Читать книгу Make Room For Mommy - Suzanne McMinn, Suzanne Mcminn - Страница 10

Water dripped from Maggie as she hurried from the bathroom to the shrilling brass phone in her bedroom. Damp footprints marked her path across the plush tan rug. She grabbed the receiver as she fumbled to wrap a towel around her wet form.

“Miss Wells?” the familiar gravelly voice inquired.

“Yes. This is Mrs. Fletcher, isn’t it?” Maggie asked. She experienced the little sinking feeling that always came to her when she knew someone was going to give her bad news.

“I’ve spoken with Mr. Conner,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “He says Brandy wants you. He’d like to go ahead and sign you up with her. Do you accept?”

Maggie gasped. Had that horrible conversation with Ryan Conner really taken place last week, or was that just a nightmare? What could have changed his mind? For a few seconds she considered whether she should say no. Or tell Mrs. Fletcher she’d have to think about it. After all, how could she work with this man’s child? What if he kept acting the same way toward her?

Oh, who cares about him? she decided in a flash. Brandy is the one who matters.

“Yes,” she agreed quickly before she could change her mind.

“Fine,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “Now, it’s going to be up to you to set up the days and times to see Brandy. Remember to clear all your plans with her father first. Let me give you his phone number and address. Be sure to tell me when your first outing is scheduled so I can check back with you to see how things are going.”

Maggie grabbed a pad and pen from her night table and shakily wrote down Ryan’s phone number and address. After saying goodbye to Mrs. Fletcher, she set the phone down and sank onto the bed, heedless of the spreading wet splotch she made as she soaked into the downy white comforter. She stared at the ceiling.

Should she call him now?

She sat up. Yes, she answered herself, she should do it now, before she lost her nerve. She stared numbly at the piece of notepaper that held Ryan Conner’s phone number. She picked it up, then set it back down as if the paper had burned her fingers.

She stared at the notepaper again. She could see Ryan Conner’s clear, cold stare in her memory. Then she remembered Brandy’s earnest blue eyes, gazing hopefully at her.

Maggie picked up her pen and quickly punched in Ryan’s phone number.

“Hello.”

Maggie swallowed tightly.

“Mr. Conner—I mean, Ryan, this is Maggie Wells.”

Good start, she chided herself.

“Yes?”

Maggie fingered the edge of her thick, damp towel.

“I’m calling about seeing Brandy next weekend, if that’s all right,” she said. “Mrs. Fletcher called me today.”

“What time do you want to see her?” Ryan asked. His voice was businesslike and polite, without the animosity he had formerly shown, yet still lacking warmth.

“Well, there’s a miniatures exhibit at the civic center this Saturday. I thought Brandy might like to see it,” Maggie suggested, gaining confidence. “It starts at ten o’clock.”

“Fine.”

“Can I talk to—” Maggie began, but stopped short as she realized he had already hung up. She shook her head in frustration.

She put down the receiver and lay back on her soft bed, staring up at the ceiling. She hoped she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.

Maggie pressed slowly on the brake, easing her car to a smooth halt in front of Ryan Conner’s house. The long, one-story gray brick house sat back from the road, partially hidden from the street by a stand of pine trees. The house occupied a large lot in a rural area just outside Charleston. From the large bare patch at the side of the house, Maggie could see Ryan was a gardener. This surprised her, and then she wondered why it should.

After all, she didn’t really know anything about him. And based on his previous behavior, she had no reason to think that was going to change, she reminded herself.

He’ll probably just push Brandy out the door without a word, she thought dryly.

Maggie took a deep breath and stepped out, slamming the door of her shiny silver sports car behind her. Her low heels clicked loudly in the quiet country air as she followed the flagged walkway to the front door. Grabbing the brass knocker, she banged loudly.

The door opened so quickly, she knew someone must have been watching her approach. The knocker fairly flew from Maggie’s hand as Brandy yanked the door wide, a broad smile lighting her small face.

“Hi, Maggie!” she cried. “I’m almost ready. I just need my jacket.”

Brandy tore off into the inner reaches of the house, leaving Maggie standing on the doorstep. Ryan Conner stepped forward toward the door.

“Maggie,” he said, sounding oddly uncomfortable with her name. “Come in. Please.”

Maggie forced a smile to her lips.

He’s being polite, she thought. Be polite back.

“Thank you,” she said carefully, and followed his outstretched arm. She was surprised to find how large the house looked once she was inside. The living room was light and spacious with wide windows giving view to a wooded backyard that seemed greatly devoted to Brandy’s play. An elaborate swing set dominated a wide-open space between some pines, while a rudimentary tree house sat low in an oak.

“This is a lovely home,” Maggie commented.

Ryan didn’t ask her to sit down, so she stood and looked about with interest, determined not to let him bother her. She would be out of there in just a few minutes, she reminded herself, with the whole day to spend with Brandy alone.

She tried to concentrate on the view, but her eyes were drawn back to the man standing quietly at her side.

How tall he was. Maggie’s slim height came close to that of many men, an asset in the business world, she’d always thought. But as she stood in the living room beside Ryan, she realized he was at least four inches taller than she was.

Ryan started to gesture Maggie to the couch, then stopped himself. He hesitated to take that extra step toward friendliness, afraid in his heart of where it might lead.

Maggie was supposed to be Brandy’s friend, not his. And while easing the tension between them might seem to pave the way to a smoother relationship for Brandy and Maggie, Ryan knew that it could set a dangerous precedent.

As much as he feared Maggie might turn out to be like Delia, she appealed to him on an even deeper, more sensual, level. Maintaining the tension preserved the distance.

Ryan turned his back on Maggie and stared out the window at the dry winter day. Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he willed his daughter to hurry back with her jacket.

Brandy arrived suddenly in the living room, breathless from a run down the hallway, pulling on her jacket as she came. Ryan swiveled back around at the sound of her approach, grateful to no longer be alone with Maggie.

“I’m ready,” Brandy announced with youthful exuberance for the anticipated treat.

“Great,” Maggie said, grinning at her enthusiasm. Turning to Ryan, she added, “As I told you on the phone, we’ll be going to the civic center to see the miniatures show.

“There will be all kinds of dolls and dollhouses on display,” she continued, looking at Brandy. The little girl’s eyes lit up.

“Should I bring Penny?” Brandy asked.

Maggie laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. What if you lost her among all the dolls at the show? I think you’d better leave her here,” she advised.

“Okay,” Brandy agreed, placing her hand in Maggie’s. “Let’s go.”

Maggie looked down at the small hand in her own, touched by Brandy’s warmth and easy acceptance. As they reached the door, Maggie turned back to say goodbye to Ryan and tell him when to expect them back. She was surprised to see him donning a brown suede jacket.

“You’re going out?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, looking at her strangely. “I’m going with you.”

“You’re going with us?” Maggie repeated, her heart skipping a beat. “Why?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, as if she, rather than he, were the one suggesting something out of place.

“Well, I guess…I mean, I don’t think that’s the idea, do you?” she asked, fumbling to express herself and realizing she was not doing a very good job of it.

“Have you got a set of rules?” he challenged. Her expression of disbelief amused him as well as intrigued him. Apparently she wasn’t any more eager to spend time with him than he was to spend time with her. But in this case, he was determined to insist. He had to make sure that allowing Maggie Wells into Brandy’s life had been the correct choice. He couldn’t simply let a complete stranger take his six-year-old daughter on an outing.

And since Brandy would be with them on this expedition, there would no worry of his dealing with Maggie alone. He wouldn’t have any trouble maintaining the distance between them.

Maggie stiffened as she stared at Brandy’s father. She could hardly believe what she was hearing from Ryan Conner. He acted as if he didn’t trust her to care for Brandy alone!

Okay, Maggie, take a deep one, she told herself.

She breathed deep and smiled. It felt a little unnatural on her lips, but she was sure it looked all right.

“Well, then, let’s go, shall we?” she suggested amicably, taking Brandy along with her out the door. Fighting Ryan on this when they were about to walk out the door would do no good, Maggie decided. Acquiesce, and live to battle another day.

She heard Ryan pulling the door shut as he followed them down the flagstone walk. Maggie hurried down the long path toward the street to her car until Brandy suddenly tugged on her arm. Maggie looked at Brandy, and followed her gaze back toward the house where Ryan stood in the driveway unlocking the door to a dark blue four-door sedan.

Ryan looked up and met her gaze coolly.

Maggie released a sigh and, slipping her car keys into her purse, walked with Brandy to the blue sedan. Brandy jumped in the back, leaving the front to Ryan and Maggie.

Ryan backed out of the driveway wordlessly while Brandy chattered away, leaning forward between the front seats as far as her seat belt would let her to talk to her father and Maggie. Aside from warning Brandy several times to sit back, Ryan listened quietly for the most part, allowing Maggie to talk to his daughter.

Glancing at Ryan from the corner of her eye, Maggie observed how his face softened whenever he spoke to Brandy.

He really adores her, Maggie thought. He appeared a completely different person with his daughter.

What do I do to make him react so harshly? Maggie wondered. He was clearly capable of gentleness.

I’m not even asking for gentleness, she thought, smiling to herself. Mere civility would do.

Her eyes met his and she didn’t try to hide her smile.

His brows furrowed in response, and he stared hard at the road.

Ryan found himself oddly irritated by Maggie’s seemingly unfaltering cheer. He felt anything but cheerful himself, caught as he was between desire and apprehension.

It was going to take a lot more than her word—or her smile—to convince Ryan that Maggie’s dedication to Brandy was genuine and lasting. The women’s outreach program might have sounded appealing to her on the face of it, but taking on the responsibility of being part of a child’s life could involve sacrifices and commitments that Maggie Wells wasn’t expecting.

Not everyone was willing to make those sacrifices and commitments. Especially for someone else’s child. More than one promising relationship had ended for Ryan after the women learned he had sole custody of a young child. The experiences had made him all the more protective of Brandy—and of himself. Neither one of them needed any more disappointments.

Maggie chatted with Brandy about the various things they might see at the show as Ryan continued to drive silently. Relief swept over her when they arrived downtown at last. The three of them filed in behind a crowd of exhibitgoers.

We look just like a typical little family, Maggie thought, the notion coming to her from out of the blue. These people probably look at us and think we’re married.

Now why did she think of that? She shook herself mentally and turned to Brandy, determined to focus on the little girl.

Brandy and Maggie wandered through the large open hall for several hours, stopping at every display table. Brandy peered and gasped with wonder at the intricate miniatures and the fancy dolls. Maggie enjoyed the light in Brandy’s eyes every time the little girl saw something that particularly excited her. Ryan followed along behind them slowly, staying just far enough back to make it almost seem as if he weren’t there.

“Look!” Brandy cried. “They’re real little playing cards! They have numbers and pictures and everything.”

Brandy leaned comfortably on Maggie and pressed her nose against the glass display case. Maggie turned around to find Ryan staring at her, his forehead knitted in thought.

She tried smiling at him, but he looked away.

Finally Brandy had seen everything except the children’s puppet show that played every half hour. Maggie settled her on the floor near the puppet stage and retreated to the back of the theater area where Ryan waited, arms crossed, a bored expression on his face.

Maggie stood beside him and stared at the puppet show with unseeing eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he was ignoring her. Five minutes later, she knew it was no use. She couldn’t stand it. She turned and faced his stern profile.

“Mr. Conner.”

He looked at her blandly.

At least he knows I’m alive, she thought.

“Ryan.” The word came out of his mouth in a short clip.

“Of course,” Maggie said. He does hate it when I call him Mr. Conner, she thought. Her lips curved upward slightly. “Sorry,” she said.

He turned away again.

“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. He looked back at her. “I think we should talk. I don’t know why you came here with us today, or what exactly your problem is with me. I just know that you agreed to allow me to work with Brandy. Obviously you decided I could provide something your daughter needs. You might as well let me do it.”

The words had tumbled out before she could think them through, but she knew they had to be said. Things couldn’t go on this way.

“Why do you disapprove of me?” she demanded when he didn’t respond to her outburst.

“Disapprove?” he repeated so softly, she could barely hear him over the laughter of the children.

“I don’t know. Disapprove, or whatever.” Maggie shook her head. “Look, you’re the one who told Mrs. Fletcher you wanted me to work with Brandy.”

“Brandy chose you, not I,” he corrected. “I want what’s best for Brandy. She doesn’t always know what’s best for herself. Sometimes I let her make her own decisions, but I don’t want to see her get hurt. I want to make sure that allowing her to make this decision was right.”

“You have to give me a chance if you’re ever going to find that out,” Maggie retorted hotly. “You don’t need to tag along with us or drive us around in your car.”

He cocked his head and, for the first time, Maggie thought she detected the glimmer of a grin on his face.

“I don’t find this amusing,” she said, surprising herself at the rising anger she felt. “I’m not playing games here.”

“Oh, no?” he questioned, all evidence of the grin gone. “You want to play at having a part-time daughter who you can put away and take out whenever you want to.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Maggie answered quickly.

“Really?” he asked. “Why aren’t you married, with a family of your own?”

Maggie was speechless for a moment. Who did Ryan Conner think he was, questioning her about her marital status? Her stomach tightened as she stifled the indignant question.

For Brandy’s sake, she’d stop before the conversation degenerated into a shouting match.

“You know, I think I’ll just wait in one of those chairs by the wall,” she said coldly, abruptly leaving Ryan.

Maggie was still fuming when Brandy rushed over, flushed with laughter, dragging her father behind her.

It’s going to be a long ride home, Maggie thought.

To Maggie’s relief, it was weeks later before she shared the same air space with Ryan in an automobile again. This time it was in her own car.

And she gained a perverse pleasure from the entire episode.

Ryan had not joined Maggie and Brandy on an outing since that first time until Brandy had requested that her two favorite “big people” go to the movies together with her.

Maggie firmly suggested they go in her car and restrained her laughter when Ryan acquiesced to Brandy’s request that she be allowed to sit up front with Maggie. He couldn’t have realized how small her back seat was when he’d agreed to his daughter’s plan, and Maggie felt no compunction to warn him. He hadn’t complained about the inconvenience, however, as he sat, knees hunched, in the back seat of Maggie’s sports car.

Throughout the afternoon he remained his usual quiet self. The nearly two months since he had met Maggie had made him no less distant than he’d been that day in Mrs. Fletcher’s office. With that confrontation in the exhibit hall still replaying itself in Maggie’s mind, she hadn’t been eager to instigate conversation herself. Fortunately, moviegoing naturally necessitated little talk. And Brandy took care of filling what otherwise might have been silence in the car.

“Can we stop and look at the alligators, Daddy? Please!” Brandy begged on their way home from the movie theater, turning to her father with pleading eyes.

Maggie glanced back and witnessed the harsh planes of Ryan’s face softening as he smiled at his daughter. She knew now that it hadn’t been her imagination that Ryan Conner had a soft side.

She just couldn’t figure out why his daughter was the only one who got the benefit of it.

Ryan nodded his agreement to Brandy’s plan, and Maggie pulled her car over onto the dirt just past the narrow two-lane bridge that spanned a swamp. Brandy had shown her the spot and talked her into stopping to look for ’gators several times already since they’d first met.

As the car rolled to a halt, Brandy jumped out, ran to the guardrail at the side of the low bridge and peered over. Maggie held back a smile as Ryan uncurled his muscular length from the back seat. He rose to his full height, then bent to rub the back of one knee. He straightened and looked up, meeting Maggie’s amused gaze.

Serves you right, she thought.

“I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable back there,” she said aloud in a sweetly solicitous voice.

“Not at all,” Ryan replied evenly. Eyeing his daughter, he called out, “Be careful, Brandy. Don’t lean over too far.”

Ryan had spied the twinkle in Maggie’s green eyes that told him she found it highly entertaining that he’d endured a ride in the back seat of her sports car. He knew he should by all rights be irritated with her. But he wasn’t.

Instead, he’d spent the afternoon absorbing how wonderful she was with his daughter, what a genuine rapport they’d clearly developed. In the weeks since she’d been matched with Brandy, Maggie had kept to her word about meeting with Brandy every two weeks, and had determinedly sought out activities that the little girl enjoyed.

The bottom line was that Brandy had never seemed happier. Ryan was forced to give the credit for that to Maggie.

Waiting by the car, Ryan watched Brandy. Not immediately spying any alligators, the little girl grabbed Maggie’s arm and pulled her across the empty road to try the other side. Ryan followed and stood quietly beside Maggie as Brandy ran up and down the guardrail searching for signs of reptilian life below.

Maggie smiled as she glanced at Ryan standing beside her. The warm early March breeze, carrying a hint of the ocean’s salty scent across the inland swamp, softly ruffled his dark hair. He is handsome, Maggie thought as she watched him, remembering her first conversation with Emma about Ryan. She noted how relaxed Ryan’s face appeared, not stern and tense the way she usually saw him.

She found herself noticing little things, such as how long his eyelashes were for a man. Then she observed the tiny laugh crinkles around his eyes that suggested a man of better humor than he had so far displayed to her. He was not as cold as he seemed, Maggie thought. She almost felt guilty for laughing to herself about his being scrunched up in the back seat.

Ryan turned and looked at her. She realized that she was staring—and that she had been caught.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said with a shaky laugh. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” Ryan asked, his eyes strangely gentle as he looked into hers.

Maggie retreated from his uncharacteristic friendliness by transferring her gaze to the murky green water below.

“I love the way the swamp looks different every time I drive by it on the way out to your house,” she said, dissembling. She looked back at Ryan. “It’s always changing, with each breeze. See, it’s moving even now.” Maggie pointed to a huge lily pad bordered by tall fur-topped cattails that shifted with the spring wind.

“Yes,” Ryan agreed. “That’s what I like about it, too.” Then, so softly Maggie had to lean toward him slightly to hear it, he added, “It’s very peaceful and uncomplicated.”

For just a few seconds, she saw the familiar expression that he seemed to normally reserve only for his daughter.

You’d almost think he wanted to be friends, she pondered. Or at least to start over as something other than enemies.

“How’s school?” Maggie asked suddenly, afraid to let the moment of fragile rapport slip away. She had never heard him talk about his work, but she often chanced upon him grading papers or buried in books when she dropped by on the weekends to pick up Brandy.

“Good,” he replied in a noncommittal tone, then, surprisingly, he smiled. A smile that lit his face and sparked an odd tingle in the pit of Maggie’s stomach. “It’s always a challenge trying to make kids like reading the classics,” he continued. “And it allows me to have school holidays and summers to spend with Brandy.”

“I can see that means a lot to you,” Maggie observed warmly. “It sounds like you really enjoy the work, too. I loved literature in high school myself. I still remember my twelfth-grade English teacher. I admired her so much that for a while I wanted to be an English teacher, too. I even went so far as to minor in English at college,” she told him.

Ryan froze inside, suddenly wary. He recalled how he and Delia had studied English together during their college years. He’d entered the teaching profession, and Delia had gone on to law school, launching a lucrative, high-powered career in corporate law. She’d never understood Ryan’s dedication to his “little teaching job.”

“But you ended up in business,” Ryan cut in, retreating protectively. “A real career woman.” The realization of how easily he could be swept away into the sultry depths of Maggie’s misty green eyes burst over his mind. He looked around for Brandy, resolving to be more careful in the future.

Maggie stared at Ryan, stunned. Where did that come from? she wondered, feeling as if he’d just slapped her.

“Brandy, let’s go,” Ryan called. “I don’t think we’re going to see any ’gators today.”

As he spoke, Maggie noticed a dark shadow gliding through the water beside a thin tree in the middle of the swamp. Its long head, saddled with bulging eye sockets, cut the water in a slim, straight line toward the bridge.

“Look, Brandy!” Maggie called. She grabbed Brandy’s hand and pulled her away from her father and back to the edge of the bridge.

Brandy squealed with delight, clutching Maggie’s hand tightly. Maggie looked over her shoulder. Ryan stood by her car, his face an expressionless mask.

Whatever had been between them for those few moments had evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, she realized.

The sounds of terror woke Ryan, rousing him from sleep automatically. He knew what was wrong. He’d been through it all before. Too many times.

“Brandy? Sweetheart?” he called as he stumbled down the dark hallway to his daughter’s room. He crawled into the bed and hugged Brandy’s small, shaking body. “I’m here,” he comforted her, holding her tight. “Daddy’s here.”

“I dreamed—” Brandy cried, sobs choking out the words.

“I know, I know,” Ryan whispered, rocking her back and forth.

“You won’t ever leave me, will you, Daddy?” Brandy asked, her voice thick with tears.

“No, Brandy. You know I won’t ever leave you.”

“Mommy did.”

Pain pricked along Ryan’s nerves. He drew Brandy closer.

“I won’t leave you, sweetheart. I promise. Cross my heart.”

“And hope to die?”

“And hope to die,” Ryan repeated.

He held her tight, knowing by the even rhythm of her breathing when she slept. But sleep eluded him, and he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the soft rays of morning to light the room.

Would Brandy ever stop having nightmares? he wondered as he lay quietly, his daughter peaceful once more in his arms. He thought back to when the dreams had started, the night Delia had left.

Brandy had been three. So young, so impressionable. So unable to understand that her mother’s sudden departure had nothing to do with her, in spite of her father’s reassurances.

Brandy usually went for months without having the nightmare. Then it would come back suddenly, as forceful and terrifying as ever. Ryan could only console himself that the frequency of the nightmares was lessening as time went on. Brandy’s pediatrician had assured him that eventually the dreams would subside completely.

She hadn’t had the nightmare since she’d started seeing Maggie, he realized suddenly. There was usually a trigger to the episodes, he’d learned. Thinking back on the day before, he remembered their time at the movies, and stopping off at the bridge to watch for alligators.

When Maggie had dropped them off at home, Brandy had asked her to help her with her school play. All the kids’ mothers were making costumes, Brandy had said. And so she wanted her special friend to help her.

Maggie had eagerly agreed.

Maybe, Ryan considered, Brandy wasn’t quite as comfortable as she’d appeared with having Maggie substitute for her mother. Brandy rarely mentioned Delia, and it was difficult for Ryan to know how much hurt she might be hiding.

Pale light streaked through the divided panes of Brandy’s bedroom window as Ryan fell asleep. The next thing he was aware of was his daughter poking his shoulder, calling his name.

“Daddy?” Brandy called, her voice close to his ear, her finger prodding insistently into his skin through his pajama top. “Wake up. Maggie’s here.”