Her Unexpected Family by Ruth Logan Herne Read Free Book Online Page B

Timmy was in Grant’s arms, garnering all the attention.
    â€œI’m sorry. I’m sorry, Timmers.” He kissed the boy’s hand, put ice on the fingers, then kissed it again when Timmy slapped the cold compress aside. “Daddy didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.”
    Timmy hiccupped and sobbed against his chest, but fell back asleep in quick minutes.
    Not Dolly. Now that she was awake, her sixty-minute catnap offered a new lease on life. He rocked her, read to her, played with her and finally—with the clock edging toward midnight—got her back into her crib.
    He crawled into bed shortly thereafter, only to have his phone alert wake him at two forty-five. He pried his eyes open, scanned the report and dispatched five truck drivers to salt the highways before people woke up and discovered nearly a quarter inch of freezing rain had fallen between midnight and two o’clock.
    He couldn’t sleep with workers dispatched. He sat down at his laptop and prepared to get some work done.
    No internet.
    He sank back into the chair, ready to punch something.
    How was he supposed to do it all? How was he supposed to manage everything? His mother had worked full-time cleaning patient rooms at the local hospital, then she’d spent Saturdays housecleaning for two local families, earning just enough to make ends meet. And she hadn’t gone ballistic or berserk or anything else. She’d just done it.
    Why couldn’t he manage that well? It wasn’t rocket science; it was running a house. Caring for kids. Keeping a job. Despite his best efforts, he seemed to mess up more than most.
    He laid his head against the chair back, wishing he was a better father. A better brother. A better son.
    The next thing he knew, Tim was at his feet. “Daddy! Up pees, Daddy! Up, pees!”
    â€œHey, you’re up and out of your bed again, my man. You don’t smell that great.” He bumped foreheads with the little guy. “Good morning.”
    â€œMornin’!” Timmy gave him an ear-to-ear grin and patted his face. “I have toast, ’kay?”
    â€œIt’s very okay. High chair or big boy chair?”
    Timmy patted his chest, kind of like Tarzan. “Big boy!”
    â€œDon’t run around with your toast, okay?”
    â€œDon’t run, don’t run, don’t run!” He shook his finger in a perfect and tiny imitation of Aunt Tillie.
    â€œNow if you’d only follow your own directions,” Grant teased. He heard Dolly screech from upstairs. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get your sister.”
    â€œDowwy!”
    â€œThat would be her.” He brought Dolly down, changed diapers, fed them, bundled them and got out the door on time, but when he got to the end of the driveway, a thin blanket of ice still covered his rural two-lane road. He stared in disbelief, hit his Bluetooth connection and called the office. “Jeannie, I’ve still got ice on the road. What’s going on?”
    â€œBoss, no one got dispatched until Hank got here at five a.m. to open the service bays. Did you do a callout?”
    â€œYes, at two forty-five. I sent word to all five guys.” He paused and scanned his phone, and there it was, an alert that said his message hadn’t been sent. And he’d fallen asleep without checking.
    â€œJeannie, my bad. The message is here, but never got delivered. Is everyone on the road now?”
    â€œYes, but you’ve got messages from the mayor, the police chief and the county sheriff’s office wondering what happened.”
    Shame bit deep.
    He never goofed up a job. He double-checked everything to the point of being absurd, but this time he’d messed up. He didn’t want to ask this next question, but he had to and the onus was all on him. “Any accidents?”
    â€œNone reported.”
    He breathed a sigh of relief.
    â€œHank called the guys in stat and they hit the road