see if she’s getting close.”
“No, no, don’t bother her. Really, Con-man, I’m good. I’m totally good. I’m so good, there is no limit to the goodness.”
Tears tracked down her face, and she brushed at them impatiently. “Don’t mind this shit. I’m good. I swear I am.”
Owen watched her for a moment. She crossed her arms in front of her middle, fighting to keep herself contained. It didn’t take a genius to see she was losing. He tucked his keys into his pocket and moved to take her in his arms. As he enfolded her in the cocoon of his body, she leaned into him. The morning had been long and hot and the afternoon not much different. Owen knew his sleeveless T-shirt was soaked with sweat from working outside, but she snuggled her face into his shoulder, not seeming to care.
“Dad bay?” Shit! Maybe she didn’t catch the reversed words.
“You guys already heard about my condition, right? My hormones are all outta whack. That’s all.”
Connor spoke. Owen kept his silence. “Yeah, we had a family meeting about it. Sarah has been looking up baby names, and Abby is hoping you’ll go for natural childbirth so you don’t start the baby’s life with what she calls toxic chemicals. Personally, I’d go for the drugs.”
She gave a light laugh, and more tears flowed down her cheeks. “I think this is in my top ten of bad days. Make that the top five.” She pulled away from Owen and swiped at her eyes. Two perfect black rings circled her eyes, with matching ones on his shirt. “Well, shit, Owen. Looks like I marked you.”
He shook his head. “No dig beal.” Fuck, he did it again!
Melanie didn’t say anything. She swiped again at her eyes, licked a finger, and smeared the black smudges more. “I bet I look like a rabid raccoon on crack. Mind if I take a trip to the bathroom and get this shit cleaned up a bit?”
Connor pointed to the back door. “Take all the time you need, mo rún.”
Owen watched as she made her way to the house. The floral dress showed off her gentle curves and long legs. She looked like she was strutting on a runway rather than stumbling through a backyard. Somehow she