The Cliff House

by RaeAnne Thayne

  When she had a little more energy, Stella did her best to circulate among the families in attendance.

  Everyone seemed to be having a great time. This was a vital part of their mission at Open Hearts, to bring together families in the same circumstances who were struggling through similar things.

  Several of the children she had fostered were here, too. Not children anymore, she corrected herself. Though she fought through exhaustion, she had a wonderful time catching up with people.

  She was watching the softball game that usually pitted current and former foster children against parents when Gabe Ellison sat down beside her with his camera.

  “Since you’re the founder and organizer of Open Hearts, I would love to speak with you for the promotional spot.”

  She still couldn’t believe an Academy Award–nominated documentary filmmaker was making a commercial for her organization. The thought of it left her slightly breathless.

  “Certainly,” she said, though she knew she probably didn’t look much better than she felt. “Do you want to do it right here?”

  He looked around. “Why don’t we find a corner that’s a little quieter?”

  He led the way to a quiet bench in the sunshine on the edge of the park, with a lovely view of the Pacific.

  He stood some distance from her with a camera on a tripod. “Why don’t you start by telling me your name, your occupation and why you started Open Hearts?”

  It was painfully difficult to talk about her reasons, some of which were too personal for her to ever reveal in such a public arena.

  She rubbed her hands on her jeans, then folded them together in her lap.

  “My name is Stella Davenport,” she began, “and I am a middle school English teacher. I started Open Hearts more than a decade ago because, as a foster parent myself, I saw a powerful need to encourage and support foster families.”

  She went on to outline the group’s mission and some of the successes she felt most strongly about.

  Gabe was a wonderful interviewer, with insightful questions and considerate directions to her about how to come across best on screen.

  What was his relationship with Daisy? She wanted to ask but didn’t think her niece would appreciate it. Something was there or Daisy—normally so cool and contained—wouldn’t get so flustered when his name was mentioned.

  She hoped there was something between them. Daisy needed someone exactly like Gabe Ellison, someone a little wild around the edges, with a reckless heart that would remind Daisy she wasn’t a middle-aged society matron. She was still a young woman with so much love to give.

  “Those are some perfect sound bites,” he said after their short interview. “I can definitely work with what you’ve given me.”

  “Phew,” she said. “It’s tough work, being interviewed.”

  He smiled. “You’re doing the tough work here. It sounds like your festival next week is a huge deal.”

  She was overwhelmed just thinking about it. “It is, but everyone in town pitches in to make it a success. We raise fully a third of our operating costs through our various events during the festival. I’m happy to say many of the other local charities benefit, as well, through booths at the fair and sponsored events.”

  “Where does the rest of your operating budget originate?”

  “We have donors from across the country. It’s quite remarkable. Just this week I had an anonymous donation from someone, earmarked for exactly this picnic, so we could cater it instead of cook the food ourselves, as we usually do.”

  He looked intrigued. “Is that right?”

  “Yes. I would love to know who that donor is. Whenever we have need of extra funds for a grant or for some special event, somehow our guardian angel finds out and the funds come in shortly after.”

  “Isn’t that fortuitous?” he said in a curiously flat voice.

  “Yes. Very. At one point I thought it might be Bea. Cruz is very generous with his child support, and she makes a good living with her art, but she swears up and down it’s not her.”

  “Interesting.”

  She shrugged. “We’ll probably never know, unless the person wants to come forward. I wish they would. I’d love to be able to thank them in person. I’m overwhelmed at the generosity in the world. That’s one thing I’ve learned from Open Hearts. People are generally good and want to help. Have you seen that in other places as you’ve traveled throughout the world?”

  “Yes,” he said, with an odd look she didn’t understand. “Some of the most generous people are those who have little themselves.”

  22

  GABE

  Gabe had a fairly concrete idea of the identity of the mysterious Open Hearts benefactor.

  How convenient, that whenever Stella’s organization had a need, someone stepped up, instinctively knowing how to help.

  Someone with inside information about the group’s finances would be in the perfect position to step in when the need arose. Someone like, oh, the treasurer and controller of the organization...who also happened to be a brilliant artist, with a worldwide following.

  He shouldn’t be surprised that Daisy was generous with her money, donating to Open Hearts when necessary. She might give the appearance of a stiff, somewhat stuffy accountant, but there was so much more to the woman.

  He wanted to say something. The words hovered on his tongue, but he swallowed them back. None of Daisy’s many secrets were his to reveal. If she wanted her aunt to know about her secret identity and about the donations he was certain she was making, Daisy could tell Stella herself.

  Was it any wonder he was utterly fascinated with her, though?

  He looked through the crowd and spotted Daisy sitting in the stands and watching the softball game. Bea was right in the middle of the action, laughing as she took a wild swing and missed the pitch completely, but Daisy seemed content to sit on the sidelines.

  Why? Why not be right there with her sister, hitting grounders past the shortstop then running with crazy abandon to first base?

  He found it astonishing that a woman who could paint with her passion and emotion could be so reserved in the rest of her life.

  His Marguerite.

  The thought came out of nowhere and he was glad he was holding on to his camera so he didn’t drop it into the grass.

  Where did that come from? She was not his anything! Sure, they had kissed a few times. Sure, she fascinated him more than any woman in a long time—maybe ever.

  That didn’t make her his. She was quite plain about that.

  He had to stop thinking about her and focus on the interview so he could let Stella return to the party. He shifted his gaze back to the woman and found Daisy’s aunt watching him with a curious expression. Had she noticed where he was looking? Her next words seemed to confirm it.

  “I worry about Daisy,” she said quietly.

  To his embarrassment, Gabe felt his face heat. When was the last time he’d blushed? He couldn’t remember. He had to hope she didn’t notice.

  He studied Stella, who looked much younger than forty with her stylish glasses and trendy haircut. She certainly looked too young to have raised her nieces when she wasn’t much older than they had been. The concern in her expression instantly set him on edge.

  “Why? Is she all right?”

  Stella looked over at the baseball field and Daisy. “You’re not taping now, right?”

  “No.” To prove it, he turned the whole thing off and put the cap on the lens. It was the small, lightweight film camera he favored for location and action shots. “We’re done, as far as I am concerned. Now, tell me why you’re worried about Daisy.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “Am I wrong to think you...care about my niece?”

  Was she asking his intentions? He could feel himself flush again, not sure quite how to respond. He finally set
tled on the truth. “Yes, I care about your niece. She’s a remarkable woman.”

  Stella smiled a little, though the worry didn’t leave her eyes. “I think so, too. It’s hard for some people to see past the walls she likes to put up.”

  “They’re not just walls. They’re walls covered in razor blades and concertina wire and guarded by wolverines with machine guns.”

  She laughed softly then grew serious again. “If you want the full, honest truth, Daisy is the reason I started Open Hearts.”

  “She is?”

  She chewed her bottom lip a little as if not sure whether she should expand on that startling statement. “She wouldn’t be happy with me for telling you this,” she finally said, “but I trust you, Gabriel. I can’t explain it, but I do. I hope that trust isn’t misplaced.”

  He sat beside her on the bench, not sure he wanted to know what she was about to tell him. Daisy McClure had already crept her way beneath his defenses. He didn’t need more reasons to be drawn to her.

  “Daisy and Bea were in foster care for a year before I could arrange to take legal custody after my sister died.”

  “Daisy told me that.”

  Stella’s eyes widened. “She told you she was in foster care?”

  “Yes. She said you didn’t know about your sister’s death until months later and then it took you time to make the legal arrangements to take custody.”

  “I can’t believe she told you that. She never talks about it.”

  He was honored that she had confided in him, though he still wasn’t sure why she had.

  “What else did she tell you?”

  “That she and Bea were separated.”

  “Yes. I can’t imagine how hard that would have been on two girls who had never spent a night apart. Bea landed in a fairly good foster home, fortunately. Daisy, though...” She hesitated, her features troubled. “Daisy was put in a group home because that’s all that was available for her and she was...not treated well there.”

  He closed his eyes, not wanting to hear this. Damn, he didn’t want to hear it. Children deserved love and care, to feel safe and protected. He wanted to tell Stella to stop but knew he couldn’t do that. She wanted to tell him, for reasons he didn’t fully understand, and some part of him felt like he needed to know.

  “She was...abused by one of the older boys in the group home. He was seventeen and she was eleven.”

  His swearing was fierce and raw and vicious.

  “Exactly. I don’t know how far things went, but any amount is too much for a vulnerable child. She didn’t tell me for years. She held it all inside. When I finally did get custody, she was so withdrawn, so...independent. She never let anyone close, even Bea, who once had been her best friend. I think she somehow internalized it was her fault, as so many victims of sexual assault do. She finally trusted me enough to tell me a few years after we came here to Cape Sanctuary, and I made her get counseling. We... I wanted to press charges but the boy was out of the system by then and had died in a gang-related fight.”

  Good. Gabe didn’t consider himself a violent man but he hoped it had been a long, lingering, painful death.

  His heart ached for Daisy. He could picture her all too clearly, young and lonely with those big hazel eyes, thrust into a situation beyond her control.

  “I’m afraid I waited too long to get her help. By then she was this self-contained person who worked hard not to depend on anyone else. When she was younger, she was sweet and loving, with such a generous heart, who took care of her mother and her sister. She was different when I took custody of her. Still loving, still sweet, but so very determined not to need anyone.”

  His heart felt scoured by the revelation, and it was all he could do not to go to Daisy right now and pull her into his arms.

  “Because of what happened to my beloved niece, I needed to do everything possible to make sure no other child suffered as she did,” Stella said fiercely. “I had to. It’s hard enough for any child to be forced into the system by circumstances out of his or her control. No child should be mistreated or abused in the very situation that is supposed to be helping them. I can’t change what happened to Daisy, but through Open Hearts, I can do all I can to protect other children.”

  Stella was a remarkable woman and he sensed she had been largely responsible for raising her nieces to become remarkable women in their own rights.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For rescuing her in the first place but also for trusting me enough to tell me.”

  “I think she likes you, Gabe. And I think you scare her.”

  “I would never hurt her,” he protested.

  She smiled a little. “I sense that or I wouldn’t have told you what I just did. She’s not fragile. I hope I didn’t give you that impression.”

  “I know.”

  “Daisy is an amazing woman who deserves to be happy with a man who can shatter her defenses to find the woman inside.”

  Gabe instinctively wanted to protest that he wasn’t that man. He couldn’t be. While he might have feelings for Daisy that seemed to be growing stronger with each day he stayed in Cape Sanctuary, he could never act on them. He wasn’t the man for her—Gabe was a rambler who never stayed in one place for longer than a few weeks. He had spent his entire life on the go and didn’t see how that could change.

  Before he could come up with an answer, a little girl of about five with dark curls and big eyes wandered over to them and climbed onto Stella’s lap.

  “Stel,” she said.

  “Hi, Elisa, honey. Where’s your mom?”

  A woman came over looking frazzled. “Sorry for the interruption. She got away from me.”

  “No problem,” Stella said. “I understand you have exciting news.”

  “Yes! The best! We’re adopting Elisa and her younger brother.”

  The two women became engrossed in conversation, leaving Gabe to gather up his equipment and try to process what he had just learned about Daisy.

  * * *

  He was still absorbed in what Stella had told him as he finished shooting footage for the Open Hearts promotional spot.

  Usually, large public gatherings always left Gabe slightly edgy, not sure where he fit in. Whether it was a tribal dance in New Guinea or a pickup soccer game in South Africa or a mad horse race among the people of Mongolia, he always felt a little on the fringes, compelled to document instead of participate.

  Oddly, he had felt none of that during the Open Hearts picnic. He felt...connected to the people here. Everyone had been very warm and accepting of him. Even after he put his camera gear away, he didn’t want to leave.

  The party went on until twilight, until shadows began to lengthen and the sun began to steal across the horizon and the children began to fall asleep on their foster parents’ laps or any other convenient spot.

  Daisy was holding a little girl who was probably about four, with dark hair and long, long eyelashes. The girl was asleep, her cheek nestled against Daisy’s chest, and Gabe felt something stir inside him, something primitive and raw.

  He was messed up over her, more than he’d ever been for another woman. There was a very good chance he was falling hard for her.

  A few moments later the little dark-haired girl was scooped up by her foster father. She nestled against his shoulder, and again Gabe felt something stir inside him, almost...envy.

  He had always thought children weren’t in the cards for him, assuming he would probably be a terrible father. He hadn’t exactly had the best parental examples in his life, with a mother who hadn’t wanted him and a father who hadn’t known what to do with him.

  Suddenly, he started to wonder. As he saw all these people who had opened their hearts and their homes to children in need, he wondered if he could handle what they were doing: be vulnerable enough to love somebody he knew would likely be taken away at so
me point.

  Daisy rose and started clearing up discarded cups, plates, napkins. He joined her, dragging over a garbage can to make her job a little easier.

  She looked startled at first, then grateful. “You’ve done more than enough, Gabe. I saw you put your camera away quite a while go. You really don’t have to stay to clean up.”

  “I don’t mind. The only other thing on my agenda is walking our dog.”

  He hadn’t meant to use the plural possessive, but it somehow seemed to fit. He had come to adore little Louie, as he sensed she did, as well.

  “I’m not sure he’s going to need any more exercise. He’s been chasing after kids all day.”

  “True enough.”

  Louie had once more proved how lovable he was by playing happily with any child who paid attention to him. Right now Louie was plopped on the grass, cuddled with another little black dog he had learned belonged to Bea and her cute daughter, Mari.

  Daisy gave him a hard look. “I’m not sure you need more exercise, either. You’re still recovering and you probably overdid things today. If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up back in the hospital.”

  Her concern warmed him more than it should. It was addictive, actually, probably because he wasn’t used to people worrying about him.

  He’d been on his own so long, it seemed strange to be the recipient of others’ concern. First Cruz, now Daisy. Where Cruz’s concern made him feel a little suffocated, with Daisy, he wanted to savor every bit of it.

  “I’m doing fine. I’m actually feeling better than I have since the attack. The doctors told me it would be two weeks before I would start feeling human. It’s been three, and I’m finally starting to get there.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  He did not want to talk about his injury or the recovery that was taking longer than he’d expected.

  “You’ll be happy to know I got some great video of the picnic today. Several of the parents were willing to talk to me and I was able to interview them about the value they find from Open Hearts. Plus, I had a chance for a long talk with Stella.”