Love In a Small Town Read Free Page A

be so. "Sarah, I think you'd better explain that last remark."
    He waited while she gathered her thoughts, appalled as her eyes filled with tears.
    Her hands fisted on the table; she rushed into it. "I don't have anybody, like relatives and all that, and I'm not really your kid because I'm not adopted, but that's because I didn't want you to at first. But now, if you leave, I'll be alone and what will happen to me?"
    The burst of emotion stunned him. In her distress, she stood and moved back against the wall, her arms wrapped around her middle. The panic on her face made him frantic to reassure her. He hoped they'd done some bonding during the time Anne suffered with the lethal form of cancer that killed her in a few months. Apparently not. They'd comforted each other. He'd held her when she cried; when they both cried, they held each other. Was it too much if he held her now? He never knew how welcome he was in this truce they'd fashioned. Her misery spurred him to action.
    "Oh God, Sarah." Going to her, he folded his arms around her. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea this was on your mind." He looked at her face while she clung to him. Using his t-shirt tail, the only thing he had, he tenderly wiped some of the smeared makeup off her cheeks. "Listen to me. You are my daughter, emotionally and unconditionally, now and forever, regardless of legalities. If adoption will make you feel more secure, I'll put my lawyer on it. I'm already your legal guardian so there can't be that much more to it. I made a promise, a sacred commitment, to your mother to care for you, and I will always be here, beside you, no matter what happens or where we go."
    She stared at him, listening intently. He meant every word. She had become important to him. Her happiness mattered to him, a lot.
    "Your mother was the first woman I'd ever considered marrying. Neither the time nor the woman seemed right before I met Anne. Maybe it will be again. But, believe this: you are my daughter and I am as committed to you as any father could be. There will never be another woman in my life until you and I agree. I promise that. You understand?"
    The fear was still there, in her eyes. He tried again.
    "Sarah, another woman is not something you have to worry about for a long while. I cared for your mother. I still miss her." Guilt ate at him. He wasn't sure he was capable of deep love. He never loved Anne deeply. He'd been at a point in his career where he needed a visible wife to attend conventions and serve as hostess at company functions. Anne was a comfortable companion, financially secure as a high-end real estate broker, but willing to make time for him. She didn't need help parenting her daughter, and he wasn't interested in playing father, so he didn't get involved. They were a good fit. Recalling it now, it seemed cold, but it had worked well.
    There was something else; he could see it in Sarah's eyes. She glanced at him, wary, perhaps afraid to speak, and backed away from him. He waited. It came in a rush, spit from her mouth like a vile thing.
    "I was glad when Mom died." Her voice caught on the effort to stay the tears. "She had so much pain, and she was so sick. I loved her so much, but I was still glad. How could I feel that way? I mean, glad like that?"
    David sorted through her words carefully. This was a defining moment in his relationship with his daughter. She was still a child, but so near to being grown-up.
    "Sometimes," he began tentatively, "with awful illnesses like cancer, the grieving begins when the diagnosis comes. You and I grieved for months before her death, so it's natural that we felt relief when it was over."
    "You too?"
    "Yes, me too. So don't feel guilty if there's more relief than grief now. Mom will always be with us and it's okay to miss her, but it's okay to be happy, too."
    She smiled at him through her tears and hugged him. "Thanks, Dad. I thought something was wrong with me. You're the first dad I've ever known, but so far, I