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“I can do that. Thank you.”
“You have nothing to thank me for. Not after this.” He gestured to the painting in his hands. “I’m supposed to check on you a couple more times in the night. I’ll apologize in advance for waking you.”
“Apology accepted.”
He headed for the door. “If you need anything else, call out. I’ll probably sleep on the sofa in the family room off the kitchen.”
She wanted to tell him that wasn’t necessary, that she would be fine, but she was just too exhausted to argue—especially when she somehow knew he wouldn’t listen anyway.
Chapter Five
Ridge closed the door behind him with one hand, the other still holding the miraculously returned painting. He stood in the hallway for a long moment and just gazed down at it, wondering what on earth had just happened in there.
He felt odd, off balance, not sure what to think or feel.
Something major had just happened. It wasn’t only that she had returned this painting he thought he would never see again. He had felt a link between them, a tensile connection that seemed to seethe and pulse between them.
Or maybe that had been a figment of his imagination. Maybe it was simply late and he was tired after a long, strange day.
He carried the painting to his office and propped it on a chair across from his desk where he could look at it and remember.
The painting was created with tenderness, out of a mother’s love. That came through in every single brushstroke. Caidy would be so pleased to have it back in the family. She should really be the one to have it. Though he supposed it wasn’t technically his to give, as it belonged to all of them as joint heirs to their parents’ estate, maybe he could talk to Taft and Trace about the three of them giving it to their sister as a wedding present.
He looked at that sweet little girl in the painting cupping a fragile flower and her whole future in her hands and couldn’t help but think of his own sweet little girl. Destry had grown up without a mother’s love—though not really, when he thought about it. Caidy had stepped up to play that role after Melinda left, and had done an admirable job.
He frowned, wondering why his thoughts seemed to be so focused on his ex-wife today. He hadn’t thought about her this much in months, not since early spring when he had finally paid a private detective to track her down, for Destry’s sake.
As he had half suspected all these years, the trail was cold. The private detective had discovered Melinda had died just a year after she left them, killed along with her then-boyfriend in a car accident in Italy, of all places.
He hadn’t grieved, only brooded for a few days about his own foolish choices and for a wild young woman who had never wanted to be a mother.
Any grief for his failed marriage had worked its way out of his system a long time ago, as he had rocked his crying child to sleep or put her on the bus by himself on the first day of school.
He suddenly missed his daughter fiercely. The house seemed entirely too quiet without her constant activity—either watching something on TV or chattering with Caidy.
On impulse, he dialed Trace’s number. His brother answered the phone on the second ring.
“Missing Destry already?” his brother teased.
“Already?” He stretched back in his chair, suddenly tired from the tumultuous day. “It’s been almost twenty-four hours. I missed her as soon as you drove away last night. Aren’t you like that with Gabi and Will?”
His wife Becca had given birth over the summer to the most adorable little boy, all big blue eyes and lots of dark hair. Gabrielle wasn’t Trace’s daughter, she was actually Becca’s much-younger sister, but the two of them had legal custody of her and loved her as their own child.
“I guess you’re right. I was a mess in the fall when she went away for that school trip to the Teton Science School and that was only four nights.”
“Are the girls having a good time?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve been working. I do know everybody’s been sneaking around doing Christmassy things all day.”
Now that the business of the wedding was over, he supposed he should probably start thinking about Christmas, only three days away.
He wasn’t crazy about the holidays. None of the Bowman siblings were, considering their parents had been killed just a few days before Christmas.
Or at least none of them used to enjoy the season. It seemed as each of his siblings found love and moved on with life, each had been able to let go of those ghosts and embrace the holidays again. Caidy had even chosen this weekend for her wedding, claiming she wanted to be able to celebrate the season and not continue to mourn.
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