Page 22 of The Fault Between Us
“Your father is putting words in your mouth,” Red spit back.
That sparked her temper. Was it so wrong that Dad worried about his daughter marrying an utter stranger and flouncing off without a backwards glance to her family? “What exactly do you mean by that?”
Red shrugged, his eyes on the road. They came up behind a pink and chrome sedan pulling a long bullet-shaped trailer and followed it closely around a series of curves. Bridget’s mouth went dry. On one side of the road was a sharp drop-off down to a river, and a steep slope of shale-covered rock rose on the other side. Red edged the truck over the center line to look for oncoming cars.
Bridget gripped the edge of the seat.
Red pulled out into the left lane and the truck surged past the trailer. Bridget’s heart skipped a beat when she saw an oncoming car in the distance.
“Your father,” Red said, as if he wasn’t rushing headlong into a collision, “can’t bear to let go of his daughters, or—God forbid—let them love a man other than him.”
Bridget’s heart rate rose at the unfair accusation and their imminent death. They passed the sedan, and Red calmly steered back into their lane. “That’s ridiculous,” she said when she could breathe again. “Dad made us the center of his life.” She didn’t sayafter Mother left. Bridget wasn’t going to open that can of worms.
“Did he?” Red asked her now.
“Did he what?” Bridget wished she’d never started this conversation. Red was impossible to talk to, and with him carrying on like this they were going to end up dead in an accident.
“Did he make you and Claire and Frannie the center of his life?” Red stepped on the brakes as the car in front of him turned left. “Or did he makehimselfthe center ofyourlives?”
Bridget snapped her gaze toward him. “I don’t like what you’re implying.” Bridget looked out the window at the scenery. Trees, a picnic area, a small waterfall with a cluster of parked cars. She was done trying to reason with Red.
The truck surged to a higher speed, as if he wanted to get to Mammoth as fast as he could. Well, she did too. Red’s accusations rankled—about her, and about Dad. Was it selfish of Dad to want to keep his daughters close, or was it love? She supposed—although she wasn’t admitting Red was right—that it could be both. And even if there was a grain of truth in what Red said, it didn’t change the fact that Claire needed her family.
Bridget steeled herself against Red’s hostility and went on to her second point—one that she knew he couldn’t refute. “Jenny would have so much more if you moved back to Willmar.”
Red looked over at her with disbelief. “Dresses and pretty shoes, you mean.”
“Family,” she shot back. “Not that you’d understand.” She felt a little bad saying that—it wasn’t Red’s fault he’d been left in an orphanage—but he had to see her point.
“She has a family,” he ground out. “Claire and me. And brothers and sisters someday.”
“She needs more than that.” How could Red not see they both needed more than what he was giving them? “Jenny needs her grandfather, her aunts who love her.” Bridget was wound up now and knew she should stop. But she didn’t. “Not to mention a decent place to live. You don’t even have a doctor within an hour.” She turned and looked at him. “I’ve seen terrible things happen to children. What if Jenny got hurt or sick? What if she died because you insist on living in this godforsaken wilderness?”
He shot her a look and she saw a flash of fear before the shutters came down. He stared straight ahead at the road. “This is her home, with Claire and me. You and Daniel Reilly are not getting your hands on my family.”
chapter 13:FRANNIE
Claire slammed the saucepan down on the stovetop. “It’s not rocket science, Frannie. Isn’t that what you said?” Her voice was almost as loud as Jenny’s screams.
Frannie’s heart squeezed and her eyes prickled with tears. “Geez Louise,” she said, “it’s not the end of the world.” She hadn’t meant to mess up so bad. She swallowed hard and stuck her hands in her pockets.
Claire turned to her and Frannie felt even more terrible. Her sister sure looked pooped. If this was what having a baby did to you, she was never going to have kids. The door slammed and Red came in.
He took one look at Claire and went to her, taking the crying baby from her arms. “What happened?”
Jenny’s howls dwindled to soft whimpers.
Claire’s voice was all shaky. “Frannie mixed the formula yesterday. I told her three tablespoons of formula per cup.Tablespoons.” She shot a murderous glare at Frannie. “She put in three teaspoons. Poor Jenny has been hungry—that’s why she didn’t sleep last night and why she’s been crying all day.”
Frannie crossed her arms in front of her. “I didn’t know.” Tablespoons, teaspoons, how was she supposed to know the difference?
“I told you.” Claire screwed a nipple on the hot bottle. “Now I have to wait for this to cool so she can get some nourishment.” Claire’s eyes were shiny as she put the hot bottle in the refrigerator.
Red walked Jenny across the kitchen, patting her back. He paced back to Claire, bending to kiss her cheek. “You go get some rest. After she has her bottle I’ll put her down for her nap.”
Frannie watched Red with surprise. He sure was sweet to Claire, even when she was being such a pain. And he seemed like he didn’t mind taking care of the baby at all. Except for Dad, she’d never heard of a man taking care of a baby.
Half an hour later, Jenny and Claire were asleep in the bedroom. “Let’s go outside,” Red said. He grabbed a fishing pole and tackle box and led Frannie out the back door.
