Wish on the Moon (13 page)

Somehow Mitch knew. "Of not being
enough."

Laura's eyes widened. "I've never thought of
Dad as...insecure."

"No man's secure around the woman he
loves."

She shifted on the bench, her knee bumping
his as she faced him more squarely. "Love should make you secure.
Nothing's safer than knowing someone loves you for who and what you
are."

Mitch felt his whole body tighten. "You and
your husband were like that?"

"We started out that way."

Mitch didn't see how he could ever shed his
mask completely. He hid his feelings. In the past when he'd shown
them to his dad or "friends", they'd been belittled. Men shouldn't
feel sad, or scared, or lonely. God forbid they should cry. His
father had slapped him once for that. Men were ambitious,
successful, stoic and logical. Weren't they?

Before he could find the answer, Laura's next
question distracted him from trying. "Have you ever been in
love?"

Their gazes caught and he knew he'd never
been in love the way she meant. Not heart, body, mind and soul. Why
did this woman reach his deepest places and encourage responses
he'd kept secret even to himself?

"I've thought myself in love. Two years ago I
almost asked a woman to marry me."

"Almost?"

Her expectant gaze urged him to continue. "At
the time I figured my hesitation concerned making a name for
myself, insuring a good income for the future."

"You were going to ask her after you'd done
that?"

"I told myself I was. I'd become Ray's
partner and was getting ready for my first exhibition."

The breeze picked up the ends of her hair and
blew them across her cheek. "What happened?"

He almost smiled. Laura wouldn't think of not
asking the sticky questions. "She earned her masters in chemistry
and decided to get a Ph.D. She accepted an assistantship at
Stanford."

"Her career was more important than you?"
Laura seemed concerned and puzzled too.

"I don't think Denise compared the two. We
both realized we were together for convenience rather than love. We
didn't talk of her not going or looking for someplace closer."

Laura tilted her head until the sun created a
halo on the crown. "Or you moving out to California to make a
name?"

"Ray and the business meant too much to me at
that point." He'd finally found his niche, respect, and a bond with
the father figure he'd never had. No, he wouldn't have left. It had
nothing to do with being a male or a chauvinist. It had to do with
finally finding where he belonged. Laura had left all of her sense
of belonging to go with her husband. He couldn't understand that.
But if they got into that subject, they'd argue. He didn't feel
like arguing. He would like to know more about her marriage,
though. It sounded as if it might not have been ideal after all.
But right now he was simply enjoying sitting beside her and the
connection between them.

They sat in silence for a while. Laura
finally broke it. "My dad doesn't need me here."

"What makes you say that?"

"He has you. And now Nora. He's not looking
to me for anything."

"You're wrong." He couldn't prove it, but he
knew she was.

"You saw him this morning, Mitch."

Laura looked down at her hands and he knew
she was hurting. He also knew why. Ray turned to him out of habit.
"I've been here the last four years." He said it as a fact, not to
make her feel guilty.

Her voice quivered. "I'm a grown woman and I
still have this longing to earn his approval."

He was so tempted to put his arms around her.
But he didn't. Instead he shared a secret. "I do too."

Her head came up and they stared at each
other, knowing a bond had formed between them.

Before they could explore it, Mandy came
running down the center of the yard, yelling, "Mommy, Mommy. I want
to see the treehouse now."

Mitch stood. "And the cycle goes on."

***

Monday evening Laura came home from the
store, damp from the pouring rain she'd run through, but excited
and bubbling with an idea she knew would work. It would be her way
of gaining her dad's approval, upping profits, and showing Mitch
she could manage along with the best of them.

His taciturn comment had ended a conversation
that had given her insight into his character. She'd felt close to
him for the first time since coming to York. And with all her
heart, she hoped he didn't regret anything he'd shared. He was so
afraid to open up. He might not admit it, but he wanted to be loved
as much as anyone she knew--maybe more.

She didn't know exactly why, maybe it was his
father's doing, but Mitch's childhood had clouded his emotions and
when they became clear, he pushed them away. Yet he had great
insight into himself. He had substance and honesty. And their talk
had filled her with... Hope? For what? That they could work
together while she was here? Something more? Fat chance, Laura
Sanders. You have a life in Independence. Mitch as much as said
he'd never leave this area. Besides, she couldn't live in York.
Once he recovered, her father might try to control her life.
Again.

After she hung her poncho in the foyer
closet, she dropped the folder with the material she'd worked on
all afternoon on her father's desk in the study and went in search
of Mandy and Nora, looking for Puffball as she went through the
house. Where Puffball was, Mandy couldn't be far behind.

Laura wondered if Mitch was home. He'd gone
to Harrisburg yesterday to ready the store for Christmas. So he
said. Maybe Nora knew what time he planned to return.

Laura found Mandy and Nora playing a card
game with Ray. He was looking more comfortable today, more sure of
himself. He waved to Laura. "Your daughter's too good at this. She
keeps winning."

Laura hugged Mandy and ruffled her hair.
"Good for you." She addressed her dad. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been through a war and the other
guy won."

Nora spoke up. "Now, Ray. You said each day
you feel a little stronger. He's doing fine. The nurse is coming
tomorrow to start him on some easy exercises. We took a walk around
the house twice this morning before the rain started. You'd be
proud of him."

"The doctor said I control my own destiny,"
Ray muttered. "So I'm going to do everything he tells me and get on
with life. It's just rough going right now."

One thing Laura had always admired was her
dad's determination. She cupped his shoulder in her palm. "You're
doing terrific. Like you always told me, if you're persistent
enough, you can do anything."

She thought his eyes were shiny when his
rougher, calloused hand covered hers, and she felt as if she'd
crossed a barrier between them.

Laura joined the card game and noticed a ring
on Nora's finger. She remembered Mitch's words. "A cluster of
rubies and pearls. When my father gambled it away, she cried and
cried." He must have recreated it for her. He'd kept his
promise.

Mitch arrived an hour later. His gaze
connected with Laura's and she thought she saw an openness that
hadn't been there before. Her worry that his sudden decision to go
to Harrisburg to avoid her dissipated. After all, the Harrisburg
store couldn't run without direction any more than the York one
could. She also suspected he'd wanted to give her time with her
father.

When Mitch followed Nora to the kitchen to
discover what smelled so good, Laura waylaid him in the hallway. As
always, being this close to him rattled her. His shirt was
wrinkled. He'd tugged down his tie and opened the top button of his
striped oxford; the curly black hairs invited touching. She closed
her fingers into her palms.

"Could we talk for a few minutes in Dad's
study? I have something to discuss with you."

Mitch's eyes became opaque as he hesitated
for a moment then motioned for her to lead. Their footsteps seemed
loud on the wood floor as they walked down the hall.

Mitch waited for Laura to enter the room
before him. She picked up the file folder on her father's desk,
suddenly nervous. Taking a deep breath, she plowed in. "Someone
came into the store this morning who could be the answer to a
prayer."

Mitch sat on a corner of the desk. "I didn't
know we'd asked for an answer."

Okay, so it was an answer to her prayer.
"He's an agent for a group of Navajo craftsmen in Arizona. He'd
like us to promote their work. The samples were wonderful. The
finest quality workmanship in silver, turquoise, coral, onyx. This
is just what we need."

"A few samples of fine quality doesn't
mean--"

She went on as if he hadn't spoken, too
excited to stop. "He invited me to Flagstaff to see the craft
village and examine all of it first hand. I could fly out with
Mandy--"

That raised Mitch's brows. "With Mandy?"

"Sure. I wouldn't leave her here. We'd be
gone three days tops."

Mitch came to his feet, defensive and wary.
"You came to York for your father."

"This is for my father. This jewelry is the
trend. It's beautiful and more affordable than gold. Think of all
the new customers we'd bring in. The Southwest trend is catching
like wildfire in the East. We might even want to introduce pottery,
art work--"

"No!"

She retreated a step. "I beg your
pardon."

Mitch's jaw set in a stern line. "I told you
you could help with the store, not revamp it. I go away one day and
your impulsiveness already runs riot."

Hanging onto her temper was a real problem
around Mitch. She modulated her voice into calmness. "I'm the
acting manager of the store in my father's absence. Correct?"

"Acting manager to maintain the status quo,"
he said evenly.

Indignation won over holding her fuse. "If
I'm a manager, I'm going to manage. I'm not going to be a sales
clerk or a pawn to do your bidding. I've seen the profit sheets.
The York store's profits are down significantly. Do you know that?
And if you don't, what kind of partner are you?"

Mitch paced to the bookshelves on the far
side of the room. He picked up a duck decoy, put it down and faced
her. "That store is Ray's domain. I have no right to
interfere."

"It's not a matter of rights. He should know
what's happening. Does he?"

Mitch jammed his hand into his pockets and
looked troubled. "He thought with Christmas, it would turn
around."

She approached him cautiously. "I saw last
year's records. Christmas didn't make that much difference. Look,
Mitch. I know my dad doesn't take an aggressive or innovative
approach. But the jewelry business has changed in the last five
years and he hasn't kept up with the changes."

"Don't you think I know that? But we have an
agreement. I don't interfere with his store, he doesn't interfere
with mine."

Intuitively she knew Mitch was a man of honor
and when he made an agreement, he kept it. But there were times...
"You're his partner."

"Ray doesn't like change."

"Of course he doesn't. But maybe if it's
introduced step by step..." Her voice trailed off at Mitch's
stubborn expression. "Maybe I should be talking to him about
this."

The stubbornness turned into protectiveness.
"We're not going to give him something else to worry about."

"Is that really your reasoning? Or are you
afraid I'll show you up? That I'll succeed where you should have
taken action before now?" She knew she was stabbing in the dark.
But he couldn't dismiss her one means of making a difference in her
dad's life.

"You're incredibly naive if you think in six
weeks you can turn the store around."

"At least that's one of the kinder things you
think of me," she said tersely.

"How do you know what I think of you?" His
eyes were deep blue, probing, and they touched her as much as the
hint of huskiness in his voice.

"I can see it and feel it. Just when I think
we're coming to an understanding, you turn judgmental and
condemning. You don't always say it, but I can see it in your
eyes."

When he stepped toward her, his hands gently
took hold of her shoulders. "What would you like to see?"

In that instant she knew she wanted him to
like her, wanted whatever he could give in the time she stayed in
York.

"I want to see acceptance. Open mindedness.
You have too many preconceptions about me."

He dropped his hands and stepped away, as if
aware how vulnerable they both were. His words put distance between
them again. "I do have preconceptions. I got them from a good
source--your father. When you were a teenager, you put him though
hell. He didn't even know where you were half the time. Then when
he thought his daughter had decided to grow up, she ran away with a
painter and never contacted him."

She understood Mitch had seen her father's
pain. But he knew nothing about her heartache, loneliness and
fears. She had to do something to erase the devastating disapproval
in his eyes. "I went through hell too. I was trying to get his
attention. What did he tell you about? The day I hot-wired his car
because he wouldn't give me permission to drive it? The night he
had to bail me out of jail because a party I attended was
raided?"

Mitch's expression told her he'd heard that
one too.

"Maybe he told you I cut classes? My grades
slipped? I found a boyfriend who wore a leather jacket and rode a
motorcycle? I'm sure it was hell for him because it shook up his
established, narrow world. There are two sides to every story,
Mitch." She prayed he'd want to hear hers, yet she knew he might
not choose to because her side might change his opinion of her
father.

Mitch's low, quiet tone was slow but
unwavering. "You could have contacted him in the last six
years."

If she told him she had, he probably wouldn't
believe her. His calmness incited a riot of emotions in her. "And
he could have contacted me. You have a real propensity for seeing
only what's in front of your nose. It's called tunnel vision."