WHOSE CHILD?

by Susan Gable

  "Did you pick a book, sport?"

  She shook her head. "Where's Momma?"

  "I don't think she feels well."

  "She said we'd talk about daddies." Sarah folded her arms across her chest.

  "Maybe we should wait for her to talk about it."

  "Okay." She marched over to the door that connected her bedroom with Lexie's. Fist tight, she hammered on the wood. "Momma! Come here. We need to talk about daddies!"

  The little girl waited about three seconds—apparently the limit of her patience—and banged again. "Momma!"

  Note to self: Daddy Lesson #2: Being sick—or broken-hearted—is no excuse for not answering.

  "Sport, really, I think she's sick. A headache or something. Let her be. Let's get you into bed."

  She turned back into the room, her eyes growing large. "I don't want you to," she whispered, pressing against the door. "Only Momma. Momma says no running around naked in front of visitors."

  Lesson number one came back in full force. The bruise on his cheek throbbed with the memory. And he hated being assigned "visitor" status by his daughter. He spread his hands out. "No problem. You can either change yourself, or sleep in your clothes, whichever you want. Well, you have to take off your shoes and socks."

  "In my clothes?" She offered him a skeptical look. "Really?"

  "Sure, why not. Won't hurt anything for one night."

  "Okay." She sat on the floor in front of Lexie's door and pulled off a sneaker. "I still wanna see Momma." Yanking off the second shoe, she tossed it at the door. "Momma! Come tuckle me in. And sing me asleep."

  A key rasped in the lock and the door opened. Now in the process of taking off her socks, Sarah looked up and smiled. "Hey, Momma. You feel better now?"

  The room behind her was dark. Lexie knelt beside Sarah, her eyes puffy and red in a way that made David ache with knowing he'd caused her pain, her tears. "Not really, baby."

  Sarah pointed at him. "He said I could sleep in my clothes."

  "He did, huh?" Lexie's shoulders rose, then fell. "I suppose it's fine."

  Sarah jumped to her feet, then framed Lexie's face with her hands. "You promised to talk about daddies later and it's later."

  "Yes, it is. But I'm not feeling up to it—"

  "You said!"

  "Sport, you need to give her a break." David pulled back the pink-and-white gingham covers. "Climb in here."

  "It's okay," Lexie said. "Just turn on the Emerald City and turn out the room light … please?"

  "Sure." The night-light cast a green glow in the room that made everything softer, and he understood why Lexie hadn't wanted to talk with the overhead light on.

  Sarah scrambled onto the bed. "I get to sleep in my clothes!"

  Lexie tucked the edges of the blankets under Sarah, occasionally tickling, sending the little girl into fits of giggles—hence the phrase "tuckling her in." He'd observed the ritual several times but never done it himself. Maybe one day…

  Lexie sat on one side of the child and patted the opposite side, indicating he should also take his place.

  He settled in … and was struck by the innate rightness of the scene. Him, Sarah, Lexie … a dad, a child and a mom. He'd already realized that raising Sarah by himself wasn't going to be the easy task he'd first imagined.

  "Sarah, I want you to listen to me carefully," Lexie said gently. "Dr. Riley told us the results of those tests. Remember, when he put the Q-tip in your mouth? And mine and David's?"

  Sarah nodded.

  David found himself holding his breath, unsure how the child would take the news. No biting this time, I hope.

  "Well, the tests proved what David and I already knew, what he's already told you. He's your daddy, baby. You can tell Fallyn next time she asks that science proved it."

  Sarah's bottom lip stuck out slightly. He couldn't help but feel as if he'd been measured and found lacking. Maybe if he had black hair … and a crown.

  "Is he staying with us forever? Or will he go away again like Connor's daddy?"

  Lexie's eyes burned. She clenched her teeth together, ignoring the throbbing in her left temple and at the base of her neck. All she wanted to do was crawl back into her bed and cry some more.

  "I'm not leaving you, sport."

  "No, baby." Lexie cleared her throat, steeling herself to tell the child the whole truth. Laboring to bring Sarah into the world hadn't hurt at all. Not compared to this. "What's going to happen is—"

  "That's enough for tonight, don't you think, Lexie? I mean, give her a chance to accept the fact that I really am her daddy, even though I'm not a king."

  Once again she wasn't sure if she should kiss him or kick him for the unexpected and merciful reprieve he'd given her. At least one more day before she had to tell the child who was her world that she'd be going back to Erie with her daddy, while her "momma" stayed behind. About day care and God only knew what else David had in store for her.

  She couldn't swallow past the enormous tome lodged in her throat.

  Sarah snuggled down into her pillow. "Sing me, Momma."

  Lexie shook her head. "I'm not feeling good, remember? If I tried to sing tonight, it would sound like someone stepping on a frog," She could barely handle talking.

  "Okay." Sarah turned toward David. "You sing me."

  He burst out laughing, jiggling the bed. "I always sound like someone stepping on a frog. A big one. And I don't know any good go-to-sleep songs."

  "Sing Scarecrow's song. If I only had a brain," the child prompted.

  Despite the pain in her heart, Lexie couldn't stifle a small chuckle at that. "Yeah, if only."

  But maybe what she needed to be hoping for was that David, unlike the Tinman, had a heart of his own … one that would be generous with the woman who'd carried his baby and raised her, when she asked him again for visitation rights with that child.

  "Hey, I have a brain," David protested. "There's no straw in here." He thumped the heel of his palm against his skull to demonstrate.

  Sarah rewarded him with a wide smile, one that looked so much like his own, Lexie wondered how she could have doubted the test results for even a split second.

  Desperation did funny things to people.

  "'kay, if you won't sing, then kiss Momma again."

  "What?" Lexie shook her head. She'd stayed far beyond lip distance from David since she'd been tempted into kissing him the other night. "I don't feel well, honey. I might be getting sick, and I'd hate to spread my germs."

  "I'm willing to risk it."

  Lexie glared at him, then glanced down at Sarah.

  "Children do not tell grown-ups when to kiss, or anything else for that matter."

  "But, Momma, maybe he really is a king, but you gots to kiss him to make him change," Sarah whispered.

  "Then he'd have to be a frog right now, and while I know he said he sings like one, he doesn't look like one to me."

  "Ribbit," David said.

  Sarah giggled. "Sounds like a frog to me."

  God, she was just eating him up tonight. And while Lexie should have been comforted by father and daughter connecting, it just made the looming reality of him leaving and taking Sarah with him an even easier-to-visualize concept.

  And she'd be alone.

  Lexie pressed her fingers to her temple. "I have to go to bed, too, baby." She leaned down, completed the kiss ritual. "I love you."

  "Love you, too, Momma." Sarah crooked her finger. "Come back here."

  Lexie leaned over again, and the small lips pressed against her forehead.

  "Now you feel better."

  "Thanks, baby." Unfortunately, the true pain came from the center of her chest. And she didn't think she'd be feeling better anytime in the near future … anytime in the future, period.

  "Can I kiss you good night?" David asked softly.

  Sarah nodded, then turned her head, offering him her right cheek. "Here." She fingered the birthmark.

  Lexie sucked in her breath and waited, blink
ing hard. Did David have any idea the child was unconsciously testing him? Despite wanting to keep Sarah a bit longer, she didn't want him to fail.

  To his credit, he never hesitated. He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss where she'd indicated. "'Night, sport," he whispered, voice trembling.

  And in that moment, Lexie realized "The Truth." It was as if a magnifying glass had been placed over the fine print and she could read clearly.

  David Mitchell was one hell of a man.

  And she loved him.

  Probably always had. Hiding behind the words crush and puppy love had been easier than admitting the truth and the pain that went with it. Because he'd never seen her that way. Still didn't, despite the sexual charge between them of late.

  Love, pretty though it was, didn't change a darn thing. In fact, it wasn't pretty at all, but damn unpleasant. A side effect she didn't need.

  Not if he didn't—couldn't—love her back. The one dream she still had was to have a love like her parents had known for years.

  She swallowed a bitter sigh.

  "Sweet dreams, baby." Lexie stroked Sarah's hair. How many more nights would she be able to do that?

  She rose and checked the door to the hallway, making sure it was locked, since a pair of guests without reservations had wandered in off the scenic highway. David turned on the monitor then followed into her bedroom.

  After confirming Sarah's door was closed securely, she motioned him to follow her deeper into her room. "I need to ask you—"

  "We need to talk," he said at the same time. Awkwardly, he gestured in her direction. "Sorry. Ladies first. Go ahead."

  She paced the width of the room, stopping in front of the window. The streetlight flickered, the only sign of change outside. No cars traveled the street; no one walked the sidewalk at this hour. The calm quiet of the town she called home belied the turmoil inside her. Taking a deep breath and gathering every ounce of courage she possessed, she turned to face him. "David, I want—no, no, I need visitation with Sarah. Even if it's just two weeks in the summer." She lifted her chin and met his eyes straight on. "I think you owe me at least that much."

  His eyebrows arched. "Oh, really? You do, huh?"

  The silence couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds, but to Lexie her entire life could have been compressed into that time.

  He shook his head. "I don't think that would be the best thing for Sarah."

  "What?" She'd been prepared for a number of answers, but that wasn't one of them. "Did you just say … no? As in, no visitation with her?"

  "Pretty much, yeah. I said I didn't think it would be the best thing for her. Or for me."

  Lexie leaned against the footboard of her bed. Pain so intense it made giving birth feel like a hangnail flooded her entire body, from the soles of her feet to the tips of her hair. Her hair hurt. Beyond comprehension.

  David's mouth moved, but she couldn't make out what he said.

  No visitation were the only words her brain could process.

  Her stomach rolled, and she pressed a hand over her lips. David stepped toward her, eyes wide and full of concern.

  A little late for that, buddy. How could she have misjudged him that badly? She backed away, shaking her head. "Go away, David."

  "But, Lexie, I need to ask you—"

  "I have nothing more to say to you. Go." Another wave of nausea swept over her. She bolted for her bathroom, slamming the door in his face.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  Hours later, David rubbed his eyes, then tried to refocus on the monitor. The line of code blurred. It didn't matter; he'd read the thing four or five times and still didn't know what he'd done.

  Because he couldn't stop thinking about Lexie.

  He'd spent what had seemed ages outside her bathroom door, listening to her run water in the tub to mask the muffled sounds of her crying. And he'd begged her to open the door and listen to him. But she'd refused. Told him to get lost.

  Certain she'd be in better shape to listen to his idea in the morning, he'd opted to work.

  Or try, anyway.

  He popped his knuckles, then saved the file and closed the notebook. His shirt ended up draped over the back of his chair; he dropped his jeans to the floor. The key in the old-fashioned lamp clicked as he shut it off, then he slid between the cool cotton sheets of the massive bed.

  Rolling onto his back, he draped his arm across his face. At least the bruise on his cheek didn't hurt as much anymore.

  Sarah's monitor relayed her quiet slumber.

  He waited for sleep to claim him.

  Thought about the code for the program.

  Lexie.

  Cramming the feather pillow into the crack between the mattress and the headboard, he flopped onto his stomach.

  Somewhere in the house, a board shifted and creaked. Outside his just-cracked-open window a breeze stirred the leaves on a tree in the front yard. As they came loose, their shadows drifted across the top of the bed.

  Lexie will think it's a great idea. Now get some sleep.

  He yanked the pillow from the crack, punched it several times and curled up on his side.

  Eventually his mind shut down. But even in sleep he couldn't escape her. In his dreams he saw the younger version of Lexie as she plied him with ice cream and brownies and listened to his tale of woe, playing down her own losses. Offering to make his dream reality.

  Her tearful pleas for him to at least consider Angela as a potential threat to the baby Lexie carried for them.

  Her face in the library, a couple of weeks earlier, when recognition had kicked in. The blatant terror when she'd asked where his wife was.

  Then the other night, confessing she'd stopped dreaming herself.

  "Don't cry, Lex," he mumbled.

  "I'm not. You awake now?"

  Turning onto his back, he pried his eyes open. And found a silhouetted form on the edge of his bed. "Lexie?"

  "I need visitation, David. Photos. Phone calls. I carried her for nine months and gave birth to her. You can't just cut me out of her life completely."

  "What was that like?"

  "What?"

  "Giving birth to her. The labor and delivery." He tried to imagine what she'd looked like at nine months. She'd run at five, and her tummy had just been rounding into an obviously pregnant shape. He'd missed watching her grow large with Sarah…

  And so much more.

  "Oh." Her outline grew taller as she straightened. "Hard. Painful. Scary."

  His eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out her form more clearly. "Scary? Why was it scary?"

  "I was … alone. I missed home and my family. And … you—you were supposed to be there."

  He reached out, found her hand. Her fingers were cold, and he wrapped them tightly in his own. "I'll always regret not being there, Lex."

  "Then the nurse was putting her in my arms. She was so tiny. She needed me. I couldn't be afraid anymore. And I wasn't alone." Her voice cracked. "Please don't take her away from me!" Evidence of her pain tracked down her cheeks.

  He sat up, reaching for her face, wiping the moisture away. "Don't cry. You know I can't stand it when you do."

  Her lower lip quivered, just like Sarah's. "I'm not crying."

  His fingers couldn't catch the tears as quickly as she shed them. "No, not much you're not." The bed shook. It took him a moment to realize her trembling caused the quakes.

  "Oh, Lexie." Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her tight against his chest. "I'm sorry this has hurt you—me—all of us. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

  She nodded her agreement. Her dark hair, soft against his bare skin, smelled sweet, fresh, like—well, it sounded corny, but like spring wildflowers or something.

  He held her for a long time.

  The air in the room grew heavy.

  One of her tears trickled down his chest, alongside his belly button, then got caught in the waistband of his briefs. He stifled a gr
oan, and mentally kicked himself for being such an insensitive lunkhead, but it was the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced.

  Because it was the most intimate way she'd ever touched him.

  And he wanted more.

  "Lexie?"

  She looked up, no more signs of tears. Her red-rimmed eyes held a spark of the same thing he was feeling.

  "I have to kiss you again," he whispered. "Okay?"

  She shivered, inclining her head, then raising her face to him.

  Leaning forward, he claimed her mouth, nothing hesitant or slow this time, firm and possessive from the onset. With a start, he realized the impulse to kiss her, to claim her, went back a long time—all the way to the night of her prom. He hadn't dared then. But now… Years had slipped by, and he didn't want to wait any longer. He ran his hands through her hair, then let one roam over the planes of her back.

  She shivered again, pressing tighter into him.

  The tips of her breasts hardened against his chest … and caused his own body to respond in kind.

  Sweet insanity burned away the remnants of logical thought as her mouth and deep kisses stoked the fire.

  Holding her tight, he rolled, pulling her onto the bed, then stared down at her swollen mouth in the light from the window. "Lexie," he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. "Is this a dream or reality?"

  "A dream," she whispered, fingers tracing over his lips, his jaw. "A hot, sexy dream. So don't wake me."

  Hot and sexy? She did feel the same way he did. "If this is a dream, then you should be naked." He tugged at the bottom of her nightshirt, drawing it up above her waist.

  Lexie wrestled with a moment of panic. Naked? With David? She did a quick mental panty check. Please, don't let me be wearing the holey ones.

  "Last chance to reclaim reality, Lex. Because I really want to make love to you. If you don't want this—"

  She silenced him by pressing the tip of her finger against his mouth. "I do."

  David wanted to make love to her!

  The cynic in her ranted and raved about figures of speech and pretty words from soft-hearted computer geeks who hated to see women cry.