Wish on the Moon (12 page)

Laura read the unspoken message. Don't leave
me alone with him. Laura swallowed, suddenly at a loss.

"I'll go to the store alone if you want to
stay with your dad and Mandy," Mitch suggested easily.

Laura didn't know if he was trying to keep
her away from the business or if he was being sensitive to Mandy's
needs. It didn't matter. Her daughter came first. "That'll work for
today." She hugged Mandy. "While Grandpa rests, you and I can
explore the treehouse."

"Super!"

When Ray frowned, his heavy brows steepled.
"You be careful with her, Laura. The gardener checks it but..."

"I won't let anything happen to her," Laura
said firmly, then wished she hadn't been so abrupt. She should be
glad he was taking an interest in his granddaughter. She wished she
could stop feeling defensive around him.

A few minutes later, Laura helped Nora make
up the sofa bed while Mandy fluffed pillows in the bedroom. Nora
tucked in the corner of the sheet. "Don't feel bad Ray wants
Mitch's help. Man to man he feels more...easy."

"He's pushing me away."

Nora looked as if she wanted to say
something.

Laura flipped the sheet under the mattress.
"You can be honest with me. I need all the help I can get with
Dad."

"He doesn't know how to act with you any more
than you know how to act with him. Mitch and Carey are the same
way. That's why Carey hasn't been around when Mitch is here."

Laura shook her head ruefully. "I wish life
had a road map."

Nora moved to the foot of the bed to fold it
away. "Give yourself time. You've only been here a week."

And in that week, Laura already thought of
Nora as a friend, the older woman she had lacked in her life. "I
only have five more."

"You're a determined young woman. Ray's not
as crusty as he makes out to be. You'll find a way."

Nora's words rang in Laura's ears throughout
lunch. She could see her dad's fatigue, and conversation was
minimal. Mitch had been quiet and keeping his distance the last few
days so there was no help from that quarter. By the end of the
meal, Laura needed to escape the confines of walls. She invited
Mandy to go with her to the treehouse, but her daughter wanted to
help Nora make a low calorie dessert for supper first. Ray retired
to his room with Mitch so Laura grabbed her coat and headed for the
back yard.

The late October wind tossing her hair, the
sunlight on her face, gave Laura the sense of freedom she'd left
back in Independence. Without conscious thought, she headed for the
rose garden and the white marble bench where she and her mother
used to sit. Looking into the woods beyond, she remembered the
stories of the enchanted forest her mother had woven for her.
Beautiful stories with happily-ever-afters and love and hope. Laura
could almost hear her mother's voice, the vitality it carried, the
crooning love. Why had she died so young? It had been a long time
since Laura had asked that question. About her mother. About Doug.
The two people who had loved her had left her. Or were they taken
away? It didn't matter. They were gone.

Tears spilled from Laura's eyes and ran down
her cheeks. Both had given her joy, both had filled her life with
love. After her mother died, her father hadn't been easy to love.
Unbidden, Laura remembered that night in his study six years
ago.

CHAPTER SIX

Laura had come home from school, expecting
that Christmas break to be the happiest of her life. Instead, her
fiance had told her Ray Applegate had tried to buy him off.

Betrayal stabbing her heart, she'd confronted
her father in his study. "Doug says you offered him twenty thousand
dollars to get out of my life! Is that true?"

The deafening silence in the oak-paneled room
answered more effectively than words. Tears pricked in her eyes.
"Daddy, how could you?"

"I won't let you marry him, Laura. He's a bum
with no future. A painter...with a ponytail and beard." Ray
Applegate rose to his feet and stood behind his massive desk like a
sea captain facing a mutinous member of his crew.

All Laura saw was her father trying to
destroy her dreams. She moved closer to him, facing him head-on,
damning the barriers between them. "Doug's a graphic artist too.
They make a good income."

Her father shook his head. "He only wants to
marry you to get the family money. Once you're married, he won't
work a day. Mark my words."

Why couldn't her father see the obvious? That
she loved Doug and he loved her. For years she'd longed for the
kind of bond she was experiencing with Doug, for someone to love
her so completely. As young as sixteen, she'd wished on the moon
for that one person who would love her forever. Why couldn't her
father accept what she wanted from life? Why couldn't he accept her
and love her?

Her fingernails cut into her palms. She had
to convince him she knew what was best for herself. "I love him and
he loves me. He proved it when he didn't accept your check."

"He proved nothing of the kind. The boy's
just waiting for the bigger chance. He's using you."

Tears rolled down Laura's cheeks. "If Mom
were here, she'd understand. She'd like Doug."

Ray's face flushed red. "I won't let you live
the same capricious life she did. It killed her."

Laura's hands went out in a pleading gesture.
"An icy road killed her. Not her acting. Not her singing. Why can't
you let me live my own life like she did?"

"You are not going to make a stupid
mistake."

Her chin lifted defiantly. "You can't stop
me. I'm twenty. I don't need your consent."

Ray's arms dropped to his sides and he
clenched his fists. "You want a partnership with me, don't
you?"

He knew she did. She'd wanted to work beside
him in the jewelry business since she was four and had held her
first diamond in her hand. "Of course, I do. I've been studying the
past two years so I can repair jewelry, be an expert on the quality
of gems, settings. When my apprenticeship in Philadelphia is
finished--"

"You marry that boy and there is no
partnership. There will be no job. You can have either a
partnership with me, marriage when you're mature enough to handle
it, and enough money to put your children through college and leave
you set for life, or an uncertain marriage to someone too immature
to know what love is."

She couldn't believe her ears or her father's
cruelty. "If I marry Doug, you'll disown me?"

"That's right."

She remembered her mother's death and the way
her father had closed off his emotions. She remembered him snapping
orders rather than making an effort to understand. She remembered
his censure when she started to bring home C's instead of A's. She
remembered how he'd become more and more strict to try to control
her and how she'd defied him even more. She remembered wanting to
enter this room to talk to him, but being afraid to do so. She
remembered all the trouble she'd caused because she wanted his
attention and some proof he loved her, not rules and regulations,
but caring and love.

Then she thought about Doug--the affection he
wasn't afraid to show, his generosity with his time, his love that
had no strings. She didn't want to lose her father. Losing one
parent had been difficult enough. But she couldn't give up Doug.
She loved him too much. And she desperately wanted the future
they'd planned.

"What's your decision, Laura?"

Her father's attitude was unbending. He was
giving her no choice. Her anger dissipated and she was left with a
hollow happiness because her father wouldn't be part of her life.
She said softly, "I'm marrying Doug."

Hoping her father would stop her, she turned
toward the door. But he didn't call her back and he didn't follow
her. He let her walk out of his study and out of his life.

A sparrow landed on one of the rose bushes
and brought Laura back to the present. That scene had played six
years ago. What could she do now? How could she prove to her dad
she was worthy of his love? That question startled her and brought
fresh tears. After all these years, she still felt she had to prove
something. The pain in her chest bowed her head.

***

Leaves covered the brick path, muffling
Mitch's footsteps. Laura was sitting sideways on the cold bench,
her chin almost in her lap. She was lost in thought, unaware of his
approach. When she brushed her hand across her cheek, he thought
the breeze had tickled her. But then he saw the wet sheen glowing
on her face in the yellow sun and he knew she'd been crying.

Like a hand closing around his heart, guilt
for all the censorious thoughts he'd had about her overtook him.
Then compassion, along with something more potent, surged in his
veins. She was so saucy, laughed so easily, seemed so carefree,
he'd forgotten she could be disturbed and upset. Sometimes he
thought his distrust actually wounded her. Was that possible? If
her capacity for happiness was so great, it only made sense so was
her capacity for sadness.

His loyalty to Ray made Mitch wary and
protective. He'd seen the older man's pain over the years, the
lonely holidays when Ray had admitted he wondered where his
daughter was and what she'd made of her life. He'd seen Ray's
yearning to be connected to her again but also the sense of
betrayal because Laura had cut her father out of her life and never
cared enough to look back.

But Mitch couldn't help responding to Laura.
He liked her laugh. He more than liked her joy. Even if they could
find common ground, even if she wasn't calculating to take over her
father's business, Mitch wasn't what she needed or wanted. He was
nothing like her husband and never could be. Adventure was a risk.
Mitch didn't like risks. Spontaneity demanded flexibility. He felt
safe with a schedule. Living day by day required an impulsive
spirit. He planned for the future and wanted a stable life. Yet
when he was near her...

As he stood behind her now, her perfume
wafting around his head, her hair glowing like spun gold and exotic
stones, her sadness reaching out to him like the moon's pull on the
tide, desire roared like an express train racing through a tunnel
and made him quake. He wanted her. He wanted her wildness, her free
spirit, her joy. He wanted to kiss her, taste her, touch her until
she wanted him just as much. And then she'd wrap herself around him
and he'd know heaven.

That couldn't happen! Wouldn't happen. Ray
was like a father, and Laura and Ray were at odds even if the
tension wasn't in the open. And Laura? Mitch still didn't know if
she was a threat, a partner, or a woman biding time until she could
return to her life in Ohio.

He saw her shoulders shake and he couldn't
keep from laying his hand on the back of her hair. Laura went
still, then relaxed as his thumb circled her temple. Eons could
have passed until she finally looked over her shoulder. Her gray
eyes drew him in and surrounded him like a warm velvet blanket.

She was slipping past his defenses. That
scared him.

Despite the fear, the sleek track of her
tears drew his hand. Tenderly he brushed one wet streak. "What's
wrong?"

She cleared her throat but it was still
husky. "Indulging in self pity, I guess."

She lowered her head and he suspected tears
filled her eyes again. Though he'd only known her a few days, he
already realized she wasn't the type to feel sorry for herself. He
lifted her chin with his knuckles. "Are you homesick?"

"I do miss Anne and George. But that's not it
entirely. Coming back here brings back so many memories and
feelings. I...miss my mother. And Doug..." Her voice caught.

His gut knotted and a wave of protective
compassion brought a lump to his throat. He didn't want her to
hurt, or need. The faint blue shadows under her eyes hadn't been
there when she opened her door in Independence. Taking his hand
from her face reluctantly, he sat down beside her, his need to be
close to her vying with his need for distance.

His thigh rested against hers; the contact
seemed necessary and right. "It's tough to lose someone you
love."

"You're talking about your dad?"

How could he tell Laura about his father when
he'd never told anyone else? But there was so much empathy in her
voice, he felt compelled to answer. "Yes. I tried to love him. He
was so...erratic. I never felt my love was returned. I felt he
resented me for being born. But when he died, a part of me died
too." The admission seemed strange on Mitch's lips. He'd never put
it into words before.

Laura leaned her shoulder against his.
"Children can sense the truth. Adults don't give them enough
credit."

Somehow he knew she'd understand, that she
wouldn't tell him he'd been wrong and his father had loved him as
all fathers should. He also sensed something about her childhood
bothered her and it had nothing to do with her mother's death. "Who
didn't give you enough credit?"

"Dad." When Mitch didn't react adversely, she
continued. "My mother was a singer and actress. She loved music and
people and trying every new food or amusement ride she could find.
Dad loved that part of her, but he also resented it. I think he
looked on her as an exuberant child he had to channel. Sometimes
she wouldn't let him do it, and he'd get angry. He'd watch her when
she was with a group of friends as if they'd spirit her away from
him. He never wanted her to try out for plays too far away."

"He was afraid he'd lose her."

Laura lifted her hands in agitation. "She
loved him. Anyone could see it. She didn't have her eyes set on New
York, she just wanted to experience life."

Her daughter had inherited that trait. "You
were young. Could you know that for sure?"

Laura let the question linger before
answering. "I wasn't too young to know she loved me and Dad. What
was he afraid of?"