Ian sat, still stoic and broody, huddled into his jacket as if it were cold in the auditorium.

It wasn’t.

Something wasn’t right with Ian. James touched on several things that could cause Ian that much angst, but nothing came to mind. Had the divorce affected him more than they knew? But Mary wasn’t oblivious to them at all. Despite the silences at meals, she was attentive with an ease that spoke of not only practice, but also that told him she didn’t miss the subtle nuances and details of her children’s needs. And it couldn’t be Drew’s death, because Ian had been broody and silent before Drew passed. The scene at the bleachers came to mind. James dismissed his concerns, determined to talk to Ian as soon as possible.

From front row, center stage, Abby caught Rick’s eye. He waved at her, pride beaming from his face. She grinned and waved back, then adjusted the battery-operated candle she was holding in tandem with the rest of the choir.

This was the Abby who James remembered, a pretty little girl, anxious to please, thrilled to show off her new skills, and confident that she was loved by her family.

The song ended to thunderous applause, and Abby beamed as she filed off stage with the others.

The rest of the pageant went on, but James found himself preoccupied with his conversation with Rick. James had always assumed the other woman had come before the divorce. Now he wasn’t so sure. And what about Mary? Did he deserve part of the blame for her broken marriage? He had left her to deal with his father when she was younger than Ian was now. Logically, he realized he had no control over Mary’s—or Rick’s—choices, but if he hadn’t left her alone with his emotionally stunted father, would she have been better equipped in her marriage—or at least better able to focus on her husband and children instead of tending to the crusty old man their old man had become? Another thought entered his head. Had his mother’s death, his father’s brooding silence and grief, and his own leave-taking, forced Mary into the arms of someone not suitable, just to get away from the sorrow and pain? Had she not chosen wisely, thinking anything was better than the cold house that had lost the warmth and lifeblood of his mother?

He shook his head. He couldn’t be responsible for Mary, for Travis, for his dad, for the whole of Kipling.

He just couldn’t.

~*~

Cedar popped in the fireplace, and Abby stirred in James’s arms. He adjusted his hold on her and stroked her hair until she settled back to sleep in his lap. It had been a long time since he’d cuddled Abby, and he was enjoying the warmth of her tiny body snuggled close, her absolute trust in his love so humbling. Abby was one of the few people in Kipling who still showed the joy of simply being alive.

Mary walked up to the threshold and stopped, watching him with a satisfied grin on her face. He smiled back and motioned her to join him on the couch.