Marriage Is Just The Beginning. Betty Sanders Jane

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      His eyes were glittering, accusing her of betrayal. Sharon mentally stiffened, then lifted her chin and met his gaze without flinching. “You know very well we’re friends, but that has nothing to do with the subject at hand.”

      He arched a brow, a dark slash that seemed to accentuate the anger she sensed simmering inside him.

      “What exactly are you suggesting I do? If you think for one minute that I am going to hand my daughter over to my in-laws, think again.” His voice turned acidic.

      “I have no answers,” she snapped, stung by the tone of his voice. “Nor am I suggesting anything of the kind. All I am saying is that the present situation is not good enough. Okay? Not for you. Not for Cassie.”

      Silence stretched between them, fraught with tension.

      “I love my daughter. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her,” Grant finally said.

      The huskiness in his voice tugged at Sharon’s heart. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and ached for both Cassie and Grant. “I know you do,” she half whispered, “and so do I.” Then she cleared her throat. “I am sorry I brought it up. It’s just…well…it is important I’m worried about Cassie. And I’m worried about you.”

      Grant tucked Cassie into bed, wincing each time he looked at the black eye. It didn’t take an intellectual giant to see that her temper had worsened since Catherine’s death and that his absences did not help, but what was he to do? His job required a lot of his time. It also provided them with a nice home, and Cassie a closet full of clothes and an overflowing toy box.

      He remembered well the sharp-edged knife of need, of want, when others had seemed to have it all and he had nothing. The humiliation of wearing secondhand jeans, owning two pairs of socks and one pair of shoes—the cheapest sneakers to be had—when starting grade school. His hands tightened into fists. Cassie would never suffer that sort of humiliation. Ever.

      His mother had done her best, but being widowed and left with three boys to raise had not been easy. He had started mowing lawns and shoveling sidewalks to earn money when he was nine, and had been working ever since.

      He shuddered, forced his fists to relax and shook off the memory before it dragged him deeper into the past. After closing Cassie’s bedroom door, he walked to the den, flipped on the desk light and settled into the leather chair.

      Sharon’s words haunted him. He knew she’d spoken from the heart with the best of intentions, and that she’d spoken from experience. As a child of parents who were commercial fishermen, Sharon had suffered violent motion sickness on even the calmest of days at sea, so each fishing season she had lived with Grant and his family. She knew well what it was like to be left by her family for long periods of time. Which was exactly why Grant could not dismiss her words easily.

      If only his mother lived closer than Seattle, if she were in better health…. He mentally snorted. If only…what a waste of time!

      Both brothers lived in the lower forty-eight, thousands of miles from being any help. They had their own families, their own lives. And he knew with chilling certainty that Cassie did not need another sitter. She needed a mother.

      A mother could not be had without that woman first becoming his wife.

      Wife. He closed his eyes and fought the memories. But the night seemed ripe for ghosts of the past, so they came, stronger than he this time, whirling through his mind with a flood of muted color like old photographs, faded, comers curled.

      Catherine, face flushed with happiness on their wedding day. Happier yet with the birth of Cassie. A fleeting happiness soon dimmed, replaced by a growing anger and discontentment She had hated Anchorage and wanted to move back to California, though she had known before their marriage he had every intention of living in Alaska and building a career there. Grant had hoped, as a last straw, that accepting a promotion to construction manager and moving to Valdez, building a new house, would please her, would somehow provide the miracle needed to salvage their marriage. But it hadn’t. She had immediately hated Valdez, almost as much as she did Grant for bringing her there, and was preparing to take Cassie to California and divorce him, when she suddenly fell ill.

      He had tried everything he could think of to make her happy and had failed. Nothing seemed able to prevent the downward spiral, the disintegration of their marriage, except illness. Cancer. Frightened, angry and blaming, Catherine had clung to him, though their love had long died. He’d held and soothed her, accepted the blame and watched, totally helpless as death relentlessly claimed her with a swiftness that allowed little time for forgiveness.

      Cold washed through him. He sprang to his feet, heart pounding, hands clenched. Sweat dampened the back of his shirt. He snapped the lamp off and strode down the hall to his room.

      He would never put himself in such a vulnerable position again. Any love he had left was for Cassie, and Cassie alone.

      The last thing he wanted was another wife.

       Chapter Two

      Three women answered his ad for an in-home baby-sitter.

      Marcie, with long, blond hair hanging straight down her back. Black, shiny tights topped by a low-cut blouse showing far more than a hint of cleavage left nothing to the imagination. She had a disconcerting habit of leaning toward Grant, which he supposed was designed to raise his blood pressure. It did—not with lust but with anger. When she suggested it would be best for all if she moved in with them, he concluded the interview and walked her to the door, not bothering to have her meet Cassie.

      A dull throb began in his brow.

      Sandra was a quiet woman, with pale-gray eyes that seemed to match her spirit. She was in the process of going through a divorce and wasn’t sure how long she would remain in Valdez. It depended, she said, on whether she met another man soon, because she was not a woman who could live without a man in her life. Grant thanked her for coming, ushered her from the house without meeting Cassie and crossed his fingers that the next woman would be perfect.

      The throb turned to a pounding.

      Beth had six children, watched five others and needed to earn more money because her good-for-nothing exhusband was behind on child support once more. Though Grant felt the full impact of her imploring eyes, he thanked her, also, and explained that he would keep her in mind if he couldn’t find someone who would come to his home to care for Cassie. Cassie remained in her room, playing.

      The pounding exploded into a full-blown headache that had him pinching the bridge of his nose as he settled back into the leather chair in the den.

      “Did you find one?” Cassie asked from the doorway.

      Grant shook his head as she crossed the room and crawled onto his lap. She tucked her head beneath his chin and the headache began to dim.

      “Maybe Sharon would do it,” Cassie said in a small voice.

      “Honey, Sharon has a job, remember? How would they run the bank without her?” Sharon would be perfect, he thought, tightening his arms slightly.

      “Oh.”

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