Jason swiped the back of his hand across his nose. “You told Daddy you hate God for taking Aunt Pilar from you. I want to be like you, Uncle Bryce. I want to hate Him, too.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t want to be like me. You cannot hate God. You hear me. You cannot hate Him.”
Jason ran out of the room, sobbing.
Kaya stared at Bryce. His face was contorted, and his hands were pressed against his temples as if he were trying to muffle noises in his head.
A cold knot formed in her stomach. Pilar was Bryce’s horrific experience.
Who was she? His sister? Lover? Wife? Whoever she was, her death had caused Bryce to hate God. He must have loved her deeply.
That’s why Michael and Lauren had left the children to her. As much as they loved Bryce, and as much as he loved them, they couldn’t leave their children to a man who hated a God they evidently believed in. Not that she was any better when it came to religious matters. She didn’t even attend church. She probably knew less about God than Bryce did, but she didn’t hate Him. She wasn’t that stupid to alienate the Almighty Power and bring His wrath down upon her.
With a shake of her head, Kaya pulled her wits together. Whatever had happened in Bryce’s past was his business. It was none of her concern. Her concern was that little boy who’d just declared that he wanted to be like his Uncle Bryce, the man he adored, the man who may very well replace his father in his young malleable life.
The man who hated God.
“Go on, say it.” Bryce was on his feet, glaring down at her.
“Say what?”
“That I’m an ungrateful rebel for hating God. I mean look at me. I’ve been blessed with more wealth than any one man should have a right to, and I still can’t enjoy it. Tell me I’m a horrible person. It’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“No,” she answered, meeting his stormy gaze. “If you’re a rebel, you probably have a cause. As to you being ungrateful, I don’t know you well enough to make that assumption. You’re obviously hurt, angry—stuck in neutral, maybe. But I do know that you’re not a horrible person, Bryce Fontaine. These children love you. If you were as bad as you think you are, they wouldn’t give you the time of day. Children are like that. They instinctively shun the bad and embrace the good.”
“What are you, some kind of shrink?”
No, but I’ve spend enough time with one to know what she would have said. “I’m just very worried about Jason,” Kaya said in an attempt to steer the topic of conversation away from Bryce. She hadn’t come to Granite Falls to fix his problems. She had her own. “I knew he’d be upset when he heard the truth. I didn’t expect this outrage.”
“He’s in shock. He doesn’t really mean what he said.” Bryce wiped his hand over his short crop of black hair. “I should call Samantha.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. She said to call her after you talked to him.”
Anastasia began to whimper again. Kaya rubbed her tummy the way she’d seen Bryce do. It didn’t help. Her whimpers grew louder.
“What’s wrong with her now?” he asked, looking at the infant with a bit of impatience.
“I think she’s hungry.”
“Then feed her.”
“That’s the problem. She misses being nursed. She doesn’t take the bottle well. Or maybe it’s the formula she doesn’t like. I— I called her pediatrician—”
He glanced at the half empty feeding bottle siting on the dresser. He picked it up and pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Kaya inhaled sharply, and to conceal her response to his actions, she gathered Anastasia and hoisted her over her shoulder.
“Did you try a different kind of nipple?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“Of course, what would you know about babies and bottles and nipples? Rearranging furniture is your specialty.” He set the bottle back on the dresser.
“There are different kinds of nipples? A nipple is a nipple, isn’t it?”