Page 10 of Calling on the Matchmaker
“I’m dying, son.” The raspy words fell from his dry lips.
“No.” Riley couldn’t keep from protesting. “You can’t give up yet.”
His father’s lids closed, and he sucked in a struggling breath.
Clutching a rosary, Lorette had started to back out of the room, obviously wanting to give him privacy with their dad, but Riley cast her a pleading look. He didn’t want to be alone in Dad’s final moments. He needed her to stay.
As usual, he didn’t have to say anything for her to understandhim. She merely returned to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder again.
“Do one last thing for me,” his dad whispered.
Riley grasped the man’s hand tighter. “You know I’ll do anything for you.”
His eyes cracked open. “Do you promise?”
“Yes.” The one word came out in a rush of passion.
“Then get married again.”
Riley almost jumped up, but with Lorette holding his shoulder and his dad clasping his hand, he was trapped. “Ask me for anything but that.”
His dad released a long, uneven breath. Was it a sigh of disappointment?
Frustration rippled through Riley, and he bent his head and closed his eyes to keep from overreacting. His dad had been pressuring him over the last year to take another wife, telling him he’d waited long enough, that he needed to put the past behind him and move on with his life.
Every time they had this conversation—which had been more frequent over recent months—his dad insisted that marrying Eleanor had been one of the greatest blessings of his life, that it had helped him work through his grief.
And each time, Riley didn’t have enough courage to tell his dad the truth—that he wasn’t grieving for Helen, that he never had. In fact, he was ashamed to admit that when he’d gotten the news theMonarchhad hit a snag and sunk, he’d almost felt relief that he was free.
He’d been the one to convince Helen to get married, had wanted to make things work. After only a few months—after the miscarriage—she’d grown tired of being married to him. Finally, during one particularly bad argument, she’d packed a bag and said she intended to live with her sister in New Orleans. When he’d come home the next day from work, she’d been gone.
He blamed himself for her leaving. Maybe if he’d done more for her and loved her better, she would have been happier with him.
Whatever the case, he’d made a mess of one marriage, and he had no desire to get involved with another woman. As far as he was concerned, his desires were dead and buried.
The image of Finola Shanahan half naked in the livery stall flashed into his mind—her beautiful curves, pale skin, and those freckles ... Heat flared to life low in his gut.
So maybe his desires were still alive and strong. He was only a man. But that didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to get into another marriage anytime soon, maybe not ever.
“I want to go in peace,” his dad whispered.
Riley lifted his head to find his dad watching him, his brows drawn above sad eyes.
“But I can’t get married.” Riley’s return whisper held a note of desperation that surely his father could hear.
“I just want you to be happy, son.”
“I am happy—”
“And I want you to have a family.” Dad held out a hand toward Lorette. “A whole bunch of daughters as sweet as sugarcoated candy.”
Lorette took his hand and kissed it, tears springing to her eyes as easily as they did to Eleanor’s.
Dad then reached for Riley’s face, brushing the injury on his cheek, the injury Finola had given him yesterday. The sting reminded him of how feisty and beautiful she’d looked when she’d thrown the tools at him. “I want you to have a son too. One as courageous and determined and loyal as you.”
“Don’t worry.” Riley’s chest ached with the realization that this was his dad’s good-bye. “I’ll take good care of Eleanor and the girls. They’ll be my family.”
“You’ll attract more voters if you’re married.”
