Page 70 of Playing for Keeps
“What about me?” Clint asked, faking offense. “I’m always good to you. Where’s my thanks?”
Nora slapped a hand on her husband’s chest. “Thank you for being so good to me. Now, will you run to our house and get the extra gallon of milk? Max insists he needs it with his pancakes.”
“Your wish is my command,” Clint said before turning back to Justin and Caroline. “Stop by the woodshop on the way?”
Justin and Caroline squished into the cab of Clint’s truck. He held her hand tightly, thinking of Clint’s dedication to building something for his child who hadn’t even been born yet. What would it be like to have a dad like that?
The woodshop smelled of sawdust and oil when they walked in. Clint flipped on the lights and the crib stood in the middle of the floor. Caroline gasped and eased forward like it was an animal that might be scared away. “It’s gorgeous.”
Closer, he could see the edges sanded with care, the slats all precise and exact, the dark wood stained evenly.
“You’re such a good dad,” she breathed.
Clint shrugged. “Learned from the best.”
He thought of his own childhood, not examples of hard work or affection, but lessons of how to duck and survive. Chuck had been a storm to navigate. Henever bothered to show how he cared, because he didn’t. This was the complete opposite of Justin’s upbringing, but if one of them got to have a good father, he was glad it was Caroline.
Her hand slid up his arm, reminding him that she knew his mind and heart better than anyone else. “You okay?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Clint leaned on the side of the crib. “You heard from your old man lately?”
“Clint!” Caroline shouted as she rounded on her brother.
Justin wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her against him. “It’s alright.”
“You think he’s still alive?” Clint asked.
“Will you please stop talking?” Caroline ground out through gritted teeth.
“I checked on him a little while ago. He’s in bad shape, actually. Liver failure.”
Caroline tensed in his arms. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I like to think about him as little as possible,” he said.
Clint ran his hand along the crib railing. “I’m sorry, man. I bet it sucked growing up with him.”
“Sucked is putting it mildly,” Caroline interjected.
It was so rare to hear Caroline show any emotion that resembled anger. Bringing up his dad alwaysbrought out a little heat. Justin tightened his hold on her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“He’s leaving us alone, but I hate to hear he’s sick,” Caroline said as she pushed away from him.
Justin pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go get the milk so we can eat.”
Brunch was riotous in the best possible way. Bowls passed, football on the TV, blankets thrown over knees, the tree glowing in the corner. Grant thanked God for family and for the love that kept them together, and there was a genuine peace of those words.
After the meal, Grant got everyone’s attention with a powerful clear of his throat. As if that were the cue they’d all been waiting for, kids and adults alike moved into the living room on chairs, couches, and the rug on the floor.
Caroline grabbed Justin’s hand and led him to a recliner where she made herself comfortable curled up in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder.
Grant leaned forward and scooted to the edge of his seat. “It’s Christmas, and we all know what that’s really about.”
“Not presents!” Drew shouted.
A chorus of laughter swept through the room as Alicia hugged her oldest child.
