Paul’s Pursuit

Prologue-1

Prologue

Twenty-six years earlier

Paul Grove stood tall and proud as the cold breeze swirled around him. There was the promise of the first snow dancing in it, but he already felt a numbness that not even the cold weather could touch. He was a huge bear of a man, even though he was only twenty-one years old. He had always been big for his age and years of hard work on his parent’s ranch had sculpted his muscles early, giving him an even more formidable appearance.

He wore his black hair short simply because it was easier to maintain. At six and a half feet, he had lost the gangly limbs of just a few years earlier. His deeply tanned face reflected the hours he spent outside working in the wilds of Wyoming. Today, it was not his height or build that captured the attention of those standing around; it was the grief reflected in his dark brown eyes and the small bundle wrapped protectively in his arms.

His arms tightened around the tiny body pressed up against him. Tears clouded his vision, but he refused to let them fall. He focused on the small, sweet warmth he held close to his heart. It was all he had left of Evelyn, his beautiful young wife who died less than a week ago from a brain aneurysm. A part of him wanted to rage at God for taking something so precious, so beautiful, far too early. Her beautiful brown eyes shining with love and laughter shimmered in his mind. The way she would dance around their little house with a laugh and a song on her lips still a vivid memory.

He had loved her forever, it seemed. When her family moved to town when she was in first grade and he was a big third grader, he swore that he would love her forever and take care of her. He remembered her parents kneeling down next to her curly head and promising that she would be fine. He had walked over and introduced himself. Ten minutes later, he was holding her small hand in his and walking her to class as her parents watched with worried eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Paul,” another one of their former classmates from school said. “If there is anything I can do….”

Paul nodded automatically, his arms drawing his tiny daughter closer as if to shield her from the looks of worry, sadness, and pity. He knew what many were thinking. That he was too young to be raising a little girl on his own. He had already had several offers to take his baby girl from him, to let others raise her. Hell, even Evelyn’s mom tried to insist she take Trisha and raise her. She tried to tell him it would be best if another woman raised his little girl. He had turned her down with barely restrained politeness.

“Paul,” Evelyn’s mom, Rosalie, walked over to him. “Let me take her.”

Paul turned his grief-stricken eyes on the woman who had changed over the last few years from a pleasant, if strict mother, into a first class b***h when it had come to her own daughter.

Rosalie had changed when Evelyn’s dad left her and Evelyn when Evelyn was in sixth grade. Paul had listened as Evelyn cried as she told him that nothing she did was good enough for her mother. He had doctored the bruises and welts on Evelyn’s delicate skin from the times her mother had gotten drunk and hit her over some small infraction.

He had even gone and warned Evelyn’s mother that if she ever hit her daughter again, he would show her no mercy. Her mother had tried to keep them apart, but he would have fought the entire world for his beautiful wife. He would do no less for his precious baby girl.

“No,” Paul said shortly, looking into eyes that would have reminded him of his wife if not for the anger and bitterness in them. “She is fine. She’s sleeping,” he added in a gentler tone.

“Give her to me,” Rosalie begged. “Haven’t you taken enough from me? Haven’t I lost enough? Let me raise my granddaughter. You are young. You can find another girl, marry, have more children. I’ll never have another Evelyn. I’ll never have another chance.”

Paul felt the rage building inside him as he listened to Rosalie. “You never appreciated the beautiful daughter you had. What makes you think I would ever let you take mine?” he asked in a cold, barely controlled voice. “I loved your daughter more than life itself, Rosalie. I love our daughter just as much. She is my life now. I am her father and I will always be her father. I will be there for her. I will be the one to teach her, guide her, and love her with every fiber of my being.”

Rosalie’s eyes grew as cold and bitter as the wind blowing through the graveyard. “We’ll see about that. I have money. I will fight for my daughter’s child. I will take her and raise her if it is the last thing I ever do. She will be mine!”

Paul felt a calm resolve course through him as Trisha shifted and raised her curly little head. She pulled her tiny thumb out of her mouth and looked up into his eyes. A small, innocent smile curved her tiny, pink lips and her dark brown eyes lit up with love and trust.

“Dada,” she giggled, leaning forward to hide her cold nose against his smooth cheek.

Paul looked at Rosalie with a new determination and maturity not often found in a twenty-one year old. He had discovered the painful lesson that life was not fair this past week. Perhaps fate had stepped in, knowing it was important for him and Evelyn to marry young. Evelyn might not have lived long, but she had given him something very precious in her short life; the knowledge of what it was to love and be loved and a beautiful daughter.

His hand moved up and cupped the back of Trisha’s curly head. He buried his nose in the wild curls; breathing in the fresh scent of the strawberry shampoo he had used on her hair earlier that morning. He refused to let anyone take his reason for living away from him without a fight. Right now, Trisha was the only thing keeping him moving forward through the grief and heartache threatening to consume and tear him apart. When he turned his eyes back to Rosalie, they were almost black with quiet rage.

Rosalie took a step back, her hand going to her throat as she recognized that she had just pushed her son-in-law too far. Subconsciously, she had always known that Paul would be a formidable opponent if cornered or provoked. A shiver coursed through her at the knowledge that he could also be a deadly one.

Paul shifted Trisha again and looked down at Evelyn’s mother with a cold, grim expression on his face. “I can promise you will never get your hands on my daughter, Rosalie,” Paul said before he turned and walked away without a backward look.