A Better Father (Harlequin Super Romance) (21 page)

“Close the door, please.”

He kept walking. And her stupid heart kept jumping.

Soon,
she thought.
Soon. I’ll be gone and I’ll have new people and places in my
life and I won’t have to go through this a dozen times a day, won’t have to
look and him and wonder and—

“Libby, I’m sorry, but I have to leave tonight.”

Her runaway thoughts came to an abrupt halt. “Excuse me?”

“I have to be in Nova Scotia tomorrow. Casey and I. We’re
flying out tonight.”

“But you—wait—Nova Scotia?” She reached for the back of her
chair as the implication of his grim expression hit her. “The custody suit?”

He nodded.

“What happened?”

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she realized how
foolish it had been to ask. This was Sam, the king of the secret keepers. His
whole family could have been kidnapped at gunpoint and unless someone was
forcing him, he would never—

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

She blinked. “It is?”

“Yeah. Don’t panic. It’s just damned inconvenient.”

Reassured somewhat, she loosened her death grip on the chair
and sat down. She longed to press for details, to give voice to the
who
and
when
and
why
tumbling through her head, but she held back. Sam
had made his choice. He had opted for silence in all but the most essential
moments.

So would she.

She reached for her clipboard. “Okay. So what do you need, and
when will you be back?”

“Friday night.” He gave his head a little shake, then looked at
her, really focusing, for the first time since entering the room. “I know the
timing sucks, Lib, and believe me, this isn’t the way I wanted things to happen.
But I have to go.”

Then it hit her.

“But I have an interview.”

“What?”

She nodded, small and slow, afraid that if she made her
movements too big they would attract attention and some malevolent fates would
yank away this fleeting chance at some sort of happiness. “Tomorrow afternoon.
Four o’clock. They just called.”

“Okay. Well. That’s great, I guess.”

“But, Sam, don’t you see? If you’re going to be gone from
tonight until Friday night—I can’t go. One of us has to be here at all
times.”

“Oh.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Can’t you
reschedule?”

“Can’t you?”

Silence.

Rule number two: don’t let your happiness
show.

God, she was such an idiot.

“Look,” he said heavily, “where’s the interview? I can call
them and tell them the situation if you want. They can probably—”

There was a fast knock at the door, followed immediately by
Phoebe poking her head into the room. “Yo, Libby, I have that report you—
Whoops. Bad timing.” She backed away. “Sorry.”

“Wait,” Sam said, never taking his eyes off Libby. “Come up to
my place in half an hour,” he said softly. “I need to talk to you. About what
happened.”

Rule number one: no one else is going to put you—

No.
No, as much as her instincts
told her to walk away, now, to look out for herself and go to her interview and
stop delaying her inevitable departure, she couldn’t do it. This was Casey they
were talking about. Casey’s life with Sam. That had to come first.

She nodded. He nodded. And then, with another fast glance at
Phoebe, he crossed the room, framed her face with his hands and planted a fast
kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you,” he said, and left.

She looked at Phoebe. Phoebe looked at her.

“Damn.” Phoebe whistled. “When he decides to turn it on, he
doesn’t hold back, does he?”

* * *

S
AM
RACED
THROUGH
his preparations at
top speed. His first call, made as he tossed Casey’s things into a suitcase, was
to Brynn. The plan all along had been for her to come with him during the
custody hearing, to take Casey on a visit to Sharon and then be in charge of him
while Sam was sweating bullets in front of the judge. Godsend that she was, she
was able to rearrange her schedule. She would meet him late that night.

Then came the call to Sharon, who, he had to admit, seemed
almost as rattled as he was. She jumped at the chance to see Casey the next day.
After they agreed on a time and she had offered her stiff thanks at his
willingness to reschedule, he felt he had to say something more.

“Listen, Sharon.” He kept his voice as gentle as possible, all
things considered. “We don’t have to do this. You know the judge is going to
side with me. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t. Why don’t you and I bury the
hatchet, draw up our own agreement about when Casey can visit you and move on?
You know that’s how it’s going to end anyway. Why don’t we cut out the middle
man and do what’s best for Casey?”

Her prolonged silence had him pausing in the middle of grabbing
the current favorite blankie while cautious hope had him pressing the phone
tight against his ear.

Then she spoke again.

“You know, Robin almost decided to marry you. You know why she
didn’t?” She hurried on without waiting for him to give his version. “Because
she said you could charm words out of a monk who took a vow of silence, and if
she said yes, she would never know if it was because it was the right thing or
because it was what you wanted.”

He closed his eyes.
Damn, Rob, I’m so
sorry.

“I’m not giving in, Sam, no matter how badly you want me to
make things easy for you. Casey deserves the chance to grow up in a regular
family with people who will be there for him and give him a stable, settled
life. I’ll see your sister tomorrow and see you in court on Friday.”

With that, she hung up, leaving him clutching the phone and
hoping his so-called charm would have better results with Libby.

He had Casey’s clothes, bears, blankets and toiletries packed
and had retreated to his own room when there came a soft knock at the door.

Libby.

“You said you—” she began, and then she looked at him, really
looked, and some of the stiffness melted away as she let loose with a small
giggle. He tilted his head, not sure what was so funny until he realized he had
a shirt draped over each shoulder, another in each hand and a tie dangling from
each elbow.

“Sorry. I, uh, can never figure out which shirt goes with which
tie.”

For a second he saw a spark of the old Libby in her eyes. “I
hope you’re not asking me for fashion advice.” She tugged on her Overlook tee.
“Because I have to tell you, there are at least six counselors who could do a
better job of that than I can. Two of them are guys, so if that’s what you—”

“The court date’s been moved up. It’s happening on Friday.”

He hadn’t planned to say it so abruptly. But time was short,
and he needed—God, how he needed—to share it all with her. It scared the crap
out of him. He shouldn’t need her this much. But the thought of not telling her,
of not hearing her perspective and her gentle assurance that all would be
okay—well, that frightened him even more.

She inhaled once, wide-eyed and ragged, then gave a short
nod.

“Can you give me any details?”

He did. The whole story this time, not just the bare facts he’d
limited himself to at the pavilion, but all of it. He started with Robin’s move,
through Sharon’s time as Robin’s child-care provider, then the double shock of
Robin’s death and Sharon’s challenge.

“I understand why she’s doing it,” he said. “Casey’s the last
bit of Robin she has left. I get that she’s holding on for all the wrong
reasons. But Casey is as much mine as Robin’s.”

Libby’s eyes widened, and she seemed to turn inward for a
second, as if he’d hit a nerve, but he couldn’t stop to analyze it now. By the
time he finished explaining the change of hearing dates he was sitting on the
bed with Libby perched beside him, twisted to face him, and—hang on—how had he
ended up holding her hand?

Not that he was complaining. Especially since she hadn’t seemed
to notice yet. The warmth of her hand against his was more comforting than any
lawyer’s words of assurance, no matter how well informed they might be.

“So I have to go,” he said. “I don’t want to and the timing
sucks and I’m so, so sorry, Lib, but I—”

“Let me guess,” she said with a hint of sorrow. “You have no
choice.”

He hated the hurt in her voice, the way her shoulders hunched
forward as if to ward away unexpected blows. How often had she had those words
tossed at her in her life? Would it be better or worse if she knew he really did
have a choice, but she was paying the price for it?

She must have noticed their clasped hands, for she pulled back
abruptly and jerked herself off the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” She wrapped her arms around
herself and stared out the window. “Why all the secrecy, Sam?”

“Because I was scared.”

She glanced back at him, fast, then continued her study of the
scene outside his window. Her unspoken, “And?” filled the room.

“I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing for Casey. I was
scared about the lawsuit. I wasn’t— I still don’t know if I’m a good enough
father to pull this off. On top of everything, I came back here and saw you, saw
that Robin reminded me of you, and I got all twisted around wondering if—”

She continued to stare out the window but he saw the way her
arms tightened as if they’d been jerked, the way her head kind of snapped back.
“I finally figured out how stupid that one was,” he hurried on. He couldn’t lose
her now. “But the rest... God, Lib, I don’t know. After my dad left, I remember
being so damned scared, all the time. But I couldn’t let it show, you know?
Everyone else was already falling apart, over Mom and Dad and everything. They
needed someone to be the brave one. I figured it had to be me.”

She turned toward him at last, her eyes filled with compassion,
and it was like something had been set free inside him.

“Acting like I wasn’t afraid made me feel a little braver, you
know? And it helped everyone else. After a while I got used to it. It was just
what I had to do.”

“Default mode,” she whispered, and he shrugged. It was as good
an explanation as any.

She left the window then and he held his breath as she came
closer, her eyes soft and her lips pressed together as if to hold back things
she didn’t want to say. When she stopped in from of him, he had to fight to keep
from pulling her tight. He wanted to feel her heat against him. He was sure that
if he was holding her, nothing could ever go wrong again. But it had to come
from her.

“I wish you had told me sooner,” she said softly. “It might
have... Well. It makes things easier to understand. I’m glad you told me.”

Yeah, he was just a prince among men.

“And for the record, you are a fabulous father. Not just
because you adore Casey, but because you walk the walk, too. You rearranged your
whole life to give him stability. You’re trying to find a way to include Sharon
in his life even though she’s challenging you. Heck, you took on that danged dog
even though you’re allergic. You may be an idiot about almost everything else,
but I’ve seen a lot of parents over the years, and believe me, you are one of
the best.”

He felt like someone had just released a tie that had been
pulled too tight around his neck. She wasn’t saying that to reassure him. Her
line about his idiocy proved that. But that made the rest easier to believe.

She glanced around the room. Her cheeks pinked and he suddenly
realized what a domestic little scene this must be. One man, one woman, a
bedroom and a pile of clothing. It happened all over the world every day.
Usually between husbands and wives.

Which should have scared the crap out of him, but it
didn’t.

She turned away then, scooping one of the ties from the bed and
rolling it into a neat ball before pressing it into his hands.

“Wear this one,” she said. “The green stripe is the color of
the pine trees here. Every time you look at it, you’ll remember...you’ll think
of home.”

No. Every time he looked at it, he would remember her.

She closed her hands over his. “You have to go.”

“Yeah.” But the only move he made was in her direction.

She stepped back fast, neatly eluding him. “I’d better get down
to dinner. Good luck. Keep us posted, okay?”

Before he could give her an answer, she had slipped around him
and out the door.

He went to the window and waited for her to appear, watching as
she walked slowly down the hill, moving carefully, as if she’d never walked that
way before. Every once in a while she lifted a hand to her face. Wiping away
tears?

Ah, dammit to hell and back. In all his need to confess, to
open up to her, to draw from her strength, he had never once asked about her
interview. So much for telling himself he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as his
father.

No wonder she had looked so alone, so resigned when she was
standing at the window. She hadn’t just been hurting for him. She’d been hurting
for herself.

She had expected this, he realized. She had come up there
knowing he was going to pour out his woes and she was going to get the short end
of the stick.

What was it she had called his need to put on a brave face?
Default mode? For the first time, he realized that Libby had one, too. But hers
was one of expectation—that something was hovering on the horizon, and not in a
good way.

That it had only been a matter of time before some selfish
bastard messed up her world all over again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“A
NY
OTHER
QUESTIONS
?”

Sam considered the man front of him—Joe, the very smart, very
perceptive fill-in lawyer. Joe, who had just buzzed through months of
preparation in slightly less than one billable hour.

The truth was that Sam had a boatload of questions, but none of
them had anything to do with the hearing or his chances of keeping Casey. No, he
was busy wondering things like
Why couldn’t we have done
this on the phone? Or for an hour before the hearing? Why did you drag me
down here and make me hurt Libby yet again for something that could have
been handled—

But there was no point in berating either the lawyer or
himself. There could have been complications or questions to be addressed. If he
hadn’t met with Joe in person, if they had gone into court cold and something
happened, he would never have forgiven himself.

He had done what he had to do for Casey. For himself. But as he
rose and shook the other man’s hand, he couldn’t help but think that once again,
Libby had paid the price for other people’s problems. That look in her
eyes...

He piloted the rental car through the streets to the hotel
where Brynn and Casey waited for him. The meeting had passed so quickly that he
would lay good money Casey would still be asleep when he got back.

Sure enough, when he let himself into the room, Brynn sat
propped up on the ugly olive-green sofa with books stacked on the floor beside
her and a notepad resting against her upraised knees.

“That was fast.”

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it over the back
of a chair that was almost as ugly as the sofa. “Tell me about it. I even
stopped and bought you doughnuts.”

“Doughnuts?” Brynn sat up straighter, her brown eyes shining.
“You always were my favorite big brother.”

“That’s ’cause I’m your only big brother, twerp.”

“Details, details. Shut up and feed me.”

Sam handed over the box and dropped to the sofa, blocking out
the excited little cries coming from Brynn until he couldn’t ignore them any
longer.

“Enough. You’re creeping me out with those sounds. Just eat one
already.”

She pulled a chocolate glazed from the box and settled back in
her previous position, eyeing him over the half-glasses she wore when she wanted
to appear wise. “Did everything go okay?”

“Fine. It all looks good. Tomorrow afternoon we go in, we prove
I’m Casey’s dad, we show them the report from the social worker that says there
is no reason why I should not have custody and we walk out with everything
settled at last.”

“So you should be a happy man.”

“I’ll be happy once this is over,” he said with a yank on his
tie, and then he stopped as the pattern in the silk caught his attention. The
green stripe. The color of the pine trees.

Every time you look at it, you’ll
remember...you’ll think of home.

Just like that, he knew what he had to do.

“Brynn,” he said slowly, clutching the tie in his fist, “how
many doughnuts would it take to convince you to look after Casey by yourself
until tomorrow morning?”

* * *

C
LIMBING
UP
THE
HILL
after a final check of the
canoe paddles, Libby glanced at her watch as she’d been doing all day, saw the
time—a little past three—and pressed her lips together. She should have been on
the road to her interview. Instead, she was here. And for the first time ever,
camp felt like it was in the way.

She’d long ago given up on trying to figure out whether she
should be sad or angry, and why. Instead, she was wrestling with both. Sadness,
of course, for the end of camp and the loss of an opportunity that had been hers
just long enough to make her see how much she wanted it. For there was no other
chance for an interview. She had called, but the only times available were today
and Friday.

And so, of course, she was angry. At Sam and Sharon and lawyers
and interviewers and most of all, at her own stupid damned self.

For a moment she had toyed with the idea of going to the
interview anyway. She could. What could Sam do, fire her? But to go behind his
back, to leave the camp leaderless out of anger and hurt—it felt wrong. It
wouldn’t work. The bad karma fairies would get her for sure.

She wiped her forehead and scowled at her clipboard. At least
when she’d had to rearrange her life for Gran and Myra, she had been able to
console herself—or maybe talk herself into believing—that it was all part of the
give-and-take of love. But with Sam...

No. She wasn’t going there. No way would she let herself think
that she could have done something as foolish as that.

But as she crested the hill, she did a two-step of surprise.
The office door was wide-open.

Her first, instinctive thought—
close the
door, Sam—
was immediately replaced by something bubbling inside her
like a spring gushing to the surface. It couldn’t be...

But sure enough, as soon as her dumbfounded brain remembered to
fire off a signal to
move, dammit,
there was a
flurry of movement and Sam came tumbling down the steps. Two at a time, in a
hurry, just like always.

But the rush of joy she felt—ah, that was new. So new and
unexpected that she couldn’t move again, could only stand in the middle of the
path while her hands flew to her mouth and her clipboard fell to the ground and
she couldn’t keep from making odd little squeaking sounds of disbelief.

“Hey!” He jogged toward her. Still in a suit, she saw through
eyes gone all watery. With the tie she’d picked out dangling loose around his
neck. “Didn’t you get my message?”

She shook her head, hoping to clear away some of the confetti
that had taken over her brain. “I’ve been out on the grounds for a couple of
hours.”

She filled her lungs with breath and with him, the scent and
the solidness of him, and even though she knew nothing was wrong—she could see
that in his eyes—she had to ask, “Everything’s okay, right? The lawyer and—”

“It’s fine. All fine. But I was done by nine-thirty and all I
could think was that I couldn’t spend the day stuck in a hotel in Lunenburg when
I should be here doing my job so you could go to your interview.”

“But I canceled that. I called and told them I couldn’t—”

“Yeah, well, I called them from the airport. They filled the
four o’clock but once I explained what happened, they said they could see you at
five.” He reached out and tugged on the neckline of her Overlook shirt. “Time to
get into your interview clothes and go to the ball, Cinderella.”

She nodded, but the movement just seemed to send her thoughts
flying completely out of her head. He came back. He rearranged everything and
spent Lord knew how much money on plane tickets and knocked himself out to get
here on time...all for her.

He had done it for her. He had put her first. In the middle of
the biggest fight of his life, when he had every right to be focused on nothing
but his son and the struggle that lay before him, he thought of her.

“Oh, Sam.” And as she threw her arms around him and gave him a
brief but absolutely heartfelt kiss, for once she didn’t care who might see her
happiness or what it all meant. He had come back. For her.

She loved him.

And for that moment, nothing else mattered.

* * *

L
IBBY
MISSED
THE
OPENING
songs of
campfire, but slipped into the circle in time for the Overlook Fashion Show,
complete with half a dozen of the male staff in high fashion drag. Thank heaven.
She never would have forgiven herself if she had missed Cosmo’s Julia Child
imitation, or the sight of Sam mincing down the log-bordered runway with a pink
boa tossed around his shoulders and something that looked suspiciously like two
of Cosmo’s aprons doing an imitation of a skirt.

The kids howled and the counselors rolled, and she had to force
herself to stay in her seat when all she wanted to do was pull him away from the
crowd and tell him about her interview. All of it. No more pretending that what
she knew wasn’t real. No more holding back. As soon as campfire was over, she
would steal him away to herself and put her new plan into action—a plan that
began with getting him out of those aprons and into her embrace.

But in the meantime, she sang songs and linked arms with kids
on either side of her while they swayed back and forth, and counted the minutes
until they would be done. When they stood for “Taps,” she caught Sam’s eye and
tugged on her ear, the way she used to do all those years ago. Surely he would
remember their old signal to meet at the inlet.

Judging from the smile he gave her—the kind usually seen on
Christmas morning, on receiving a present that had been longed for but never
expected—he remembered very well.

* * *

A
N
HOUR
LATER
, Libby finished her last bunk check, checked the latrines one
final time to make sure no one had covered the seats with plastic wrap, and
popped her head into Mick’s cabin to remind his counselor that he had a history
of “sleepwalking” on the last few nights.

With all her ducks in a row, she headed back to her cabin,
where she slipped out of her shorts and into jeans, making sure she grabbed the
box she’d picked up from the pharmacy while she was in town. She was leaving
nothing to chance tonight.

Phoebe wandered in and dropped on her bunk as Libby pulled a
sweatshirt over her head.

“Uh, hello. Earth to Libby. You’re supposed to be getting into
your pajamas, not your work clothes.”

“No rest for the wicked,” she said lightly as she tugged the
hoodie into place. Would it look too obvious if she combed her hair?

Phoebe stretched out on the bunk, propped her head on her bent
arm and gave Libby a college student version of the Glare of Death. “You
seriously expect me to swallow that line?”

Libby allowed a small smile to escape as she met Phoebe’s gaze.
“Keep at it. You almost have it down. Another year, maybe two and you’ll be
glaring with the best of them.”

“Nice try, Kovak, but you’re not distracting me. And if you
think for one minute that I’m going to believe you’re heading up to the office,
you might as well say hello to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny on your
way.”

Damn. Phoebe wasn’t supposed to turn all Libby’s tricks back on
her.

“I have some things to finish.” The heck with it. She grabbed
her brush and tugged it through her hair. It wasn’t as if she was going to fool
Phoebe anyway.

“Finish as in finish that kiss I heard you planted on Sam this
afternoon?”

Anticipation shivered down her spine, but Libby kept her voice
light. “Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe. It’s my second-to-last night here. Surely I’m
allowed to write up some notes and then, oh, sit on the dock and watch the
sunrise?”

“Sure you are. If that’s how you want to spend it, you go right
ahead.” Phoebe winked. “Me, I’d be running up the hill as fast as I could to
throw myself at that fine specimen of manhood waiting at the top, but you know,
that’s just me. If you want to go dabble your feet in the river all night,
that’s what you can do.” She winked. “At least that’s what I’ll tell anyone who
asks.”

“Come here.” Libby grabbed Phoebe’s hand, yanked her to her
feet and pulled her into a long hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Me, too.” Phoebe’s voice was thick, and she sniffed as she
pulled back. “But I’m coming back next year. Sam asked me to be assistant
director if you aren’t here.”

“He did?” Libby laughed in sheer delight. “How perfect!”

“Yeah, well, I figured even if you aren’t working here, you’ll
still be around to help me out. ’Cause the way Sam was looking at you at
campfire, I wouldn’t lay money on this being your last
night
at Overlook, if you know what I mean.”

* * *

P
HOEBE
’
S
WORDS
ECHOED
in Libby’s head as she switched on her flashlight
and navigated the path to the river, pulling her hood up against a gentle rain.
With every step she felt a little lighter, a little brighter. By the time she
reached the water she was sure she must be glowing enough to illuminate the
whole camp.

There were probably a whole lot of pranksters who were glad she
couldn’t. But tonight, she didn’t care.

She stopped at the branch in the path that led to the inlet and
the pavilion, swallowed and smoothed her shirt the way she had the day she first
met Casey. So much had changed since then. But none of the changes could compare
to the fact that in the middle of facing down the biggest challenge of his life,
Sam had come back. For her.

No one had ever done that before. No one had ever put her
first. There were no words to let him know how much this meant to her.

But she was pretty sure there were a few actions that could get
the message across.

She walked down the path as quickly as her flashlight would
allow. As she drew closer to the pavilion she could see a light bobbing between
the trees, and realized he had made it there first. Come to think of it, other
than the afternoon when she quit, she couldn’t remember a time when she had
walked down this path without knowing he was waiting at the other end.

She hoped he always would be.

She hadn’t visited the pavilion since that bleak afternoon, and
she couldn’t see much in the deep black of the cloudy night. As she drew closer
she could barely make out bits and pieces of the finished structure. Her
flashlight played over a stonework pillar, then over silver wind chimes swaying
in the breeze, their muted tinkle a glittery welcome.