Текст книги "The Reluctunt father"
Автор книги: Diana Palmer
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
Chapter 4
Blake could sense the nervousness in Meredith as she sat stiffly in the seat beside him while he started the car. In the old days, he might have made some cutting remark about it, but the days were gone when he’d deliberately try to hurt her.
“Fasten your seat belt,” he said, noticing that she hadn’t.
“Oh.” She did it absently. “I usually remember in my own car,” she said with faint defensiveness.
“Don’t you ever ride with other people?”
“Not if I can help it,” she murmured, glancing at his hard profile as he backed the car out of the driveway and pulled onto the highway.
“Are your friends bad drivers,” he asked, “or is it that you just don’t like being out of control?”
“Who drives you, if we’re going to throw stones?” she asked with a pleasantly cool smile.
His mouth twitched. “Nobody.”
She toyed with her white leather purse, twisting the thin strap around her fingers while she stared out the window at the green crops and grazing cattle on the way to Jack’s Corner. The flat horizon seemed to stretch forever, just as it did back in Texas.
“Sarah engineered this get-together,” he remarked. “She damned near drove me crazy until I phoned Elissa to arrange it.” His green eyes touched her stiff profile and went back to the road. “She likes you.”
“I like her, too,” she said quietly. “She’s a sweet child.”
“‘Sweet’ isn’t exactly the word I’d choose.”
“Can’t you see what’s under the belligerence?” she asked solemnly, and turned in the seat slightly so that she could look at him without having to move her head. “She’s frightened.”
“Elissa said that, too. What is she frightened of? Me?” he asked.
“I don’t know what,” she said. “I don’t know anything about the situation, and I’m not prying.” She stared at the clasp on her purse and unsnapped it. “She doesn’t look like a happy child. And the way she enthused over Danielle’s things, I’d almost bet she’s hardly had a toy in her life.”
“I’m a bachelor,” he muttered angrily. “I don’t know about children and toys and dresses. My God, until a few days ago I didn’t even know I was a father.”
Meredith wanted to ask why Nina had kept Sarah’s existence a secret, but she didn’t feel comfortable talking about such personal things with him. She had to remember that he was the enemy, in a very real sense. She couldn’t afford to show any interest in his life.
He was already figuring that out by himself. She either didn’t care about how he’d found out, or she wasn’t going to risk asking him. He wished he smoked. She made him nervous and he didn’t have anything to do with his hands except grip the steering wheel as he drove.
“Mrs. Jackson is one of your biggest fans,” he said, moving the conversation away from Sarah.
“Is she? I’m glad.”
“I guess you make a fair living from what you do, if that Porsche is any indication.”
She lifted her eyes to his face, letting them run over his craggy features. The broken nose was prominent, as was that angry scar down his cheek. She felt a surge of warmth remembering how he’d come by that scar. Her eyes fell.
“I make a good living,” she replied. “I’m rather well-to-do, in fact. So if you think I came home looking for a rich husband, you’re well off the mark. You’re perfectly safe, Blake,” she added coldly. “I’m the last woman on earth you’ll have to ward off these days.”
He had to clamp down hard on his teeth to keep from saying what came naturally. The past was dead, but she had every reason for digging it up and throwing it at him. He had to remember that. If she’d done to him what he’d done to her, he’d have wanted a much worse revenge than a few pithy remarks.
“I don’t flatter myself that you’d come looking for me without a loaded gun, Meredith,” he returned. He glanced at her, noting the surprise on her face.
She looked out the window again, puzzled and confused.
He pulled the Mercedes into the parking lot behind the library and shut off the engine.
“Don’t do that. Not yet,” he said when she started to open the door. “Let’s talk for a minute.”
“What do we have to say to each other?” she asked distantly. “We’re different people now. Let the past take care of itself. I don’t want to remember—” she stopped short when she realized what she’d blurted out.
“I know.” He leaned back against his door, his pale green eyes under thick black lashes searching her face. “I guess you think I was rough with you in the stable deliberately. And I said some cruel things, didn’t I?”
She flushed and averted her eyes, focusing on his chest. “Yes,” she said, taut with embarrassment and vivid memories.
“It wasn’t planned,” he replied. “And what I said wasn’t what I felt.” He sighed heavily. “I wanted you, Meredith. Wanted you with a passion that drove me right over the edge. But I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Nothing happened,” she said icily. In her nervousness her hands gripped her purse like talons.
“Only because my uncle came driving up at the right moment,” he said bitterly. He studied her set features. “You’ll never know how it’s haunted me all these long years. I was deliberately rough with you the day the will was read because guilt was eating me up. I’d promised to marry Nina, my cousins were talking lawsuits…and on top of all that, I’d just discovered that I wanted you to the point of madness.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said under her breath. Her eyes closed in pain. “I can’t…talk about it.”
His eyes narrowed. “I thought Nina loved me,” he said gently. “She said she did, and all her actions seemed to prove it. I thought you only wanted the inheritance, that I was a stepping stone for you, a way to escape the poverty you’d lived in all your young life.” He ran his fingers lightly over the steering wheel. “It wasn’t until after…that day, that the lawyer told me why my uncle had wanted me to marry you.” His eyes slid to catch hers and hold them. “I didn’t know you were in love with me.”
Her face lost every vestige of color. She sat and stared at him, her pride in rags, her deepest secret naked to his scrutiny.
“It wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference,” she choked out. “Nothing would have changed. Except that you’d have used the information to humiliate me even more. You and Nina would have laughed yourselves sick over that irony.”
The cynicism in her tone made him feel even guiltier. She’d grown a shell, just like the one he’d lived inside most of his life. It kept people from getting too close, from wounding too deeply. Nina hadn’t managed to penetrate it, but Meredith very nearly had. He’d pushed her out of his life at exactly the right moment, because it wouldn’t have taken much to give her a stranglehold on his heart. He’d known that five years ago, and did everything he could to prevent it.
Now he was seeing the consequences of his reticence. His life had altered, and so had Meredith’s. Her fame must have been poor recompense for the home and children she’d always wanted, for a husband to love and take care of and be loved by.
He couldn’t answer her accusation without giving himself away, so he ignored it and let her think what she liked.
“You never used to be sarcastic,” he said quietly. “You were quiet and shy—”
“And dull and plain,” she added for him with a cold smile. “I still am all those things. But I write books that sell like hotcakes and I’ve got my own small following of loyal readers. I’m famous and I’m rich. So now it doesn’t matter if I’m not a blond bombshell. I’ve learned to live with what I am.”
“Have you?” He searched her eyes for a long moment. “You’ve learned to hide yourself away from the world so that you won’t get hurt. You draw back from emotion, from involvement. Even today you were thinking of ways to keep Sarah from having any time with you. That’s the whole point of this trip to the library. Your damned research could have been anytime, but you preferred not to be around while Sarah and I were at Bess’s house.”
“All right, maybe I did!” she said, goaded into telling the truth. “Sarah is a sweet child, and I could love her, but I don’t want to have to look at you, much less be dragged up to that house when you’re there. Mars wouldn’t be far enough away from you to suit me!”
He was grateful that he’d learned to keep a poker face. She couldn’t have known how those words hurt him. She had every reason to want to avoid him, to hate him. But he didn’t want to avoid her, and hatred was the last emotion he felt for her now.
“So Sarah’s going to have to pay because you don’t want to be around me,” he replied.
She glared at him. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “You aren’t laying any guilt trips on me. Sarah has you and Mrs. Jackson—”
“Sarah doesn’t like me and Mrs. Jackson,” he interrupted. “She likes you. She’s done nothing but talk about you.”
She turned away. “I can’t,” she said huskily.
“She could have been our child,” he said unexpectedly. “Yours and mine. And that’s what’s eating you alive, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t believe he’d said that. She looked back at him with tears welling in her gray eyes, blinding her. “Damn you!”
“I saw it in your face this morning when you looked at her,” he went on relentlessly, driven to make her admit it. “It isn’t fear of me that’s stopping you—it’s fear of admitting that Sarah reminds you too painfully of what you wanted and couldn’t have.”
She cried out as if he’d slapped her. She pushed the door open and ran toward the library, almost stumbling in her haste to get away from him. She made it to the lobby and stood there shaking, grateful that the librarian was away from the desk as she tried to get her composure back. She fumbled a handkerchief out of her purse and wiped her eyes. Blake was right. She was avoiding Sarah Jane because of the pain the child caused her. But knowing the truth didn’t help. It only made things worse that he should be perceptive enough to sense what she was thinking.
She put the handkerchief away and went back to the reading room to pore over volumes on southwestern history. She didn’t know how she was going to get back home. Blake would have gone and she’d just have to call Elissa or Bess.
An hour later, calmer and less flustered, she put the notebook she’d been scribbling in back in her purse, returned the reference books to the shelf and walked outside to find a public telephone.
Blake was there, leaning comfortably against the wall, waiting.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked pleasantly as if nothing at all had happened.
She stared at him. “I thought you’d gone.”
His broad shoulders rose and fell. “It’s Saturday,” he said. “I don’t usually work on Saturday unless I have to.” His eyes narrowed as he searched her face. “Are you all right?” he added quietly.
She nodded, her eyes avoiding him.
“I won’t do that again, Meredith,” he said deeply. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s go.”
She sat rigidly beside him on the ride home, afraid that he might start on her again despite what he’d said. But he didn’t. He turned on the radio and kept it playing until he pulled into Bess’s driveway again.
“You don’t have to worry,” he said before she got out of the car, and there was a resigned expression on his face. “I won’t try to force you into a relationship with Sarah. She’s my responsibility, not yours.”
And that was that. Meredith went back into the house, and after he’d explained to Elissa and Bess that they could call him when Sarah was ready to come home, he drove off.
He didn’t know what he was going to do as he drove away. He hadn’t expected Meredith to react like that to his words. What he’d said had only been a shot in the dark, but he’d scored a hit. Sarah disturbed her. The child reminded her of Blake’s cruelty, and Meredith was going to keep Sarah at a distance no matter what it took.
That was going to be sad for both of them. Meredith had grown cold and self-contained. She could use a child’s magic to bring her back into the sunlight. Sarah likewise would profit from Meredith’s tenderness. But it wasn’t going to happen and he had to face it. He’d hoped that he might reach Meredith again through Sarah, but she wanted no part of him. She hated him.
He went back to the house and locked himself in his study with his paperwork, forcing his mind not to dwell on Meredith’s anger. He had no one to blame but himself. And only time would tell if she could ever forgive him.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Meredith sat with Bess and Elissa and watched the little girls play.
“Isn’t she the image of Blake?” Elissa smiled as she watched Sarah. “I guess it’s hard for him, trying to raise a child on his own.”
“He needs to marry again,” Bess agreed.
“Well, he’s rich enough to attract a wife,” Meredith replied with cool disinterest.
“Another Nina would be the end of him,” Elissa said. “And think of Sarah. She needs to be loved, not pushed aside. She looks as if she’s never really been loved.”
“She won’t be with Blake,” Meredith said. “He isn’t a loving man.”
Elissa looked at her curiously. “Considering his life so far, is that surprising? He’s never been loved, has he? Even his uncle manipulated him, used him for the good of the real estate corporation. Blake has been an outsider looking in. He hasn’t known how to love. Maybe Sarah will teach him. She’s not the little terror she makes out to be. There’s an odd softness about her, especially when she talks to Blake. And have you noticed how unselfish she is?” she added. “She hasn’t fought with Dani or tried to take her toys away or break them. She’s not what she seems.”
“I noticed that, too,” Meredith said reluctantly. She looked at the child who was so much like Blake and so little like her beautiful blond mother. Her heart ached at the sight of the little girl who could have been her own. If only Blake could have loved her. She smiled sadly. Oh, if only.
Sarah seemed to feel that scrutiny, because she got up and went to Meredith, her curious eyes searching the woman’s. “Can you write a book about a little girl and she can have a daddy and mommy to love her?” she asked. “And it could have a pony in it, and lots of dolls like Dani has.”
Meredith touched the small, dark head gently. “I might do that,” she said, smiling involuntarily.
Sarah smiled back. “I like you, Merry.”
She went back to play with Danielle, leaving a hopelessly touched Meredith staring hungrily at her. Tears stung her eyes.
“Merry, could you watch the girls for a bit while Elissa and I run down to the ice cream shop and get some cones for them?” Bess asked with a quickly concealed conspiratorial wink at Elissa.
“Of course,” Meredith agreed.
“We won’t be a minute,” Bess promised. “Do you want a cone?”
“Yes, please. Chocolate.” Meredith grinned.
“I want chocolate, too,” Sarah pleaded. “A big one.”
“I want vanilla,” Danielle said.
“Forty-eight flavors, and we live with purists.” Bess sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, chocolate and vanilla it is. Won’t be a minute!”
Of course it was more than a minute. They were gone for almost an hour, and when they got back, Meredith was sitting in the middle of the carpet with Sarah and Danielle, helping them dress one of Danielle’s dolls. Sarah was sitting as close as she could get to Meredith, and her young face was for once without its customary sulky look. She was laughing, and almost pretty.
The ice cream was passed out and another hour went by before Elissa said reluctantly that she and Danielle would have to go.
“I hate to, but King’s bringing one of his business associates home for supper, and I have to get Danielle’s bath and have her in bed by the time they get home,” Elissa said. “But we’ll have to do this again.”
“Do you have to go?” Sarah asked Danielle sadly. “I wish you could come live with me, and we could be sisters.”
“Me, too,” Danielle said.
“I like your toys. I guess your mommy and daddy like you a lot.”
“Your daddy likes you, too, Sarah,” Meredith said gently, taking the child’s hand in hers. “He just didn’t know that you wanted toys. He’ll buy you some of your own.”
“Will he, truly?” Sarah asked her, all eyes.
“Truly,” she replied, hoping she was right. The Blake she’d known in the past wouldn’t have cared overmuch about a child’s needs. Of course, the man she’d glimpsed today might. She could hardly reconcile what she knew about him with what she was learning about him.
“That’s right,” Bess agreed, smiling down at Sarah. “Your dad’s a pretty nice guy. We all like him, don’t we, Meredith?”
Meredith glared at her. “Oh, we surely do,” she said through her teeth. “He’s a prince.”
Which was what Sarah Jane told her daddy that very night over the supper table. He’d picked her up at Bess’s house, but Meredith’s car was gone. She was avoiding him, he supposed wearily, and he listened halfheartedly to Sarah all the way home. Now she was telling him about the wonderful time she’d had playing dolls with Meredith, and he turned his attention from business problems to stare at her blankly as what she was saying began to register.
“She did what?” he asked.
“She played dolls with me,” she said, “and she says you’re a prince. Does that mean you used to be a frog, Daddy?” Sarah added. “Because the princess kisses the frog and he turns into a prince. Did my mommy kiss you?”
“Occasionally, and no, I wasn’t a frog. Meredith played dolls with you?” he asked, feeling a tiny glow deep inside himself.
“She really did.” Sarah sighed. “I like Mer’dith. I wish she was my mommy. Can’t she come to live with us?”
He couldn’t explain that very easily. “No,” he said simply. “You’d better get ready for bed.”
“But, Daddy…” she moaned.
“Go on. No arguments.”
“All right,” she grumbled. But she went.
He looked after her, smiling faintly. She was a handful, but she was slowly growing on him.
He stayed home on Sunday and took Sarah Jane out to see the horses grazing in the pasture. One of the men, a grizzled old wrangler named Manolo, was working a gelding in the corral, breaking him slowly and gently to the saddle. Blake had complained that Manolo took too long to break horses, especially when he was doing it for the remuda in spring before roundup. The cowhands had to have a string of horses when they started working cattle. But Manolo used his own methods, despite the boss’s arguments. No way, he informed Blake, was he going to mistreat a horse just to break it to saddle, and if Blake didn’t like that, he could fire him.
Blake hadn’t said another word about it. The horses Manolo broke were always gentle and easily managed.
But this horse was giving the old man a lot of trouble. It pranced and reared, and Blake was watching it instead of Sarah Jane when the lacy handkerchief Meredith had given her blew into the corral.
Like a shot, she climbed through the fence to go after it, just as the horse broke away from Manalo and came snorting and bucking in her direction.
Blake saw her and blinked, not believing what his eyes were telling him. All at once he was over the fence, just as Manolo yelled.
Sarah was holding her handkerchief, staring dumbly at the approaching horse.
Blake grabbed her and sent her through the fence, following her with an economy of motion. He thanked God for his own strength as it prevented what would have been a total disaster.
Sarah Jane clung to his neck tightly, crying with great sobs.
He hugged her to him, his eyes closed, a shudder running through his lean, fit body. Another few seconds and it would have been all over. Sarah would have become a tragic memory. It didn’t bear thinking about. Worse than that, it brought back an older memory, of another incident with a bronc. He touched his lean cheek where the scar cut across his tan. How many years ago had it been that he’d saved Meredith just as he’d saved Sarah? A long time ago—long before the sight of her began to make him ache.
The fear he’d experienced, added to the unwanted memories, made him furious. He let go of Sarah and held her in front of him, his green eyes glittering with rage.
“Don’t you know better than to go into the corral with a wild animal?” he snapped. “Where’s your mind, Sarah?”
She stared at him as if he’d slapped her. Her lower lip trembled. “I had to get my…my hankie, Daddy.” She held it up. “See? My pretty hankie that Mer’dith gave me….”
He shook her. “The next time you go near any enclosure with horses or cattle in it, you stay out! Do you understand me?” he asked in a tone that made her small body jerk with a sob. “You could have been killed!”
“I’m so—sorry,” she faltered.
“You should be!” he jerked out. “Now get in the house.”
She started crying, frightened by the way he looked. “You hate me,” she whimpered. “I know you do. You yelled at me. You’re mean and ugly…and…I don’t like you!”
“I don’t like you, either, at the moment,” he bit off, glaring down at her, his legs still shaking from the exertion and fear. “Now get going.”
“You mean old daddy!” she cried. She turned and ran wildly for the house as Blake stared after her in a blind rage.
“Is she all right, boss?” Manolo asked from the fence. “My God, that was quick! I didn’t even see her!”
“Neither did I,” Blake confessed. “Not until it was damned near too late.” He let out a rough sigh. “I didn’t mean to be so hard on her, but she’s got to learn that horses and cattle are dangerous. I wanted to make sure she remembered this.”
“She’ll remember,” Manolo said ruefully, and turned away before the boss could see the look on his face. Poor little kid. She needed hugging, not yelling.
Blake went in the house a few minutes later and looked for Sarah, but she was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Jackson had heard her come in, but she hadn’t seen her because she was working in the front of the house.
He checked Sarah’s bedroom, but she wasn’t there, either. Then he remembered what she’d said about being locked in the closet when she was bad….
He jerked open the closet door and there she sat, her face red and tear stained, sobbing and looking as if she hadn’t a friend in the world.
“Go away,” she sniffed.
He got down awkwardly on one knee. “You’ll suffocate in here.”
“I hate you.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said. “The horse could have hurt you very badly.”
She touched the dusty lace handkerchief to her red eyes. “You yelled at me.”
He grimaced. “You scared me,” he muttered, averting his gaze. “I never thought I’d get to you in time.”
She sniffed and got up on her knees under the hanging dresses and blouses and slacks. “You didn’t want me to get hurt?”
“Of course I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he snapped, green eyes flashing.
“You’re yelling at me again,” she said, pouting.
He sighed angrily. “Well, I’ve been doing it for a lot of years, and I won’t change. You’ll just have to get used to my temper.” He stared at her half-angrily. “I thought I was getting the hang of it, and you had to go crawl in with a bucking bronco and set me back.”
“Everybody used to yell at me,” she told him solemnly. “But they didn’t do it just if I got hurt. They didn’t like me.”
“I like you. That’s why I yelled,” he muttered.
She smiled through her tears. “Really and truly?” He grimaced. “Really and truly.” He got up. “Come out of there.”
“Are you going to spank me?” she asked.
“No.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“You’d better not.” He took her hand and led her downstairs. When Mrs. Jackson found out what had happened, she took a fresh coconut cake out of the pantry, sliced it up and poured Sarah a soft drink. She even smiled. Sarah dried her eyes and smiled back.
On Monday Blake took two hours off at lunch and went to a toy store. He bought an armful of dolls and assorted girlish toys and took them to the house without fully understanding his motives. Maybe it was relief that Sarah was all right or guilt because he’d hurt her.
But she sat down in the living room with her new friends—which included a huge stuffed teddy bear—and the way she handled her toys was enough to bring a tear to the eye. She hugged the teddy bear, then she hugged Blake, who was half delighted and half embarrassed by her exuberance.
“You’re just the nicest daddy in the whole world,” Sarah Jane said, and she was crying again. She wiped her eyes with her hands. “I have a new Mr. Friend now, and he can help you fight monsters.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Behave yourself.” He went out the door quickly, more moved than he wanted to admit by his daughter’s reception to the impromptu toy surprise.
On the way back to work, he remembered what Sarah had said about Meredith playing dolls with her. Meredith had been trying to keep Sarah at arms’ length, so he wondered at her actions. Had he been wrong about Meredith’s motives? Had he misjudged what he thought was her reason for avoiding Sarah?
He remembered all too well the feel of Meredith’s soft, innocent mouth under his that day in the stable, the wonder in her eyes when he’d lifted his head just briefly to look down at her. And then he’d lost control and frightened her, turning the wonder to panic.
That she’d loved him didn’t bear thinking about. At least he and Sarah were closer than ever. But she needed more than a father. Sarah needed a mother. Someone to read her stories, to play with her. Someone like Meredith. It made him feel warm to think of Meredith doing those things with his daughter. In time she might even get over the past and start looking ahead. She might fall in love with him all over again.
His body reacted feverishly to that thought, and as quickly his mind rejected it. He didn’t want her to love him. He felt guilt for the way he’d treated her and he still wanted her, but love wasn’t a word in his vocabulary anymore. It hurt too much.
Letting her get close would be risky. Meredith had every reason in the world to want to get even with him. He scowled. Would Meredith want revenge if he could bring himself to tell her the truth about why he’d been so rough with her?
Not that he needed her, he assured himself. It was only that Sarah liked her and needed her. But Meredith wouldn’t come to the house. She wasn’t going to let him, or Sarah, get close to her, and that was the big hurdle. How, he wondered, could he overcome it?
He worried the thought for two days and still hadn’t figured out a solution, when he had to fly to Dallas on business for the day. But fate was on his side.
While he was gone, Mrs. Jackson’s only living sister had a heart attack and a neighbor called asking Amie to come to Wichita, Kansas, and help look after her. That left Mrs. Jackson with nobody to look after Sarah. She couldn’t take the child with her while she tried to care for a heart patient. She called Elissa, but she and her husband and child were out of town. Bess wouldn’t be able to cope with the angry little girl. That left only one person in Jack’s Corner who might be willing to try.
Without hesitation, Mrs. Jackson picked up the phone and called Meredith Calhoun.
