Echoes From The Past (Women of Character) (6 page)

Garrett tasted again the fear. . .
fear that he would lose Hannah too. Judith left him pretty much the way she’d
entered his life, in a whirlwind. She’d left in the sports car he’d bought her
spitting gravel as she tore from the driveway.

Judith had died an hour later,
driving her car too fast; dying the way she lived. It was like she had a rush
to experience all life had to offer, and life at the farm hadn’t been enough.
Hannah had survived, but the eighteen months since the accident had been
harrowing. Many times he’d questioned his own wisdom in trying to raise a young
girl who might need more than he could give her. However many times he’d had
doubts, he also knew he’d never give up on her. No matter how difficult or
defiant she was, Hannah was still a part of his heart. She needed him as much
as he needed her, but that was something neither one of them might ever admit.
Looking down into her face he thought how peculiar it was that she looked more
like him than her mother.

Garrett lifted his daughter from
the floor and carried her to her room. Carefully, he placed her in the bed
shaped like a pumpkin coach. He leaned down to turn off the lamp, his glance
falling on the small picture beside Hannah’s bed. Judith, Hannah and him in
happier times. They had gone to an old-fashioned country fair in town. It had
been a great day. Decisively, he switched off the light.

"The covers, Daddy,"
Hannah murmured. "I like the covers tucked all around me." It was a ritual
they’d started from the first, and Garrett continued, trying to keep her on an
even keel, though at times it seemed nearly impossible.

"There you go," he said
gruffly, touching his finger to her nose. "Warm and tucked in."

Her eyes opened. "I’m still
your girl, Daddy?"

Garrett pushed the hair from her
cheek, thankful that there were still these tender moments. He leaned down and
dropped a kiss on her smooth forehead. "You’ll always be my girl,
sweetheart."

"I’m sorry, Daddy, for not
listening today." Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. "I try to
be good, but I don’t seem to have the knack of it."

Garrett couldn’t help but smile,
recognizing Ruth’s words in that statement. "You just forget sometimes.
Let’s hope the knack will grow on you."

"I like the tire swing you
put up for me." She pressed her fingers into the soft pile of the blanket.
"And I’m glad you don’t make me wear dresses all the time."

"Honey, there’s nothing wrong
with dresses. All little girls should dress up from time to time. Your mom
loved to dress up."

"I know Daddy, but I don’t
always want to stay clean." Her small fingers gripped his. "One more
thing. I saw Albert sunning himself on a rock by the road and I was afraid he
would run away. When I saw that truck I was really scared. It felt like my feet
were stuck and I couldn’t move or anything." She drew a deep, heartfelt
sigh. "I always seem to get in trouble. I won’t touch the geese pen
anymore or Uncle Randy’s pigeon cage either. I’m sorry for being so bad, Daddy."

"You’re not bad,
sweetheart."

"Then why do you get so
mad?"

"I worry because I want to
keep you safe."

"Then you won’t send me
away?"

Garrett’s heart felt like it was
being squeezed. He sat down on the side of her bed and pulled her up into his
arms, covers and all. "I’ll never send you away. You’re mine," he
whispered fervently. "My little girl. Now go to sleep."

When Garrett straightened and
turned to leave, he saw Christie standing in the hallway. She wore a dark
T-shirt and light jeans and her feet were bare. He noticed her dark hair was
damp, tendrils clinging to the side of her neck. Caught off guard, he wondered
how soft her neck would be if he buried his lips there. Something warm and
sympathetic shone in her eyes. Garrett took a deep breath and walked across the
shadowed room to where Christie stood in the hallway. The least he could do was
say goodnight to his new employee. Carefully, he pulled his daughter’s bedroom
door half closed and walked toward Christie.

###

Christie knew she should have
moved on and given Garrett the private moment with his daughter. How tenderly
he’d placed Hannah in her bed, then smoothed the covers and stood back,
watching her. She had to wonder what went through his mind, his hard mouth
curved in a slight smile.

"I wonder if little girls
know how lucky they are to have their dads?" she asked with a smile.

"I’m the lucky one,"
Garrett said simply.

Christie swallowed. How could she
be envious of a father’s love for his child? "I wish I’d had a father like
you," she said softly. But her past could never be unwritten. "How
fortunate Judith must have felt to have you and Hannah in her life."

An almost painful expression
crossed Garrett’s face.

"I’m sorry," she said.
"Sorry for intruding. You have a right to privacy with your
daughter." She pushed her hands into her jeans pockets. "I just
happened to see you on my way to the kitchen. She looks sweet lying there. What
a unique bed."

Garrett smiled at her, and some of
her tension eased as he faced her in the hallway. "She saw a pumpkin coach
in a story book and insisted she needed one like it."

"You made the bed?"

"The headboard. I enjoy
working with wood and I’m good with my hands."

Christie’s thoughts raced as she
looked down at his big hands, the palms calloused. She’d seen how tenderly they
handled a little girl. She wondered how they would treat a woman. She wondered
about his life with her sister.

"Come into the living
room." Garrett led the way down the corridor. The ivory painted walls on
either side were hung with framed pictures of horses and racetracks.

"Are these your horses?"
She asked curiously.

As Garrett reached the open
doorway of the living room he paused and looked back. "Yes. I’ve been
fortunate in the last few years to have several winners." He indicated she
should precede him through the glass paneled wood doors into the living room.

The living room was definitely a
man’s room. Most of the furnishings were dark browns and deep mahogany, yet the
overhead lighting kept it from being dreary or too dark. Garrett moved around
the room, picking up Hannah’s dolls, which were scattered on the couch and
chairs. He deposited them in a small wooden box in one corner of the darkly
paneled room. A beautiful stone fireplace occupied an entire wall, the
mantelshelf holding an assortment of pictures. Family pictures.

"Take a seat, Christie."

She turned from the fireplace and
sat on a small blue and mauve loveseat, running her palm over the richly
embroidered fabric. Garrett sat opposite her in a large recliner, and behind
him Christie saw a glass enclosed wood gun case.

"Are those real guns?"
she asked, somewhat awed.

Garrett looked around behind him.
"Yes." Seeing the look on her face, he added, "I collect them.
They’re mostly for sport shooting."

"This room is
beautiful."

"Thanks. Let’s go over a few
things," he went on briskly. "First, you can use the phone any time
you need to make a call, in case there’s someone you’d like to get in touch
with."

Christie shoved a hand in her
jeans pocket as she cleared her throat. "Actually, I mentioned to Ruth I
do have some family."

"They may worry if they don’t
hear from you."

"No. For the most part I’m
footloose and fancy free." She knew her smile must look forced, but there
was no way she could talk normally about her family. From what he’d said about
Judith, she'd told him next to nothing about her life. Garrett wouldn’t
understand her screwed up past. At the best of times she even had trouble
putting it in proper perspective.

She dug in her pocket and pulled
out a piece of paper. Rising quickly, she handed him the paper, then resumed
her seat. "That’s the number for my boss. He works at the county office in
Ulster. He’ll vouch for me."

"Thanks. I’ll check it
out." He carefully folded the paper and stuffed it in his jeans pocket.
"So isn’t there someone in New York expecting to hear that you arrived
safely?"

Christie held perfectly still. As
a child she’d yearned for real family ties, but anything approaching normal
family life had died with her Aunt Rose, and then Ellen. "No."

"Christie." His voice
sounded concerned. "Your face is white. Is your head still bothering
you?"

She touched her forehead, feeling
its tenderness. "No." She couldn’t admit she felt sick, sick in her
heart, hurting from loneliness and dwelling on a past she could never make
right. Hadn’t three years of therapy taught her the tools to survival, to be
strong and walk past the hurt? She and Ellen had been fighters, but Ellen
hadn’t made it and nowadays she didn’t feel like much of a fighter.

"Actually, I’m not fine. I’m
still having trouble believing Judith is gone. Can’t you tell me something
about her?" she beseeched him, lifting her hands. "Please understand
my confusion. I feel like I’m missing someone I never even knew."

Garrett stood and walked across
the room away from her. He stopped beside the fireplace and fiddled with an
ornate iron poker. It struck Christie that he might be nervous.

"I’m sorry," Garrett
said. "What you’re asking is difficult." He paused, then said,
"Judith liked a good time. If a party was boring, she’d soon liven it up,
whether it was dancing or doing whiskey shots. She had very little inhibition.
People liked her. She was that type of person."

"She sounds a lot like my
sister Ellen," Christie said softly. "There are -- were -- three of
us."

"Hannah was pretty
traumatized when her mom died."

"Of course she would be.
H-how did it happen? She was so young."

A resigned expression crossed his
face. "It was a car accident. Hannah survived, but still suffers
flashbacks. She’s only just coming back to the happy kid she was before, but
it’s been a struggle and sometimes we have setbacks."

Christie’s heart went out to him.
"Poor Hannah. And you lost a wife."

 "We all lost." His
guarded expression said he wasn’t looking for sympathy. "You should also
know Hannah can be temperamental at times. If my daughter’s deliberately rude
to you, please let me know." Garrett pushed a hand through his hair.

Christie recalled Ruth saying he
was almost at wit’s end.

"Hannah is testing me. At
least that’s the psychologist’s theory."

Christie felt her respect for
Garrett go up another notch. "I think it’s important that children get
help." Christie clenched her jaw. "Many times people close their eyes
to problems."

"With you staying in the
house, Hannah may see your proximity as a sign of. . ." he paused, and the
silence felt suddenly very heavy.

"Are you saying Hannah may
see me as a rival for your attention?"

A hint of color touched his tanned
cheeks but his gaze remained level. "Yes. Not that there’s any reason for her
to think that, but yes."

Christie felt like she’d stepped
into a sticky situation. Slowly, she came to her feet. "Well, I certainly
won’t give her cause to see me as a threat, if that’s worrying you. And I won’t
be here that long anyway."

Garrett looked relieved.

"You know, I still think it
would be better if you told her who I am."

"I disagree for now. I think
it will upset her."

"I don’t want to cause
problems but eventually the truth will have to come out. Kids can be amazingly
resilient."

Garrett smiled grimly. "How
many children do you have, Christie?"

Heat came into her face.
"None. But I know children --"

"You don’t know my child, so
abide by my wishes."

Orders, she wanted to say, but bit
her lips instead. "All right."

Brimming with mixed emotions,
Christie murmured goodnight and left Garrett in the living room. She would work
at the farm, get to know Hannah, and then go on her way. Emotion raced through
Christie. She was an outsider who had no place in this family’s life other than
a temporary one. Garrett was putting up with her because he had to.

Christie went into the kitchen.
Opening cabinet doors she located the drinking glasses and poured herself a
glass of water. Rinsing the glass out, she placed it upside down on the dish
drainer. Giving Bo Peep a gentle rub under her chin, Christie opened the
kitchen door and went outside to sit on the step.

Night had fallen and the air felt
warm on her skin. Resting her head against the wood railing, she stared up at
the sky. To distract herself from the man she’d just left, Christie thought of
all the changes she’d made in her life. . .the bridges she’d burned. Christie
wished she could talk to Ellen about how her life had been turned around and
upended. Her career and schooling, once so important to her, now seemed a world
away. New York was as far removed from this farm as you could get. Whether she
was on a fool’s errand or not, as her brother-in-law Darrell had accused her,
only time would tell.

A flash of light shot across the
sky. Christie closed her eyes and made a wish. It had to be right, her coming
here. When she reopened her eyes, Christie saw the tail end of the star as it
faded into tiny bursts of light. Her faith in her decision grew. She’d made the
right choice in coming to Kentucky.

"I hope you made a
wish," remarked a deep voice.

Christie rose to her feet, staring
at the shadowy figure just beyond the light at the base of the stairs.
"Garrett!"

"Wrong." The man moved
closer and she saw his teasing smile. It wasn’t Garrett at all, but a similarly
tall, broad shouldered male. . .dressed in a dark colored police uniform and
wide brimmed hat. At the back of her mind came the thought that Garrett would
look exactly like this man if he smiled in such a roguish manner. An
interesting, wide smile that touched his eyes.