Authors: Karen Rose Smith
Always Devoted (19 page)
To see Christopher walk beside Jake gave Sara great joy. To watch Jake take his son's hand also caused her great sadness because she'd kept them apart. How could she ever make up for that? Her aunt's words penetrated.
Could she have held out against Jake if he'd wanted marriage anyway back then? "I don't know. Maybe that's why I did it the way I did. But I do know I'm going to move back here and give Jake as much time as he wants with Christopher. I owe him that."
"You don't know what kind of father he'll be."
"I think I do. Just look at them."
Father and son hunkered down over a pile of rocks. Christopher pointed out something.
"The novelty might wear off."
Sara knew her aunt was playing devil's advocate. "No. Jake's not that type of man. He doesn't pretend what he doesn't feel."
Eloise faced her niece. "Do you think he'll be staying for supper?"
"I have no idea, Aunt El. I have no idea what Jake's going to do. I'll have to wait and see."
#
Sitting in the sun on the warm grass beside Christopher, Jake couldn't help staring at the boy. He looked so much like Davie. His features--Jake's features. His eyes--Jake's eyes. Had Christopher looked like Davie as an infant, as a one-year-old? How old was he when he cut his first tooth, said his first word, took his first step?
Jake still couldn't believe Sara had lied to him, left him, and cheated him out of three years with his son. Finding it hard to absorb, fighting off the dark anger he didn't want to influence his attitude toward Christopher, he suddenly felt the immensity of the responsibility that had fallen on him out of nowhere. Without warning, or time to prepare, he was a father again. This time he had to do it right. This time he had to make sure his son was safe every minute of every day. He didn't want to let the boy out of his sight. Yet he knew he had to temper his fears.
What was Sara planning? Why had she told him now? Was she willing to move back to L.A.? Would she let him be a parent? She had no choice. No matter where she lived, Christopher was Jake's son and he'd get to know his child one way or another. The problem was--how was he going to handle having Sara back in his life?
The way he handled everything else...very carefully.
"Look, Daddy."
The sound of the title, the childlike quality of Christopher's voice, tore Jake apart. Because he remembered another time, another voice. Yet when Christopher handed him the gray stone and his small fingers touched Jake's palm, Jake felt the pride of fatherhood again. Yes, this time he would do it right.
A half hour later, when Jake and his son returned to the kitchen, Christopher ran to his mother. "Milk, Mommy? Daddy drinks milk, too!"
Sara's gaze met Jake's with uncertainty. The fact of the matter was that he felt such confusion about Sara right now, he knew he needed time away from her and Christopher so he could think, and plan, and decide the best route to take. He certainly didn't trust her. He might never be able to trust her again.
She went to the refrigerator and opened the door, pulling out the milk carton. "Jake, would you like to stay for a while, maybe for dinner?"
Jake looked at Christopher and then back at her. "No. I have to get back. I left some work unfinished." He turned to his son. "But I'll see you again. Soon." He ruffled Christopher's hair. "We can have milk and cookies together next time. Okay?"
Christopher bobbed his head enthusiastically.
Sara waited for the three-year-old to sit at the table, then she poured him a glass of milk. "I'll be right at the front door. Aunt El's in her sewing room. If you go in there with her, don't touch anything unless she says you can."
Jake had trouble tearing himself away from Christopher, putting physical distance between them. After a last long look, he walked to the front door. Sara stood a few feet from him.
His voice was gruff with all the unsaid thoughts and feelings churning inside him. "Are you going back to Wasco?"
She straightened her shoulders and tilted up her chin, looking directly into his eyes. "What do you want, Jake?"
The question she should have asked four years ago intensified the churning in his gut, and he couldn't keep the anger at bay. "So now you're going to think about that?"
"I've always thought about what you wanted and didn't want."
She was lying. She couldn't have thought about him and still kept Christopher away for so long. Silence stretched between them until he said in a low tone, "I need time to think. Just don't go running off without telling me. Because if you do--"
She didn't let him finish his warning. "I won't. Do you want to spend time with Christopher tomorrow?"
Could he believe she wouldn't run? Could he believe she'd stay at least until they made some decisions? He looked into the kitchen where his son was still drinking his milk. "I'll call you."
And with that, Jake stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him, in more turmoil than he'd experienced in years.
Excerpt from TOYS AND WISHES:
CHAPTER ONE
"What in blazes is going on here?"
Lexa Kittredge almost dropped the porcelain figurine she'd lifted from Clare Flannigan's bookshelf. Before she could answer, Clare slipped from behind the desk she'd been dusting.
"Josh! You're back!" She pushed her blue glasses farther up her nose. "Lexa, this is my nephew, Josh Flannigan. Josh, meet Alexandra Kittredge."
Lexa only had time to nod before Clare rushed on, "So how was Colorado, Josh? You deserved that long vacation. Anything exciting happen? Meet any bears?"
Lexa suppressed a smile, recognizing Clare's attempt to turn the focus of the conversation on her nephew, rather than the disordered state of her apartment.
"Aunt Clare, what's going on?"
His question was directed at Clare but his gaze was on Lexa. Suddenly she wished they'd opened a window. She hadn't noticed it before, but the heat in Clare's apartment was stifling. Her sweatshirt was sticking uncomfortably to her shoulders. It wasn't supposed to be this hot in Pennsylvania in October, Indian summer or not. Or did the sudden rise in temperature have something to do with Josh Flannigan's piercing blue eyes, the same startling blue as Clare's?
"I'm moving."
Josh's attention flew to his aunt. "You're what?"
Clare climbed onto the step stool to remove books from the top shelf of the bookcase. "I'm moving. Some friends and I have invested in a lovely old house," she explained airily as if she did something like this at least once a week.
Josh's fingers dashed through his shaggy black hair. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"
Lexa set the figurine back on the shelf and took a step forward, deciding it might be time to help Clare explain the situation to her nephew. She offered her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flannigan. Clare's told me so much about you."
Josh's gaze switched back to her. "And just who are you?"
"Joshua, don't be rude!" Clare scolded.
He took Lexa's hand but also took the time to give her a more thorough looking-over. She didn't have to guess at what he saw. Sweatshirt and jeans. Curly blonde hair that probably looked as if she'd just escaped a stiff wind. Shiny face. "I'm a friend of Clare's."
He dropped her hand. "Since when?"
"Josh..."
"It's all right, Clare. About two months ago Clare came to a workshop I was giving," Lexa explained.
"About?" Josh looked at Clare as if she'd been bitten by some strange bug.
"Senior citizens developing second careers."
"Oh, great. Just what Clare needs when she's finally retired."
"You don't know what I need." Clare's tone matched the fiery hue of her red hair.
"Mr. Flannigan, your aunt has acted very responsibly."
"Where did you get the money?" Josh asked his aunt.
"I had money saved."
Josh's hand slashed through the air. "But that was your nest egg. I don't believe you've done something so...
impulsive."
Clare exploded. "It's about time I'm impulsive if I want to be impulsive."
Lexa took a deep breath. She had to do something to prevent a full-blown fight. "I've directed Clare to an experienced financial advisor."
Josh shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Clare, you can't be serious about moving. You've lived in this apartment all your life. I've lived here much of mine. The rent's always been reasonable, you don't have to worry about mowing grass or shoveling snow." He looked around the room at the chaos. "My God! I go away for six weeks and when I come back, you're packing boxes."
Clare shrugged and took Lexa's place at the bookshelves. She reached to the top shelf for two volumes of poetry. "I'm doing the right thing. Ask Lexa."
Acting as a buffer wasn't Lexa's favorite position. She'd had to do it too many times between her younger sister and their stepmother. But at least she'd had practice. "I think you're doing what you want to do. That makes it right."
Striding toward Clare, Josh took the books from her hand and dumped them into an open carton. His denim jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders, and the snug fitting jeans encased long legs and muscular thighs. He wasn't drop-dead handsome, but even with the beard stubble, he'd certainly do. Do for what? Lexa asked herself, then pushed every possible answer out of her head.
"I want to know where you got this crazy idea," Josh was saying. "Do you know the work you're letting yourself in for? The hassles?"
Clare's eyes threw rebellious darts. "What about the joy? The challenge? The thrill of a new adventure? Just because I'm over sixty, Joshua Flannigan, is no reason to put me out to pasture. I'm still alive and kicking more than ever. Thirty-five years of teaching English to teenagers is not enough to wear me out or put me in a rocking chair."
She pointed her finger at him. "You thought I'd be happy retired, you thought I'd be happy living a life of leisure. Well, if it wasn't for the senior center this past year, I'd have gone crazy! Lexa thinks this is a magnificent idea and I expected more support from you."
Josh pushed his jacket flaps aside and stuffed his hands in his back pockets as if he were considering the best way to reason with his aunt. "Don't you thing you're acting recklessly?"
Lexa squared her shoulders. This was going to be more difficult than she'd expected. "Mr. Flannigan, your aunt came to talk to me because she was bored, because she was feeling useless, because sitting here by herself was making her feel ancient."
Josh's blue eyes were steady and concerned as they swung back to Clare. "Aunt Clare, all you have to do is call me. I can spend more time with you."
"What nonsense!" Clare planted her hands on her hips. "You're thirty-four, You have your own life to live and so do I."
Realizing her presence increased the tension, Lexa stepped forward. "Clare, it might be better if I wait in the other room."
"Don't let Josh chase you out."
Lexa crossed the room. "He's not. I think you two need to hash this out on your own. I'll take down the wall decorations in the living room."
Josh moved aside to let Lexa pass, wondering how to keep his aunt from making the biggest mistake of her life. He cared about her too much to let her put herself in financial jeopardy, let alone create more work for herself than she needed.
Lexa's delicate perfume lingered, teasing him. After weeks of smelling only damp earth and woods, the scent affected him. Or maybe it was her seeming fragility--the big brown eyes, that fluffy blond hair. She certainly looked harmless. So what was she doing meddling in Clare's life?
Josh turned toward his aunt, his black brows pulling together in an effort to concentrate on her problem. "Is a rambling old house going to give you a new life? I think it's going to give you headaches. Think of the money you'll waste on repairs. Something always needs to be fixed in old houses. Who's going to pay for that?"
Clare's tone was defensive. "Lexa says it doesn't need many repairs. The door frames need a fresh coat of paint. That's all."
The last thing he wanted to do was dismiss or hurt Clare's feelings. She had given him a home since he was twelve and he loved her dearly. But the idea of her giving up her nest egg worried him. If Alexandra Kittredge had influenced Clare unduly, there'd be hell to pay.
"How does Lexa know what repairs this house needs?" Josh asked, amazed at the confidence Clare was placing in a stranger who could be a con artist, even if she didn't look like one.
"She knows the real estate agent. She says he's honest and would tell us if anything else was wrong. My partners and I looked at the whole place carefully."
Partners. His aunt was involved over her head; he knew it. "You have no experience dealing with people who might be less than honest. A real estate agent has one thing on his mind--selling. As for your partners, who are they and what do they know?"
