Delivered with Love (24 page)

Claire heard a loud crash and whipped her head around.

Blake had dropped a pan on the tile floor. He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry about that."

Claire's eyes widened. She lifted her index finger to her lips.

"What's going on over there?" Pearl teased. "Was that a man's voice I heard?"

"It's my neighbor. He cooks for me."

Blake picked up the pan, a sheepish grin on his face.

"You have your own personal chef?" Pearl sounded confused.

"His kitchen burned down so he's cooking at my house till it's repaired."

"Sounds like an interesting arrangement. Why don't you invite him to dinner with us? Tell him Harry's barbequing. I'm sure he'd like a night off."

Pearl had a point. Blake had been cooking her gourmet meals ever since she moved into the rental. He needed a break. Also, it might be good to have someone there to talk with Harry. Then she'd be able to talk with Pearl alone. Claire was sure Harry would like to meet the man who fixed her car. "I'll do that."

"All right, dear. We'll call you tomorrow and let you know of our location at the campground. See you tomorrow night. Around 6:00 p.m.?"

"Sounds good." Claire put the telephone back in the cradle. She stood by the counter and watched Blake in the kitchen. He moved like a professional. Claire chuckled. Maybe she did have a personal chef after all. And Blake was the perfect diversion to keep her mind away from her sister and father.

C
laire held a bouquet of mixed wildflowers, the ones Blake had purchased, and stopped down the hall from Geraldine's hospital room.
Breathe. Breathe.
Did the elderly woman know she was her granddaughter? Would seeing Geraldine now be any different than it was this morning? The hallway spun.

Blake carried an egg roll in a small paper bag. "Why don't you go first and make sure she's ready for a male visitor."

"She's ready. Geraldine's been waiting all day." Claire handed him the bouquet. "These should come from you. I'll wait right here." She was working her way up to telling Blake at dinner about Michael and Geraldine being family, but the timing never seemed right. He'd be all excited that she lived with her grandmother and had a father close by. Not Claire. She had to make sure they wanted her around before she got her hopes up.

"You don't want to come in with me?"

Claire was positive Geraldine would appreciate having a little male attention by herself. Especially since Blake looked so handsome in his jeans and navy T-shirt. "I'll give you a few minutes alone."

"Anything to help." Blake winked, and then walked the few steps to Geraldine's room.

He knocked. "It's Blake."

"Come in, dear," the elderly woman's voice rose.

Blake shot Claire a grin, then walked into the room.

"Oh, my, what beautiful flowers! And you brought me an egg roll. How sweet."

Claire listened from outside the door. She wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned against the wall. Would Geraldine ask about her? Her throat constricted.

Her thoughts drifted to her mother. Why hadn't she told Claire that Michael was her father? Why write a note to Michael? Did she expect him to tell her? Claire's mind was filled with so many unanswered questions. And her mother wasn't around to answer them.

Haley.
She held on to the secret for a year, and then seemed eager to dole out information once Claire was established in Capitola. Haley wanted her to run back to L.A. Her sister had selfish motives. But wouldn't Claire do the same if the roles were reversed? She sighed.

The sound of Blake's hearty voice mixed with Geraldine's occasional guffaw made her suddenly feel left out. It was
her
grandmother. Claire rolled her eyes. Could she walk into the room and act as if nothing had happened? But something had happened. She had found out the truth. Now was the time to be brave and face Geraldine, whether or not she knew. Claire walked through the doorway and past the curtain.

"Blake is so funny." Geraldine brought her hand to her cheek. "You should have heard the story he was telling."

Blake clutched his side.

Claire pulled up a chair and sat down. "Sorry I missed it."

"Where were you, dear? I was hoping to run a brush through my hair and put on a dab of lipstick before Blake came in." Geraldine pursed her lips and touched her hair. "Did you see?" Her eyes widened and she smiled. "He brought me flowers. Aren't they gorgeous?"

"As beautiful as you." Blake placed his hand on top of Geraldine's. "If you ladies will excuse me. I'm on call tonight." He grabbed his vibrating cell phone, flipped it open, and walked out of the room.

No, Blake. Don't leave.
Claire wasn't ready to spend time alone with her grandmother. She unzipped her purse and pulled out Geraldine's hairbrush and lipstick. "Sorry. I should have brought these to you before Blake arrived."

"Oh, phooey." She giggled. "I know that man only has eyes for you, as it should be, but I'm an old woman who appreciates a good-looking man when I see one. He did give me a compliment."

She doesn't know.
Geraldine's demeanor put Claire at ease. She stood with hairbrush in hand and placed the lipstick on the small table. "May I?"

"Yes, please do." Geraldine sat real still and closed her eyes.

Claire brushed the white hair with slow strokes. "I have a present for you."

"You didn't need to do that." Geraldine looked up at Claire.

"Actually, it's for both of us." Claire set the hairbrush on the small table. She handed Geraldine the lipstick.

"Now you've got me curious." She applied a generous amount to her lips.

"You'll have to wait until you get home before you see it." Claire bit her lower lip.

"Out with it, Claire. I've never been good at guessing games."

"A cat! I found a cat. She was sitting outside my bedroom window." Claire smiled. "She is the sweetest calico. You'll love her."

Geraldine's eyes lit up. "You know I will. I've been wanting a cat ever since I had to give all of mine away when I moved into the retirement community."

"I named her Cali."

Blake walked in the door, his brows furrowed. "Sorry, ladies. I've been called into work."

"Nothing serious, I hope." Geraldine's voice held a hint of concern.

"We've had several officers out. So, the rest of us have to cover." Blake walked to the foot of the bed and gently patted Geraldine's foot. He looked at Claire. "Want a lift home or do you want to stay a while longer?"

"I'd love my granddaughter to stay." Geraldine turned to Claire. "But it's better to go home with Blake. I wouldn't want you to take a taxi."

My granddaughter?
Claire inhaled and held her breath. She does know. Claire exhaled. Either way, she wasn't ready to deal with this new revelation. Not until she talked with Michael. "Blake, I'll catch a ride home with you." Claire leaned over and gave Geraldine a kiss on her cheek. "I'll come back and visit tomorrow."

"Okay, dear. Take care of that cat for me. What a nice surprise. "She smiled. "Good to see you, Blake. Come anytime."

Claire followed Blake out the door. Neither of them said a word until they approached Blake's truck.

He reached for the door handle, then turned to look at her. "Geraldine's your grandmother? Since when?" Blake's voice

sounded more confused than sarcastic.

"You caught that, huh?" Claire shrugged.

Blake leaned against the side of the truck. "What's going on?"

Claire thought back to this morning when Blake appeared at her door to tell her she was on her own for breakfast. She didn't get a chance to tell him that Michael was the writer of the letter.
And now, her father.
"I don't know if you have time. It's a long story."

Blake put the key in the door. "Tell me on the way."

By the time they pulled up to her front door, Claire had told Blake the condensed version about the picnic, the letter, and Haley's shocking news.

"I wonder if Michael visited Geraldine this afternoon." Claire pulled the letter out of her purse and clutched it to her chest. "She has never called me her granddaughter before."

"Does it matter? She knows you're her granddaughter now." He smiled.

Blake could be so practical. Of course, it mattered! Why didn't Geraldine act like her grandmother as she grew up? She tucked the letter in her jacket pocket.

"I have to go to work, but I'll be off in time for dinner with your friends." Blake stepped toward her and gave her a hug. "I'm happy for you. It's nice to have a close relationship with your grandmother."

She breathed in Blake's musky cologne. At this moment, all she needed was him. She took in another deep breath before pulling back. "The jury's still out on that one. I haven't talked with Michael. His family may not want me here." Claire was definitely not practical.

"What do
you
want?"

"Honestly, I don't know." Claire put her key in the lock and opened the front door. "Be careful tonight. I'll be praying for you."

Blake smiled. "Thank you. And I'll be praying for you."

Michael listened to the message on his cell phone once again.

Why would his wife leave him and go to Julia's? She didn't take any of her things and the suitcases were still in the guest bedroom closet. When was she coming back? The thought of losing his wife of twenty-seven years cut deep. He loved Sandy with his whole being and would never do anything intentional to hurt her. And yet he had. Why wasn't he honest with her all those years ago? He leaned back against the couch and remembered the day as if it were yesterday.

"Honey, I'm home," Michael had said, making sure his voice was steady. His quick business trip to L.A. had turned out to be something he regretted. He searched the house. With his wife seven months pregnant, he had felt comfortable leaving. There was enough of a window before she'd deliver. But Sandy was nowhere to be found.
His pager.
He had selfishly turned it off when he was with Emily and had forgotten to turn it back on. Sandy had paged him. Five times.

Panic set in. He dialed the hospital number, the one he had memorized in case Sandy went into labor. She was only 32 weeks along.
Lord, help me. What have I done?
Michael's hands shook.

Julia weighed 3 pounds 10 ounces at birth. So tiny. And he had missed it.

The ringing of the telephone brought Michael back to the present. He jumped up from the couch and hurried to answer the phone.

"Hi, Michael? Emily."

"Emily?" Was this a joke?

"I'm a friend of Julia's. I'm still at work, but want to go to the shower. What time did it start?"

The bridal shower. Sandy had planned a surprise shower for Julia tonight. Michael had forgotten. He searched the counter looking for a stray invitation. A pink ribbon peeked out from under the morning's newspaper. He pulled it out and scanned the fancy scroll. "7:30."

"Thanks."

Michael glanced at his watch. It was eight o'clock. The party had already started. He needed to talk to his wife now, while he had the nerve. But did he want to interrupt? How long does a bridal shower last? Michael grabbed his keys from his pocket and headed toward his car. If he got kicked out of the all-girl party, he'd come home. Michael hopped in his BMW and started the engine. He shifted the car into drive, pressed the accelerator—and then slammed on the brakes. He was doing it again—thinking only of himself. His head fell back against the headrest. A few minutes passed before he made a decision. A choice that could change his life forever.

M
eow." Cali rubbed against Claire's calf as she sat in Geraldine's recliner. Claire flipped through the Cabrillo College brochure. Did she dare sign up for a class or two? She bit her lower lip as she reached down and picked up the cat. "What do you think, sweet kitty?"

Claire's life in Capitola had taken on a nice rhythm before Geraldine landed in the hospital. Now, her emotions were all over the place. She loved her grandmother and hoped she'd be able to stay as her caregiver.

Then there was Blake. She wanted him in her life—not only for now, but for good. Her spine tingled as she dreamed about a future together. But how could she settle in Capitola with Michael, Sandy, and Julia so close? Things were different now that she knew Michael was her father.

Haley had practically begged her to come back to L.A. Her sister wanted family around to be part of her baby's life. Claire suspected it had more to do with free babysitting while her sister shopped for the latest fashion. But Haley did love her and they had a history together. Mark's presence in Haley's life made Claire want to stay in Capitola indefinitely, but if Haley were able to send Mark packing, she'd consider moving back. Claire stroked Cali's back. "What am I going to do?"

The doorbell rang. She wasn't expecting anyone tonight. Claire set the cat down and walked to the door. She peeked out the window. It was a woman. The doorbell sounded again.

Claire turned the knob.

"Surprise!" Samantha held up her suitcase.

Claire wrapped her arms around Samantha's neck in a big hug. "I'm so happy to see you. I needed a friend tonight. "Claire motioned her in.

Samantha stepped inside the entryway and set down her suitcase. "I've decided to take your advice and move to Capitola." Samantha's brunette hair was exactly how Claire remembered it—pulled back in a ponytail. "I'm over my job and I'm done with men."

"You've come to the right house." Claire shut the door.

Samantha hung her sweater on the coat rack and followed Claire into the family room. She sat down on the couch and shooed the cat away.

Claire chuckled to herself. She remembered when they were camping how frightened Samantha was of animals.

"It looks like you've got yourself a great place." Samantha craned her neck and looked around.

Claire sat down on the recliner. "I love this house." Her voice was wistful. She twisted her hair between her fingers. "And I've got a great job taking care of the elderly woman who lives here."

"What's going on?" Samantha cocked her head. "I can tell something's bothering you."

"You're right. I have a big decision to make." Claire tucked her foot under her thigh. "My sister wants me to move back to L.A. to help her when the baby comes. And I'm considering it."

Samantha's brows furrowed. "Why? You're on your own. Do you want to go back?"

"I may have to."

"Give me one good reason."

"Remember the letter I told you about? The one signed 'M.'?" Claire stood and walked to the window.

"I do remember. Did you ever find out who wrote it?"

"I did. His name is Michael. And—he's my
father!"
Claire took a deep breath. "But that's not all. He owns this house. And the woman I'm taking care of—Geraldine—is his mother, which makes her my grandmother."

"You're kidding!" Samantha jumped up from the couch and joined her.

"It's true—all of it. My mother had written a note to Michael before she died. My sister Haley was supposed to give it to him at my mother's memorial. But she held off—until today. Meanwhile, Haley went back to L.A. with her husband." Claire pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Now it's up to me—to confront Michael or leave. I'm scared. I don't know what to do."

"I'll be here for you." Samantha laid her hand on Claire's shoulder and squeezed. "Seeing that I have nowhere else to go. Wait, that didn't come out right." She crinkled her nose.

"I know the feeling. You're welcome to stay here. I'd love the company. I get lonely without Geraldine."

"Where is she?"

"In the hospital. She had a heart attack and needed surgery." Claire picked up Cali and nuzzled her cheek against the cat's soft fur. "She should be home in a few days." She set the cat down.

"I'm glad she's going to be okay."

"Me too." Claire led Samantha to the kitchen. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"How does leftover sweet and sour chicken sound?" Claire opened the refrigerator. "Blake made it for dinner tonight. Oh, and there are a couple of egg rolls."

"Explain to me again how you roped your neighbor into cooking for you every night." Samantha put her hands on her slender hips.

"I had nothing to do with it. His kitchen burned down and he needed a place to cook. I'm one of the lucky recipients." Claire pulled out the Tupperware with the leftovers. "But it's going to end soon. Blake's new cabinets went in. And his counter should arrive soon."

"I can't wait to meet him." Samantha opened the cabinet and pulled out a couple of plates.

"None for me. I finished the Szechwan beef at dinner." Claire grabbed a spoon and emptied the contents on a plate. She stuck the dish in the microwave. "You're going to have to wait until tomorrow to meet Blake. He was called in to work." The microwave beeped. Claire filled Samantha's plate and joined her at the table. "I'm falling for him." Her palms grew moist.

Samantha stuck a forkful of sweet and sour chicken into her mouth. "He definitely can cook."

"That's not the only thing he's good at." Claire giggled. "Say, after you're finished eating we'll get you settled. I want to hear all about what's going on in
your
life."

Later that night, Claire watched one of her favorite movies with Samantha. She'd seen it at least a dozen times. Her mind wandered as she stared at the television screen. If she did go back to L.A., Samantha could take care of Geraldine. Claire glanced at her friend. She was friendly, caring, and needing a job. Yes. Geraldine would definitely like Samantha.

Would Blake? Claire's stomach churned. He needed a woman who knew what she wanted and was ready to settle down. Her imagination ran wild. Claire wanted to be that person. And she knew Blake was interested in her. But was it worth hurting Michael's family in the process? Should she disappear and go back to L.A.—and to her sister, where she knew she was needed?

The college application sat on the end table by Geraldine's recliner. How she wished she could fill out the paperwork and mail it.

She'd have to make a decision—to stay or leave. And soon.

Michael's knees burned.

"Lord, I messed up and now it's caught up with me. You gave me a beautiful wife and daughter, a wonderful home, so many blessings. And I blew it." He paused. "Please forgive me for breaking my vows. Help me." Michael's voice shook. "I don't know what to do or say to make things right again. I've hurt so many people—Emily, Sandy, Julia, and now Claire. If you get me out of this mess, I promise to live my life for you from now on. In your name." He glanced at the clock. The past hour had flown by. Sandy would be home soon.

Michael clutched the comforter and stood. He rubbed his aching knees, then grabbed for the phone. Confession time. He'd call his friend Martin at the nursing facility.

"Martin's room."

A woman's voice trilled over the line. It didn't sound like Debbie. She was probably at the bridal shower with Sandy.

Michael loosened his collar. "This is Michael Thompson. Is Martin available?"

"Just a moment, please."

Michael heard shuffling noises in the background. A couple of minutes passed.

"He-llo."

Michael caught his breath at the sound of Martin's slow drawl. Would he ever get used to the fact that his high school buddy had such a difficult life? Michael's life wasn't exactly easy at the moment, either. "Martin, it's me. Michael."

"I thought you might call." Martin exhaled loudly.

"Why's that?" Michael paced the room.

"It's Thursday. Sandy stopped by to see Debbie. She looked like she had a lot on her mind."

Michael walked over to his dresser and picked up a framed picture of his family. Sandy's arms were wrapped around his waist, and Julia held his hand. His heart skipped a beat. Would it ever be that way again?

"Michael?"

"Sorry, buddy." Michael set the picture down and sighed. "I need to finally tell Sandy the truth." Michael sat down on the edge of his bed. "And there's more." He hesitated. How would Martin respond to his news? "Claire's my daughter."

Michael waited for a response. He heard Martin breathing. Was he going to say anything?

"Trust God, Michael," Martin encouraged. "He'll get you through."

"I'm scared." Michael slid off the bed and sat on the floor with his elbows propped on his knees. He lowered his head into his hands.

"God forgives you."

"Do
you
forgive me?" Michael winced. If he hadn't asked Martin to meet him that night, his friend never would have been in the accident that left him paralyzed.

"Yes, I forgive you."

"But—"

"But nothing."

Michael felt sick to his stomach. Aside from his mother, Martin had been the only one he had confided in until the other day at lunch with Eric.

"I've wanted you to tell Sandy for a long time."

"I know." Michael let out a breath. "Since the accident . . ."

"I never blamed you for what happened to me."

"Thank you."

"For what?" Martin's voice softened.

"For sticking with me. I haven't been a good friend to you. But you've always been there for me."

Martin's tone lifted. "You can make it up to me."

"How?"

"Get me out of this place for a few hours. Let's have lunch sometime."

Michael laughed through his tears "How about next Thursday?"

"You know where to find me."

"See you at noon. And thanks, Martin, for being the kind of friend I want to be from now on." Michael stood.

"I'll hold you to it. And remember, friend, trust God."

Michael looked heavenward, then returned the phone to the cradle.

He walked to the couch, sat down with a stack of photo albums, and slowly flipped through the pages. Michael stared at the lovely image of Sandy on their wedding day. Her white dress hugged her figure. He chuckled at his tuxedo and the goofy grin on his face.
So young. And naïve.
That had been the best day of his life. He loved Sandy with every ounce of his being. Then why? Why did he spend the night with Emily?

Michael turned a few more pages. He ran his hand over a photo of Martin and him before his friend's accident. Michael's eyes clouded. He rubbed the back of his neck with a sweaty palm.

The next album was filled with pictures of Julia. Her tiny body after birth was hooked to all kinds of tubes and wires. How fast life had flown by. His little girl was now a beautiful woman—about to be married. She'd make a wonderful wife to David. He was grateful to Sandy for being such a loving mother. His heart raced. After what he was about to tell Julia, would she even want him to walk her down the aisle?

A car door slammed. Sandy?
Dear God, help me.