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“What can I do for you?” Reverend Lee asked, watching him warily.

“Nothing,” Kanon replied. “This is about what I can do for you.”

Lines of confusion and distrust gathered on his forehead. “And what’s that?”

“Hopefully, I can convince you to change a few things before it’s too late.”

“Now you’re giving me advice?”

Kanon heard the disdain in his voice. As usual, he didn’t think he needed to change. He prided himself on his good deeds, thought it was everyone else who needed his advice.

Although Kanon didn’t believe what he was about to say would truly make a difference, for Patience’s sake, he was going to make the attempt. “If you’re willing to hear it,” he said.

“You can’t damage my faith—”

“This has nothing to do with your faith or anyone else’s. My advice is far more practical. You need to start appreciating how much your daughter loves you and how hard she’s tried—her whole life—to please you. Forgive her for the pregnancy so she can forgive herself and just…love her. Quit trying to dictate what she should believe and how she should behave and what she should do. You’re pushing her away, choking off her confidence and happiness. You realize that, don’t you?”

His face turned red as he drew himself up to his full five feet ten inches—or thereabouts. “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my own daughter.”

Kanon pursed his lips as he nodded. “I thought it’d be futile, but you’re so blind where she’s concerned that I had to try.”

“If you’re leaving town, you can’t care a whole lot about Patience, so I don’t see how you can find fault with me.”

“You wouldn’t want me to stay, and you know it. Who told you I was leaving, anyway? Was it Patience?” He was curious to find out if they were talking again—knew he’d feel better if they were—but when Reverend Lee broke eye contact, he knew they weren’t.

“Not much happens in this town I don’t hear about,” he said.

Kanon lifted one of the cards the pastor had been handing out, even though he’d already seen what it was—a lot of the people who’d wandered into the motel were carrying one. “You make it your business to know.”

“So I can help people. It’s my job.”

“I’ll take your word for that. But you’re not the only one who has good intentions. No matter what you think of me, I care about your daughter. She’s the best person I’ve ever known. And I hate to see you make her so unhappy.”

“I’ve always been there for her! I’m not the one who’s making her unhappy—”

“You’re a big part of it,” Kanon broke in. “Let her breathe.” He pulled out his wallet, withdrew three hundred dollars and tossed it onto the table. “This is for the kids.”

Patience’s father didn’t seem to know how to react. He was angered by what he’d heard, and yet he’d just received a donation that was a lot bigger than the ten dollars or twenty dollars he typically received. Clamping his mouth shut, no doubt for the good of the children he was trying to help, he started to write the amount on a paper ornament that would then hang on the community tree to signify the contribution, but Kanon stopped him. “You can skip that part,” he said and walked away.

* * *

Kanon couldn’t sleep that night. It should’ve been easy; he and Kelsey had worked long hours through the festival. But he’d texted Patience before he went to bed to congratulate her on a job well done and hadn’t heard back. He knew he’d let her down, couldn’t blame her for not wanting to speak to him. He’d told her not to get too close from the start. And yet… Her calm acceptance of what he’d decided, and her polite responses when they’d last spoken, made him feel unsettled. It would’ve been easier for him to walk away if she’d given him a piece of her mind or flipped him off or something. Her complete withdrawal just made him feel empty inside.

He wondered if he’d only made her situation worse by confronting her father. That certainly hadn’t been his intention. But he didn’t regret saying what he had. It was high time Carl Lee heard it. Everyone deserved a little criticism now and then, and even though Kanon wasn’t in a position to judge others, he felt justified in this case. After all, Carl was always telling other people how to live.

He flopped over, punched his pillow and tried once again to drift off. He should never have come back to Hard Luck, he decided. Nothing had turned out as he’d expected. He’d returned thinking—now that he was no longer a vulnerable kid—he’d finally win the war his father had started here.

But with Frankie gone, there were no more battles to be fought. Instead, he’d found two women who were willing to forget who he’d been in the past and simply love him for who he was in the present.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was hard to go back to work on Monday. Because of the festival, the previous four days had been a blur, and Christmas was right around the corner. It would’ve been easy to check out for the rest of the month. But Ari couldn’t miss school, not without a good reason, and Patience owed it to Jack to keep pushing ahead at Mather Trucking. People needed their goods delivered for the holidays. This was a busy time of year.

Even though she tried to make it on time, she was fifteen minutes late for work. She’d slept through her alarm. It was Ari who’d finally shaken her awake to say they had to get up and get ready.

“Sorry,” she mouthed to Jack through the interior window that separated them.

He got up from his desk and came out. “Everything okay?”