The Single Dad's Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page B

invalid,” he growled as he shuffled across the kitchen to the central hallway and the staircase leading to the second-floor bedrooms. “I’m going up to take a hot shower.”
    Frustration welled up in her chest as she watched him disappear down the hall. She stopped by as often as she could and never knew what she might find. “I’ll be back in an hour and make some supper, okay?” she called out to him.
    “Suit yourself.” A few minutes later she heard the distant slam of his bedroom door.
    Even on his best days he could be short-tempered—especially if anything occurred to highlight his lapses in memory or judgment. She understood that he feared the eventual loss of his independence, she really did.
    But still.
    Was it too much to expect a bit of kindness from him when she tried to help? He often seemed to think she was an enemy now. She sighed heavily as she looked heavenward and prayed for patience.
    I’m trying my best, God. Please—just give me strength and help me keep him safe.
    She touched the local weather app on her iPhone, glanced at yet another line of approaching rain on the Doppler radar screen and hurried to her car.
    There’d been no responses to her Help Wanted ad in the paper today, so she would try to find Connor, ask him one last time and pray he would agree.
    It was probably a waste of time trying to track down someone who didn’t want to work for her. Once again, he was going to refuse.
    But with just seven days until the biggest tourist weekend of the year, what were the chances of finding anyone else in time?
    * * *
    With rain falling yet again, starting a campfire was hopeless. Connor grabbed his shaving kit, a towel and change of clothes, and headed for the two-sided, concrete-block pavilion that offered shade and shelter for a dozen picnic tables, with restrooms and shower facilities in the attached building behind.
    He settled on one of the picnic tables under the dim illumination of a hanging lightbulb and pulled out an old Lee Child novel from his kit. But his thoughts kept wandering and he finally tossed the book aside to stare out at the rain as his memories flooded back.
    Josh in his fuzzy purple pajamas, laughing as he raced around the house to avoid story time because that meant bedtime. Making motor noises as he played with his tractors, pretending he was plowing the carpet.
    The fresh, clean scent of him after bath time, his cheeks rosy and his dark, wet hair standing up in spikes that made him imagine he was a dinosaur.
    He’d been four then; would he remember any of those days? Anything at all? Or would he be frightened when he saw Connor again for the first time in years? If I can get you back, you’re going to have a safe, happy life, little cowboy—I promise you that.
    The boy’s life sure hadn’t started that way.
    The marriage had been troubled from the beginning, starting with the cute buckle bunny who’d swept Connor off his feet. He had never regretted Joshua’s arrival—not for a second. But the shotgun marriage was something he and Marsha had both come to regret.
    They’d been just twenty-one. He’d had to follow the rodeo circuit, while she’d resented being trapped at home with an unplanned baby. Their initial mutual infatuation had quickly dimmed.
    But Connor hadn’t wanted a divorce. He’d prayed that he and Marsha could find some calm middle ground—maybe even come to love each other—to give their child a stable, peaceful home.
    Just more prayers that God hadn’t seen fit to answer.
    During his last year in prison, he’d tried attending Bible study for a while, needing something— anything —that could give him answers and a sense of peace about his past in the midst of the desolation he’d felt over his incarceration. He hadn’t found the answers he’d wanted.
    Hard-hearted, just like your dad.
    The words came out of nowhere—as loud and clear as if the accusation had been spoken inside his head.
    And with them came an onslaught of