And Then Came You (9 page)

Dammit, he was the
dad
. The guy who was supposed to make sure Emma’s life was safe. Happy. He’d done a pretty good job of it over the years too, even if he did say so himself, and it really gnawed at him that he was being forced into this.

For eight years, Emma had been everything to him. He’d made sure his work didn’t swallow his life. He’d wanted her childhood to be different from his. Better. There were no rigid rules she was forced to adhere to. There were no piano lessons or French lessons. She was allowed to be a child—the best gift any adult could provide—and until today, the biggest challenge she’d ever had to face was deciding which teddy bear to sleep with at night.

And dammit, he resented the hell out of this situation.

Yes, he could see Sam’s side in all this, and if he
could have, he’d have faced his mother down and made her pay for screwing with his life. But there was no chance for satisfaction there.

And if he expected to get back to his life—the one he’d built for himself and Emma—then he had to bend.

Or for damn sure, Sam would break him.

Sunlight washed over the room. The scent of the sea hung in the cool morning air and the ocean repeated its age-old dance against the shore. The inn wasn’t home, but at least it didn’t have a sterile, generic hotel-room feel to it. Of course, anywhere he and Emma were together
felt
like home to Jeff.

He waited. The silence worried him. Emma was never quiet for long. It simply wasn’t in her nature. Watching her now, looking so much like her mother, he was forced to admit that Sam had passed along more than her eyes and her smile. She’d somehow,
in utero
, given Emma the gift of gab.

Smiling to himself, he thought no one he’d ever known had talked as much or as loudly as Samantha Marconi.

Until Emma had come into his life.

And now that his child was sitting so still, so silent, his insides churned.

At last, Emma turned her big blue eyes up to him. “If she wants me now, does that mean she can keep me now, too?”

Dammit
.

Jeff reached out, scooped the little girl up off the floor, and settled her on his lap. Inching back farther against the cushions, Jeff held her close and rested his chin on top of her head. She smelled of shampoo and daydreams and he loved her more than his life. He’d
walk in front of a truck for her. Crawl across broken glass.

Sacrifice a section of his heart, so hers could be whole.

“Yes, honey,” he said, staring across the top of her head to the framed Monet print hanging on the wall opposite him. “She can keep you in her life now.”

“So I have a mommy, too?” she asked, just to make sure, her little fingers plucking at the fabric of his shirt. “Like Isabel?”

Jeff smiled to himself. Isabel Feinstein, Emma’s best friend and the model against which all things were measured.

“Yeah, honey. Just like Isabel.”

“That’s good.” She shifted and tipped her head back to smile up at him and his heart rolled over in his chest. “Can I have pancakes for breakfast?”

The abrupt shift in subject eased the tightness in his chest. Crisis solved. She’d be okay. And that was the only thing that mattered to him.

“We’ll both have pancakes.”

“No way am I cooking tonight,” Sam said, pulling a Diet Coke out of the fridge and popping the tab.

“Well, don’t look at me.” Mike stepped up to the refrigerator. “Hand me one of those.”

Sam did. “What about Jo?”

Mike shrugged. “Said she had somewhere to go, then she was headed back to her place.”

“So it’s just us for dinner.” Sam eyed her younger sister. “I’ll flip you for it.”

“Heads or tails?”

“Heads.”

Mike dug a quarter out of her battered jeans, flipped it into the air, and caught it one-handed. Slapping it down onto the tabletop, she lifted her hand, then crowed. “Tails never fails. I want pepperoni—and no mushrooms.”

“Dammit,” Sam muttered, closing the fridge door with a bump from her hip. “How do you do that?”

“It’s a gift.” Mike dropped into the closest chair and propped her elbows on the table. Opening her soda, she took a long drink before glancing at Sam again through narrowed eyes. “You’re going to Terrino’s, right?”

“There’s another place in Chandler for good pizza?”

“True.” She took another swallow, then shoved herself to her feet again. “And that gives me time for a shower before you get back here with food.” Strolling out of the kitchen, she tossed back, “Take your time.”

Scowling, Sam picked up Mike’s quarter and shoved it into her own pocket. She’d consider it a tip.

Still clutching her Coke can, she stalked through the living room and hit the screen door with the flat of her hand, hard enough to slap it against the side of the house. One day, she thought, she’d actually win a coin toss with Mike.

Then all thoughts died as a black Expedition pulled up out front. Instantly, her insides churned into a writhing mass of what felt like venomous snakes. Jeff’s car. Her hands went damp and her heartbeat jumped into a gallop.

Sam was more than ready to go another couple of rounds with Jeff. She’d spent all day trotting back and forth between Grace and the work crews. She’d had to reorder paint three different times to keep up with Grace’s changing opinions, and to top everything off, one of the goats had eaten her boot lace.

So she was more than prepared, Sam told herself. Anything he had to say, she’d stand up to. Any fast ones he tried to pull, she’d stop.

She was completely ready to deal with Jeff.

Not so ready to meet her daughter for the first time.

Oh sure. They’d actually
met
the day before. And that first brief glimpse of the child she’d loved and ached for would remain in her heart forever as a tiny miracle.

But yesterday, Emma hadn’t known that Sam was her mother. Today was different. Should have been special. She should be at least
clean
for this meeting.

Though if she admitted the truth, she wouldn’t have backed out of this meeting if she were covered in mud.

She was halfway down the front steps before she saw the little girl. Sam’s heart slammed hard into her ribs and left her breathless. The world did a strange sort of dip and roll, but she had a feeling no one else noticed.

Emma was wearing blue jeans with a tiny yellow T-shirt. She looked small and sturdy and so damned pretty. Her Barbie tennis shoes practically bounced in place as she waited for her father to come around the front of the car to join her.

Oh God.

He’d really brought her.

She smoothed her nervous hands across her work shirt. What were you supposed to wear when being introduced to a child you hadn’t seen since she weighed seven pounds six ounces? Surely not battered Levi’s, a stained work shirt, and Frankenstein-worthy work boots.

This was supposed to be a moment she’d remember
forever. She didn’t want to remember smelling bad or having a dirty face. And oh God, she didn’t want her daughter to turn up her nose at first sight of her mother.

His fault
, Sam thought. He should have told her they were coming. Should have let her get prepared. Should have—It wouldn’t have mattered.

She might have been neater if she’d had warning, but she’d still be just as nervous as she was at the moment. In fact, she hadn’t been this agitated since Nick Candellano had tried to sweet-talk her out of her panties when she was sixteen.

She’d survived that—Nick had, too, barely—she’d survive this.

Sam wiped the palms of her hands against her thighs and told herself to breathe. Good advice, since small black dots were beginning to dance in front of her eyes. Atta way, Sam. Faint at the child’s feet. Good first impression.

Behind her, the screen door opened.

“Sam?” Mike spoke into the weird stillness. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t turn around. Couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. Sam couldn’t stop looking at Emma. Even when Jeff came up beside the child and took her hand in his much larger one, all Sam could see were two pale blue eyes so much like her own.

So many nights, she’d dreamed of this. Thought she’d know what to say. How to act. What to do.

Turned out, though, she didn’t have to do anything at all.

“Mommy?”

One sweet word and the wall that had been sealed shut around Sam’s heart for nine long years tumbled.
She felt the impact of each cold brick as it tore away from her heart.

And the pain was almost as huge as the joy.

Almost.

“Emma.” Sam took a step and stopped.

“Oh, my God.” Mike’s voice, awed.

Sam hardly heard.

She took another hesitant step and finally glanced at Jeff. He nodded and she took that action as a blessing of sorts. One more step. Sam took a deep breath, then smiled.

Emma pulled free of her father’s hand and grinning, ran across the rest of the space separating them. Flinging herself into her mother’s arms, Emma was a solid, warm weight that filled all of the gaping holes inside Sam.

She clung to her daughter, inhaling her scent, imprinting this moment on her memory. Evening sunlight was warm and golden. From down the street, she heard the McCall kids practicing on their skateboards. Behind her, Mike was coming closer. But all Sam could focus on was the overwhelming sensation of actually holding her child.

“Oh, Emma, I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, running her hands up and down the girl’s back as if to assure herself that this wasn’t a dream. She was terrified that she’d wake up and find herself in her own bed—as she had so often over the years—alone and crying.

But it was real and the strength in the small arms now wrapped around her neck convinced Sam that this time, she could believe. This time, she could hold and be held.

This time, her tears would come from a full heart, not an empty soul.

“Let me look at you,” she said, and pulled back, reluctant to break that close contact, yet needing to see her daughter. “You’re so big.”

“I grow like a weed,” Emma said proudly. “And I lost my tooth.” She bared her teeth for a close inspection, then said, “The Tooth Fairy gave me a
whole
dollar for it. Daddy says that’s ’cause I’m special so my teeth are special, too.”

More than special, Sam thought.

Perfect.

She was perfect.

The first stars were out.

Lamplight spilled out the back door screen and lay like a slice of daylight in the encroaching darkness. The leaves on the trees rustled like whispers in the ever-present ocean breeze. And next door, Mr. Bozeman was playing armchair contestant again, shouting out the answers to questions asked on
Jeopardy
.

Sam sat on the top step of the porch beside her daughter and wanted to pinch herself—just to make sure it wasn’t a dream. Jeff had left Emma here with a promise to pick her up in two hours. And now that he was due to pick their daughter up any minute, Sam felt greedy for more. Would there ever be enough time to make up for all the years she’d lost?

Half-listening to her daughter’s rambling, Sam studied the girl and realized she’d never learned so much about someone so quickly.

By the time dinner was over, Sam knew that Isabel Feinstein was Emma’s best friend and the owner of a pair of red tap-dancing shoes that Emma coveted with her whole heart. She also knew that Jeff’s condo in San Francisco was big and pretty and the housekeeper, named Julia, let Emma have cookies when she came
home from school. She tried very hard not to think about a woman who was being
paid
to give her daughter cookies.

Emma wanted to be a race-car driver and a princess when she grew up and she thought her daddy was even more handsome than Ashton Kutcher—a statement with which Sam was forced to agree.

The little girl hadn’t stopped talking since she’d walked in the front door. She’d eaten two slices of the pizza Mike had gone to pick up—after carefully plucking off the pepperoni and sausages. She loved dogs and had already attached herself to Papa’s big golden retriever, Bear. This was a mutual attraction, since Bear hadn’t lifted his huge head off Emma’s lap in more than an hour.

“Daddy said that you love me.”

“Oh, I do, Emma.” Sam skimmed her fingertips through her daughter’s thick pigtail. Her hair felt as soft as a breath. “I always have.”

“Even when you didn’t know me?” Small hands stroked the big dog’s head.

“I always knew you,” Sam said, hoping that somehow this little girl would understand. “In my heart. You were always there.”

“Yeah?” Emma turned big blue eyes up to her and Sam saw the shine of tears glimmering in the pale light.

Oh God, don’t cry
. That’s all Sam could think. She didn’t want her daughter crying on their first—what was this? A
date
? Could you make play dates with your own kid? And could she get further away mentally from the subject at hand?

“Oh yeah.” A twinge of something sharp and sweet twisted in Sam’s chest. “Always.”

Sam owed Jeff big for this. Despite everything that still lay unspoken between them, he’d made this situation so much easier than it might have been. And yet this was not a happy ending, she reminded herself. Not yet. There were still too many things to talk about. To agree to.

Just because Jeff had allowed Sam some time with their daughter didn’t mean he’d be willing to share custody. And Sam wasn’t willing to settle for anything less. She’d swallowed the heartache and walked away from her daughter eight years ago—she wouldn’t do it again.

“Do you love Daddy, too?”

Whoops. Stop paying attention for a minute and crash, boom.

“Um . . .”
Brilliant
.

“You had me,” Emma said, “and Isabel says only people in love can have babies.”

Thank you, Isabel
. How old was Isabel, anyway? She’d have to remember to ask Jeff. “Is that right?”

Emma nodded and stroked her small hand over Bear’s head again. The dog, apparently tossing dignity to the wind, almost purred. “Isabel says that babies happen when mommies and daddies say ‘I love you.’ ”

“Well . . .” She wondered frantically if Isabel had any insights on the whole nuclear fusion thing. Think, Sam. Think. She wasn’t about to head into sex education class here, but if she didn’t say something—