Apprentice Father (6 page)

The older man cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “You okay, honey?”

With an obvious effort, Cate directed her attention behind Clay again, a slow flush creeping across her cheeks. “Yes. I'm fine.” Her breathless reassurance, however, wasn't at all credible. “Pop, this is Clay Adams. Clay, my grandfather.” As she did the introductions, she glanced at Clay briefly.

Forcing himself to break contact, Clay rose and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise.” Pop's grip was firm, his eyes shrewd and discerning.

As Cate began to stand, Clay turned to support her. She leaned into him, cradling her wrist, a grimace of pain pulling her features taut.

“We need to have that checked out.”

“No. I have some ace bandages at home that will take care of it.” She tipped her chin up to look at him, her eyes anxious. “Sorry about this. I know my limits, and I try not to take foolish chances, but once in a while I forget. In most cases, I live to regret it. Like today. It doesn't mean I can't take good care of the children.”

“I know that.” At the conviction in his voice, the tension in her face eased. Good. He didn't want her worrying about his confidence in her.

Next, he addressed the children, who were still too subdued and quiet. “Why don't we all go out to lunch?”

“Could we get hamburgers?” Emily asked, brightening.

“And French fries?” Josh added.

“Sure.” He turned to Cate's grandfather. “You're welcome to join us, too, sir.”

The older man, who had been watching the exchange with interest, shook his head. “Make it Pop. Everyone else does. And
I'll take a rain check on the burger. The garden club meeting starts in an hour and I have to swing by the house and pick up a few things.” He bent down to the children, hands on knees. “We're not going to give up on this kite. On the next windy day, we have a date.”

Emily and Josh sent Cate an uncertain, but hopeful, glance.

“That sounds good,” she agreed with a smile. “And next trip, I'll stay on the sidelines. I promise.” She aimed her final remark at Clay.

“Maybe I'll come, too,” he said.

“Our daddy never did anything like that with us.” There was a hint of melancholy in Emily's tone.

Clay dropped down to balance beside them on the balls of his feet. “That's too bad. He missed a lot of fun.” Squeezing her hand and ruffling Josh's hair, he rose. “Okay, let's see about that lunch.”

As they walked toward the parking area, Clay realized Cate's limp was more pronounced than usual. But he knew she was making a valiant effort to hide it for the sake of the children, trying to reassure them everything was okay.

He understood her motivation. He felt the same need to protect the kids. While it was a new feeling for him, he found it surprisingly appealing.

Even more surprising, however, was the protective feeling he felt about Cate. That, too, was appealing. But scary. Very scary.

Suddenly she stumbled, lurching against him, and his arm shot out to steady her. She murmured a soft thank-you and tried to move away, but he slipped his arm around her shoulders again.

“Relax and lean on me,” he said close to her ear. “There's no sense putting any extra strain on your leg.”

For an instant, she stiffened. But in the end she complied—leading Clay to assume she was hurting more than she'd let on.
Cate didn't strike him as the kind of woman who leaned on people very often.

There was no opportunity to analyze her response, however, because all at once Clay felt small fingers slipping into his other hand. Josh looked up at him, one finger in his mouth as he trotted beside his uncle, ready to jerk his hand free if his overture met with a negative reaction.

A wave of tenderness washed over Clay, and he tried to blink away the hot tears welling in his eyes. Mere weeks ago this little boy had been too traumatized to speak, isolating himself from everyone but Emily. While much work remained to be done, Clay knew Josh's reaching out, testing the waters, was a sign of great progress. That the healing had started. And with the help of the woman beside him, it would continue.

Once in the parking lot, Pop lifted a hand in farewell. “We'll get that kite up yet,” he promised the children.

As Pop slid into his car, Clay looked at Cate. And tried not to drown in those green pools she called eyes. “Why don't we take my truck to lunch?”

Cate moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, drawing his attention to them. Once more, his mouth went dry.

“Okay.” Her reply came out in a throaty voice he'd never heard before.

They set off toward his truck, and when Josh tugged free to climb up, Clay felt bereft without the boy's small hand tucked in his. It was also time to remove his arm from Cate's shoulder, Clay knew.

But for a man who valued his independence and had avoided commitments for his entire adult life, the oddest thing happened.

He didn't want to let her go.

 

It was time for more aspirin.

With a slight moan, Cate swung her legs to the floor and peered at her bedside clock. Three in the morning. She had to be back at Clay's in four and a half hours, and so far she'd logged no more than two hours of sleep.

Shuffling toward the bathroom, cane in hand and aching all over after her kite-flying caper yesterday, she tried to attribute her sleeplessness to her physical discomfort.

But she knew that was only part of it.

The bulk of the blame rested on Clay.

As she rummaged bleary-eyed through the drawers in the bathroom vanity, she tried to analyze why a man she hadn't even known existed three weeks ago could wreak havoc on her sleep, filling her nights with restless dreams that left her feeling unsettled come morning.

Early on, she'd attributed her reaction to chemistry. But that didn't quite ring true anymore. Not that the chemistry wasn't there, though. Despite the fact that Clay wasn't the type who usually attracted her, she couldn't dismiss that stomach flutter thing. It happened every time he was around. Nor could she ignore the way her nerve endings tingled whenever he came within three feet of her.

But it was more than chemistry.

For whatever reason, the rootless, commitment-averse engineer who had zero tolerance for religion and came from a dysfunctional family had touched her heart.

She supposed his innate kindness, demonstrated in simple gestures, played a role in her reaction. Like the rubber toys she'd found propped on the edge of his bathtub. And the Disney night-light he'd installed in the room—his room—where the children
slept. And the way he listened to their prayers at night, despite his own feelings about religion. Emily had told her about that.

His unselfishness touched her, too. He slept on an uncomfortable couch. He brought unfinished work home instead of staying late at the office, toiling on it long after the children went to bed. He never failed to take them to church.

There was a lot to like about Clay.

And if things were different…

Shaking the aspirin into her palm with more force than necessary, Cate ruthlessly cut off that line of thought. Things weren't different. There was no way anything could ever develop between them, no matter the chemistry. For two very good reasons, she reminded herself, as she downed the aspirin in one gulp and headed back to bed.

First, a man like Clay could have his pick of women. He didn't need to settle for one who was disabled.

Second, even if by some remote chance he was attracted to her, he'd made it clear he had no interest in a serious, committed relationship.

And as far as she was concerned, that was the only kind worth having.

End of story.

C
ate heard Emily crying inside the apartment before she ever reached the landing, a close-to-hysterical wailing that knotted her stomach and set her adrenaline pumping.

Taking the last two steps as quickly as she could given her aches and pains from yesterday's fall, Cate crossed the landing, inserted her key in the lock and stepped inside.

Chaos greeted her.

The children were still in their pajamas. Emily was in Clay's arms, quivering—and clinging to his neck with such fierceness he could hardly move his head. Josh was huddled into a ball in the corner of the sofa, legs pulled up, tears flowing down his pale, frightened face as he watched the tableau a few steps away.

Clay didn't look much better. He wore only a white T-shirt and jeans, his hair was uncombed and a full day's growth of beard darkened his jaw. He was bouncing Emily gently in his arms, murmuring soothing words, but the face he turned toward her when she crossed the threshold was bewildered—and bordering on frantic.

“I'm so glad you're here!” Relief hoarsened his voice.

“What happened?” Cate dropped her sweater on a chair and joined the troubled trio.

“I have no idea. We were eating breakfast, I gave Emily a piece of toast and she freaked.” He had to raise his voice to be heard above the child's weeping.

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don't know. Ten minutes, maybe. I can't calm her down.”

Moving around Clay, Cate lifted a hand to stroke Emily's tangled hair. One of the little girl's cheeks was pressed against her uncle's neck, and she'd bunched the cotton fabric of his T-shirt into her clenched fists. Her legs were locked around his torso, her cheeks were splotchy, and terror and anguish had glazed her eyes.

“Emily, honey, it's okay. Can you tell me what's wrong? Does your tummy hurt?”

No response. Cate wasn't even sure her presence had registered in the child's consciousness. She was lost in some fear-filled world of her own.

“Clay, can you sit on the couch?”

He did so in silence, perching on the edge of the seat cushion.

Easing down beside Josh, Cate took the little boy's cold hand. He needed attention, too, but her first priority had to be calming Emily. And perhaps Josh could give them a clue to the source of her distress.

“Josh, would you like me to hold you?”

The little boy responded by climbing into her lap. Cuddling his little body close, Cate stroked his fine blond hair.

“Why is Emily c-crying?” Josh hiccupped the word, giving Cate a distraught look.

“I don't know, honey. I think something scared her.”

“Maybe the t-toast.” He reached out a pudgy finger to touch Emily's cheek, his eyelashes spiky with moisture. “Don't cry, Em.”

Clay shifted, homing in on the boy's comment. “What about the toast, Josh?”

“She burnt it.”

From his baffled expression, it was obvious Clay had no idea why this was relevant, Cate deduced.

“Is that a bad thing, Josh?” Cate kept her tone gentle as she wrapped the little boy in a soothing hug.

“Yes. Our toaster at home d-didn't work too good. Mommy got hurt a lot, and when she had to stay in bed Emily made us toast f-for breakfast. But it always burnt and the kitchen got stinky. Daddy d-didn't like that.”

Although Emily's wails had quieted to a whimper, her grip on Clay's neck hadn't loosened.

Cate began to get a glimmer of the reason for today's meltdown. “What would happen then?” She stroked the back of Emily's hand in a reassuring, rhythmic motion as she asked Josh the question. A shudder ran through the little girl, and Clay patted her back, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head.

His lip quivering, Josh nestled closer to Cate. “He would open all the windows, even if it was really cold. And he'd m-make Emily stand on the b-back porch without her coat until the kitchen smelled better. There was a big, mean, scary d-dog that came to our alley s-sometimes, but no matter how h-hard Emily pounded on the d-door, Daddy wouldn't let her back in. One time the d-dog tore her shirt.”

Clay stiffened. Emily emitted a soft whimper, and Cate laid a warning hand on his arm.

“Well, there are no bad dogs around here, so we can all relax.” She emphasized the last word, and Clay got the message.
He managed to slacken his muscles, and Emily let out a slow, ragged breath.

“Why did our daddy do that?” Confused, Josh stuck his thumb in his mouth and tipped his head back to study her.

Wishing there was an easy answer, Cate worded her response with care. “Some people aren't very nice and they do bad things for no reason. Daddies are supposed to love their families and take care of them, not be mean. Your daddy made some bad mistakes. But you're with your Uncle Clay now, and he loves you very much. I do, too. So now that you're here, you don't have to worry about people being mean to you. We would never let that happen.”

Emily's grip on Clay's neck eased.

“Did they eat breakfast?” Cate asked Clay in a quiet, conversational tone.

He shook his head.

“Do you have half an hour to spare?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“I have an idea,” Cate told the children. “Why don't we make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast?”

“I never heard of those.” Emily shifted her position to better see Cate without relinquishing her hold on Clay.

“No one has. They're my secret recipe. But I can't make them by myself. It takes four people. One to mix, one to add in the chocolate chips, one to flip, and one to pour the chocolate syrup on top.”

“Chocolate syrup, too? Wow!” Josh's eyes lit up. “I'll help!”

“So will I,” Clay seconded.

“Emily? Are you in?” Cate smiled at her.

The little girl nodded.

“Good. Let's get started, then.”

Half an hour later, as the children were lingering over the last bites of their unusual breakfast, Clay glanced toward the clock
on the wall and raised an eyebrow at Cate. He'd disappeared once during breakfast to shave, put on his shirt and comb his hair, and she knew he was running way behind schedule.

Rising unhurriedly, she took her plate to the sink. “I saw a mama duck with some baby ducks the other day as I drove past the park, and I bet they're still there. While Uncle Clay's at work today, how would you like to go feed them?”

“Yes!” Josh said. “Can we go now?”

“As soon as you get dressed.”

He scrambled off his chair. “I can be ready in two minutes.”

Smiling, Cate grabbed his pajama top as he dashed by. “Whoa. Say goodbye to your uncle first.”

Josh planted a sloppy kiss on Clay's cheek. “Bye. Come on, Emily!” He dashed down the hall.

Sliding off her chair, Emily looked less enthusiastic.

“How about a hug?” Clay held out his arms, and she moved toward him. “I'll be back in time for supper, okay?”

“Can't you stay home today?”

He shot Cate a quick glance. “I won't be far away. I can come home if you need me, and Cate will be here all day, like always. I'll tell you what. Why don't you call me from the park and tell me about the ducks? Would you do that?”

“Okay, I guess.” Backing out of the circle of his arms, she traipsed down the hall.

As Clay headed for the front door, Cate followed. They stepped onto the landing, and she left the door slightly ajar so she could listen for the children.

Running his fingers through the hair he'd just combed, Clay let out a frustrated breath. “I wish I could stay home today.”

“They'll be okay. Don't worry.”

As he regarded her, his eyes softened. “They wouldn't be if
it wasn't for you. I was way over my head when you walked in the door.”

His praise warmed her heart. More than it should. “You would have been fine.”

“I don't think so. You did all the right things. Asked the right questions. When I think what that monster did to those two…” His face hardened.

“It's hard to believe a man could treat his own children that way.” Cate's throat tightened, and she blinked away the sudden moisture that blurred her vision.

“My dad was bad. But nothing like Martin.” Clay pulled his keys out of his pocket. “You'll call me from the park?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.” He gave her the semblance of a smile. “The chocolate chip pancakes were inspired, by the way. A very clever way to distract the kids.”

“I'm glad it worked. I was making it up as I went along.”

He shook his head. “That's what I mean. I would never have thought of something like that.” Warmth flooded his deep brown eyes, and Cate's pulse took a leap. “I've never been very good about saying thank-you, or expressing my feelings, but I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you've done for us.”

His husky, intimate tone blindsided her, and she had to force her uncooperative lungs to kick in. Standing inches away, the morning sun bronzing his skin, Clay oozed a potent masculinity that made her lightheaded. Unless she was way off base, he felt the powerful chemistry between them, too. Because what she saw in his eyes represented a far deeper emotion than the appreciation he'd verbalized.

As if to confirm her conclusion, he lifted a hand toward her. She held her breath, every nerve in her body quivering. She knew she should step back. But she couldn't move. With every fiber
of her being, she wanted to feel the touch of his strong, work-toughened fingers against her cheek. Without conscious decision, she swayed toward him, inviting him to…

“Cate!” The door was pulled open, and she jerked back as Josh scurried out. “I'm ready to go feed the ducks.”

Reeling from the rush of emotion, Cate looked toward the little boy. He was dressed—sort of—in jeans, an unbuttoned shirt and mismatched shoes without socks. Any other time, she'd have gotten a chuckle out of his slapdash attire. At the moment, though, it was all she could do to get her tongue to work.

“I'll be right in, Josh. Why don't you go put some socks on?”

He checked out his feet. “Oh. I guess I forgot.”

Whirling around, he dashed back inside.

When Cate managed to summon up enough courage to face Clay again, she discovered he'd moved to the railing and shoved his palms flat in the back pockets of his jeans.

He swallowed, and she watched his Adam's apple bob. “I better go.”

All she could manage was a nod.

He left in silence.

Thirty seconds later, she heard his car door slam. The engine started. She stepped back into the shadows and caught sight of his car as he backed out. The receding sound of the engine told her he'd gone.

Leaving disappointment in his wake.

But it was better this way, she told herself. Business and pleasure didn't mix. Had Clay touched her, things between them would have changed. That wouldn't have been good for any of them—Clay, her or the children.

Yet hard as she tried to convince herself that Josh's interruption had been a good thing, her heart wasn't buying the argument.

 

“Clay!”

As his name rang out across the quiet morning air two days later, Clay stopped. Cate and her grandfather were coming down the church steps, and she waved.

He returned the gesture, but stayed where he was. Since Emily's meltdown, he'd been off balance around Cate. He still couldn't believe how close he'd come to kissing her that day on the landing. With the gilded light of morning turning her hair into a shimmering halo and her deep green eyes misting with compassion, he'd been overwhelmed by a rush of unfamiliar, tender emotions.

And he'd almost made a big mistake.

Cate wasn't the kind of woman a man kissed lightly. Clay knew that. With her gentle goodness and caring nature, she'd expect such an intimate gesture to signify more than a momentary attraction. And that's all it had been, he told himself. Prompted by gratitude for her role in dealing with the morning crisis.

But that didn't help him keep said attraction in line as he watched her walk toward him, dressed in a simple sheath dress and matching jacket that flattered her figure and highlighted the slender curves of her five-foot-six frame.

“Do you have a minute?” Cate greeted him with a smile.

She seemed to have put the Friday morning incident behind her, he noted, struggling to do the same. “Sure.” The word came out ragged, and he cleared his throat.

“Have you two seen the ducks yet?” Pop directed his question to the children.

“There are ducks at church? Like at the park?” Josh's eyes widened.

“Mmm hmm. In a little pond out back. How about we check it out?”