Читать книгу The Father of Her Son - Kathleen Pickering - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

ONE FACT CONSUMED Evan’s thoughts as he headed back to the office. Kelly hadn’t said no to Saturday night. This was the closest he’d gotten to a yes from her and he hightailed it out of Neverland before she could reconsider her halfhearted agreement.

When he’d first returned to New York, Steve Fiore said Kelly owned the revamped Neverland diner. Evan’s heart did a little twist when he found her ensconced behind the counter, eyes wide at the sight of him.

Yet, Kelly had changed. He’d realized why the minute she introduced him to Matt. Evan had done the math. Matt had been conceived within months after he and Kelly first met, on the first day Herby, the old softie, had hired her.

Kelly wouldn’t budge on revealing the paternity of the boy. Honestly, he didn’t care. He was more concerned that perhaps some deadbeat needed to be paying child support. If that was the case, he’d be more than happy to hunt down the bastard. Kelly clearly loved her son to distraction, but whatever she went through to get that great kid into her life, the deed had left its mark. Kelly had lost her innocence. She had become cautious while still remaining alluring. Caring, but from the distance of a football field.

Why the hell hadn’t he called her while he was gone? Checked up on her?

He knew why. But he didn’t even want to go there. Not now that his career launched as he had planned. He swallowed the guilt that he may have hurt her. Back then, he didn’t have the time to concentrate on a relationship. Funny how the tables had turned. Now that his career was on solid ground, he was ready to find a wife and begin a family. After all the women he’d dated, his sights continued to zero in on Kelly. No other woman compared. Getting her to date him would help fill the void in his happiness as only a companion could.

Yes, indeed. He was all for second chances. And for finding answers. He wanted to help Kelly as much as he wanted to date her. Someday, he’d unearth Matt’s father. If the guy had hurt Kelly in any way, he’d make sure the dude got his comeuppance.

Evan’s notoriety in the news world came from his doggedness with a story. If he got wind of possible news, he sniffed out every corner, every fact, every morsel of research until he put flesh on the skeletons he found.

The radar he depended on to alert him to something fishy was pinging intensely over Neverland’s cable being out of service. Something didn’t add up. Yesterday when he confided in Kelly that Buzz Campbell was his secret interview, she had been holding her precious Nikon camera. When he said Campbell’s name the delicate instrument slipped from her hands. Evan managed to catch the camera before it hit the floor, but he hadn’t missed the intense shock that had filled those gorgeous green eyes.

Leaving Neverland now, it hit like a jolt that he actually knew nothing about Kelly other than the usual safe, small talk. Irish born. Parents strict Roman Catholics. Her father owned a limousine service, her mother was a homemaker. Two older brothers, married with kids. A sister and another brother, Michael, the priest. Kelly couldn’t afford to not work. Raising Matt left no time for dating.

She’d delivered the obvious facts.

All in a tidy little nutshell.

Was there more to the sultry redhead than met the eye? Was she a fugitive from Ireland? A runaway from a marriage? Whatever the secret, his gut prodded him to learn more. All avenues pointed to Matt. Kelly was a pro at keeping topics away from her personal life. Like the enchantress she was, she got folks talking about themselves, leaving little room for self-revelation. And when one did ask questions, as Evan always had, she was quick with that sexy little shrug, pensive look or heart-stopping smile and an evasive answer.

Well, now, Kelly was giving him cause for thought. Her clumsiness after he told her about the senator could very well have been coincidence—slippery fingers, given how quickly she’d been moving around. But something in her face, like mortification or fear, hit the alarm button. His instincts had made him one hell of a good newsman. He’d never ignored them before, and he surely would not now.

He wanted to understand this woman who fascinated him. Only, what if he found bad news? Like an abandoned husband somewhere or that she was a conspirator in some illegal activity with the IRA. For sure, even his own family had problems with that faction. What if she’d kidnapped Matt and he wasn’t really hers?

Nah. The kid had her eyes. His gut told him Kelly’s trouble was personal; something that made her cautious. Distant. He didn’t think what she was hiding would be enough to keep him away. If anything, it triggered his protective inclinations. He hadn’t felt like that...ever.

He’d always assumed he’d eventually settle down. His momma didn’t raise a fool. He’d watched his parents, who still loved each other after thirty years. That’s what Evan wanted in his relationship. Something simple and passionate that could stand the test of time.

Question was, how would he fit simple and passionate into his high-powered, fast-rising career? The job took up all of his time. An anchor newsman was just that: weighted and staying put. Constant interviews. Meetings. Brainstorming ideas with his staff. He had become the face most New Yorkers wanted to watch every morning at eight. Could he honestly become a family man when he had married his job?

Perhaps. If his wife was as busy as he. His thoughts drifted back to Kelly, a rare breed that one. He didn’t want to change Kelly one bit. He just wanted to orbit the same world as her and Matt for a while to see if they and he matched.

Evan craved to know what had happened in Kelly’s life to produce Matt. He had his suspicions. Given her insistence on remaining independent and self-sufficient, he could only assume she’d been bullied, or overcontrolled. He was pretty sure she would not lie, but would she omit information? Yes, she was certainly capable of editing answers with a tongue as smooth as a leprechaun’s. He’d continue to follow his hunches. With time, he’d ferret out the answer.

He punched the elevator button in the lobby. Enough. Pushing Kelly and Matt from his mind, he started thinking about this next interview. Thoughts about Kelly had to be put on the back burner until Friday. Right. Like that was possible.

* * *

IT FELT LIKE a bit of hell not going to Neverland for breakfast for the rest of the week. The nature of his job had him on the set early and tying up loose ends afterward, but he’d always managed to shoot over to Kelly’s for breakfast before tackling the tasks after the show. This time, he dived directly into the after-show work instead of going to Neverland. He didn’t want to give Kelly a chance to back away from Saturday’s plans. He’d gotten this far, and he wasn’t about to blow it.

His next show featured a man who fought the courts for custody of his son from his estranged wife. According to his guest, after a whirlwind courtship, he’d married a woman with the best of intentions only to discover, after a year of marriage, that she suffered from dissociative identity disorder—or multiple personalities. After consulting with psychologists, he decided to end the marriage only to have his wife announce she was pregnant. The man stayed on for three more years until he realized that, as the child got older, exposure to his mother’s condition would be detrimental for his development—especially since one of the wife’s personalities tended toward violence.

Evan had learned that in child custody or children’s rights cases, the laws were often too broad to consider more delicate situations. Mothers were widely considered better nurturers for children than the fathers but laws were changing. His interviewee had gained full custody of his son.

Forward thinking, the man had tailored his burgeoning business to accommodate a day care on site for his son and the children of employees. He hired a staff of two preschool instructors. He paid the insurance and offered child care as an incentive to his employees. Not only was he able to bring his son to work but the working mothers on his payroll did, as well. The man’s bottom line increased because his employees were happy to be at work. Evan had wanted to feature this heroic dad and introduce alternatives for working parents and employers willing to take the initiative.

What drove Evan’s television interviews off the charts were these kinds of economic and social platforms that raised social consciousness. Talk show hosts talked about his topics for days afterward, many times pulling in the same folks he interviewed to follow up. But it was Evan who managed to find and interview these persons of interest first. Evan’s keen instinct for a good story kept his boss writing those bonus checks at the end of every quarter. He smiled when Steve knocked on his open office door.

“How about breaking for lunch?”

Evan checked the time in the corner of his computer monitor. Already past noon. “Where are you going?”

Steve shrugged. “Neverland? I’m craving one of Jake’s Friday specials.”

He needed to dodge the diner just one more day. “Hmm. Sounds great, but I’m putting the finishing touches on Monday’s show. I’m not coming in tomorrow.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Now, that’s a first.”

Evan met his friend’s concerned gaze. Steve came across as wily and distant like a silver fox, but Evan knew better. While Steve was Evan’s boss, the men had built a solid friendship during Evan’s time abroad. Steve had been an anchor at home, helping with story strategies and getting Evan the support he needed from the network while Evan roamed the continent on behalf of NCTV.

Beneath that austere exterior, Steve had a sense of humor and the heart of a family man. He still loved his wife of thirty-five years, boasted about his three grown kids and was waiting on the birth of his first grandchild.

“What’s the look for, Steve?”

“Only a woman could keep you from your desk tomorrow.”

Evan grinned. “Well, it is. And, she’s in Neverland and I don’t want to show up and give her a chance to back out.”

Steve slapped the door frame. “Well, I’ll be damned. So you groveled and she said yes.”

“You betchya, and proud of it.”

“Okay, then, how about lunch at Tao?”

Evan powered down his computer, leaving it in lock mode. He didn’t like to admit he couldn’t trust colleagues not to rifle through his files, but when it came to the ambitions of Dean Porter, anything could happen. He looked at his friend and decided, once again, against airing his concerns. Steve looked relaxed today. NCTV was running smoothly and up for an Emmy. No reason to throw darts at a balloon.

“On second thought, let’s go to Neverland. Tao is uptown and I don’t have much time. Kelly won’t dare mess with our plans with you at the counter.”

Steve chuckled. “That’s my man. I’d hate to miss Jake’s good cooking.”

* * *

THERE WERE ALWAYS new customers in Neverland. That was what made Manhattan so exciting. But Kelly didn’t like the way this particular man watched her while he ate Jake’s special corned beef sandwich.

Not that he looked dangerous. Gray suit, navy tie, blue button-down shirt. Well groomed, indeed, but there was something predatory in his smile, which he flashed every time she glanced his way. Better to get it over with and confront the man. She preferred handling clowns like this head-on, rather than finding them lurking around later.

She pointed to his empty glass. “Would you like another New Castle?”

“Sure.” He pushed his glass forward as she pulled another beer from the icebox.

She poured. “Everything fine with your meal?”

“Everything, except a few answers.”

She frowned, fully expecting a come-on. “What questions?”

He pulled a business card from his pocket. “I’m Jay Doyle. I report for the New York Sentinel.”

The gossip rag of the city. Good Lord, had someone spoken badly of Neverland? She offered him her most winning smile. “Lovely. What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s a long story, but I was chatting with a former administrative assistant to the senate’s newest presidential candidate and your name came up.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Well, here we go. The devil himself was sitting at her counter with a smile thinking he’d lay a snare. Wouldn’t happen on her watch.

Her body relaxed into war mode. “And who, pray tell, would that senator be?”

Doyle pointed to the TV screen above the counter. “Buzz Campbell. I’m sure you heard him throw his hat into the ring during Evan McKenna’s show on Monday.”

She frowned. “Missed the show, but heard the news. Are you taking a poll or something?”

He was watching her like a hawk. “Of sorts.”

She’d handled morons like him before. She just didn’t have to bite his bait. “Mr. Doyle, I don’t understand.”

Doyle laid a hand on the counter, palm down as if planting a root into her world. The action repulsed her. She didn’t like this man, at all.

“Well, Ms. Sullivan, it seems this ex-assistant has an ax to grind. Something about sexual harassment.”

Years of practice kept the jolt to her gut from showing on her face. “That’s unfortunate. I can promise you I do not sexually harass my employees.”

He chuckled. “No, but when chatting, this assistant mentioned that the senator had a nanny that abruptly left his employ.”

Okay. So he knew. She’d clean up this mess fast. No more dodging questions.

She shared a conspiratorial glance with him. “And, you learned that I was that nanny.”

He seemed surprised by her honesty. “Well, yes.”

She shook her head as if to say she’d never understand busybodies. She added an extra lilt to her question. “So, Mr. Doyle, at the risk of being rude, why would this be any business of yours?”

He pressed a finger to his lips before speaking. “My contact was given the tedious chore of screening candidates to replace you when you quit on such short notice. Mrs. Campbell had seemed bewildered when you left—she’d thought you were quite content with your job. This assistant suggested that perhaps you’d had a run-in with the senator.”

A customer motioned for more coffee at the end of the counter. She released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Kelly’s heart pounded double-time. To regain her calm, she refreshed several coffee mugs, delivered a check and several plates before returning to the reporter. Luckily, Matt was on a playdate and was out of sight. Thank heaven for small favors. This guy was pretty sharp, but so far all he had presented to her were suppositions. One glance at Matt and there would be no question. No one ever considered the possibility before today because no one in her present life knew of her connection to Buzz Campbell. Doyle, however, had targeted the guilty party. If he saw Matt she’d have the war of a lifetime on her hands.

She returned to the reporter as he downed the last of his Newcastle. “So, Mr. Doyle, as you can see, it’s lunch hour.”

He lifted a hand. “That apple pie looks excellent. I’ll have a slice, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Would you like a dollop of ice cream or whipped cream?”

“Both. And a coffee. Black.”

She was tempted to have one of the other waitresses finish serving him, but avoiding him would only encourage the man to persist in his questioning—or worse, return at another time. The fact that he was staying for dessert proved he thought he’d sniffed out a lead. She glanced at Bunny and saw from her friend’s expression that she had already assessed the guy as trouble. Kelly shot her a quick grin that confirmed it. As much as her insides quaked, she’d handle this clown and slide him out the door faster than grease off a skillet.

She poured his coffee and watched him shovel a forkful of pie into his mouth. The look on his face as he savored the sweet was priceless. She couldn’t help herself. She reached for the ever-present Nikon and snapped a few shots of Jay Doyle enjoying her favorite pie with a goodly amount of whipped cream in the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Kelly gestured to the wall covered in photos. “Well, Mr. Doyle. When I spy a customer who is particularly enjoying my food, his or her picture becomes part of Neverland’s Wall of Fame.”

He grinned. “Nice. I’d like that. I’ll bring my wife back to show her.”

“You do that, Mr. Doyle. So, let’s finish with your questions before I get distracted again. As I said, it’s busy in here.”

“Sure. Sure.” He spooned that last bit of pie into his mouth. “Amazing, this pie,” he said as he chewed. “So, it seems this assistant doesn’t think she is the only one with a gripe against Buzz Campbell.”

Kelly stood with arms crossed. “Is she charging him with harassment?”

“More like sexual assault. She had to fight him off. Only, she’s concerned that Campbell’s attorneys would pound her into the ground if she accuses him alone. If more women step forward, the charges will have more power.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“My informant knows of other women in Campbell’s wake with the same complaint. We were wondering if you were swept into his net, as well.”

Doyle’s gaze was drilling right through her.

She lowered her voice, grateful that the immediate seats surrounding Doyle at the counter had been vacated. “So you want to know if I was assaulted by the senator. Is that correct?”

“It’s the reason I am here, but now that I’ve had your food, I’ll come back for sure.”

“I have another question for you.”

He drained his coffee mug as if they chatted about the weather. His nonchalance was not lost on Kelly. Actually, it made her blood steam that this man could so blithely discuss female degradation while obviously enjoying his meal.

He placed the cup on the counter as if he’d take a refill. Kelly ignored the gesture.

He asked, “What’s your question?”

Instead of pouring, she placed the coffeepot she was holding on the counter between them. “Did Campbell’s assistant approach you or did you approach her?”

“Does it matter?”

Kelly let a grin play across her lips. “Motive means everything to me, Mr. Doyle. I’m simply wondering if you really care about this woman’s story or if you’ve been tapped to do a witch hunt by Campbell’s opposing party.”

The man looked decidedly uncomfortable.

When he didn’t answer, she knew. Politics could be such a dirty business. A rising star under attack by his opponents certainly seemed to be the American model during election years. Only this time, Buzz Campbell’s enemies were right on target. The knowledge that Campbell had taken liberties with other women seeped like acid between her ribs, burning her lungs and making her want to cry, all over again. Under any other circumstance, Kelly would have led the cause against the senator—in a heartbeat. Only, now she had a son to protect. Her own shame and/or vindication no longer mattered. Matt’s anonymity did. God forbid Campbell learned he’d fathered a son. From the three years she spent caring for his daughters, Kelly knew he’d always wanted a boy. The thought made her want to vomit. Having to battle Buzz Campbell for custody of a child born from his assault would ruin Kelly.

She hated to use the word rape. The sound alone slashed her soul like a razor. She’d made a life—a good life—despite the horror of that night and found love for her child like she’d never known. Nothing. Absolutely nothing would destroy the safe and secret world she and Herby, bless his unknowing soul, had created to protect her and Matt from this very moment.

Kelly leaned forward, offering her most conspiratorial voice. “I will tell you how it goes, Mr. Doyle, but please do not repeat it, as my actions are most embarrassing to me. Yes, I was that nanny. Lovely family. Beautiful children, Emily and Mary Kate. But it didn’t take me long to realize that I had chosen the wrong career. Caring for someone else’s children out in the wilds of Long Island with nary a friend or foe to confide in was more than I could handle. I was desperately lonely. So, I quit. Unfortunately, I left without notice. My actions were not professional. I’m not proud of the fact. For that reason, I prefer that my past ties to the Campbells remain confidential. Can you understand that?”

“You’re saying Campbell’s kids were difficult, spoiled brats?”

It was easy to become insulted at that remark. Kelly had loved those two young girls like her own. She had developed an affection for their mother, as well. Indignation laced her words. “Absolutely not, Mr. Doyle. You must not have heard me say that they were lovely children.”

She leaned closer, tapping her finger on the granite inches from his hand to emphasize her point. “It’s important that you understand me very clearly, Mr. Doyle. Given my abrupt departure from the children in my care, it would be nothing but an embarrassment for me. An embarrassment which if advertised could harm my business. I can only hope that after almost seven years, the Campbells hold no complaint against me. If you’re looking for a witch hunt, you’ve come to the wrong place. I have nothing to offer you. You’ll have to look elsewhere for a victim.”

She had moved so close to him in order to tell her story only to him that he looked as if he had gotten lost in her eyes. For once in a very long time, she was glad for her charm.

“Um...I understand. But why would this assistant name you as one of the senator’s targets?”

“Given the time you are citing, I assume you are referring to Helen Thompson.” When he didn’t answer, Kelly shrugged. “We knew each other. She’d been to the house several times. I remember she was very loyal to Mr. Campbell. If he did indeed assault her, I can only imagine she’s feeling betrayed as well as violated. I can understand why she would look for collaboration to support her accusation. I’m sorry, Mr. Doyle. I can’t help her or you in this inquiry. But I would appreciate it if you remained discreet about my ties to the Campbells. Now that I understand how devastated I had left Mrs. Campbell, I’d hate to be held accountable for my immaturity. Would you like more coffee?”

That seemed to finish the interview. Knees quaking, Kelly paid little more attention other than a friendly wave as Jay Doyle paid his bill and exited Neverland. She cleared tables, using all her strength to keep her hands from trembling while sending a silent prayer skyward. Holy Saint Michael, she prayed that was the last she’d see of the Sentinel reporter.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. It was bad enough he had been seated in Evan’s favorite stool at the counter. It seemed like a violation of sacred space. Worse, Doyle had hit the truth from which she had carefully erased all connection for so long. She had performed a most uncomfortable two-step to make that man go away but she’d managed. And not one word had been false. Now that he was gone, the urge to throw up what remained of breakfast had her choking back bile.

She filled a glass with cola and sipped slowly to get her wits about her. A turbine of disquiet buzzed in her head. There was no one to whom she could confide her distress, which was rapidly growing into terror that this man would return. She took a moment to absorb the activity and sounds in Neverland. The hum of conversations. Clanking plates and the sizzling grill. The smell of coffee. The ever-present newscasters of NCTV on the screen. The patrons and workers who had become her friends. The city bustling past the windows outside the diner. She released a sigh. Neverland was reality now. The sludge Jay Doyle was trying to unearth was the past. A difficult lesson learned, but most certainly history. All was well in Neverland. Nothing else mattered.

She looked up to see Evan entering the diner with his boss, his gaze seeking her out. With a single glance at her, concern rose in Evan’s eyes. Damn her nerves. He’d read her distress before she had a chance to hide it.