Читать книгу The Promise of Christmas - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 9

“YOU’VE BEEN UP ALL NIGHT?”

Shirt unbuttoned, shoes on the floor, Kip lay back on the couch in Clara’s family room and watched as Leslie, dressed in a black running suit and tennis shoes, came in. He’d heard her on the stairs.

“I dozed off,” he told her, stretching the truth a bit. He’d been in a kind of trance, but wasn’t sure he’d ever really slept as the dark hours dragged by. “Being here in this house, trying to make sense of the present, to figure out the future, I found myself wandering back to the past. Did you know that Cal once told me he was never going to have kids?”

Leslie perched on the arm of the chair across from him. “Don’t most guys think that way in high school?”

“I sure did.” Lethargic, Kip didn’t move, just lay there with his arms at his sides, head propped up on the arm of the couch. If he didn’t get up, he wouldn’t have to face the first decision in his life that just might be too big for him. “I didn’t change my mind about it, either.”

“You don’t have to take him, Kip,” Leslie said, her blue eyes soft. She’d pulled her mass of auburn curls into a ponytail on top of her head. Even without makeup she was beautiful.

God, how she’d grown up. He’d thought about that during the long night, too. Vacillated between great interest in the new Leslie, and anger at her for changing from the kid sister she’d always been. Angry at her for tempting him.

“I was thinking about the time Cal and I came out of the locker room after a particularly great Friday-night game to find the Saylor twins waiting. They’d set aside the whole night just for us. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

Kip grinned at Leslie as he relived, just for a second, those easier days of youth when things had seemed black and white rather than the confusing shades of gray he now knew them to be.

“From what I remember, that was all in a day’s work for the two of you,” Leslie said, smiling back. “Or a night’s…”

“Yeah, well, the Saylor twins were…special.”

“Loose you mean.”

“Generous is how I’d describe them.”

Shaking her head, Leslie grinned even more. “You’re an embarrassment to faithful men everywhere, Kip Webster.”

He should probably sit up. But it felt so damn good lying there, talking to her. Natural.

“Hey, now,” he said, “I’m not unfaithful. Being unfaithful means there had to be faith to begin with. Promises and vows—which I haven’t made. I’ve never once pretended to be anything other than what I am.”

“And that is?”

He opened his mouth with a ready quip, met her eyes, and closed it again, smile fading.

“I’m honest, Les. I never allow a woman to think she’s the only one in my life.”

Her grin was gone, too. “Has there ever been a time there’s been only one?” The question was almost a whisper.

“There’ve been more times when there’ve been none.”

“No!” She reached across and yanked at his toe before dropping into the chair. “The great Kip Webster without a woman?”

“I didn’t say it happened—just that there’ve been more times when I didn’t have a woman than when I had only one.” He didn’t join her attempt to return them to the lighthearted conversation of moments ago. “You know something?” he said, completely serious. “That night when the Saylor twins were waiting for us, Cal and I had already agreed to go right home and get a good night's rest. We’d told your mother that first thing Saturday morning we'd move an elderly client of hers out of the house she’d just closed on….”

Kip could remember that night like it had been the week before.

“I was halfway to the car with the twins, fully prepared to pull an all-nighter and then help your mom, but Cal would have none of it. He said we could see the twins the next night. I thought he’d lost his mind.” Kip couldn’t find the smile that should have accompanied the boyhood memory. All he could find was the panic that had set in when Jim Brackerfield pronounced him guardian of a five-year-old boy.

“So you went out with the twins and Cal came home?” Leslie asked.

“No, I was spending the night at your house. And Cal was right. They agreed to see us the next night.”

Swinging his legs to the floor, Kip sat up. “But that’s the thing, Les. I would’ve gone. It never even occurred to me not to go. I’m just not the responsible type.”

When she leaned forward, Kip could see a hint of the cleavage he’d first noticed when she was about fifteen and he’d been leaving for college. He’d only ever seen her twice since then, until now. At her high school and college graduations.

“You were seventeen, Kip!”

“I like women, Les. I can imagine meeting someone at a business lunch, stretching lunch to dinner and completely forgetting to pick up the kid from daycare or wherever he might be.”

“Have you ever had a cat?” Leslie asked.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“That time mine was hit by a car and almost died and you drove me to the vet. While we were waiting, you told me your dad wouldn’t allow you to have a pet but when you were on your own you were going to get a cat. Couldn’t be a dog because they had to be taken for walks and you weren’t planning to be home every night.”

Since her words only added weight to the dread already consuming him, Kip didn’t share her humor. “See what I mean? Even then I knew I couldn’t be relied on.”

“Did you ever forget to feed your cat?”

“Of course not.” He wasn’t a complete imbecile. “He always had a clean litter box, too. He was almost ten when he got leukemia. I can’t tell you the nights I sat up with him before he finally had to be put down.”

“There you go,” Leslie said, standing up. “You like to play, Kip, but you’ve never been one to shirk your responsibilities. Take that night with the Saylor twins,” she said, her mischievous grin affecting him in mysterious ways, “you’d have gone, but you also would’ve shown up to help my mother, worked your ass off, then gone home and crashed as soon as you were done.”

Maybe. But…

“And that would’ve been a horrible example to set,” he told her. “You know me, Les. I was born wild. If it hadn’t been for your family taking pity on me, I wouldn’t have any idea at all of what family life’s supposed to be like. And I didn’t totally get it even when I was here. How many times did I worry your mother sick because I forgot to call when I was coming here and I was late? Or forgot to come over, period? I was arrested at sixteen for possession of an illegal substance…”

“It was a first offense, the only offense, the record was sealed when you turned eighteen and no one will ever know about it.”

“I’m not prepared to be a father, Les.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t got a clue about raising a kid.”

“I know. Me, neither.”

“But you’re going to take her, aren’t you?”

His breathing stopped during the second she nodded her head.

IN A LITTLE OVER AN HOUR, she was going to meet Cal’s children. Leslie didn’t have any idea how one prepared for such a thing. Should she just be herself? Wear a pantsuit and fancy jewelry and pretend she wasn’t afraid, at least in some measure, almost every minute of every day?

Or should she put on the one pair of jeans she still owned—left behind from a visit to her mother six or seven years ago, when Cal had been white-water rafting—and top it with the pink sweater she’d brought to wear under her black suit? Her black boots would be fine with jeans. And she could wear the butterfly necklace from her Purple Rain collection—it had blues and pinks and violets. Little girls liked butterflies.

Oh, God, how do you expect me to do this? In bra and panties, Leslie sank onto the white eyelet coverlet on the double bed she’d slept in as a child growing up in her mother’s house. She’d handled incredible pressures during her thirty years on earth, but somehow none of them seemed as insurmountable as the decision before her now. Her eye caught the rose-colored angel night-light she’d had since she was a child.

It had burned the night before. Just as a similar one burned in her own home every night. Angel, where’s your calm?

A call to Jim Brackerfield just after breakfast that morning had resulted in this Saturday-afternoon visit with the children. Her mother was coming, too. If all went well, Leslie could take Kayla home with her to Phoenix the next day.

Staring at the white eyelet curtains, the yellow walls with their pictures of butterflies and tacked-up posters of “feel-good” quotes from her teen years, she wondered who’d be supplying the definition of “well.” If it was her, there wouldn’t be one.

KIP, FRESHLY SHOWERED, shaved and dressed in jeans, a beige sweater and an open brown leather jacket, was standing outside by the rental car when Leslie and her mother left the house.

“You’re coming?” she asked, afraid to hope. She was determined not to sway Kip, make him feel guilty or give any indication of how much she wished he’d take her nephew—to love him. Even more than that, she wanted him to do whatever he needed to do.

“I didn’t put you down as a driver on the car,” he said, referring to the rental they’d brought from the airport.”

“We can take mine,” Clara said.

Kip opened the front passenger door for the older woman, who slid in without another word.

Leslie climbed in back, thanking God for giving her the strength Kip’s presence offered—even it was only for the afternoon.

ADA KING’S WRINKLED FACE and arthritic fingers looked more like those of an eighty-year-old woman than the sixty-two they’d been told she was. Her smile was gracious and genuine when she opened the door of the three-story condominium.

“The children are downstairs in the playroom,” she said. “I thought it best for you to meet them down there….” She stepped aside as they entered. “Then, if you all have any questions…”

She had a million of them. And couldn’t think of one. “I’m Leslie,” she said, holding out her hand.

“The picture your brother had was old, but I recognize you,” Ada said, gripping her hand. “Your brother thought the sun rose and set on them curls of yours.”

Leslie blinked back the tears she’d been fighting all the way across town. Oh, Cal. How can I possibly miss you so much? How can you still matter to me? How am I ever going to love your children and not lose myself?

After shaking hands with Clara and Kip, Ada led them toward a staircase at the back of the living room they’d entered.

“Kayla’s toys are all down here,” she said. “It’s best to keep plenty of things handy for that one to do.”

Leslie’s heart started to pound. “She’s active?”

“She’s two,” Ada said as if that explained everything, glancing over her shoulder at Leslie as they slowly descended the stairs. Kip and Clara were right behind her.

Breathe. Leslie took a step. And then another. Real breaths, not those shallow gasps that barely keep you alive. She heard Juliet’s voice in her head.

The carpet was short, variegated browns and beiges, and thickly padded. Expensive. But easy to clean and it hid stains. There wasn’t a single fingerprint on the light beige walls. She could hear a childish lisp in a high little voice, couldn’t understand the words. If there’d been a reply, it had been uttered too softly to hear.

Leslie turned, met her mother’s tremulous gaze, and then her eyes locked with Kip’s. For a second she saw naked fear—an emotion that echoed all the way through her.

She hadn’t even known these children existed until the day before. And now one of them was supposed to be hers?

And Cal’s. Always Cal’s. Could she raise her brother’s daughter?

Could she not?

“Jonathan, Kayla, they’re here to meet you,” Ada said, rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

Light-headed with tension—and probably lack of oxygen—Leslie turned the corner, vaguely aware of her mother and Kip coming up beside her. All she really noticed were the eyes staring at her from a mahogany-brown face topped with straight red hair, exactly the same as her brother’s. Jonathan Sanderson was the most striking little boy she’d ever seen.

And then the slightest movement drew her eyes downward to the chubby little girl hugging her brother’s leg. Kayla’s head was covered in frizzy braids. Her overalls were pink, swarming with butterflies, as was the long-sleeved shirt she had on underneath them. And her skin was creamy beige, beautiful. Kayla was beautiful.

“Da da da?” Tears flooded Leslie’s eyes the second she heard the voice. And just like that, she fell in love.

Jonathan pulled the child even closer, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders.

“He’s not comin’ back, Kayla,” the little boy whispered, leaning down to his sister, but still watching the three outsiders who’d just invaded his territory. “’Member? We talked all ’bout it.”

“Da da da,” Kayla said again, her voice softer as she, too, stared at the strangers.

“Come forward, boy,” Ada said, her hand beckoning.

So slowly he was hardly moving, Jonathan came forward, bringing his sister with him. Ada waited patiently. And when he arrived, put an arm around his skinny little shoulders.

“Jonathan Sanderson, this is your grandma.” She stopped him in front of Clara, who knelt, tears streaming down her face.

“Hello, Jonathan, I’m so happy to meet you,” she said quietly.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Jonathan peered at Clara for a moment and then back at Ada, who moved him along.

“And this is your aunt Leslie.”

Leslie didn’t know where the ear-to-ear grin came from, but when that little body stopped in front of her, gazing up at her with distrusting eyes, she saw a world of happy times ahead of them.

“Hi, Jonathan. I didn’t even know about you until yesterday, but I’m so glad to meet you,” she said, reaching out to touch his hair. “It’s like mine.”

“It’s like my daddy’s.” The boy’s chin trembled, but otherwise he was completely composed. Although Leslie had only limited familiarity with kids, that seemed unusual to her.

She knelt down beside her mother, who was still on her knees watching the children she obviously longed to pull into her arms. “You must be Kayla,” she said to the little girl peering out from behind her brother.

Kayla stepped out then. Nodded. Poked her finger at Leslie’s hair. “Da da da.”

“She don’t know what she’s sayin’,” Jonathan quickly inserted. He looked up at Kip, eyes narrowed. “Who’s he?”

“This is Kip Webster, child,” Ada said, and Leslie thought of the most important question she should’ve asked Ada King before they’d come downstairs. Did Jonathan know the terms of his father’s will?

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked again, pretty much confirming what Leslie had feared. The little boy hadn’t been told that he was about to be taken from the only home he’d ever known.

But at least if Kip decided not to take him, Jonathan wouldn’t realize that Kip hadn’t wanted him.

“He was your daddy’s best friend from the time they were wee like you,” Ada said. She dropped her arm from around the boy and stepped back.

But not too far back, Leslie noted.

The boy studied Kip for a long moment. “You want to see my radio control helicopter that really flies?” Jonathan finally asked Kip. “It’s pretty cool.”

Leslie watched, holding her breath.

“Sure,” Kip said, smiling at the little boy with a natural ease that confirmed something Leslie had always assumed but that Kip Webster hadn’t yet figured out. Someday he was going to make a wonderful father. “You got one control or two?”

THREE HOURS LATER Ada walked them to the door, but Kip wasn’t ready to leave. He wasn’t ready to end this segment of his life—to move on to whatever was coming next.

“We’ll call you in the morning,” he told the older woman in a low voice. Jonathan and Kayla were downstairs, glued to a Disney video on the large-screen TV that took up one end of the huge sitting room. Still he wouldn’t put it past the precocious little guy he’d spent the past couple of hours playing with to have crept up the stairs far enough to listen in.

“Mr. Brackerfield says you might be takin’ Kayla tomorrow.” Ada looked at Leslie.

“I—”

“This all happened so fast,” Kip interrupted and he wasn’t even sure why. Driven by some unidentifiable tension inside him, he continued anyway. “You’ve known about these kids all their lives,” he said. “We’re not only grieving Cal’s unexpected death, but dealing with the shock of finding out that he kept something like this from his entire family.”

That wasn’t it at all. But Ada was nodding so maybe she’d accept his rambling explanation as a reason for delaying any final decision.

“Just give us the evening to talk, and then we’ll call you with some solid plans.”

“Take all the time you need,” Ada said, her expression gentle. “I ain’t in no hurry. Just want to have the little one’s things packed if she’s got to go.”

“We’ll let you know,” Kip said again, before Leslie could make some definite commitment.

“What was that about?” she asked him as soon as the front door of the condo closed behind them.

“I just—”

“I’m taking her, Kip.” She walked to the parking lot, holding the edges of her black suede coat together as she shivered in the cold. “You aren’t going to change my mind about that.”

“I have no intention of trying,” he admitted honestly. But that was all he could tell her. It was all he knew.