Page 9 of The Fault Between Us
Bridget raised her brows. It would be wonderful to have Claire back home, especially if Bridget’s plan for September worked out as she hoped. But Red working at the menswear counter of Reilly’s Department Store? Taking orders from Dad and living under his roof?She didn’t know Red well, but that suit didn’t fit. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask Claire about it.
“I’ll mention it, Dad.” She hoped that was all he needed or she was going to miss her hair appointment.
“Promise me, Bridget.” Dad reached across the table and gripped Bridget’s hand. “Promise me you’ll bring your sister and Jenny home.” His voice was somehow desperate and demanding at the same time.
Bridget felt the beginnings of alarm. “I’ll talk to her, Dad.”
He didn’t loosen his grip. “And if Red won’t come”—his worried eyes met hers—“you bring Claire and Jenny back without him.”
Bridget stared at her father. “Dad, I don’t think—”
“Red will come around if he really does love her,” he insisted.
Bridget considered her Dad’s reasoning. If Red loved Claire, of course he’d want what was best for her. But would this be best for Claire? Living at home with Dad and her new husband? She wasn’t so sure.
“Bridget,” Dad said, this time gentle and pleading. “Promise me.”
She felt a wrench of dismay. She never could defy Dad like Claire and Frannie did. His gaze met hers and her resistance crumbled. “I promise, Dad.” She wanted to take the words back as soon as she spoke them. “I have to go.”
“One other thing, Bridget,” Dad said, opening his newspaper and turning to the baseball scores.
What could it be now? Bridget hoped it was something easy like reminding Flo to bring his suit to the cleaners.
“It’s about Frannie.” He looked up at her and Bridget had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like what came next. “She’s going to Yellowstone with you.”
chapter 5:CLAIRE
Riverside, Montana
Claire woke up alone after a restless night and her gaze fell on the packed suitcase next to Jenny’s crib. Of course she couldn’t run home to Minnesota. If she went home—without Red—Dad would get it all wrong, just like he did about the bear.
When Claire first settled into Riverside, she wrote long letters to Dad and Bridget and Frannie twice a week. She told them all about Marigold and the river out their back door. She described how she and Red fished for their dinner, and how she helped Red skin and cut up an elk that would feed them all winter. Claire thought maybe Dad would finally understand how she loved her new life, the new person she’d become—and he’d see how wrong he was about Red.
Then she’d made the mistake of writing about the bear.
Dad had telephoned her in a panic in the middle of the day. “What’s wrong?” she asked him, her heart climbing into her throat at the long-distance call during daytime rates. It had to be an emergency. “Is it Frannie?”
It was about the letter he’d just opened. “I’m coming out,” he said, his voice tense. Claire could practically see the anxiety in his eyes, the deep furrow on his brow. “We’ll find you a new place to rent, a safer place—I’ll pay for it myself if Red can’t afford it.”
She winced at the very thought. “Dad, don’t be ridiculous.”
“You were alone, Claire,” he went on. “You could have been mauled—killed. What were you thinking?”
“Red taught me how to shoot.”
“So you shot a bear?” Dad shouted down the line.
“I shottowarda bear,” Claire corrected. “And it was just a black bear.” She’d been home alone while Red led a six-day elk hunt for Wormsbecker. It was a stupid mistake, leaving a bushel of apples on the back porch overnight, and when she heard the bear grunting and crashing around, she knew she had to scare him off. She didn’t want a bear thinking her house was his cafeteria. She grabbed the loaded shotgun, cracked open the back door, and shot at the sky. The bear wailed and clattered down the steps, hightailing it back to the river. It took twenty minutes on the telephone to calm Dad down. Claire couldn’t let him come out and humiliate Red—not after what happened at the wedding.
Since then, she’d kept her letters short and sweet—the weather, thank-yous for the gifts of dresses and shoes, and inquiring about Bridget and Frannie. Nothing to worry about. And when she couldn’t pay the telephone bill, it was a small mercy that Dad couldn’t call to check on her.
She slipped out of bed as Jenny started to wake. She’d wait to go home with Red, when they could afford to buy the tickets themselves. She shoved the suitcase under the bed and went to make coffee and warm a bottle. An hour later, when Jenny was fed and dressed and Claire had started on the laundry, Red finally walked in the door.
He looked terrible. His copper-colored hair was tousled and his eyes were shadowed with fatigue. She glanced at his hands and saw that his knuckles were red and swollen. He swallowed and looked down at his feet like a student caught cheating on a test. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
Claire picked up a basket of wet diapers. Was that all he was going to say?
Jenny let out a squeal.
