Page 20 of Wandering Souls

He smiled. “Completely. Do you know what happened to you birth mother?”

“No. She disappeared. I only know she was a doctor, working with Médecins Sans Frontières in war-torn countries. I used to search quite frequently online but always come up empty, so I assume she’s dead too.”

It surprised him when Abigail laid her head on his shoulder but he held her and hoped he provided some support. Bruce sat up and put a paw on her thigh. Abigail stroked it with her fingertips and Ray couldn’t help but be enchanted by the bond that had grown between his dog and this woman.

The young woman from the bakery appeared with plates of food and set them down on the table. Abigail sat up and wiped her eyes. Disappointed at the broken moment, Ray picked up his knife and fork as the employee nodded and left. He half expected Abigail to announce she wasn’t hungry anymore. Instead, she picked up her fork.

“Sorry, Ray. That’s twice now you’ve had to listen to my shitty history.”

“Hey,” he touched his little finger to the back of her hand, “don’t undermine yourself. I told you, I’m a good listener.”

The worry from her eyes lifted a little. “Thank you. It might sound weird, but I came to terms with it some time ago. One day, I hope to find out more about my father, since he didn’t get a say in what happened to me.”

He cut off a piece of toast, topped it with some bacon and egg and popped it in his mouth. The salty explosion on his tongue woke his stomach. Abigail did the same, her eyes drifting closed when the food hit her palate. They ate in comfortable quiet, with the occasional pedestrian passing by.

The silent strength of his companion amazed him and her ability to withstand everything life threw at her humbled him. She was a lot like his sister, Grace, who soldiered on through thick and thin with a smile on her face.

“You’re pretty amazing, Abigail.”

A shy smile curved her mouth. “Call me Abi.”

He gave a nod. “Abi, it is.” He noticed she’d finished her breakfast, but he didn’t want to see her go yet. “Do you know your father’s name? Maybe I could help you find out more information about him.”

Abi blinked. Setting her cutlery down, she considered him with narrowed eyes. “That’s very lovely of you, Ray, but you don’t need to do that. I will find out as much as I can about Damien McCafferty in my own way.”

Damien McCafferty?

As in, Stevie’s father?

Ray’s throat tightened as he zeroed in on those blue-gray eyes. The same shade as Damien’s. And to think, she looked just like Stevie.Holy crap.He argued with himself, debating whether to tell her the man she thought was dead, was right here in Wills Crossing. It seemed like the right thing to do, but given all the heartache she’d endured, he didn’t feel like he was the person to tell her. Although, he didn’t know whowasthe right person to share the news, either.

Did Damien know she was here? Did he even know she existed?

Ray felt lightheaded. The responsibility weighing on his shoulders bore down on him and he decided he couldn’t keep it from her. She had to know. He opened his mouth to speak when she smiled and stood.

“Thank you for breakfast, Ray, but I should be going. I’ve unloaded too much onto you already.” She bent and patted Bruce. “As for you, little rascal, don’t give your dad too much trouble, you hear?”

“Abi, don’t go.”

She straightened and set a hand on his shoulder, the contact completely distracting him. “If you need someone to walk Bruce, I’d be happy to help out. Give me a call, any time.”

“Abi, there’s something you should know—”

Bending forward, she cut him off with a kiss to his cheek. The closeness of her body dried his mouth and the way her lips lingered did a number on his heart. Torn between telling her the truth and enjoying her touch, Ray felt like a selfish coward.

“You were right, you’re a great listener. Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

Stunned, he could only watch her turn and walk away, her limp almost imperceptible but still there. Ray blinked as she headed toward her Jeep Wrangler, knowing he needed to stop her, but his body refused to cooperate. His vocal cords failed and he could only watch her climb into the 4WD, start the engine and pull away from the curb.

He marveled at the miracle before him. There she was, alone and in need of family when they were minutes away. What were the odds of that? Not willing to sit by and let her spend another minute without them, he stacked their mugs onto their empty plates and took them inside.

With a wave, he left the bakery, untied Bruce’s lead and hotfooted it to his car. It’d be wise to drop Bruce back at home but he didn’t want to waste time, so turned the sportscar west and headed out to Riley’s homestead.

The road that led away from the town center was empty, giving him the freedom to fly along a few clicks over the limit. At the property entrance, he took the turn with care and guided the car around the back of the expansive homestead, where the back door had pretty much become the only access point anyone used. He parked and killed the engine.

“Stay here,” he instructed Bruce, rolling the window down enough for air but not enough for the dog to leap through.

As soon as he slammed the door shut, Stevie appeared on the deck, her son, Max, on her hip. The kid squealed and held grabby hands toward Ray. Jogging up the stairs to the rear entertaining area, Ray shook the kid’s hand like a man, which only made the infant giggle.

---