The Real Father (Twins) (Harlequin Superromance No. 927) (15 page)

“And look, don't worry about that father thing,”
he said casually. “Coach Riser doesn't really stink, I guess. Although, like I said, all dads are a royal pain in the butt.”

 

W
ITH AN EXHAUSTED
sense of satisfaction, Molly packed the earth down around the last of the abelia she had chosen as a border plant for the park pavilion.

Beau's pavilion was finally finished—and it was huge. It had taken fifty abelias to surround it. The plants weren't very impressive right now, just a thick, glossy ribbon of green around the lovely white pavilion. But just wait until June—the shrubs would be covered in a soft blanket of small white flowers. By then the azaleas, which always occupied center stage in spring, would have faded, and the abelia would take the spotlight.

Not that she would be here to see it. She and Liza would be long gone by then, back in Atlanta, designing the other gardens, other parks. But summer would come to Demery whether Molly was here or not. The abelia would bloom according to the dictates of the seasons, not the desires of her heart.

Though it was almost six, time to go home, she knelt there at the last plant, too tired to stand. As she always did when she was unhappy, she had worked herself to death these past few days. She had forced thoughts of Jackson out of her mind, replacing them with thoughts of site measurements and grids and sketches, brick walkways, iron fences, truck schedules, fertilizer formulas and a thousand wholesale orders. She had planted, transplanted,
pinched and pruned, until both the Everspring garden and the city park had begun to take on their final shape.

But now, with the bulk of the work done, it was harder to keep from thinking about him. Hard not to remember his kisses and his hands. Hard not to lament what a fool she had been, choosing that small purple orchid at the last, disastrous moment.

It had taken her a ridiculously long time to figure out what she had done wrong. Jackson had already sped off in his taxi, rushing to make his plane. And she was in his purring Thunderbird, heading back toward Everspring with the orchid propped beside her on the passenger seat. It was a spunky little plant, giving off perfume enough to fill the whole car.

It was the scent that finally made her understand. Whenever their date called for formality, Beau had always given her an orchid corsage. Always. The orchid scent was the perfume she associated with Beau to this day.

And Jackson knew it.

Subconsciously, at that critical moment in the nursery, she had been thinking of Beau. Jackson knew that, too.

It had been stupid of her, and inadvertently insulting. Somehow she had to make Jackson forgive her. She needed to make him understand. She had for so long associated sex, love and romance all with Beau—it would take a while to reroute such a deeply ingrained emotional pattern.

But she was ready to begin. She was ready to try.
When Jackson had touched her that day, it was the first time she had ever felt true, overwhelming desire for anyone but Beau. It was the first time she hadn't wanted to pull away, to retreat into her memories.

It was a beginning. Could Jackson settle for that, at least for now?

But, deep in her heart, she knew he wouldn't. Jackson had never been the kind of man who settled. And that was why she had been burying herself in work, pruning thoughts of him from her mind while she pruned dead canes from the glorious Everspring roses.

Now, though, she had to go home. She needed to get dinner for Liza, and probably for Tommy, too, if Annie hadn't picked him up already. Dinnertime was like the summer—it arrived on its own schedule, not yours.

Suddenly she felt the ground vibrate under her knees as someone came running toward her. Who was it? Was there some new problem? Welcoming the diversion from her harried thoughts, she rose quickly, pulling off her gloves.

It was Jackson, his long runner's legs easily covering the distance between them. When he reached her he wasn't even slightly breathless.

“Molly,” he said without preamble. “Have you seen Liza or Tommy? Are they with you?”

Molly froze, her glove half on and half off. “No,” she said, staying calm as best she could. Tommy had probably just forgotten to tell his mother where he was going. “They're back at the
plantation. Tommy came over to play, and Lavinia is watching both of them.”

She caught the dark flicker in Jackson's eyes, and like a fire spreading, it ignited a small panic in her own body. “What's wrong? Have you already been to Everspring? Doesn't Lavinia know where they are?”

“I'm sure they're fine.” He took her hand in his, holding it hard. “But apparently they've wandered off. They were playing by the river, and they were supposed to tell her if they wanted to go anywhere else. But when she went to look for them they were gone.”

Molly pulled her hand away and used it to tear off her other glove. Tossing both of them onto the ground, she began to walk swiftly toward his Thunderbird. He kept pace easily, accepting without question that she would go with him and not in her own car.

“We'll find them, M.”

“Of course we will. Kids do things like this,” she said, and it was clear, even to her, that she was trying to reassure herself. “They just got carried away playing some game. When Liza is pretending she's on Planet Cuspian, she forgets everything else.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “I'm sure that's it,” he said evenly.

But when he climbed in beside her and flicked the key quickly into the ignition, she saw that tension still tightened the edge of his jaw.

“You're worried,” she said, and, though she
hadn't intended it, the sentence came out like an accusation. She had expected him to tell her she was overreacting again. Instead, his concern seemed to say just the opposite. “Why? Don't you think I'm right? Don't you think they've probably just lost track of the time?”

“Probably,” he said neutrally. He glanced over at her, as if deciding how much to say. “I'm not really worried, M. I'm just a little concerned. This isn't like Tommy.”

“It isn't?” She stared at him, surprised. “I would have thought he did things like this all the time. He seems so—” What was the right word? “Willful.”

“He is willful. Very.” Jackson kept his eyes on the road. “But he's not cruel. That's what makes me wonder. He knows this would distress his mother, and he loves her too much to do that deliberately. Besides, he knew she was coming at six, and he's always eager to see her. With her working such long hours, they don't get enough time together as it is.”

She tried to reconcile his description with the cocky little boy she'd seen—but it was difficult. “No one would guess that, just judging from his attitude. You obviously understand Tommy pretty well.”

“Having attitude and having common sense are not mutually exclusive,” he observed dryly. “Tommy talks tough, but he knows where the boundaries are.”

He sounded so sure. It was hard to doubt the accuracy of his analysis. But if Tommy wouldn't
worry his mother deliberately… What scenario did that leave? She tried to swallow an ever ballooning sense of panic.

“All right,” she said, struggling for calm. “So what do you think has happened?”

“I don't know.” Jackson was driving safely, but very fast. His hands were gripping the wheel hard, his knuckles and fingertips pale against the leather. “We've already called their friends. Annie and Lavinia are looking around Everspring. Ross may be there by now, too.”

What did that leave for them? Molly searched her mind, but came up with nothing. Liza didn't do things like this. Not ever.

“Maybe…” Jackson narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “What about Cuspian? You said Liza gets caught up in her Planet Cuspian games. Tell me about the planet. What does it look like? What games does she play?”

Molly didn't really understand what he was getting at, but she didn't waste time with questions. She began to describe the planet, its three golden moons, its trees with rainbow-colored leaves. Its Mudbluff marshes and its Willowsong mountains. And, of course, the newest addition, the ice caves in which poor King Willowsong was currently trapped.

Jackson listened attentively, his face revealing nothing until she began to describe the ice caves. When she got to the part about Tommy's science project, about how fascinated the boy had seemed by the whole ice cave phenomenon, Jackson glanced over at her, his face suddenly alert.

“Of course.” He thumped at the steering wheel once, and immediately began to guide the car into a sharp left turn. “It's worth a try.”

“What?”

“There's a small cave carved into the bluff not far from where they were playing. The little fool just might have been dumb enough to take her there.”

“A cave?” The word sounded dark and fearful, a labyrinth of danger and desolation. Molly made fists in her lap. “Surely he wouldn't take her into a cave.”

Without taking his eyes from the road, Jackson put out his hand and grazed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “It's just a little cave, M. Just a little hollow in the bluff. They couldn't really get lost in there.”

She tried to take comfort from that. But if it was just a little cave, if they couldn't get lost in it…

Then why hadn't they come home?

T
HOUGH
J
ACKSON DIDN'T
waste a second, driving with a ferocious concentration and efficiency, it still took them almost half an hour to reach the crook in the river.

By then it was nearly six-thirty. Thanking heaven for whoever invented daylight savings time, Molly noted gratefully that the sun was only now beginning to sink. The clouds in the west had turned a color that she would always think of as Cuspian gold.

Shock and fear made the next few minutes rather a blur.

Thinking back on it all later, Molly would only hazily remember getting out of the car, or following Jackson across the bluff to where he thought the cave might be. It had been years since he'd played there, and the bluff was notched with a dozen potential “caves.” She knew that she had stood there, calling Liza's name, while Jackson roamed farther downriver, calling Tommy, but she didn't really remember it. She had only a fuzzy recollection of the cool evening wind blowing across her face, and being afraid that it might blow away the sound of her voice.

But mostly all those moments were like a half-remembered dream. The first thing she would clearly recall was the small, sweet sound of Liza's voice.

“Mommy?” The sound was too faint for Molly's conscious mind to be absolutely sure it was Liza. It could have been a bird. Or the wind. But Molly's body knew instinctively. At the reedy sound of those two syllables, Molly's whole being felt washed with an incredible gush of relief.

“Liza!”

“Mommy? We're down here.”

She called Jackson, and obviously he could tell from the sound of her cry that she had found them. As he came loping back, his face mirrored the same flooding release that she felt.

“Both of them?” he asked as they ran.

“I don't know,” she said. “I heard Liza, but I don't know.”

Together they picked their way down the slope toward the little voice, Molly calling encouragement every step of the way, and Liza calling back, guiding them to the depression in the cliff wall where she waited for them to find her.

Molly tried not to ask herself why Liza didn't come, didn't run to show herself, to meet them, to help them find the way. It was enough that Liza's voice, though clearly frightened, sounded strong and normal. That was enough for now.

Finally they saw her. Liza sat cross-legged in the grass, just outside the cave entrance. She sat so close to Tommy that her knee was touching his shoulder. He seemed to be sleeping. His face was dirty and
bruised, and his leg was tilted at a weird and terrible angle.

Liza leaned forward, her hands outstretched, her whole body straining to her mother, but she didn't leave her spot at Tommy's side.

“Mommy!” she cried, tears of relief flowing freely now, now that the grown-ups were here, and she didn't need to be quite so strong anymore.

Jackson ran faster than Molly ever could, again the eighteen-year-old sprinting champion he had once been. He reached the children first, and he gathered Liza in his arms even while he bent toward Tommy.

“Stewball ran home, but I promised Tommy I wouldn't leave him,” Liza said, choking now on the sobs that seemed to come faster than she could absorb them into her breathing. “I think he was scared to be alone. But I knew you would come.” She lifted her drenched face to Jackson with a reverent adoration. “I knew you would find us.”

Jackson pressed the little girl against his chest tightly. “Of course we would find you, sweetheart,” he said huskily. “You can always count on that. Can you tell me what happened, honey? Can you tell me what's the matter with Tommy?”

Molly had finally reached them. Now that Jackson had arrived to stand guard over Tommy, Liza was free to throw herself desperately into her mother's embrace. And from the safety of that spot, she answered Jackson's question.

“We were having a pretend fight on the cliff,” she said. “We were fighting Mudbluffs. But Tommy
slipped, and he fell down here by the cave. I'm pretty sure his leg is broken. I think it hurt a lot, because a little while ago he passed out.”

“But he didn't pass out right when he fell? He was talking for a while after that?” Molly marveled at how calm Jackson sounded. She watched, her heart in a slow stall, as his gentle hands moved over the little boy while he talked.

“Yes, he was talking. He said his leg hurt really bad.”

Now that she was calm enough to focus clearly, Molly could see that Tommy's chest rose and fell with a reassuring regularity. Broken, then—but alive. She offered a short, intense sentence of gratitude to Tommy's guardian angel.

“Why didn't you come to get someone, honey?” Molly stroked her daughter's tangled hair over and over, as if she had to convince herself that Liza was real. “Don't you know the way back to Everspring from here?”

“I know the way,” Liza said, still allowing the pent-up tears to fall unchecked down her stained cheeks. “At least I'm pretty sure I do. But Tommy was afraid. He didn't want me to leave him alone. He made me promise.”

She had finally pulled herself together a little. She wiped her nose bravely. “I knew I would have to go get help, if you didn't find us,” she said. “But I was going to wait a little bit, in case he woke up and got scared. I was going to wait until the sun was actually touching the trees.”

They stopped talking then, and watched while
Jackson lifted Tommy into his strong arms. They held their breath, as if Jackson needed complete silence for such a delicate operation.

Though Jackson was infinitely tender, the little boy roused at the painful movement. He winced as his leg shifted, but then he saw Jackson, and he smiled a dirty, blissful smile.

“I guess you really are King Willowsong,” he said groggily, letting his head fall limply against Jackson's chest. “She told me you would come.”

 

“G
O HOME
, J
ACKSON
. It's late. Tommy's fine. I'm fine. Go home.”

Jackson looked up at Annie, who stood in the doorway of her son's room, scowling at him, with one hand cocked on her hip for emphasis.

He didn't rise from his seat on the edge of Tommy's bed. He merely gave her a smile that said she didn't scare him. She talked tough, just like Tommy, but Jackson knew that the events of this afternoon had terrified her. Here it was almost nine o'clock, and she still hadn't taken off her orange Low Country Hardware apron. He guessed she'd probably sleep in it. She'd probably sleep in here, on the chair. She had no time for anything but Tommy tonight.

But what a trouper she was! At the hospital, he had offered to stand by while the doctor set Tommy's leg—he remembered from his own reckless youth that bone setting wasn't pretty—but Annie had insisted on doing it. She had exited the emergency room looking a rather strange shade of
green, but she hadn't said a single word about it. She'd even waved away a cup of water, as if only a sissy would need such a thing.

Yeah, there were guts to spare in this family. Jackson looked back at Tommy, who was a little pale—just a couple of shades warmer than his off-white cast—but otherwise remarkably unscathed.

“So I guess the dragon is kicking me out,” Jackson said. “You okay? You need anything?”

Tommy grinned at him. He pulled a sad puppy-dog face. “Well, now that my leg is broken in
three
places, and I can't get outside, or walk or
anything
—” he blinked in tragic innocence “—all I have is my hands. I guess I could play video games or something. If only I had any good ones…”

Jackson chuckled. “Which ones do you want?”

Tommy abandoned the pitiful invalid routine immediately, and sat up straight, his face eager. “How about Vampire Blaster? Or Blood and Guts 3-D? Of course, I'd need that new video system to play it—”

Jackson started to nod, but Annie moved in and pinched the back of his neck threateningly. “Do it,” she rasped, “and you die.”

“Ow.” But Annie didn't let up, and finally Jackson shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, champ. The dragon has spoken.”

“Jeez.” Tommy flopped back in disgusted defeat. “What a loser. Afraid of a girl!”

“I'm not a girl, Thomas Cheatwood. I'm your mother. And Jackson is smart to be afraid of me.
You
would be smart to be afraid of me. If you ever pull another stunt like the one this afternoon, I'll—”
She frowned fiercely, obviously trying to think of something bad enough. “If you ever scare me like that again, I'll—”

And then to Jackson's surprise, Annie's eyes were suddenly shining. He stared, unable to remember ever seeing Annie in tears before, not even at the worst moments of her life. She obviously hated it. She made a strangled, furious sound, waved her arm over the two of them in a universal sign of profound frustration, and then stalked out of the room.

The two males exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. Patting Tommy's head in a silent goodbye, Jackson followed Annie out to the small living room.

She had her back to him. “Go home, Jackson,” she said grimly. “I want you gone and him asleep so I can fall apart in privacy.”

“I'm leaving,” Jackson said softly. “But promise me you'll call if you decide you need anything.”

She nodded without turning around. “Now go.”

He went. But at the door he stopped. “Anything,” he repeated. “Promise me, Annie. Call if you need anything.”

Finally she looked at him. Her eyes, her brave brown eyes, were now completely dry. And in them he read the same lonely fear and the same stubborn pride he had seen there that terrible day ten years ago, when she had come to him to announce that she was pregnant.

“I need you to go,” she said. And so, once again, he went.

 

M
OLLY SAT
at the kitchen table with Liza, trying to get her interested in drawing a picture of a Cuspian castle. She had brought out markers in all the colors of the rainbow—and about a hundred more—to tempt her. She had even brought out the glitter. But for the first time in her life Liza simply wasn't in the mood.

“Why can't we call Tommy's house?” she had asked this question four times already. That was unlike Liza, too. She was never the type to whine and beg once she had received an answer. “I just want to know if he's okay.”

“Honey, they probably aren't even home yet. It takes forever in the emergency room.” Molly didn't add that she, too, was fighting the urge to call. It was horrible not knowing. “And if they are home, they probably have a million things to do, getting him settled. We mustn't pester them.”

With a heavy sigh, Liza left the table and moved to the couch. In the tiny carriage house, the living room and the dining room were really the same space, so it was more a comment than a real transition. She curled up on one edge, her nightgown tucked up under her feet, her head resting against the arm of the couch.

Her face was so empty and sad that Molly could hardly bear to look at her.

“Jackson will call,” Molly said, hoping it was true.

But would he? Molly and Liza weren't really family, in spite of Liza's special friendship with Tommy. And in spite of any feelings that Molly
might be discovering for Jackson himself. Even in spite of any steamy episodes under the nursery sprinklers.

In reality, they were just visitors—here today and gone next month. The hired help, in brutal fact. They had no legitimate role in this drama.

Still. Somehow she had an irrational faith that Jackson would sense Liza's misery. And that he would not abandon her.

“As soon as he has a minute, I promise you Jackson will call.”

Liza perked up slightly at that, obviously accepting her mother's promise as gospel. She ate a little—a very little—of the casserole Molly had prepared, and then she settled down with a book, though she gave the phone a dirty look every five minutes or so just for good measure.

When, at nearly ten o'clock, footsteps sounded on the stairs, Liza bounded off the couch and flung herself toward the door with such excitement that Molly could only watch and hope that it actually was Jackson.

It was.

“Jackson!” Liza's happiness transformed her. “I knew you'd come.”

Molly cringed inwardly to hear that sentence again so soon. It implied a world of great need and blind faith. She stood in the kitchenette, a dish towel in her hand, and watched as Jackson scooped Liza up in his arms for a bear hug.

The picture tugged at her heart. Had she made a mistake, staying at Everspring this long? She had
realized she was risking her own heart—and she had been willing to take that risk. But why hadn't she seen that Liza's heart was in jeopardy, too? She had known for months now that Liza longed for a daddy. Why hadn't she anticipated that Jackson Forrest would look like the perfect candidate?

She hoped he didn't hear all the unspoken expectations that lay behind that short, heartfelt sentence. She jumped in, trying to mask the moment. “Liza has been worried sick about Tommy,” she explained. “We've been hoping to get news.”

“He's fine.” Putting Liza down, Jackson let her lead him by the hand toward the sofa. “His leg was broken in three places, but he has already figured how to play it for maximum sympathy. When I left, he was trying to wheedle a new video game out of me.”

Liza nodded knowingly. “Vampire Blaster, I bet. He wants that really bad. Junior Caldwell has it. His dad gave it to him, and he's always bragging about it.”

“That's the one,” Jackson agreed. “But Tommy's mom says no, so I guess that's that.” He looked at his watch. “Have you been waiting up to hear about Tommy? I'll bet it's past your bedtime.”

Liza looked worried. She glanced toward her mother anxiously. “Yes, but I can't go to bed, not now that you've come. I have a lot more questions about Tommy.”