She balled her hands at her sides as she digested the maddening truth. A man she’d loved—or tried to love, despite his distance and gruff nature—had most likely betrayed her in the worst possible ways.
“Fine,” she said dropping back onto the sofa to continue through the pile of documents and receipts. “I won’t go see him, but you have to promise me a chance to confront him after we nail the SOB.”
*
Reid and Penelope spent the next week going through her father’s computer files and studying the materials that Andrew had collected. The work was tedious, but Reid seemed to think they were making good progress building their case. They found more billing statements and tax records that corroborated the documents and notes Andrew had assembled, and her father’s internet history continued to prove both enlightening and incriminating...which meant further disillusionment and heartache for Penelope.
Her father had searched such topics as the extradition laws of several foreign countries and missing-person laws in Texas, particularly the criteria for having a missing person declared dead.
On a Saturday, just over a week after arriving at Reid’s lake house, the weather, in typical Texas fashion, had changed from the cold and windy of the previous week to sticky and unseasonably warm. Nicholas was restless with the limited selection of toys and television available to entertain himself, so Penelope excused herself from the tedium of sorting paperwork in order to let Nicholas play outside.
As Nicholas ran after a ball, Penelope raked her hair back from her face and stared out at the still, gray lake. A white heron slid slowly, gracefully through the shallow water at the shoreline. Sleek and serene, the regal-looking bird made her heart ache. Would her life ever have that kind of calm and tranquillity again? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt at peace, secure and hopeful about the future. Certainly not since Andrew’s death.
She’d been out on the lawn for about ten minutes, playing an easy game of catch and kick with a plastic ball, when Reid joined them. He stretched his arms over his head and arched his back, working the kinks out of his muscles, before trotting down from the house to intercept a toss Nicholas made. He made a show of lying out to catch the poorly thrown ball and rolling on the winter-brown grass after tucking the ball against his chest. Nicholas found the stunt highly amusing and, of course, imitated with a flop and roll.
She blinked her surprise, not having guessed Reid would be interested in lighthearted tussling with her toddler. But Reid passed the ball to Nicholas with an easy lob, and her boy chased down his missed catch, adding another roll in the grass and a hearty laugh.
Penelope’s heart swelled at the sound of her son’s mirth, and she couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged her lips. On the heels of her joy, however, she knew a brief moment of regret, telling herself it should be Andrew playing with their son. Yet when Nicholas charged at Reid with his wobbling toddler gait and tackled him with a grin and a giggle, she shook off the negativity. If she were going to rebuild her life and be the kind of mother Nicholas deserved, she couldn’t continue to dwell on the past, the could-have-beens.
Nicholas paused from the roughhousing and clambered to his feet, his attention snagged by something across the inlet. He pointed a chubby finger and said something to Reid. Though Reid glanced where the child pointed, his expression said he didn’t understand Nicholas’s jabber.
Penelope headed toward them, thinking she might translate for her son, but Nicholas saw her and shouted, “Mommy, too!”
“What?”
Her boy jumped up and tumbled to the ground with a laugh and repeated, “Mommy, too! Mommy faw down!”
She considered her clothes, a simple pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from the discount store Reid had been to. Expendable, especially if it would give her boy a moment of joy. “Fall down?” she said, then dropped to the ground and barrel rolled toward them.
Her antics sent Nicholas into peals of laughter and more childish tumbles and rolls. When she crawled across the last few feet of earth to join them, Reid reached to pluck a piece of grass from her hair. “Any idea who Miss Tee is?”
“Who?” she asked, chuckling her own amusement with Nicholas’s silliness.
“That’s what he said when he pointed across the water—Miss Tee.”
“Miss Tee...” She searched her brain for what, or whom, her toddler could be talking about.
Hearing their discussion, Nicholas ran up to her and flung himself against her chest with a devilish grin and enough momentum to knock her backward. “Miss Tee!”
She gave him a tickle and a kiss, and when she had struggled back to a seated position, he pointed across the inlet again exclaiming, “Miss-miss Tee!”
And it clicked as she spotted a small pine tree among the hardwoods on the shore. “Christmas tree! You see that Christmas tree, don’t you?”
Nicholas clapped and bounced happily. “Miss-miss tee!”
She turned to Reid with a lopsided smile, explaining, “He saw the decorated Christmas trees at the mall the last time we were there, and I promised him we’d put one up at our house soon. He’s been quite excited at the prospect. Kids have memories like steel traps.”
He bobbed a nod of understanding, then a thoughtful look crossed his face. “I think I have an ax in the shed.” He climbed to his feet and offered her a hand up. “Let’s get the boy his Christmas tree.”