Читать книгу His Daughter...Their Child - Karen Smith Rose - Страница 8

Outside on Clay’s front porch, a motherly fervor rose up in Celeste she’d never experienced before. If Clay thought she was going to walk away from her daughter this time, he was wrong. Even though his sperm and Zoie’s egg had made Abby, Celeste had felt a motherly bond from the moment of conception, though she’d denied it for years.

She squared her shoulders and met Clay’s turmoiled gaze head-on. “After Abby was born, it practically broke my heart to give her to you and Zoie. But that’s what I’d promised to do. I know I signed release forms and still don’t have any rights. But having rights and doing what’s right are two different things. You’re her father and you have sole custody. I understand that. But I carried her for thirty-eight and a half weeks. I felt her move inside me. I looked into her little face after she was born and felt … connected. I came back here to get to know her, to spend some time with her, and I hope you’re compassionate enough to understand why I have to do that.”

Clay didn’t look moved and his silence troubled her. So she asked, “How often does Abby have bad dreams?” Celeste remembered the feel of her daughter in her arms. Abby had looked up at her as if she’d known her!

Finally Clay reluctantly admitted, “Every few weeks. She hasn’t had one for a while.” He ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. “I talked to her pediatrician about them but he believes they’ll pass.”

Clay’s eminent virility was difficult to ignore. And the regret in his voice tugged at her heart. Still, she probed for more information. “The dreams will pass when Abby feels secure again?”

“She is secure,” Clay assured her firmly. “She’s a happy little girl.”

“Until she goes to sleep at night … until she plays with other children and realizes she doesn’t have a mommy,” Celeste pointed out, unwilling to let this go.

“She was too young to remember Zoie. She was only eighteen months when Zoie and I separated.”

“Zoie came back to get the divorce a year later,” Celeste reminded him.

“She didn’t stay with us,” he protested. “She and I met at the lawyer’s office and she only saw Abby once.”

Celeste could clearly see on his face the turmoil her visit had caused. “Abby looked at me as if she knows me. She remembers Zoie.”

Swearing under his breath, Clay swung away from her and stared into the dark night, the mountains and the sky above. Finally he asked again with resignation, “What do you want?”

She wondered if he thought this time her answer would be different … if her answer would let him go back to the life he’d been leading before her email.

“For now, I’d just be happy to spend some time with Abby under ordinary circumstances.”

Clay came a couple of paces closer, the intensity in his eyes edging his words. “What’s this going to be, Celeste? You’ll be here a week then go back to your life in Phoenix? You want to spend holidays now and then with Abby? You intend to be a favorite aunt and come in and out of her life as it suits you?”

Celeste was stung by Clay’s anger, though deep down she knew some of it was justified. He’d been hurt by the divorce. He’d ridden out his turbulent marriage, tried to do the right thing and ended up as a single dad with a child to raise on his own. How could she tell him what she wanted when she didn’t know herself? She’d been hurt by love, too, not so long ago. But one thing was certain—she wanted a place in Abby’s life.

For a few moments, Clay’s closeness stole her breath. She remembered the strength of his fingers around hers as they’d danced, his hand splayed across the small of her back, the musk-and-pine scent of him that now stirred a sleepy need inside her.

Gathering her wits, reclaiming her senses, she tried to detach herself from Clay, the man, to talk to Clay, the father. “I’m here to stay if that’s what will be best for Abby.”

Shock deepened the brackets around his mouth, the lines at his eyes. “You’re willing to commit to staying in Miners Bluff to watch Abby grow up?” His voice held wariness and disbelief.

But Celeste had already spent many sleepless nights deciding what to do. “Yes. I think of her as my daughter. But I won’t disrupt her life and I’ll do what’s best for her.”

Clay was shaking his head, widening his stance. “You’ve got to give me some time to think about this, to figure out the best way to handle it.”

Trying to let him absorb her intention, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. “My cell phone number’s on there as well as my number at Mikala’s. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

When she handed him the slip of paper, their fingers brushed. Awareness rushed through her and the flicker in his eyes told her something jarred him a little, too. High school memories? A history they couldn’t refute? The way their lives were converging once more?

As Celeste descended Clay’s porch steps, she remembered how she and her mother had watched movies together when she was a teenager and Zoie was out with friends. Her favorite movie had been Raiders of the Lost Ark. Clay had always reminded her of Indiana Jones—intelligent, adventurous and too sexy for words.

Now as she made her way to her car, she felt his gaze burning through her back.

The disco ball was still spinning when Celeste returned to the cafeteria where the reunion was in full swing. When Mikala waved at her, she headed to join her friend, who was sitting alone.

“You disappeared,” Mikala said, pushing her wavy black hair behind one ear.

Easily settling into the years-old routine of confiding in her old friend, she revealed, “I saw Abby. I actually held her.” She stopped when she heard the tremor in her voice, knowing she was already caring too much. If Clay wanted her gone, she’d really have no right to stay, so she couldn’t let herself get too attached.

Mikala didn’t seem to need her to say more. They sat listening to the music for a few moments.

Celeste’s thoughts raced as she tried to find a distraction. This reunion wasn’t over tonight. In the summer, the chamber of commerce scheduled rodeos for alternate Sundays, so some classmates planned to attend the event at the fairgrounds tomorrow. Maybe Clay would be there?

So much for a distraction. “Are you going to the rodeo tomorrow?”

“I’ll go if Aunt Anna doesn’t need me. The family staying in our other suite is checking out tomorrow morning.”

The Purple Pansy only had two suites, but Celeste knew Mikala didn’t want her aunt to carry the entire burden.

“I saw you dancing with Dawson Barrett before I left,” Celeste noted just in case her friend wanted to confide in her.

Mikala’s gaze went to the tall man in question who was embroiled in a lively conversation with a group of classmates.

“Is he still CEO of his own company?” Celeste asked, knowing Dawson also lived in Phoenix.

“You don’t run in the same circles?” Mikala asked with a smile.

Celeste laughed. “Oh, no. I think he’s in the millionaire club. And Phoenix is way too big for me to run into him by accident. But I read about what happened to his wife. He has a son, doesn’t he?”

Mikala’s face suddenly took on her professional look, and Celeste knew what that meant. She was a stickler for confidentiality in her practice. Had Dawson talked to her about his son?

Even if Mikala wanted to, she didn’t get the opportunity to answer. They both heard raised voices coming from a corridor that led off the cafeteria to the stairway beyond.

“That’s Jenny,” Celeste said, rising to her feet.

Mikala put a hand on Celeste’s arm. “She and Zack Decker stepped out there for a private conversation. He arrived shortly after you left. No one thought he’d come, since he hasn’t been back to see his father at the Rocky D in years. I guess everyone expected him to drive up in a limo or something. But even with that Oscar for film directing under his belt, he acted like a regular guy.”

Just then Jenny and Zack emerged from the corridor, both looking angry. Zack headed out of the cafeteria towards the school’s lobby. Jenny headed in the opposite direction, toward the ladies’ room.

“We should see if she’s okay,” Celeste said, well aware Jenny and Zack had been involved their senior year of high school.

“Let’s give her a few minutes. If she doesn’t come out, we’ll go in.”

Celeste sank down onto her folding chair again, trying to decide if reunions were a good thing or a bad thing. Old friends reconnected. The night brought back memories everyone had forgotten. Yet being together with classmates in this room stirred up old hurts, too … as well as old hopes.

Don’t go there. Old dreams were just that—old dreams. She’d returned to Miners Bluff to find new ones.

Celeste had always loved the rodeo. The scent of french fries and hot dogs, burgers and barbecued chicken wings reminded her of the times she’d come here as a teenager. Along with hiking on Moonshadow Mountain, she’d attended the rodeo on summer Sundays looking for an escape from everyday life, from gossip about her mother, from the sounds of raucous laughter that had drifted up from the bar—The Tin Pan Tavern—underneath her bedroom almost every night. When she’d earned enough money as a cashier at the grocery store to buy a rodeo ticket, she’d thrown herself into the experience, cheering on the clowns and the riders, eating fries sprinkled with vinegar, pretending for a few hours that she was an adult, free to do whatever she pleased.

Little had she known that adults had restrictions, too.

Behind her, Jenny followed her into the stands, waving at several people she knew. Celeste smiled at classmates who’d hung around for this event and found a seat near some of them.

Not long after she and Jenny were seated, a lone rider trotted from the gate behind the arena, a flag held high. Everyone stood as the “Star Spangled Banner” played.

A cheer went up from the crowd as the first event commenced and women’s barrel racing captured Celeste’s attention …

Until a deep male voice asked, “Is this seat taken?”

She’d know that voice anywhere. Before she turned to face Clay, she took a deep breath and reminded herself he was Abby’s father, nothing more.

Yet as she turned her face up to him and gazed into his gunmetal-gray eyes, she felt herself falling again into memories of another time when she’d wanted Clay to notice her, not her twin.

“Hey,” she said with a flippancy she wasn’t feeling. “I didn’t know you liked rodeos.”

“I’ve developed a taste for them.”

“You didn’t think much of them when we were in high school.” Zoie and Clay’s dates had never brought them here.

“Not true. My parents are the ones who don’t think much of them, and …”

“And Zoie wasn’t crazy about them, either.”

“No. She preferred driving into Flagstaff or Sedona to window-shop. But you loved the summer rodeo cycle.”

She was surprised he knew that. “I sure did. Still do. But I’m usually too busy to take time to enjoy one in Phoenix.”

“How did we ever become adults who don’t have time for fun?”

His tone shifted, and she could see he was serious.

After Clay settled in beside her, his arm brushing hers, she took another long breath, warning herself to stay calm. But she was nervous about Clay approaching her. What did it mean?

They watched horse and rider expertly circle the barrels, ending the competition with a gallop toward the finish line. A rousing cheer went up around them.

When the audience calmed down and the next rider approached the first barrel, Clay leaned toward her. “Do you want to find a quieter place to talk?”

She glanced at Jenny, who was deep in conversation with someone seated behind her. “Sure.”

“We can get something to drink,” he said as if they needed an excuse for leaving the stands.

She bent to Jenny. “We’re going to get drinks. Would you like me to bring you back anything?”

Jenny just looked at Clay and shook her head. “I’ll go down in a little while. Don’t hurry back on my account.”

Celeste wasn’t sure what to make of Jenny’s remark, but she followed Clay down to the ground and strode behind him until he stopped, waiting for her. “Iced tea or soda?”

“Iced tea. Unsweetened if they have it.”

After he bought them drinks, they wandered along a row of stalls until they reached a clearing behind the corrals. Riders practiced roping there. Colorfully dressed clowns passed them. A man Clay knew waved as he led a horse down the walkway.

“I should have handled last night differently.” Clay pushed up the brim of the crushable fedora that he wore most of the time when he wasn’t inside. In that hat, with its wide brim, pinched sides and dented top, he again reminded her of Indiana Jones.

“Differently how?”

“We were friends once, Celeste. I never intended to treat you like the enemy.”

She released a huge pent-up breath, but then she realized he might be trying to lessen the tension between them so she’d back off. She’d told him she had Abby’s best interests at heart. Maybe he thought if he was friendly enough, he could convince her that staying out of Abby’s life would be the best thing for his daughter. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with her.

She didn’t accept his olive branch so easily. “We don’t know each other anymore.”

“No, we don’t.” As his gaze studied her, a tremor went up and down her spine, not because he could keep her out of Abby’s life, but because she was still attracted to him. Attracted to him in a way she shouldn’t be if she didn’t want to get hurt again. She watched a flicker of … something pass over his face.

Then his jaw tightened, and his spine became more rigid. “What would it take to get you to leave?”

Instead of answering him, she asked, “Don’t you think having a female role model around might be good for Abby?”

“And just how do I explain you, Celeste? Do I tell her you’re her aunt? Or do I tell her you’re sort of her mother but she has another mother who didn’t want to be her mother and ran away from every responsibility she professed she was ready for?”

Celeste had been aware of how unhappy Zoie had been, as well as the reasons why. Did Clay even know what they were? He probably didn’t care. He was still raw from her desertion.

Taking a step away from Clay out of the virile aura he exuded, she said, “Maybe you should stop thinking about all the possible questions you have and just listen to me. I don’t want to hurt Abby. I want to be around for her. I understand you want to protect her, but did you ever think she might need me in her life with Zoie gone?”

With a stoic expression, Clay contemplated the nearby cowboy twirling his rope above his head. Then he refocused all his attention on her. “You never used to be this tenacious.” He sounded as if he might respect and admire that quality now.

“I didn’t have a reason to be tenacious.” After a few moments, she added, “You never looked beyond who I was in high school.”

He shrugged, one hand slipping into the back pocket of his jeans. “You were always quiet and seemed to hold back.”

“I stood in my sister’s shadow?” she prompted, knowing she hadn’t fought then to escape Zoie’s vibrant personality.

“Your words, not mine.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not true. I found a life after I left Miners Bluff, a life that gave me confidence in my own abilities and in what I could accomplish.” She should have added, “In who I was as a woman,” but she didn’t want to get into that. Her personality had always been swallowed up by Zoie’s.

The late afternoon sun streamed down on them as applause rose once more from the crowd in the stands.

The one thing Celeste had learned to do was to be honest about what she wanted and what she was feeling. She kept her voice low but didn’t hesitate to make eye contact. “Do you know what I felt last night, Clay, when Abby held on to me?”

He stepped nearer to her so it was easier to hear, so no one else could hear. “What?”

His mouth was close to her ear. His breath was warm. A quiver slid down her spine, and she fought attraction she had to deny. “I felt as if she was part of me, the same way I felt when she was still inside me. For over three years I’ve denied how I felt that day. I’ve denied the yearnings that brought me back here.”

He was still so close to her, his body heat was converging with hers when he asked, “What finally brought you back? I can’t believe the reunion was the reason you emailed me.”

“No, it wasn’t.” But she was sure he didn’t want to hear about a failed relationship, didn’t want to hear how she’d thought she’d found a man to love but then he’d rejected her in the most obvious of ways. She’d been blind and would try never to be so again.

“The reason doesn’t matter. I had to see Abby. I think she and I might need each other.”

It was easy to see that Clay cared about what his daughter needed, even if he wasn’t thrilled about Celeste’s potential involvement in her life. “I don’t have any tours tomorrow. Come over to the house around four. She should be up from her nap by then if she takes one. I’ll tell her I’ve invited you to her tea party. She has one almost every afternoon. Mom started it as a prelude to dinner so she’d eat some fruit and veggies.” He hesitated. “You know, Abby asked me this morning if you could visit again.”

Celeste forgot about the barrel racers, the applause, the aroma of burgers and fries. So that was the reason he’d offered an olive branch.

As she lifted her chin, Clay’s lips were within kissing distance. She spoke past the lump in her throat. “You won’t regret this, Clay.”

Judging by his expression, he clearly didn’t believe her.

Clay forced a smile when he opened the door to Celeste the following day. At the rodeo, he’d felt that disorienting tug of attraction again. His body had responded to her with startling insistence—and he didn’t like it. He’d always been a master of self-control—why was his body overruling his head?

Celeste was carrying a two-foot-high plush calico cat. He commented amiably, “You brought a friend.”

“For Abby.”

“To keep away her nightmares?” he guessed, realizing there was a point to everything Celeste did.

“Possibly. If not, just another friend to enjoy the tea party.”

“Up until now, only bears were invited,” he said conversationally, leading her toward the sunroom at the back of the house. “But I think she’ll make an exception.” He added, “Mom’s still here. She stayed with Abby while I ran errands. Abby asked her to stay for snacks with you.” When he glanced over at Celeste, he saw she hadn’t reacted to that news.

They entered the bright space with its floor-to-ceiling screened windows on two walls. His mother sat beside Abby on the floor, a porcelain tea set atop a white wooden table. There were fresh vegetables and fruit along with milk in the teapot.

Celeste didn’t hesitate to approach his mother and Abby. “Hello, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s good to see you again.”

His mother simply nodded in response.

With the lift of a brow, Celeste crouched beside Abby. “Hi, Abby. Do you remember me?”

His daughter smiled and nodded, too, not acting shy as she usually did with people she didn’t know well.

“Well, good, I’m glad you do. I brought someone along today who would like to meet you. Her name is Tulullah. Tulullah, meet Abby.”

Abby’s grin was so wide, Clay felt a tug at his heart. “Tooloo,” she tried to say.

“Maybe we could just call her Lulu,” Celeste suggested.

“I like Lulu,” Abby decided, looking over the cat and making room for it to sit on the floor.

Celeste’s gaze found Clay’s, and he felt his pulse thump in his jaw. Determined to ignore the flash of heat, he lowered himself to the floor beside Celeste, his jean-clad thigh brushing hers as they settled in. Another jolt of adrenaline rushed through him that caused even more turmoil.

She shifted away, and he told himself he was glad. This was not the time for his libido to wake up after two years of dormancy.

“Would you like me to pour?” she asked Clay’s mother.

“That would be fine,” his mother answered formally.

He found himself watching Celeste much too closely. After she poured the milk, she took a sip from her cup, licked her lips, and set it on the table. Zoie would have done all that provocatively and on purpose. Celeste … He could see she was just enjoying spending time with Abby.

“Do you know how long you’ll be staying in Miners Bluff?” his mother asked.

Abby suddenly stood, ran to her toy bin in the corner and produced a hat with ribbon ties. Sidling up to Celeste, she asked, “Can you put it on Lulu? I can’t tie.”

“Of course I can,” Celeste said, taking the hat from Abby. Then she answered Violet. “How long I stay depends on all of you.”

His mom looked surprised at the answer.

“She looks beautiful,” Celeste decreed, as the big pink bow flopped under Lulu’s chin. “That hat was a good idea.”

Abby looked at Lulu, back at Celeste, then threw her arms around Celeste’s neck. “I like Lulu. I like you. T’ank you.”

Clay watched Celeste’s eyes close and her lower lip tremble. “You’re most welcome.”

Wiggling in again between Celeste and Lulu, Abby thoughtfully took a bite of strawberry. Then she tugged Celeste’s arm. “Can you play puzzles wif me?”

Celeste looked at Clay as if for permission.

He pointed to a stack of toddler puzzles on the bookshelf, but warned his daughter, “Celeste might have to go back to her own house. It’s getting near suppertime.”

“Can she have supper wif us? And wash my bears?” Abby asked innocently.

This he hadn’t expected.

“If you have other plans, Abby will understand,” his mother assured her, as if she wanted her to go. In fact, she got to her feet as if to signal the tea party was over.

But Clay had to find out what Celeste was made of. He had to find out if she belonged in his daughter’s life.

“You’re welcome to stay,” he said gruffly, wanting to see what decision she would make.

She didn’t hesitate. “I’d like to. But please let me help with dinner. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“Do you cook?” his mother asked her.

“I do. It’s a hobby.”

Clay’s mother frowned. “Well, you’re certainly very different from your sister. She preferred takeout, restaurants, or else a personal chef.”

“Mom,” Clay said in warning.

His mother eyed Celeste again. “I have to be going. Harold will be waiting for me.” She gave Abby a hug and a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, honey.”

After an even longer look at Celeste, she said in a low voice to Clay, “I’ll tell your father you’re going to consider his ideas for your retirement account.”

“No, Mom. I’m not.”

“Humor him,” she coaxed.

Clay sighed. “I’ll speak to him about the account, but I don’t intend to change anything.”

“At least that’s something,” his mother murmured, squeezed his shoulder and then left the sunroom.

Although Celeste was already putting a puzzle together with Abby, she tossed him a quizzical look.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“I’m not thinking anything, except maybe your dad still wants you to be a banker.”

His father had always wanted him to be a banker … just as Zoie had. “Some things never change.”

“Doesn’t he accept the fact that you’re doing the work you love? Doesn’t that matter to him at all?”

So Celeste had always realized that. The revelation settled into Clay’s being as if it was important enough to make a home there. “My father isn’t interested in the journey. He’s always been interested in appearances and the end result. He wants me to be a respected member of the community and take over for him some day.”

“Turn the puzzle piece this way,” Celeste encouraged Abby. “There you go. That one fits.”

Abby clapped her hands and hugged Lulu tighter against her. “It fits, Lulu!”

As Abby selected another piece with Cinderella’s fairy godmother stamped on it, Celeste asked Clay, “Do you still like what you do? Do you still want to get into that SUV and drive where not many people go, hike where few people dare, teach others about the beauty of this place?”

He heard passion in Celeste’s voice. He’d never thought of her as passionate. That had been Zoie’s forte. “Yes, or I wouldn’t still be doing it.” He leaned around Celeste to tug on one of his daughter’s pigtails.

She grinned at him. “Don’t tease, Daddy.”

He laughed. He knew in spite of everything, Abby was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, he had Celeste to thank for that.

Levering himself up to a sitting position again, his chest brushed Celeste’s shoulder. She glanced back at him and he studied her face. His first impression at the reunion had been wrong—she did look a bit like Zoie, but not as much as he’d thought. Her perfume was different, her gaze was, too. It was direct, not evasive. In that moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her—if her lips would be soft and pliant, if passion would be natural for her or a means to get what she wanted.

Abby.

He pushed himself to his feet. “We’re having turkey burgers tonight. I’ll turn on the grill and set up a washbasin outside because I’m sure the bears’ bath will get messy.”

“Can I wear my swimsuit?” Abby asked, scrambling to her feet.

He tried to let the tension he felt with Celeste ease away so his daughter wouldn’t pick up on it. “Sure.”

Celeste turned away and took a deep breath. Was she feeling chemistry, too? Why now?

Rising to her feet, she asked, “What can I do to help?”

All of a sudden, he imagined the two of them naked and tangled in each other’s arms. Where the hell had that vision come from? That rush of adrenaline that still lingered? The bite of arousal he’d relegated to a remnant of younger days?

No, he could not get involved with this woman. Or any woman. His nine-year marriage had drained all the romance out of him. Zoie’s betrayal had left him distrustful at worst … guarded at best. Why would he want to risk that kind of pain again? Why would he put Abby at risk of getting hurt, too?

Coolly he said, “The washbasin is in the laundry room. Towels, too. Maybe you can bring those outside.”

“Can C’leste help me put on my swimsuit?”

Clay’s heart took a nosedive. Already Abby was bonding with Celeste. He had to make a decision whether he should let it happen or stop it right now.

What would be best for his daughter—and for him?