Ben started walking again, forgetting he was supposed to be hunting partridge, and darted a look at the boy walking beside him.
Michael hadn’t even blinked at the idea of missing school today. Ben wasn’t sure what Miss Flaming-Mad Emma would have to say on the matter, but they’d gotten back to Medicine Creek just before sunrise, and the woman had showered, changed clothes, and taken out her moose hunters. It was probably as much a perverse notion as a selfish one that had made Ben ask Mike to spend the day with him. After all, he was the boy’s father. He should be able to let the kid skip school.
“How did you damage the floats?”
Michael suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I … well, I sort of hit Crazy Larry’s dock at full power. But that didn’t damage them as much as when I bounced off it and hit the rocky shoreline.” He grinned at Ben. “Nemmy was mad enough to drown me.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“She wasn’t in the plane with you?”
“No. I was supposed to be practicing high-speed taxiing.”
“What happened?”
“Crazy Larry’s niece was visiting.”
That certainly explained things. Ben slapped Mike on the shoulder, then left his hand there.
And it felt damn good.
Ben chuckled. “Hell, Mike. Show me any disaster, and I’ll show you a woman standing nearby, watching.”
“Yeah. Well. Nem wasn’t quite as understanding. I chopped enough firewood to keep Medicine Creek Camps heated into the next century.”
Two partridge suddenly flew up from the side of the road, startling them into nearly dropping their guns. Neither male took aim at the departing birds, instead stopping to face each other.
“Nem’s going to be mad you let me skip school.”
“She can’t possibly get any madder than she already is.”
“Did you … have you really come here to claim me as your son?”
“Damn right. Are you ready for a father? For me to be your father?”
Gray eyes, so innocent yet so old, shined back at him. “I believe I am, Mr. Sinclair. I love my aunt with all my heart, but it’s definitely time I had a father.” The corners of his mouth suddenly turned up. “I probably know more about you than you know about yourself.”
“How?”
“Nem kept a scrapbook. She gave it to me on my tenth birthday.”
“Emma kept a scrapbook?”
“She started it before we ever got internet out here. I suppose she thought I should be able to decide if I eventually wanted to contact you or not. After all, you could have been a jerk.”
“And just having this scrapbook, and whatever you could find on the internet, made you want to meet me?”
“That, and other things. Nem always answered any questions I had about you while I was growing up. When I was eight, she gave me a picture of you she’d found in a business magazine. But it was seeing everything pieced together that made me want to meet you: what kind of businessmen you, your brothers, and your grandfather are; what charities you support; even what sort of women you date.” He gave Ben a sidelong glance and a crooked grin. “I noticed you don’t date any one woman for very long.”
Ben switched his gun to his other shoulder and started walking again. He couldn’t believe this. His son knew all about him, and he hadn’t even known the boy existed.
“I’m sorry you didn’t know about me,” Michael said softly, as if reading his mind. “And I’m sorry Abram Sinclair died before I could meet him. We … I probably should have contacted you sooner.”
“Bram would have ransomed his kingdom to have met you.”
“I know how he rose from poverty to build a multimillion-dollar shipping business,” Mike said with awe. “And that you’re Tidewater International’s new CEO.”
Ben nodded. “My younger brother, Jesse, works with me. I can’t wait for you to meet him. And our older brother, Sam. They’re both very eager to meet you. Um … we should find something for to call me. ‘Mr. Sinclair’ is too formal, don’t you think?”
“What would you like me to call you?”
Ben felt the back of his neck heat up. Dad. Call me dad. “What would you be comfortable with?”
The boy obviously didn’t like his question answered with another question. Mike’s neck colored all the way up to his cheeks. “Well, how does ‘Dad’ feel to you?”
“I’d like that.”
“Okay then, Dad—if we don’t turn around and start back, Nem’s going to come home to a dark kitchen and no supper on the table.” He gave Ben an inquiring look. “You don’t happen to know how to cook, do you?”
“I’ve been known to burn a barbecue. You got a grill at Medicine Creek?”
“Yup. Now, about those flowers. I hear they can take the anger right out of a woman. And since you and Nem are both being tight-lipped about what caused this particular feud, maybe you should give them a try.”
“Maybe she should be sending me flowers.”
Mike cuffed Ben’s arm. “Jeez, Dad. Even I know it’s a man’s place to cave in first.” He got that calculating look again. “No one—not even Galen Simms—ever sent Nemmy flowers.”
Ben was beginning to suspect he could take lessons from this boy. “Is that so?”
“And would you like to really make my aunt melt?”
Now there was a thought. He was almost afraid to ask his next question. “How would I do that?”
“Elmer Fudge cookies.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nem loves them. Have a whole case of them delivered with the flowers, and your any wish will be her command.”
Emma Sands at his command. Lord, he was loving this boy! “Can I get the cookies in Greenville?”
Michael wrapped his arm around Ben’s shoulders and steered him back toward Medicine Creek. “Just leave it to me, Dad.”
Within the embrace of his new lease on
