A Dad for Her Twins by Lois Richer Page A

temerity in broaching such a sensitive subject.
    â€œThen why doesn’t he work harder at his exercises so he can get better and take back the reins of this place?” Cade demanded in a tight, hard tone.
    â€œWhat if he does that and nothing changes?” Abby asked softly. “What if he invests every ounce of courage and strength he has in trying to recover and it doesn’t happen?”
    Cade studied her with a frown.
    â€œDon’t you see, can’t you understand?” she asked, irritated by his blindness. “Your father is desperately afraid that even if he does everything he can to recover, he might still fail. I believe he fears that if that does happen he’ll lose you, the ranch, everything that matters most to him.”
    Cade lifted his head and stared at her, locking his gaze with hers. Abby shivered at the intensity reflected there but her heart bumped at the flicker of hope that danced to life for a few brief moments.
    Until Cade said, “Not possible. I never mattered. And my father was never afraid of anything.” He added with conviction, “Never.”
    â€œMaybe once, he wasn’t. But the strokes stole his confidence, Cade. Now he can’t do the simplest thing he never gave a thought to doing before.” Abby let a smile curve her lips when he shot her an indignant glare, as if to ask who she was to believe she knew his father better than he did.
    â€œI’m not sure—”
    â€œIt’s a kind of role reversal,” she said. “You’re the strong one now and he needs you. I think Ed’s afraid that he’ll never be the dad you remember, the strong, capable man who was always in control. And that terrifies him.”
    â€œReally?” Surprise made Cade’s eyes widen for a moment. Then he frowned and shook his head. “I doubt that.”
    â€œThink about it,” she coaxed. “He’s gone from being strong, independent and running the ranch on his own, to having to write his needs on a pad of paper. He must chafe at the dependency that now rules his life.”
    â€œSo we’re back to my original question. Why doesn’t God do something to make him better?” Cade’s frustration was obvious.
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe He is doing something. Have you talked to Him about it?” Abby inclined her head, waiting.
    â€œI don’t speak to God,” Cade muttered.
    â€œThen how can you fault Him for not helping you?” Abby walked to Liberty’s stall and petted the horse. She chuckled at the snickered response. “Yes, I brought an apple.” She let the horse snatch it out of her hand before looking straight at Cade. “Your response is irrational. Not talking to God is like expecting Ed to do something without ever talking to him. That’s not a relationship.”
    â€œI used to talk to God,” Cade said in an edgy tone. “When I was a kid and my dad had just reamed me out for something, Mrs. Swanson said I should pray. So I did. A lot. But nothing ever changed. And it still hasn’t.”
    â€œYou don’t know what God is doing,” Abby insisted. “You can’t see inside your father to know his thoughts and feelings and since you don’t talk to him about that, how will you find out?”
    She would have said more but the clanging of a bell caught Cade’s attention.
    â€œThat’s Mrs. Swanson’s signal for me to get back to the house fast,” he explained, her eyes narrowing with concern. “It could be Dad.”
    â€œLet’s go.” Abby waited till Cade tugged open the big door. As soon as he’d closed it behind them, she slid her arm through his. “I can go faster if I hang onto you,” she explained, wondering if he got the same jolt of awareness that she did when their bare hands touched.
    If so, Cade didn’t show it, or maybe he was too preoccupied. All he did was lead her back to the