by Sabrina York
“Your money?” Danny gaped at her.
Patrice’s gaze narrowed on him. “You owe me.”
He snorted harshly. “I owe you? For what?”
“I raised you. I sacrificed for you. Do you have any idea how many men want nothing to do with a woman who has a child? Do you know how many opportunities I had to pass up because I had a snot-nosed brat at home?”
Lizzie’s gut roiled at every word. How dare she try to make Danny feel guilty? She’d been the worst mother on the face of the earth. People like Patrice Diem should never be allowed to have children. It was—
Her breath locked as a suspicion blossomed, then certainty. She quickly flipped through the folders she’d been working on this morning and found the one she was looking for. The one that outlined those mysterious payments they hadn’t been able to identify. The ones that had been made for the whole of Danny’s life. “Oh, my God,” she said to DJ, holding up the folder. “She’s PD!”
DJ’s eyes narrowed. He turned his dark gaze on Patrice. “Of course. That makes perfect sense.”
It explained so much. Why Patrice always seemed to have everything she wanted—chic clothes, salon visits and money to party all the time while Danny had had to scavenge for food as a child. This woman had taken that money from Danny’s father for years. And she’d spent every penny on herself.
“What makes perfect sense?” Danny asked. “What are you two talking about?”
DJ nodded to Lizzie. “You tell him.”
She leaped to her feet and carried the evidence to him. “We were curious about this file earlier. Years and years of payments we couldn’t account for. Your father did send money to you. For years. And after your dad died, your grandfather continued sending the money regularly.”
Danny flipped through the incriminating pages, his expression growing more stunned by the moment.
“Isn’t it true that you received regular support payments from us?” DJ demanded.
Patrice sputtered for a moment and then shook her head in an act of innocence they all saw through. “How could I remember something like that?”
Danny’s expression tightened as he realized the agonizing truth of these documents. A mottled flush rose on his neck. “Oh, my God.” He clapped his hand to his forehead. Raked his fingers through his hair. “How did I not see this coming? You lied to me my entire life. I should have realized you’d lied about this, too. You told me my father didn’t give a damn. You said he didn’t want anything to do with me.” He pounded his chest. “You made me hate him. He was my father and you made me hate him. You made me think I wasn’t worthy of his love. You lied to me about everything.”
Patrice tipped her nose and sniffed. “Not everything.”
“So you didn’t lie when you told me my father didn’t give a damn about me?”
“Oh, quit being so melodramatic.”
“Melodramatic? Melodramatic? You emptied my bank accounts, pawned everything I own, skipped out on bail money I’d put my life on the line to secure—”
“I knew you’d land on your feet. You always do.”
Thank the Lord, DJ interrupted, because Lizzie was about to lose it. She stood behind Danny, with her hand on his shoulder, and hopefully wasn’t gouging him with her fingernails as she struggled to hold back.
“It seems to me,” DJ said coolly, “if anyone owes someone money here, Patrice, you owe Danny.”
Her nostrils flared. She leaped to her feet. “What nonsense.”
“Ten thousand dollars. For bail.” His smile was like slate. Hard and cold and stony. “We don’t take checks.”
Patrice paled. Her throat worked. “My bail was only five.”
DJ nodded. “You know loan sharks charge exorbitant interest, right? You do understand that.”
“Oh, this is all beside the point.” She began to pace, perhaps looking for an escape. “Obviously, you have plenty of money lying around. I don’t see why you can’t give me something.”
“We don’t just hand out money on this ranch.” DJ stroked his chin. “You could work for it, though,” he said ingenuously. “We could always use help mucking out stalls.”
Patrice’s eyes widened in horror; a red flush rose on her face. She whirled on Danny. “Are you going to let him treat me like this?”
Danny shrugged. “Pretty much. And I think you should go. Now,” he said, his tone steely.
“But Danny...” A woeful plea.
“Sorry, Mother. I’m done. Done.”
“Done? What do you mean ‘done’?” She honestly seemed baffled. “I’m your mother.”
He stared at her. “You gave birth to me, but I spent most of my life trying to figure out what I did to make you hate me so much. Or trying to figure out what I could do to make you love me. Eventually I realized it didn’t matter what I did, because you would only care about yourself.
“I came here not expecting much of anything. Definitely not expecting to find out that I had a family here. A real family. They accepted me. They welcomed me. They gave me a place to live. A job. They gave me a chance to prove myself, to make a place for myself here.” He hesitated, swallowed. “And when my child needed help, they moved heaven and earth to do so. Even though we were still all new to each other. So I know now who my real family is. Who I can count on. And I’m sorry, Mother, but it doesn’t look like that’s ever been you.”
She stared at him for a long while, calculating. Perhaps she realized, finally, that her emotional ploys would no longer work, because she took a deep cleansing breath and said, “I can see you’re upset. Maybe I should come back at another time.”
He shook his head. “It won’t make any difference. My feelings aren’t going to change.”
She dropped her cigarette in the crystal glass, then collected her things. “Of course they will. Listen, I’m staying at the Butterscotch Inn. When you feel better, call me. Okay?”
“You’re staying here? In town?” Lizzie blurted out.
Patrice tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “Yes. Peter and I have a room.”
“Peter?” DJ asked.
Patrice batted her lashes at him. “He’s just a friend.”
Right.
DJ was hardly swayed. “Well, I gotta say, I agree with Danny. It might be a good idea if you left now. Seeing as the local sheriff is my poker buddy, it’s pretty likely I might mention your presence here next time we get together. As you’re a wanted woman and all.”
Danny could tell his mother got the point. Her expression tightened. Her smile grew even more brittle. She gathered her things and cleared her throat. “Well, this has been pleasant, but I really must be off now. Much obliged for the drink.”
As she sashayed from the room, clutching her purse with both hands, DJ was there to open the door for her. Lizzie and Danny followed, just to make sure she left. It was a relief to watch her head out the door, down the steps and to her car. Someone’s car.
They all followed and stood on the porch and watched as Patrice lit another cigarette, gunned the engine and left in a spray of gravel.
Chapter Thirteen
Danny stood silently, staring at the cloud in his mother’s wake.
“Are you okay?” Lizzie asked.
“Yeah,” he said. But in truth, he reeled. This was all so much to take in. The good. The bad. The really ugly.
At the same time, he felt free in a way he never had before. His father hadn’t rejected him. That in itself was huge.
His father had wanted him. He had. His mother had kept them apart simply so the money would keep coming.
He took Lizzie’s hand and they headed, together, to the kitchen, to Emma. He scooped his daughter up in his arms—cookie-batter-covered spatula and all—and held her tight.
He willed his heart to cease its pounding, gasped to try to normalize his breath as gratit
ude and fury warred within him.
Oh, he’d faced his mother in her rages more times than he could count. He’d suffered her abuse—which now, as an adult, he recognized as mental, physical and emotional. His whole life, he’d struggled to protect himself from the damage that followed in her wake.
But he’d never been as frightened as he had been the moment his mother’s gaze landed on Emma. He’d recognized that predatory look in her eye. He would do anything to protect Emma from Patrice Diem. No matter what.
“Daddy? Daddy! You’re squeezing me tight.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, hon.” He relaxed his hold. A little. “It’s just that I love you so much.”
She leaned back and smeared at the wetness on his cheeks with her palms. “Why are you crying?”
He sniffed. “I’m not crying.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Hey. What is that? Peanut-butter cookie dough?” He peered into the bowl.
She laughed. “We finished those. These are chocolate chip.”
He leaned in and nibbled at the spatula. “My favorite.”
Emma made a cute little-girl face, pulled away the spatula and told him sternly, “You’re not supposed to eat it raw.”
“I know. But it’s good.” He grinned at her as he stood and released her.
Emma glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s that other grandma lady?”
Danny dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs and pulled her onto his lap. “She had to leave, honey.”
Emma wrinkled her face. “Why did she have to leave? Isn’t she your mom?”
He glanced at Lizzie, a plea for help, perhaps. This conversation was a little beyond him right now.
Of course, she stepped right in. “She just stopped by on her way through town. Wow. Those cookies look good. Can I have a nibble?”
But kids weren’t stupid. Emma knew something had upset Danny. She patted his cheek, then became fascinated with the rub of his day beard. “I love you, Daddy,” she said. “Please don’t be sad.”
Such simple words.
They broke his heart and filled it, all at the same time. He pulled her closer. “I love you, too, Emma. More than I can ever tell you. I want you to know that, no matter what, I love you and I always will.”
“Even if I’m naughty?”
He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Even if you’re naughty.”
Lizzie sighed. “But maybe try not to be naughty,” she suggested and everyone laughed.
Danny looked around the kitchen at all the smiling faces, and something swelled in his chest.
It was beautiful, wasn’t it?
Family?
The real kind?
All that mattered, really, ever, was love.
It was damn nice to have it.
* * *
After that scene with his mother, after all the revelations, Danny needed to get out of the house, so he asked Lizzie if she wanted to go for a walk to the pond, and she agreed.
“How are you doing?” she asked as they set out.
He shrugged. “Getting there.”
“Pretty tough, having her show up like that.”
Danny sighed. “My mother is, and always has been, selfish as hell. When I was a child, I thought it was me. My fault. Like maybe there was something wrong with me to make her not love me.” As much as it hurt him to think these things, relive them, say them, it felt right to finally tell Lizzie what had been slithering around inside him all this time. It felt good to bring it to light. It felt as though the weight he’d been carrying for years was sloughing off and falling to the dirt.
She squeezed his hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
He tried not to laugh, but succeeded only in compressing it into a snort. “No. After a while, I realized it was just her. She wouldn’t have loved any kid she had. She learned how to be a mother from her mom. Her mom was pretty mean, too. It kind of makes me sad for her, because no one ever showed her what it’s like to really love someone.”
Lizzie cuddled closer. “That is sad.”
“I agree.” He turned to her. “I want something better for us. And Emma.”
She studied him a moment, then smiled. “You’ve changed, Danny Diem. You know that, don’t you?”
He huffed a breath. “I’ve had to take a long hard look at myself. At who I was, and who I could be, and who I wanted to be. Especially since I...found you again. And Emma.”
“That’s a lot to think about.”
“Yeah. I realized that we have control. We don’t have to follow the path our parents set us on if we don’t want to. We can change who we are. I didn’t like the man I’d become, hard and resentful, but I had a choice. I could stay the same, or I could let go of all that anger and bitterness and make my life what I wanted it to be.” He gazed into her eyes and smiled. “We can’t choose our parents, but we can choose our families. And I choose you. Both of you.”
For some reason, tears welled in Lizzie’s beautiful eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so sappy.
“I admit, at first I was scared to death about being a parent. I guess everyone is. But now? Now, Lizzie, I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you gave me a chance to try.”
“You’re her father.”
“Her sperm donor,” he said on a laugh.
“No.” Her voice was stern. “You’re her father and you know it.”
They walked for a bit more, enjoying the cool breezes of the coming summer evening and the rustling in the trees. He squeezed her shoulder. “How are you doing?” he asked.
The look she sent him was wry and knowing. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to ask, Danny?”
Damn. She knew him pretty well. He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Are you happy here? At the ranch?”
She nodded. “Yes. I love it here.”
“And would you and Emma consider staying?” He said it so softly that he was afraid she missed it.
But she didn’t. She cupped his cheek and stared into his eyes. “Yes.”
It took a second for her meaning to percolate through his brain, what that yes meant—that he finally had what he wanted, what he’d always wanted, and how damn happy that made him. With a jubilant whoop, he grabbed her up and twirled her around.
* * *
It wasn’t until later that night—after Emma had been put to bed and Lizzie and Danny had made love and she’d fallen asleep—that Mark’s question from long ago surfaced in Danny’s brain.
Are you going to marry her?
Danny’s first and immediate response at the time had been no. It was his default position on the subject and always had been. His entire life, marriage had been a dirty word. A heinous, precarious place where only pain and betrayal awaited.
But when he was with Lizzie, he didn’t feel like that. Never had. When he was with Lizzie, he was happy. Happy, as he never had been before.
So why did the thought of marrying her—or anyone—turn his stomach?
Marriage was forever. He wanted Lizzie forever.
Marriage meant a partnership. They already had that.
What else was it? Why was it so scary?
He already loved her—more than he could bear—so there was no risk in making everything official. So why...?
And then it hit him. It hit him—in a wash of pent-up fears and seeping wounds from the past.
The reason he shied away from marriage was because, in some deep, dark corner of his soul, he believed he, himself, was not worthy of being loved. That surely, one day, she would realize the truth, see his flaws and desert him. Forever. He’d be alone.
He stared down at her as she slept, sweet and beautiful and good-hearted. And he smiled because now that he’d faced it, that fear was utterly gone.
* * *
The first thing the next morning, Danny sought out his daughter. Sure, he’d made a momentous decision in the night, but before he could do anything, he had to talk to Emma.
He found her by the rabbit hutch Luke had built her, staring at the bunnies.
“Hi, Daddy.” She waved.
“Hey, sweetie. Can I tear you away from the bunnies for a minute? I have something very important to talk to you about.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Is this about going back to the hospital?”
He kneeled beside her and met her gaze. “No. No, it’s not.”
“Because I like it here and I don’t want to go back.”
“It’s not about that. I promise.”
“Okay.”
They walked together to a nearby bench at the garden entrance and sat. “This is serious,” he said, just so she knew he meant business.
“Okay.”
“Emma, you know how much I love your mommy.” His heart thudded. “And you know how much I love you.”
Her nod was minuscule.
“And I would very much like to ask your mom to marry me. But—”
“But?”
He swallowed. Hard. “Well, you’re the most important person in her life. I wanted to ask you for your permission first. You know, make sure you’re okay with having a real forever daddy.” He glanced at her hopefully.
She raised an eyebrow. Surveyed him silently for a long moment. His skin prickled. Something trickled down his spine. Then she tipped up her dimpled chin and asked, “If you marry Mommy, will I get a pony?”
He gaped at her. “What?”
“Can I have a pony?”
Words failed him. He sputtered for a moment, then asked, “Are you blackmailing me?”
She looked confused. “I don’t know what that is.”
Duh, cowboy, he thought. Now go and explain that one. “It’s when you try to force someone to get you a pony.”
“Oh.” She thought on this for a moment. “Well, I do think you are an awesome daddy...”
“Thank you.”
“And Mommy seems to like you.” Thank God for that. “If we get married, can we all stay together? Forever?”
