Читать книгу Heart of the Night - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 10

“Look out your kitchen window.”

Eli stood in the small den, watching the house across the snow-covered yard. When Gena appeared looking wary and surprised at the window a few feet away, he waved to her. “Is the boy up yet?”

“He has a name,” she said, her voice low. “You can’t keep calling him the boy, you know.”

“Is my son up yet?” Eli retorted, his voice gravelly. He had not slept well, but then he never slept well.

“He’s getting dressed for school.”

“I’ll take him. Give me directions.”

“No, you will not take him. You’re a stranger to him, Eli. Just give me some time to figure out how to handle this.”

Eli let out a sigh, his eyes scanning the yard. In the light of a crisp white morning, this place looked serene and peaceful, as if it’d been purposely set up for a Christmas card. But it hadn’t seemed that way late in the wee hours when he’d seen every shadow and shape as something sinister and dangerous. He didn’t like this antsy feeling that had brought him here, but he was glad he’d followed his instincts.

“I’m coming over,” he said, disconnecting and moving away from the window before she could respond. He did turn in time to see the frustration on her face.

Let her be frustrated. He wanted to get to know his son, but more importantly, he wanted to protect his son. Because he hadn’t been there when his wife and child had needed him the most. That reality ate at him day and night, always. But he was here now.

Closing his eyes to the dark, swirling memories, Eli took another swig of coffee and wished he had some strong Louisiana coffee instead. This brew would have to suffice for now. He grabbed his coat and headed out across the crunchy snow, noticing the vulnerability of this quiet cove. A sheer drop of cliffs off into a frigid ocean on one side and a copse of trees that blocked the view to the road on the other. Not good, not good at all. He felt an urgent need to get his son out of here, but he reminded himself Scotty had been safe here for six years.

But that didn’t matter in Eli’s eyes. He’d heard some rumblings when he’d been down in New Orleans recovering from being shot. Since the news of his grandfather’s involvement in a South American drug cartel had come to light this summer, he’d felt deep in his bones that more trouble was on the way. His instincts had never let him down before, not even after Leah had disappeared six years ago and he’d gone off the deep end. Not even after CHAIM officials had forced him to go into confinement in Ireland for a few years to cool off and get his head straight, and not after he’d left and come home only to find out someone wanted him dead. That someone had been his own estranged grandfather. His instincts had been right on all those accounts, starting with the bad feeling he’d gotten when the team had first hit the ground in South America all those years ago. And things had gone very wrong down there. Eli had the distinct feeling that the situation still wasn’t all cleaned up and tidied.

The Peacemaker would have seen to that.

Even though the Peacemaker was dead and buried and his South American crime group dissolved, the man had probably left henchmen everywhere to carry on his dirty deeds. And if the Peacemaker’s cohorts had any inkling that he had a great-grandson…well, Eli didn’t want to think about that. What if someone, somewhere, was just biding time, waiting to make a move on him or his child?

Maybe Dev was right, he thought as he knocked on the front door. As long as Eli had been out of the picture and tucked away in that retreat in Ireland, Scotty had been relatively safe. But once Eli had reappeared on the CHAIM radar last summer, he’d also set himself up for retribution from past enemies because he’d never been one to win friends and influence people. And now that meant his son could become a target. Somehow, he’d have to make Gena see that Scotty was better off with him.

But when she opened the door hard enough to shake the bright red ribbon on the fragrant evergreen wreath, a brooding frown on her pretty oval face, Eli got the impression that Gena wouldn’t listen to any worries he might have.

Gena was fully prepared to slam the door back in Eli’s too-good-looking-for-his-own-good face, but knowing her son was about to come barreling down the stairs, she didn’t do that. This was Scotty’s father, after all. And in spite of her sleepless night, Scotty and Eli both deserved a chance to get to know each other.

“What did you tell him?” Eli said as he muscled past her, then pivoted to glare at her. “I mean, about his father? Does he even ask?”

Gena glanced upstairs, then motioned toward the kitchen. “I never lied to him, if that’s what you’re asking. I have always told him that his father had to go away and that he might not be able to come back.” She looked down at the floor. “He held out hope, I think, that one day he would see his father.”

Eli thumped his fingers on the newel post. “Well, guess what, catin, I’m here now. Time to confess all.”

Gena’s heart did a little pulsing jump. “Eli, please?”

Before she could plead her case, Scotty called out, “I’m hungry, Mom. Did you make pancakes?”

Gena stopped in the entryway, her gaze locking with Eli’s. “Not now,” she whispered.

Then Scotty appeared at the top of the stairs, backpack in hand, his hair rumpled as usual. “Who’s that?”

Gena watched as Scotty sized up the big man standing near the stairs and she also watched Eli’s face transform from a scowling mask of restraint and resolve to a genuine smile of curiosity and awe. And she saw a sudden solid terror in those usually fearless eyes, too.

“This is—”

“I’m Eli Trudeau,” Eli said, lifting a hand toward Scotty, his voice verging on shaky. “I’m a…friend…your Uncle Devon knows me.”

Scotty dropped his backpack and raced down the stairs. “Did you know he’s marrying Miss Lydia? I love Miss Lydia. She sends me things—books, CDs, candy. She’s so funny. Have you heard her accent? She talks slow ’cause she’s from Georgia. I’m gonna be in their wedding.”

Gena watched Eli’s face light up. Wow, the man could be a real lady-killer if he worked at it. Shaking that notion right out of her head, she concentrated instead on trying to decide how to explain Eli’s presence to her son. “Scotty, aren’t you forgetting your manners? Can’t you say hello at least.”

“Hello,” Scotty said, looking sheepish and shy. Then, “Do you know Miss Lydia?”

Eli bent down to eye level with Scotty, then reached out to give him a robust handshake. “Nice to finally meet you, Scotty,” he said, with emphasis on the finally. “I sure do know Miss Lydia. She is the nicest, kindest, most caring person I’ve ever met.”

Gena could tell Eli actually meant those words and that gave her a sense of hope for his bruised soul.

“She’s fun, is all I know,” Scotty said with a shrug. “Are you from Georgia? ’Cause you sound funny like Miss Lydia.”

Eli stood as Scotty rushed by, headed for the kitchen. Then he called, “I’m from Louisiana. Way down south.”

Gena inclined her head. “Better hurry if you want pancakes.”

Eli nodded, then held her arm, his head down as he spoke in a soft whisper. “He’s so…incredible.”

“I know,” she said, tears piercing her eyes. “That’s why I need you to give me some time.”

Eli put his hands in the pocket of his jeans, then lifted his chin toward the kitchen. “I’ve got lots of time. All the time in the world. And I plan on using it to get to know my son.” He stood still for a minute, his gaze moving over her face, then back toward the other room. “But not right now. I can’t…not right now.”

Then he turned and rushed out the front door. For a minute, Gena couldn’t move. She felt trapped between the duty of protecting her son and a mother’s love. And she felt trapped by the brilliant shards of happiness and longing she’d seen in Eli’s eyes right before the panic and the doubt had taken over. Thinking she should go after him, she started for the door.

Then Scotty called out to her. “Mom, I can’t find the syrup.” The phone rang, its shrill tone reminding her that she had a job to do and a son to take care of. No time to feel sorry for the man who’d come here to mess with her life.

Gena stared at the door, then turned to go and help her son, grabbing the cordless phone as she moved through the house.

Eli stood out on the craggy rocks, facing the brisk wind coming in off the gray, churning waters of the Atlantic. He was cold, a gentle shiver moving up and down his body. But the shiver wasn’t from the frigid air hitting his wet face. It was from a dark fear battering his soul.

Wiping at his eyes, he whispered to the wind. “I’m not good enough for that boy, Lord. Not nearly good enough to even lay claim to him.”

He closed his eyes, reliving those precious moments when his son had come down the stairs. Eli’s heart had pounded with pride and awe even while it pumped with trepidation.

“Help me,” he whispered, his words disappearing as the wind carried them out to sea.

Lydia had told him to turn to God when he was afraid or when he thought he might want to seek revenge or retribution. But there was no retribution here. No way to make up for the losses that boy and he had suffered. Scotty would never know his mother’s beautiful smile even though he had the same smile. He’d never hear her pretty Southern drawl. He’d never be able to hug her close and call her “Mommy.” And Eli would never have her in his arms again. Never. But he had his son now. If he could face the tremendous responsibility of that.

“Help me.”

That was the only prayer his trembling lips could form. So he just stood there, frozen and unyielding, staring out at that harsh, brutal water, tears falling like melting snowflakes down his face.

Until he felt a hand on his arm.

“Eli, come inside and let me make you some coffee.”

He jerked away, then turned to stare at Gena. Her dark hair lifted around her face, her eyes were wide with worry. She clutched his arm, her expression full of a sympathy that just about did him in.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’m so afraid of him.”

Gena moved closer. “He’s just a little boy. But it is scary, being a parent. It’s the kind of love that holds your heart so tightly…well…it’s just hard to imagine life without your child.”

He turned to her then, understanding piercing the cold wall of his heart. “I came here not knowing, not thinking about that. But now I get it. Fools rush in—”

“Where angels fear to tread,” Gena finished.

He touched her hand on his arm, his fingers covering hers. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Then he saw the tears forming in her eyes. “It’s okay. You have a right to know your child. I only ask that you be patient with us. And we’ll try to do the same with you.”

He faced the ocean again. “I’m normally not a patient man.”

“I can tell,” she said, her smile indulgent. “Your son has inherited that particular trait, I think.”

That made him smile. “I pray he hasn’t inherited my other bad traits.”

“Time will tell, won’t it?”

She shivered as the wind picked up.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, turning to take her by the hand.

She nodded, following him back up the slope to the house. “I have scrapbooks—it’s a hobby of mine. You’re welcome to look at them. They show our life—from the time Devon brought him to me until now.”

Eli swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I’d like that.”

“C’mon in, then. I’ll brew some fresh coffee and I have some homemade cinnamon rolls. You can take as long as you need.”

Eli followed her up onto the tiny back porch. He needed a lifetime. But for now, he’d take all the precious moments he could get.

It took a few days, but Eli fell into a routine. He didn’t sleep much, but he got up with the sunrise each day to stare over at the cottage across from his own, waiting and sipping coffee until he saw the kitchen light flick on. Then he’d head over to have breakfast with Gena and Scotty, sitting silent and watchful as he absorbed their endearing daily rituals.

After they took Scotty to school, Gena would go about her computer work while Eli would go back to his cottage to look over yet another frilly scrapbook full of pictures of Scotty and Gena.

And what a pretty picture those two made.

Gena decorated each page with cute little captions and colorful cutouts. There were a lot of firsts in those decorative little story boards—first birthday, first Christmas, first tooth, first snowman, first hockey practice. He had missed a lot in the last few years, but these clever picture books told the story of his son’s life. Gena loved Scotty, that was for sure.

And so did Eli.

Now as he trudged through the snow to the cottage, he did a visual surveillance—this, too, had become part of his daily routine. So far, nothing seemed amiss even though Eli still woke in the night with a sense of dread in his soul. But he did notice an SUV parked at the cottage across the way on the other side of Gena’s house. She’d told him a couple was coming to stay through Christmas. Eli wondered who they were and why they’d chosen such a cold, isolated place to have a vacation. Maybe they wanted some alone time.

He didn’t have time to ponder that. His thoughts went back to his son. How did you protect someone when you didn’t know what you were trying to protect him or her from?

He couldn’t answer his own question. The minute he entered the back door, Scotty bombarded him with fast-paced conversation.

“It’s the last day of school, then we get out for the Christmas break,” Scotty told Eli in between bites of fluffy pancakes. “Hey, want to help me build a snowman when I get home today, Mr. Eli?”

“I think I’d like that,” Eli said, wondering how Gena kept up with this little bundle of energy. He always had another adventure to share. “I’ve never built a snowman before.”

“Honest?” Scotty gave him a look of disbelief. “Why not?”

“Well, we don’t get much snow down in Louisiana.”

“I’m learning my states,” Scotty said, moving on to another subject. “But where’s Lous-anna?”

“It’s Louisiana,” Gena corrected from her spot in front of the stove.

Eli gave Scotty an indulgent smile. He’d been careful not to give out information unless the kid asked. “It’s near Texas and the southern part is right on the Gulf of Mexico. That’s where I grew up.”

“That’s big water,” Scotty said with a bob of his head.

Eli watched as the kid’s hair bounced and bobbed, too. “It is big water, very big. I go shrimpin’ in the Gulf a lot whenever I’m home.”

“You don’t stay home much?”

Eli shook his head. “No, not much. I’ve been away a long time now. But I might go back soon.”

“Maybe one day I can come and visit you,” Scotty said on a pragmatic note. “In the summer.”

Gena shot Eli a warning look tinged with fear. Although she seemed to trust him more and more each day, Eli wasn’t fooled. She was still afraid he’d steal her son away in the middle of the night.

“It gets real hot in Louisiana in the summer,” Eli replied, ever careful with his choice of answers. “But you’d be welcome at my door anytime, for sure.”

“I could help you catch shrimp.”

Eli nodded. “My maman used to say ‘Les petites mains fait bien avec les petits ouvrages.’ Little hands do well with little tasks.”

Scotty giggled. “You talk funny.”

Gena placed another batch of pancakes on the table, then sat down. “Eli is Cajun, Scotty, so he’s speaking French. His ancestors left Nova Scotia, Canada, and went all the way to Louisiana many years ago.”

“From one big ocean to another one,” Eli said, his eyes meeting Gena’s. “But that’s a long story.”

“Cool,” Scotty said, draining his milk. “I know where Canada is. We’re near there.”

“For sure,” Eli replied. “One day, I’ll tell you all about my Cajun ancestors. People get the wrong impression about us, so I like to set the record straight.” He gave Gena a long hard look on that note, hoping she’d try to change her impressions of him. Not that he was making it easy on her. But he had tried to back off and play nice.

Scotty looked confused. “Whatcha talking about?”

“I like to tell people about my culture—the good and bad of it,” Eli explained. “It’s not all about wrestling ’gators and talking funny, although I do both.” He winked, then grinned. “Never met a ’gator I couldn’t wrestle.”

Scotty’s dark eye grew wide. “Have you wrestled a really big one?”

“Not more than six feet or so.”

Scotty’s gaze filled with wonder. “Wow.”

Gena put her hand under her chin and gave him a skeptical look. “I didn’t peg you for being so open, Eli. Or so modest.” Her sarcasm was cute and he was getting used to this friendly banter even if it was mostly for his son’s benefit.

He leaned close, pasting on his best charming smile. “Well, maybe you had me pegged all wrong, oui?”

Scotty looked from his mother to Eli. “How’d you guys meet?”

“By accident,” Eli said, seamless and simple.

“How long you gonna stay?”

Eli gave Gena a determined stare. “Well, now, that depends on a whole lot of things.”

Scotty sat still for a minute. “What do you do, Mr. Eli? For work?”

Gena’s head came up and the gloves came off as she stared daggers of warning at him. She’d made it clear in their conversations that she did not want her son involved in CHAIM in any way. And Eli couldn’t blame her.

“I do all kinds of things to make a living,” Eli said, careful to choose the right words. “I travel a lot and help people in trouble.”

“Are we in trouble? I mean you’ve stayed with us longer than most of our other visitors.”

Gena stood and took Scotty’s empty plate. “No, we’re not in trouble, but you will be if you’re late for school. Go brush your teeth and get your coat.”

Scotty got up but stopped in front of Eli. “Are you riding to school with us again?”

“I just might,” Eli said. “If it’s okay with your mom.” He’d already insisted it be okay. He’d made it his business to help get Scotty to school and home each day since that first morning. His fear of trouble had easily overcome his fear of being a father. Or at least, he kept telling himself that.

Gena shrugged. “You’ve been with us every day this week and today is the last day. Why break tradition?”

Eli gave her an appreciative nod, hoping that would cover his real motives.

Scotty pumped his fist. “Will you be here when I get home? To help me with the snowman, remember?”

Eli swallowed, glanced across at Gena. “I’ll be right here.”

Then he watched as Scotty left the room. “Mon petit garçon,” he said, shaking his head. “My little boy.”

Gena turned away to stare out the big window behind the sink. Eli could see the ocean churning off in the distance beyond her. He felt that same intense churning inside his stomach.

“What are we going to do, Eli? We can’t just stay here in limbo forever.”

He got up and came to her, his hand tentative on her arm. “I won’t do anything…to upset him. I understand that now. I can’t do anything to hurt him. I wouldn’t.”

She turned, her eyes misty and big and searching. “You’ve been great these last few days, but are you sure about that?”

Like ice in the sun, his bitter heart melted just a fraction more. “Very sure. I’m not so cold and uncaring that I’d hurt a child…or his mother either, for that matter.” He looked down at his boots. “And I told you, I’m sorry about…scaring you that first night. I haven’t exactly been trained in the social graces and, funny, there’s nothing in the rule books about how to handle finding out you’re a father.”

“Good, because I can’t let you stay here and get close to him if it means he’ll be hurt or confused in any way. And I can’t—I won’t—let you take him away from me. That would hurt me. That would destroy me.”

“Then we have a big problem,” he said as he backed away. “I have a legal right to him, but you are his true mother and I can’t do that—separate a child from his mother. We’re at an impasse, chère.”

“Yes, we are, but we’ll talk about it later.” She whirled past him. “I have to take him to school and then I have to make sure our young couple got settled in yesterday.”

“You’re not taking him to school without me,” Eli reminded her, grabbing his coat. Even though he and Gena had reached a truce, he wasn’t letting them out of his sight again. Protecting both of them had become his new mission and that meant watching over them for as long as Gena would allow him to do so.

Because he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.