STARTING OVER (30 page)

She began pacing back and forth in the small room, trying to explain the details to Rusty as she sorted it all out in her own mind. "Doug wasn't the least bit interested in Shanna. He didn't even ask about the baby at all until I mentioned her. Then he made no effort to hold her or even look at her. I began to wonder how miserable it would be for a child to grow up with a father who couldn't care less about her. And from everything he said, I didn't see any hope that his attitude toward her would change.

"But still I would have given him a few months to get used to the idea before I completely gave up on him enjoying fatherhood. It wasn't until I remembered hearing that Vicki had been with Doug in Jamaica when he was arrested. That set off a series of memories that I suppose I had pushed out of my mind when I thought he was dead. I never realized how self-centered and
shallow he was. He was running around with Vicki for months. And he lied to me. I would never be able to trust him again.

"When I insisted that he tell me the truth about Vicki and the helicopter crash, he admitted everything, including that he loved her and wanted to be with her."

Rusty reached out and caught her wrist, halting her nervous movement and pulling her closer. "He's crazy. I can't believe any sane man would give you up for love or money."

"You might change your mind about that when you reach your mid-life crisis. I'll be forty-seven when you're forty, and a wrinkle-free secretary on a beach in Jamaica and a million dollars might look pretty good to you then."

He folded his arms around her, crushing her against his chest. "Don't you believe it. I think the term 'mid-life crisis' was invented by someone who wanted an excuse to play around. I love you, Katie. You excite me and you fascinate me. You're all the woman I could ever want."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on as if she were afraid he might disappear if she let go. "I love you, Rusty. But I don't want you to feel tied down. I'm afraid you'll get bored living in this little town and flying to the same old rigs every day."

"No, I won't, because every night I'll be going home to you," he murmured, rubbing his cheek against the silkiness of her hair, "and Shanna . . . and Rusty, Jr.... and—"

"Hey, wait a minute." Kate laughed. "It sounds like your nickname is about to change from Traveling Man to Family Man."

Rusty smiled, so happy he felt as if his heart were about to burst. "You won't hear any objections from me," he murmured as his lips captured hers in a kiss that promised her happiness that would last forever.

Epilogue

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Daddy, happy birthday to you."

The four voices chimed together a little unharmoniously but with great vigor.

"Now
blow out your candles, Dad." The slender eleven-year-old girl clapped her hands together and laughed. "We had to buy two boxes!"

"Thanks a lot, Shanna, for pointing that out. If I try to blow out forty candles, I'll get a hernia," Rusty protested.

Kate, who was standing behind him, squeezed his shoulders and teased, "What's the matter? Getting old?"

"Here," he said, handing the knife to his daughter. "Would you cut some cake for your brothers while I have a talk with your mother? If she's not sitting right here . . ." he indicated his lap ". . . in the next thirty seconds, I'm going to go through a mid-life crisis."

Kate obediently plopped onto his lap. But as she looked into his twinkling eyes, a current passed between them that was intensely serious.

I told you not to worry, his gaze told her. I love you more now than ever.

Her eyes had long ago lost their wary, fearful look that he might change his mind and leave. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on his lips. "That's for now." Her hand, out of sight of the children, slid under his shirt and tickled across the sensitive skin just above his belt. "And that's for later."

"How much later?" he whispered.

"As soon as the kids go outside to feed the animals."

"In that case . . ." he lifted her out of his lap and set her on her feet ". . . let's get this party under way. Those animals are probably getting pretty hungry out there."

"Can we go riding today, Dad?" nine-year-old Steven asked as he took a huge bite of cake.

"Yes, Daddy, can we?" five-year-old Sam echoed. "Can I take a piece of cake to Rebel? He's getting old, too."

Rusty smiled at his sons and his daughter, and his heart was overflowing with pride. He was quite sure no other man in the history of time had had such a perfect family.

"Sure, take him a big piece. And sing 'Happy Birthday' to him, too. We'll go riding later this afternoon when the weather gets cooler."

After the children had finished their cake and had gone to get their presents for their father, Kate said, "I got a letter from Doug today."

"Is he still living in California?"

"Yes. He and his new wife, Mimi, are trying to write screenplays. With his imagination, he should be pretty good at it." Kate took the dirty plates into the kitchen, then sat down next to Rusty. "I know what he did was wrong, but I'm glad he didn't have to spend any time in jail for the stunt he pulled. I suppose the FAA didn't feel it was worth it to salvage the helicopter to check the engine."

"Well, I won't go so far as to say I'm glad he wasn't punished, but at least he stuck by his part of the bargain and has stayed out of our lives. The only honorable thing he ever did was to let me adopt Shanna," Rusty commented.

Shanna was aware that Doug Cramer was her biological father, but, even though she never saw him or had any contact with him, she didn't seem to mind. Her life was filled with love that left no room for anger or hurt.

"If it hadn't been for Doug's mid-life crisis, you and I never would have met," Kate reminded Rusty.

"And I'd probably still be single, wandering around the world, looking for love....."

"And greener pastures."

"Hey, I've got the best of both worlds right here. The business keeps my head in the clouds, but my family keeps my feet firmly planted on the ground."

"The kids are back with your presents. I'll give you a clue about Sam's. It had to have holes punched in the top of the box so whatever's inside could get air."

Rusty chuckled. "Maybe I'd better open that one on the patio."

"Good idea."

"And then I'm going to come back inside and open the present Mommy has for me . . . in the bedroom."

Kate watched as the kids thrust their gifts at him,
then pressed close around him as he opened them, one at a time, treating each as if it were the most special gift ever. He was a wonderful father, patient and gentle.

And he was a terrific husband. After eleven years, Kate had no complaints. She was happier than she had ever imagined was possible. The wishing well had worked at last, granting her
her wish for a man who would love her forever. She no longer worried that each flight would be his last or that he might get the urge to load the pickup truck and move on.

He gathered his gifts, including the gecko lizard from Sam, and shooed the kids toward the barn.

"Shanna, keep an eye on Sam, please," Kate asked.

"Sure, Mom.
I will. He likes to watch the baby chickens."

"Be sure the horses have plenty of water," Rusty called. "Mommy and I will be out there later." He turned to Kate and gave her a slow, sexy wink.
"Much later."

"You had better put your gecko in a cage, or you might have to chase him down later."

"How can I think about my gecko when my wife still hasn't given me my present?"

"I have, too. Remember the big camper sitting in the driveway waiting to take us all to see those new horizons on our vacation?"

"Oh, that," he said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "I had something a little more personal in mind. I'm getting older, you know. So we have to take advantage of my hormones while they're still active."

"Then let's go." She took his hand and flashed him a seductive look. "Let's not waste another minute. I wouldn't want your hormones to be unhappy."

He pulled Kate into his arms and pressed a kiss on her lips that stole her breath away. Even after all those years, he still had the power to curl her toes at his slightest touch.

"There are
still sparks and shooting stars," he whispered in her ear.

And Kate wholeheartedly agreed.

KATHY CLARK lives with her husband, two Yorkies and one German Shepherd just outside of Austin, Texas. In addition to writing and reading, she loves travelling, especially to anywhere with a beach, sculpting and going to movies. Kathy is currently working on
Cries in the Night
, the second book in her Denver After Dark suspense series and
BRB
the second book in her young adult time travel series, written with her husband under the pen name of Bob Kat. She is an active member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.  She tries to get her books to reflect the essence of her happy and exciting life—love, laughter, and lots of surprises.

http://
www.NightWriter93.com

http://
www.CUL8Rseries.com

If you enjoyed
Starting Over
,
don’t miss Kathy Clark’s (also writing as Bob Kat) latest novels.  Please enjoy the following excerpts.

AFTER MIDNIGHT

A Suspense Novel

By Kathy Clark

Published November, 2012

CHAPTER 1

PLAYBOY
Magazine once called Colfax “
the longest, wickedest street in America
”.  But to anyone who knew it, that’s what made it interesting.

Colfax had originally been the main road through Denver and stretched from the eastern plains to the Rocky Mountain foothills.  In the shadow of the spectacular state capitol’s golden dome, businesses thrived, some legitimate, but most not.  Populated by prostitutes, dealers, artists and certifiable crazies, several blocks were part of District 6, fondly known as District Shit because of its concentration of degenerates and crime.

For the last five years Sam Morgan had called that section of Colfax Home.  Not as a resident but as a police officer on the night shift.  The clock started at 11 p.m., but the fun didn’t begin until after midnight.  After the Phantom had left the Opera.  After the Black Crowes had flown the Fillmore.  And after someone had the last laugh at Comedy Works.   As the entertainment venues emptied, the streets and the bars filled, mixing yuppies, coeds and players.  LoDo, the rejuvenated Lower Downtown area with its cozy sports bars and upscale clubs attracted the cream.  Colfax welcomed the rest without bias or prejudice.  You didn’t have to have a job or money or nice clothes or even shoes to fit in.  Especially on a warm summer night like tonight.

Sam made his usual loops through the area, passing through neighborhoods of stately mansions that struggled to retain their dignity just blocks from low income housing and run-down apartment buildings.  With the windows down on the patrol car, Sam could stop and chat with the local kids or call out to a dealer he’d busted a half dozen times in the past.  He knew them and they knew him.  It was an oddly effective way to be visible without being aggressive.

Music, laughter and streams of conversation flowed into the car as he drove along, competing with the constant chatter on the police band radio.  It was starting out like a typical Saturday night, with one exception.

Sam slid a sideways glance at the man sitting in the passenger’s seat. 
Ridealongs could be a blessing or a curse.  Most cops dreaded having strangers tag along.  Other than the challenge of dealing with an unknown personality…dull, dumb, chatty or flirtatious that bordered on stalking…there was the possibility of added danger, both to the ridealong and the cop.  In a crisis, the last thing a cop wanted was to have another civilian in the mix. 

But Sam didn’t mind.  With only one officer per patrol car, having someone to talk to on quiet nights made the time pass more quickly. 
Usually. 

Oh, the guy had asked all the normal questions.  “How long have you been a cop?”  “Is this what you always wanted to be?”  “What kind of gun do you carry?”   “Have you ever shot anyone?”  Then the conversation ended.  Sam had tried to make small talk, but after the first hour, he gave up and, at times, almost forgot he had a passenger.  Truth was…his passenger was completely forgettable.

Average height, average weight, short reddish-blond hair, the man was so unremarkable that Sam, even with his keen observational skills, would have had trouble picking the man out of a crowd of two.  Sam slid a sideways glance at the man and mentally noted…gray Broncos hoodie, jeans that were faded by age, not fashion and a green camouflage t-shirt.  Blue eyes, short, chewed nails, holes in his earlobes indicating he had, at some point, worn ear metal.  Completely nondescript, almost like he was trying to be invisible.