Beside a Dreamswept Sea by Vicki Hinze Page A

wanted our children, or no children. When I pushed and insisted my wants should count, too, I became the ‘lousy, demanding, and ungrateful wife.’ ”
    “I can’t imagine that,” Bryce said.
    “Bless you for sounding as if you mean that.”
    “I do mean it. You thanked me and asked for help with your luggage. That rules out demanding and ungrateful.”
    “Ah, but I excelled at lousy.” She tossed down the grass blade, lifted a stone, then rubbed it between her forefinger and thumb. The grit of sand clinging to it felt good. Soothing.
    “’Fraid not. Lousy women don’t protect. And you protected Jeremy from the battleaxe.”
    “The battleaxe?” A little laugh escaped her throat. “Ah, the estimable Mrs. Wiggins.”
    He bumped his cane with his knee; steadied it against the rough bark of the tree. “You don’t like her.”
    “Truthfully?” Clouds scudded across the sky and the moonlight softened, then again grew bright.
    He nodded. “Always.”
    Cally liked the sound of that—and added honesty to the list of things she didn’t like liking about him. “The battleaxe grates at my nerves.”
    “Mine, too.”
    “Then why don’t you fire her?”
    “I can’t make myself do it. Meriam hired her. We both worked long, weird hours—I still do. Mrs. Wiggins isn’t the greatest nanny in the world, but she is the only constant in my kids’ lives.”
    Again putting the children’s needs above his own desires. And Meriam’s wishes, too. Another of his traits went on her list, and a stream of jealousy so fierce she feared she’d drown in it rushed through Cally’s chest. Even though she’d been dead for two years, Meriam’s wishes were given more consideration by Bryce than Gregory had given Cally’s wishes with her alive. And if that didn’t prove she’d been a lousy wife, she didn’t know what would.
    “Besides,” Bryce went on, “I’m not a very good parent, Cally.”
    “You’re a wonderful parent.”
    “No, I’m not. I swear I try, but I just screw up left and right.” He grunted and stared into the night sky. “Once, Jeremy spilled milk on the kitchen floor and used the garden hose to clean it up.”
    She smiled. “Very creative.”
    “He flooded the kitchen.” Bryce laced his fingers with hers. “I put him in the corner, then cleaned up the mess. Afterward, I took a phone call, checked my e-mail, puttered in the yard. Suzie comes outside—it’d been a good hour—and says, ‘Daddy, aren’t you ever going to let Jeremy out of the corner?’” Bryce’s expression twisted. “I forgot him, Cally. I actually forgot him there.”
    “And I’m sure you felt awful about it.”
    “Of course I did, but that’s not the point. I forgot my son. That’s the point.”
    “Hmm, how did Jeremy react?”
    “I went inside and said, if he could behave, then he could get out of the corner. He looks up at me with these big eyes and tells me, ‘I think I’d better just stay here a while.’”
    She laughed from the heart out, pressed her forehead against Bryce’s shoulder.
    He tensed, unsure if it was at the intimacy of feeling her breasts brush against his arm or at her laughing. The latter more comfortable than the former, he frowned at her. “How can you find this funny?”
    “It’s hilarious.” She reared, lifted her gaze to his, her eyes twinkling. “The angel knew he’d get into trouble again, so figured he might as well just stay put.” She patted at his sleeve, then smoothed her hand down it, elbow to wrist, her laughter lingering in her eyes. “Oh, he’s special, Bryce. Really special.”
    “He is. But you’re missing my point.”
    “Am I?” She cupped his chin in her hand. “You got preoccupied and forgot. Do you honestly think you’re the only parent in the world to do that, Bryce Richards? If so, you’re not only a stuffed shirt, but very arrogant.”
    “Parents aren’t allowed arrogance. Or pride.” God, but he loved the feel of her hand on his beard. He’d