Читать книгу His Secret Daughter - Lisa Carter - Страница 15

Clearing the dining table, Jake reached for the empty glass at the same time as Callie. She blushed furiously. He let go immediately and stepped out of her way. What about him made her so uncomfortable? Or, like Maisie, did she hate him, too?

Jake didn’t blame her for not trusting him after what happened earlier with Maisie. So why had she asked him to stay, even temporarily? Sometimes when she looked at him, genuine warmth shone out of her lovely brown eyes; other times, she wore an expression he didn’t know how to interpret.

He followed her into the kitchen. “Let me dry while you wash.”

Standing at the sink, she kept her back to him. “No.”

He scrunched his brow. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

She angled her head and made a face. “Hence my single status, I suppose.”

He leaned against the counter. “Guys around here must be blind, then.” He shifted. What had possessed him to say such a thing to her?

She flushed twelve shades of red, the way only a redhead could, and she set to scouring the pot with enough force to take the finish off. “You’re a flirt.”

He stiffened. “Did Tiffany say that about me? Because I’m not. After we were married, brief as it was, I never... Is that why she left? Is that what she told you?”

Callie stopped scrubbing and looked at him. “The only thing I know for sure, Jake McAbee, is that Maisie needs a father.”

She hadn’t answered his question about Tiffany. He let it go for now.

“The only thing I know for sure, Callie Jackson, is that we both love Maisie.”

Her eyes became luminous. “Yes.” She focused on the pan in the sink. “Yes, we do.”

Finding a cloth, he dried the dishes in the drainer. They worked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After everything had been put away, she straightened, seeming to come to a sudden decision.

She started toward the living room. “I have something to show you.”

His heart pounded.

“Please take a seat.” She motioned to the couch. “This will take a while.” She removed two leather-bound albums from the bookcase.

An expensive camera with a denim strap sat on the top shelf, placed out of Maisie’s reach, but easily accessible for adults, he guessed.

She sank onto the sofa, keeping a respectable distance. He caught a whiff of her perfume, a pleasing fruity fragrance, reminding him of apples. Callie placed the albums on the coffee table in front of him.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. “What are these?”

“Maisie’s life in pictures, thus far.” Callie swallowed. “I can’t give you back the time you lost with her, but I can give you a glimpse into those years.”

He stared at her. “I don’t know what I did that made Tiffany leave. I wish I did.”

The unvoiced question lay between them, again giving Callie the option to answer. Or not.

She handed him the album on top of the pile. “I like taking photos, so I documented everything I could.”

Apparently, choosing not.

He wasn’t prepared for the rush of disappointment that flooded him. Would he be around long enough to earn her trust? And why did it matter so much?

* * *

It wasn’t right to let him believe he was to blame for what happened to his marriage. Guilt knotted her stomach, but her deathbed promise to Tiff bound Callie to silence. And a new anger burned against her dead friend for the impossible position in which Tiff had placed her.

Maybe someday she’d tell him what happened with Tiff, but for now, she couldn’t. She didn’t know Jake McAbee well enough for those kinds of revelations. She didn’t know how he’d handle the truth. She also didn’t know him well enough yet to hurt him that much.

But photos she could do. She opened to the first page in the album.

The photograph of newborn Maisie completely captured Jake, and he let the subject drop. For how long, though?

“You take great pictures, Callie.” He smiled, the lines at the corners of his eyes fanning out in warmth. “You could turn professional.”

“Only a hobby.” Shaking her head, she rose. “Take your time. I usually join Dad and Maisie on their walk in the orchard.”

Professional photography was a daydream she’d put behind her long ago. First her mother’s illness, then Tiff’s. Most recently, her dad’s. Her father couldn’t manage the orchard without her, and Maisie needed her.

Remembering she hadn’t put any towels in Jake’s bathroom, she detoured upstairs. One of the best things about summer were the long hours of daylight stretching into the evening. There was plenty of time to catch the sunset with her dad and Maisie.

A few minutes later when she returned to the front hall, she heard a strangled sound from the living room. Jake? Had something happened while she was upstairs?

Light-footed with urgency, she got as far as the kitchen before a sight she’d never forget froze Callie in her tracks.

The photo album lay open to happy pictures of his daughter’s first Christmas, first birthday, first toothy grin. Jake’s face was buried in his hands, and his shoulders shook with muffled, bone-jarring sobs. His body was racked with grief and pain.

Something tore inside her chest.

To spare Jake his pride, she tiptoed out, retreating to the hallway. After easing open the front door, she slipped outside.

Her legs unable to support her, she leaned against the porch column, trying to regain her breath. Trying to still her racing heart. Trying not to lose her supper.

She had never hated anyone in her life, but right now she hated more than anything what Tiff had done to Jake. And she hated herself for agreeing to be a part of it.

For his own good, there were things he must never learn about Tiff, things that would only cause him further torment. Yet, the weight of guilt ate away at her resolve. How could she right the wrong he’d suffered? The pit in her stomach tightened.

If she could do nothing else to assuage her conscience, she must help Jake forge a strong relationship with Maisie. It was the least she could do. Was it, though?

Callie scrubbed her forehead. No matter how Jake’s brokenness lashed her heart, Maisie had to be her top priority. But she would do what she could in helping Jake and Maisie find their way to each other.

She took a ragged breath. And then come November, he’d leave as they’d agreed. The idea of his departure left her with an unsettled feeling.

* * *

Later, upstairs in his bathroom, Jake splashed water on his face and examined the man he beheld in the mirror.

He hadn’t anticipated the intense sense of loss he felt when he’d seen the photo of his newborn daughter in Tiffany’s arms. It was pink-cheeked Maisie that had made him emotional, not Tiffany, wasn’t it?

Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure. He’d believed himself over his ex-wife a long time ago. Only an idiot loved somebody who didn’t love them back. Right?

He fingered the stubble on his jaw. Had he made a mistake in coming into Maisie’s life? There were a lot of things worse than nothing. Such as having a father like his. Or Tiffany’s.

In a way, it was that very dysfunction that had drawn them to each other. The problem was that neither of them had ever had a real home. No surprise they’d failed to make one with each other.

He sagged, bracing his hands on the sink. A lifetime of insecurity and self-doubt washed over him. What was he doing here, trying to be Maisie’s father?

Jake had no business being anyone’s father. The familiar childhood tape played over and over in his head. His dad’s voice yelling it was Jake’s fault his mother abandoned them.

Did it really even matter why Tiffany left? Had his dad been right about him being worthless? Perhaps Tiffany’s desertion had answered that question once and for all.

He ought to leave Apple Valley Farm before he messed up Maisie as bad as his parents had messed up him. And yet...

Jake pictured the recent photo of Maisie’s happy face over her second birthday cake. Nash must’ve taken that picture. Lips pursed, Callie stood behind Maisie’s chair, helping the little girl blow out her candles.

Per his agreement with Callie, he wouldn’t be here to celebrate Maisie’s third birthday or anything else. Perhaps if over the apple harvest Maisie learned to trust him again, he would be invited to return some day in the future. But he ached inside at how much he’d miss of his daughter’s life.

The sound of laughter floated from outside. Straightening, he moved toward the bedroom window.

Almost ready to wink out behind the ridge, the sun cast a golden hue on two figures in the meadow. Against the glowing backdrop of sunset, Callie’s hair seemed ablaze with a fiery light. She and the smaller form of Maisie waved.

His heart constricted. For a fraction of a second, he imagined they waved at him. His pulse ratcheted. An indescribable joy flooded over him.

The joy of mattering to someone. Of belonging to a family like the Jacksons, living and working in a beautiful place like the apple orchard. Having a woman like Callie love him.

He spotted Nash at the corner of the barn.

They were waving at Nash. The three of them—not him—belonged to each other. Tiffany’s actions had made it crystal clear that, as he’d always suspected, there was something inside Jake that just wasn’t lovable.

Arms outstretched, Maisie surged toward her beloved Pop-Pop. Callie followed a pace behind, her hand trailing through the petals of late-summer wildflowers. And despite not belonging—never belonging—Jake’s heart caught in his throat. The sheer loveliness of her stirred something inside him.

Surrounded by the mountains, God felt very near to Jake, and casting aside the fear, hope bloomed for the first time in a long while in his heart. An answer to a prayer he’d been too afraid to voice.

Callie was his daughter’s heart—he saw it clearly now—as truly as Maisie’s heart belonged to Callie. With Callie’s help, he might yet earn the love of his daughter.

And something else, too. He sensed that somehow he might’ve stumbled on to more than he had ever dreamed possible.

Home.