Читать книгу Sheltered in His Arms - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 9

NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES Cassie flipped through the pages of her calendar, there were no upcoming trips written in anywhere. She’d traveled so much over the past eighteen months, launching her nationwide pet therapy program in cities and universities across the United States, that Zack had been left to handle much of their Shelter Valley veterinary practice by himself. Her travel schedule was why she’d invited Zack, who’d been working at a practice in Phoenix, to go into partnership with her in Shelter Valley. His first marriage had just ended, and he’d been eager for a new start. And now, two years later, Cassie’s wedding present to him and Randi was to stay in town a while.

But damn, a trip sure would be nice. Help her put life in perspective again.

“Hey, stranger.”

Planner pages between her fingers, Cassie froze, staring at the month of May. It was coming up in a matter of weeks. She’d be—

“Cassie?”

She hadn’t imagined the voice. There was only one man who said her name in just that way. With that slight emphasis on the second syllable.

Heart pounding, Cassie didn’t know what to do. Sam was really back. After all this time.

She had to look up. To get through this. Making plans for May seemed so much safer.

Thank God, she was in her office. Private. No one was going to see if she messed up.

Except Sam.

He was standing in front of her desk. She could feel him there. She just couldn’t bear to look at him. Couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t make a total idiot of herself and start to cry.

Sam hated it when she cried. Nearly as much as she did.

There was movement over there, close to Sam, but not really where he was standing. It drew Cassie’s eye.

There, with her little hand clasped in a bigger one that could only belong to Cassie’s ex-husband, stood a little girl. A very solemn, beautiful, dark-eyed little girl. She appeared to be part Native American.

“We—” Sam raised the child’s hand “—Mariah and I just got into town last night. I couldn’t be in Shelter Valley without seeing you first thing.”

Oddly enough, Cassie understood that. She didn’t like it, but she understood. She and Sam would never truly be strangers, or casual acquaintances who just had chance meetings on the street.

“You could have called first,” she said, her eyes riveted on the child. His daughter? His daughter?

Pain knifed through Cassie, so sharp she couldn’t breathe. When he’d left her all those years ago, he’d taken from her any hope that she might have children of her own. Taken away any hope of the family and the life she’d wanted. And now he had the nerve to waltz back into town with a child who should have been theirs.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t see me,” he murmured.

“You were probably right.”

Was the child his? With her obvious coloring and that coal-black hair, the girl didn’t look anything like him. Yet her white heritage was noticeable in those striking blue eyes.

Sam had green eyes.

“This is Mariah,” Sam said, sounding less sure of himself as she continued to watch the silent little girl. “She’s my daughter.”

The knife sliced a second time. Lips trembling, Cassie nodded. And tried to smile at the child. After all, it wasn’t Mariah’s fault her father had hurt Cassie so badly.

“Hello, Mariah.”

The little girl stared wordlessly at her father’s waistline. Which, now that Cassie noticed it, looked as firm and solid as it always had. Clearly, Sam was still in remarkably good shape.

“You’re looking great, Cass,” Sam said, an old familiar warmth enlivening the words.

“Thanks.” Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Cassie forced herself to look up, to meet Sam’s gaze.

And then looked away again almost immediately. His eyes were exactly the same. They met hers— and touched her all the way inside.

Without waiting for an invitation, Sam sat in one of the leather chairs facing her desk, pulling Mariah onto his lap.

“How old is she?” she asked. Morbid curiosity.

“Seven.”

Cassie’s daughter would have been ten this year.

“So how’ve you been, Cass?” Sam asked, glancing around her office at the degrees on the wall behind her, the thick texts lining her shelves. “You’ve accomplished a lot.”

Cassie stared at the little television in the corner. Wishing she hadn’t turned it off after the news ended half an hour ago. It would have given her something to focus on. Taken her thoughts off the bitter pain that had already seized her.

Off the man in front of her.

“Your parents told you about the pet therapy program, I imagine,” she said. It was the sum total of her life’s accomplishments. Had they told him that, as well?

If this was just a guilt-induced duty call, he could leave now. She didn’t need his polite compliments. Or his pity.

The flood of anger felt good.

“They haven’t mentioned you at all,” he said quietly. “I don’t know the first thing about a pet therapy program. I’m just impressed with this office, the clinic, your degrees.”

Cassie shrugged. “I imagine you went on to greater things. You’re probably a lawyer by now.”

Not that she cared. She just figured he’d finished college and pursued postgraduate work. Entered some highly regarded profession. Sam had been the more intelligent of the two of them. He hadn’t particularly liked to hit the books, hadn’t enjoyed learning as much as she had, but it had all come so naturally to him. Even in high school he could ace a test with a five-minute look over his notes, while Cassie would study for an entire evening to get the same grade.

“I don’t even have a bachelor’s degree.”

Shocked, Cassie frowned at him. His hair was longer, his face lined with experiences she knew nothing about. “Why not?”

“I never went back to school after I left here.” There was no apology in the words. No excuse, either.

“But you had a perfect grade point, a future…”

“…that I didn’t want,” Sam finished for her, his jaw firm. Then he smiled, which instantly softened his face. It was as though he’d learned to control the emotions that had once flowed so freely.

When they were young, Sam had been the most passionate man she’d known. Passionate about everything, from kissing her to saving an abandoned dog on the outskirts of town. She’d loved that about him.

“So what’s this pet therapy business?” he asked. “Analyzing neurotic poodles?” He grinned in an obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but his expression sobered when she didn’t respond. “Seriously,” he muttered. “Tell me.”

Mariah’s arm slid up around Sam’s neck, and she lay her head against his chest.

She was too skinny. And quieter than any child Cassie had ever seen. It almost seemed as though something was wrong with her. Her stomach seized at the thought. The little girl was so beautiful.

She couldn’t imagine Sam with a handicapped child. Everything had always come easy to him. Perfection had been his for the taking.

“I, uh, developed a bit of a name for myself by using animals as a way to treat mentally, and sometimes physically, ill patients,” she said slowly, her attention on Sam’s little girl.

There was something heart-wrenching about her. Something pathetic in seeing her tucked so securely in Sam’s arms.

Sam. She couldn’t believe he was here. Sitting in her office. Damn him.

Her life wasn’t ever going to be the same again, with Sam back in town. The memories, the reminders—they’d all be right in front of her. Mocking her. He’d just shot her carefully won peace all to hell.

Sam asked a few more questions—intelligent, thoughtful questions—about pet therapy, which Cassie managed to answer. Somehow, with him sitting there, work wasn’t the first thing on her mind. It was an odd sensation.

A very unwelcome one.

SAM DIDN’T KNOW what he’d been expecting to find that morning, but the woman sitting across from him wasn’t it. Her beauty was still as potent, her figure perfect, her hair still that glorious red. But despite all the similarities, he could hardly believe how much ten years had changed her. Was it just growing up that had made her so self-composed? So unemotional?

Or was it only with him that she was this way?

The thought sickened him. Saddened him. He’d carried the image of his vivacious and tender ex-wife with him every day of the past ten years, used it as a sword to punish himself—and as a reminder of the penance he owed.

“So who’d you end up marrying?” he asked now, forcing himself to confront reality, to see the woman Cassie had become, to not linger on memories of the days when he’d known her as well as she’d known herself. “You are married, right?”

Cassie shook her head, and Sam froze.

“You aren’t married?” he asked, his shock more evident than he would have liked. She had to be married. It was all Cassie had ever wanted. Marriage and a family.

“There are a lot of successful single women these days,” she said, her tone tinged with sharpness. “I would never have been able to accomplish everything I have if I was married. I’ve spent the past couple of years traveling all over the country, setting up pet therapy programs in universities and in hundreds of mental-health facilities.”

Sam stared at her, not understanding. “But you wanted to be a wife and mother more than anything in the world,” he said.

He hadn’t been wrong about that. Had he?

Cassie’s gaze slid away from him, her shoulders stiffening. “People change, Sam.”

Mariah’s fingers dug into Sam’s neck; he rubbed her back reassuringly.

“You never had children?” He just couldn’t take it in. Didn’t want to. Didn’t want to believe he’d had anything to do with her decision. It was one of the reasons he’d left town and never come back. So that Cassie could get on with her life.

Or that was what he’d always told himself. He’d assumed, without question, that she’d meet someone, marry, have kids. He thought briefly of his syndicated comic strip—another secret. The origins of the Borough Bantam were unknown to the people of Shelter Valley and yet it was based on them. Cassie was the gazelle. And in one of last month’s episodes, the gazelle had given birth to twins.

“I don’t have any children,” she said, then stood as though dismissing him. “I’m happy your parents finally have you back, Sam,” she said, then added, “You always were the light of their life.”

Another too-familiar stab of guilt hit its mark. Sam also stood, sliding Mariah down to the floor beside him. The child’s eyes were pleading when he looked down at her. She was ready to go. Now.

Odd. He hadn’t realized that he was learning to communicate with her, to understand her, even without words. The thought brought a strange sort of comfort.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around,” he said, guiding Mariah back into the hallway. He needed to tell Cassie about Mariah. And he would, as soon as he had a chance to talk to her alone. He needed to tell her the child wasn’t his. Or not biologically, in any case.

Cassie had never married. God, he felt sick. And ashamed. A bone-deep shame.

“Okay” was all she said. So why did he hear, Not if I can help it?

After ten years, she still hated him so much. He deserved it; he knew that. Why had he been foolish enough to hope that the years might have dulled the consequences of his sins?

Mariah walked stoically beside him down the hall, which seemed to have grown a mile longer during his stay in Cassie’s office, and he realized that if he was going to get through this, he had to concentrate solely on his new daughter—her needs, not his own. Just as they reached the door that would lead them back to the waiting room, she turned, looking over her shoulder.

“Cassie’s a nice lady, don’t you think?” he asked gently, his heart rate speeding up.

Mariah didn’t answer him, but for the first time since her parents were killed, she’d shown an interest in something. It might not be much, but it was a start.

At that moment, Sam was willing to settle for anything.

“Let’s go see if Grandma has lunch ready, okay?” he asked, squeezing Mariah’s hand.

He might as well have been talking to himself.

CASSIE DIDN’T SEE Sam again for two days. She was walking home from the clinic on Wednesday evening—since she’d left her car at home that morning—enjoying the balmy Arizona spring day, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the cabbage rolls she’d made over the weekend and was going to have for dinner.

She’d had a good day. Had helped a collie through a difficult birth, managing to save all six puppies and the mother, as well. They’d been so adorable, she hadn’t been able to resist when the collie’s owner had offered Cassie pick of the litter. Now that she wasn’t going to be traveling so much, she’d been planning to get a dog. And she’d always loved collies.

“Can we give you a ride home?”

Still reacting to that familiar voice, even after all these years, Cassie didn’t stop walking. “No, thanks,” she called, barely glancing Sam’s way.

He drove a white truck.

She’d have expected him to drive a Lincoln Continental, or some other expensive car. But the truck seemed to suit him. Not that she really knew anything about Sam, or what would suit him. Nor did she want to.

Back to cabbage rolls. Yes, they’d be good. She’d treat herself to two. That would leave two more meals’ worth in the freezer. It was a good thing they’d only take a few minutes to microwave. She was getting hungry and—

“I have a cousin.”

Sam came up behind her, on foot, Mariah’s bony little legs moving quickly beside him. Glancing back, Cassie saw his truck parked at the curb.

What did he want with her, for God’s sake?

“I know you do,” she said aloud. She realized that the news had to be a shock. When he’d left, he was the sole Montford descendant, the family’s one hope. Now he’d come home to discover that an unknown cousin had shown up.

“You’ve met him?”

“Yes.”

Mariah’s hair was braided today. Cassie could just picture Carol fussing over the little girl. Her ex-mother-in-law must be about the happiest woman in Shelter Valley these days.

Cassie was genuinely thrilled for Carol. She’d always loved the woman like a second mother.

Her own mother didn’t even know Sam was in town. Her parents had left at the end of March for the six-month cruise around the world that they’d been saving half their lives to take. Cassie was glad they were gone. She had no idea how they’d react to Sam’s reappearance. Her father, who’d had four daughters and no sons, had taken Sam’s defection personally.

He’d also been the one who had to tell Cassie that her baby girl had died.

“What’s he like?” Sam asked, slowing his pace now that he was even with her. Mariah walked between them, staring ahead, it seemed, at nothing. “Ben, I mean. My cousin.”

Watching the child, Cassie frowned. “He’s very nice,” she said, wondering what was wrong with Sam’s daughter. Wondering how to ask. “He came to town last fall, fell in love with his English teacher—who wasn’t really a teacher at all, it turned out.” She gave a quick shrug. “It’s a long story. They’re married now.”

“Mom said he’s got a daughter Mariah’s age.”

Cassie nodded, wishing her house wasn’t still two streets away. She couldn’t do this. Walk casually with Sam and the child who’d never be hers, pretending they could be friends. “She’s not actually his, biologically. Did your mom tell you that?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, his free hand in the pocket of his jean-shorts. His long legs were more muscled than she remembered. “She said he married a girl his senior year in high school who claimed he was the father of her child.”

“She let him support her for almost eight years before she told him Alex belonged to her boyfriend, who was in prison.”

“Mom said that Ben’s being awarded full and permanent custody of her, though.”

“Her real father beat—” Glancing down at the head bobbing between them, Cassie broke off. “He wasn’t a very good father.”

“I gather Ben is.”

“Obviously you haven’t met him yet,” Cassie said, “or you’d know he was.”

Sam nodded again. “You’re right, I haven’t met him, but Mom’s pushing for a get-together.”

“Ben’s a great guy. Looks a bit like you.” In fact he resembled Sam enough that Cassie had had a hard time liking the man when she’d first met him. But he was Zack’s closest friend. Nowadays Cassie not only liked and respected him, she admired the hell out of him. Ben Sanders was a real man in the true sense of the word.

Too bad Sam didn’t share those particular genes…. Cassie stopped her reaction even as it took shape. She wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t going to grow old and hard with bitterness, entertaining nasty thoughts. She was okay now. Happy with her life. Surrounded by friends and family who loved her.

“Just seems odd, after a lifetime of being the only Montford heir, to find out that I’m not.”

“It’s not like your inheritance meant a whole lot to you the past ten years.” Damn her tongue. She turned the corner, Sam and Mariah staying in step beside her.

“It doesn’t mean squat to me.”

He’d certainly said so with great frequency. But until he’d left, turning his back on the money, the position, the town, she’d never really thought he believed it. She’d always thought the complaints were just a habit left over from when he was a kid, railing against expectations.

Everyone did that. Complained about what their parents expected of them. It was a normal part of growing up.

“Then what’s the problem with sharing it?” she asked him now, thinking how little Sam appeared to need the Montford fortune, and how much Ben and his new family did.

“He can have it all,” Sam said without bitterness, as though he still meant the words completely. “It just feels odd to have been one thing your entire life, only to find that it’s not what you are at all.”

Cassie nodded, glancing down as Mariah’s arm brushed against her leg. The child, moving silently between them, didn’t seem to notice.

Relieved when they reached her block, Cassie firmly turned her thoughts once again to cabbage rolls. They’d smelled so good when they were baking on Saturday night.

“This is it,” she said, stopping at the bottom of her driveway. If he expected her to ask him in, he was mistaken.

Sam hesitated, looking at the house she’d bought a few years before, in one of the more affluent neighborhoods in Shelter Valley.

“Nice place.”

“I like it.”

“It’s big.”

“Yeah.” She did most of her pet therapy work from an office here at home. And used the rest of the rooms to indulge her amateur interest in interior decorating.

Cassie was beginning to think Sam’s daughter couldn’t hear. The child didn’t even turn toward the house they were discussing. Cassie had heard the adage about children being seen and not heard, but this was too much.

Besides, she’d never figured Sam for that kind of parent.

A familiar pain tore through her at the thought of Sam as a father. She had to stay away from this man, dammit! He could destroy every bit of her hard-won composure, and his very presence threatened the contentment she’d so carefully pieced together.

The child, however, shouldn’t suffer for her father’s sins. Her silence tugged at Cassie. Bending down, face level with the striking little girl, Cassie smiled. “It was nice to see you again, Mariah.”

Mariah didn’t respond. And Sam gave no explanation. Surely if the child was deaf, Sam would have said. And how could she ask, in case the little girl could hear and know they were talking about her?

“Have you had any of your grandma’s cookies yet?” she tried again.

Neither a nod nor a shake of the head. Mariah’s gaze seemed intent on the T-shirt tucked into Sam’s shorts. Her fingers were clutching it. Hard.

Meeting Cassie’s questioning gaze, Sam just shook his head.

“Well, if you haven’t, you’ve got a treat in store,” Cassie continued, simply because she didn’t know what else to do. “They’re the best.”

“I told her.”

Of course. He would have. He’d grown up with them.

They both had.

“Well, good night,” Cassie said awkwardly.

“’Night.”

She didn’t look back as she walked to her door, let herself in and locked it behind her.

But she knew Sam stood there watching her.