Summer Day Dreams

by Verity Norton

  “Why—why are you here?”

  “I had something I wanted to tell you. I tried calling but you didn’t answer. Well, you sort of did once. It sounded like you threw me across the room. Made me wonder if I’d done something to upset you.”

  “Oops. That was you? Sorry about that.”

  “No problem. Just wounded my ego, but it will recover.”

  The fact that he hadn’t asked her if she was okay, surprisingly was cause for elation.

  “Uh, let me get dressed and you can tell me whatever it is you came to tell me.” She stepped back across the threshold of her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Sean stood there staring at the closed door. How he was still standing, he had no clue. All he’d wanted to do was reach out and touch her. Everywhere. Run his fingers up and down her entire body, learning every line and curve, every freckle and birthmark.

  He was still staring at the door when she opened it again. She was now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her wet curls brushed out over her shoulders. She tilted her head in puzzlement, but didn’t speak. Surely she knew the answer to her question. He was in too deep of a trance to move.

  Smiling, she walked past him and started down the stairs. When she reached the bottom stair, she looked back over her shoulder at him. “Well? Are you coming?”

  He forced himself to move, bracing himself against the stair railing as he made his way toward her. When he spotted the bottle of port on the bar, he grabbed it and poured himself a glass. Not exactly his drink, but it would do.

  “Would you like some?”

  “I already had my quota,” she told him. “Skye doesn’t want me drinking too much and tarnishing the McCullough name.”

  That sounded like his sister. Sean’s laugh offered him a small amount of relief. He combed his fingers through his thick hair and struggled to remember why he had come here.

  “Before I forget, do you think it would be okay if I stay here for a couple more weeks?” Sophie interrupted his thoughts.

  “A couple more weeks?” Was he dreaming? Had he passed out and imagined this conversation? “Why?”

  “Oh. It’s a problem?”

  “No. No! Not at all! You might have to change rooms at some point, but it’s no problem. I was just surprised. Are things okay with . Alex?”

  Sophie shrugged noncommittally. “I told him I want to stick around until we find my father.”

  “What if it only takes a couple days?” He had to ask. If he did find her real father quickly, and she decided she would leave early, he would feel like a little kid whose scoop of ice cream had fallen off the cone. Not a pretty picture.

  Sophie chewed on her thumb nail that seemed to have migrated to her mouth. Finally she looked up at him, searching for something. Reassurance perhaps? “I’m just not ready to go home yet.”

  “You’re not?” His heart was beating so wildly, he thought it was going to jump out of his chest. He took a step toward her but stopped before doing something incredibly stupid. “I—I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll let my mom know.”

  “But if she needs the room, I don’t want to be in the way.” She was chewing on her lower lip now and he found himself wishing it was his lip where she found relief.

  His voice still husky, but his breathing less erratic now, he said, “It’s not a problem. You can stay as long as you want. If they need the room, you can change rooms or stay at the farm. Or with my grandparents. Or—” He stopped short of telling her she could stay with him. “Don’t worry about it, Soph. You’re welcome here as long as you want to stay.”

  “Thank—”

  He pressed his thumb against her lips. Lucky thumb.

  Her eyes were glowing with gratitude. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

  “I called David Culver, told him what we figured out.”

  “How did he react?”

  “He was sad, but not completely surprised. I’m sure he thought he was your father. But as we talked, it all started to make sense to him—why Barbara wanted to get married so quickly, why their relationship changed once you were born, why she was so insistent that he not try to see you.”

  “Poor man.”

  Typical Sophie. Thinking of the man who had abandoned her instead of thinking of herself. “I asked him if he had any idea who your birth father could be. Unfortunately he didn’t. Your mother has obviously kept that secret close to the vest all these years.”

  “So, what now?”

  He looked down at the drink in his hand. “I think I’ve done as much research as I can do. I’ve talked to all my resources again and we keep hitting dead ends.”

  Sophie’s face fell at this news. Not only did it mean there was a good possibility they would never locate her father, but it also meant she had no excuse to stay in Canden Valley.

  Sean reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. “We’re not giving up, Soph.”

  “We’re not?” she asked softly, gazing into his deep blue eyes.

  “No. I’m going up to San Jose tomorrow.” Reluctantly he removed his hand from its favorite spot.

  “San Jose? What for?”

  “To talk to your mother.”

  She shook her head. “It’s hopeless, Sean. I’ve tried and tried. She stonewalls me every time. This last time, she said it was a closed subject. Forever. There’s no way she’s going to give in on this.”

  Sean smiled. “Wanna bet?”

  Sophie laughed. “I’m afraid I’m not willing to wager on that one.”

  “You don’t know a good thing when you see it,” Sean said softly. “Otherwise you’d definitely be betting on me.”

  Sophie’s heart did a double flip. She wasn’t going to argue with that.

  As much as he would have loved to have her with him, he turned down her offer to accompany him to San Jose. His intuition told him that he had a better chance of getting the truth out of Barbara Weldon if her daughter wasn’t there. Sophie made him soft and gentle, neither of which trait would be useful.

  He sat outside the house for several minutes, observing the street, the neighborhood, the yard. This was where Sophie had grown up. She had played in the front yard, walked down the street to her school, played with her friends in this neighborhood. He wanted to know everything about her life even when she was a child. He wanted to know her completely.

  And he wanted to give her the gift of her father. He’d be damned if Barbara Weldon was going to stop him from doing that.

  Her car was in the driveway. He had called her office in case she was there, but they had informed him she was working from her home office today. Good. He would catch her alone. And he would see the house where Sophie had grown up. At least the entryway.

  Every strand of her silver hair was pulled back and clipped in place. Her makeup was thick, but gracefully applied. She was slim and at least two inches taller than Sophie. Frown lines were prominent around her mouth, and her brown eyes were cold. He would not have picked her out as Sophie’s mother in a room of two women. Sophie did not resemble her in appearance or demeanor. Barbara Weldon’s outlook on life was the opposite of her daughter’s.

  When she answered the door, her cell phone was pressed against her ear. She looked at him for a long time as she finished her conversation. She did not slam the door in his face, but neither did she invite him in.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m Sean McCullough, Mrs. Weldon. I’d like to talk to you.”

  She shook her head. “Have we met? I don’t recognize the name but you do look familiar.”

  “I’m Alex Jameson’s cousin,” he clarified.

  “Oh! Of course. You do look very much like him. Come in, come in.”

  Obviously she approved of her daughter’s engagement. He wondered if she’d be as happy when her daughter called off that wedding and announced her engagement to him. He cautioned himself not to get too cocky.

  “Thank you.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

/>   “No thanks. I just need to ask you some questions.”

  She smiled. “Does this have to do with the wedding?”

  “Uh, sort of.” After all, Sophie’s reason for finding her father was in order to have him walk her down the aisle.

  “Have you met Sophie? Oh, of course you have. She and Alex are visiting your family. So, what is it, Sean? Do you need my help with something?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, come sit down then.”

  Sean stayed where he was. He knew that within less than a minute, Barbara Weldon was going to wish she had not invited him into her home. He didn’t really care. All he cared about was getting answers for Sophie.

  “Look, Mrs. Weldon. I’m not going to waste your time. I’ll get right to the point. I’m here for one reason only. Sophie’s my friend and I’m doing this for her. I’m a private investigator and I’ve promised her that I’d find her father for her.” Sean braced himself for her reaction. Rightfully so.

  The glare she gave him could have frozen a polar bear. She walked directly past him, opened the front door, and motioned for him to leave.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere. Not until you give me the information I’ve come here for.”

  “You’ll be here for a very long time then.”

  “So be it.”

  “I’ll call the police if need be.”

  “Fine. I’ll call Sophie and tell her what kind of mother she has.”

  “How dare you! You don’t even know me. This is between me and my daughter. It is none of your business.”

  “Damned right it is. I lo— I care about Sophie and I want to do this for her.”

  “Why? Why now? She’s never cared before.”

  “She sure as hell has. She’s always cared. But now she believes it will actually happen.”

  For a moment she softened. Or at least appeared to. “I’m sorry, Mr. McCullough but you’ve wasted your time coming here. I have no intention of ever telling Sophie the name of her father. Ever. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Apparently I haven’t made myself clear, Mrs. Weldon. I have every intention of finding Sophie’s father with or without your help. Your resistance to helping me is only making me more determined.”

  She shook her head. “I’d like you to leave now.”

  Sean took one step toward the door and turned to face her. “Let me draw a picture for you, Mrs. Weldon. Two scenarios here. You give me a name. I tell Sophie you helped me. She almost thinks you care about her and want to do the right thing. She’s grateful, happy. Second scenario. You don’t help me. I find him on my own. Sophie knows this. She continues to believe that you don’t really care about her or doing the right thing. She resents you for the rest of her life. Your choice.” He walked over to the door and stepped across the threshold, placing his boot in position to prevent her from slamming the door in his face. “No disrespect intended, Mrs. Weldon. I’ve already located your ex-husband. And one way or another—with or without your help—I am going to find Sophie’s birth father.” He turned and walked away.

  He stood outside, leaning against the passenger door of his truck. It only took ten minutes. He kept his smile to himself when Barbara Weldon appeared. “Any pain Sophie suffers from this is on your conscience.” She handed him a slip of paper and went back to the sanctuary of her igloo.

  He pressed Sophie’s number in his phone. She answered on the first ring. “Sean!”

  “I have his name.”

  “Oh my God!” She leaned back against the soda fountain counter. She was shaking. It was different this time. She knew it really was her father. “What is it? How?”

  “Michael Donahue. Your mother gave it to me.”

  “Michael Donahue. My mother? How did you—?”

  Sean grinned. “My McCullough charm, of course.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “I have a lead I’m going to follow up. I might be gone for a couple more days. Can you handle things there?”

  “Of course.” Disappointment blended with excitement. She wanted Sean home. But if it meant finding her father, she could wait a couple days. “Where are you going?”

  “Sacramento. I’m headed there now. I’ve booked a hotel. If you need to reach me, call my cell.”

  “Okay. Sean?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “How am I going to get you to stop thanking me?” He knew the answer to that. If he was standing in front of her, the next time she thanked him, he would be using something other than his thumb to cover her lips.

  Chapter 20

  The next couple days were painfully long. She loved being at the store, but there weren’t enough customers to distract her, and she found herself feeling antsy and anxious for Sean’s return. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and he hadn’t called to check in. Concerned that he would answer his phone while he was driving, she was reluctant to call him and instead waited for her phone to ring.

  “I wish there was something to do,” she told Sally. “I’ve already dusted all the displays and rearranged them.”

  Sally climbed onto her stool behind the cash register and grabbed the romance she was reading. “Well, if you’re desperate, you could always dust Sean’s office.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened as she remembered the cluttered shelves she had seen in the back room. “Good idea. If I don’t come out in two hours, send a rescue squad in for me!”

  Sally winked at her. “I’ll do that. Good luck! Oh, and just so you know—most of that clutter in there is left over from Evan McCullough’s day so don’t go blaming Sean.”

  Sophie found some rags in the supply closet and went to work on Sean’s desk first. She sorted papers, organizing and filing, dusting as she went. The shelves would take at least a couple days, but at least she could get started. Books and papers were piled every which way, but she made it through three shelves without gasping for air. Opening both windows helped.

  But when she reached the fourth shelf of the first bookcase, she stopped. A deep red photograph album, not unlike the one she had discovered on Alex’s bookshelf at the condo, jumped out at her. She slipped it off the shelf, and carried it over to the desk where she set it down. Sean had taken his laptop with him so she had plenty of room to spread it out. If it was Evan’s it would have family photographs from who knows how far back.

  Excited, she opened the cover to the first page, smiling at the picture of Evan and Eleanor dressed in wedding garb. They were young, beautiful, and handsome, and filled with excitement and joy. Her eyes became moist as she stared at the photograph. How lucky they were to love each other so much and how lucky to still be in love and devoted to each other to this day.

  Suddenly overcome by an odd sense of nostalgia for a life she hadn’t lived, she wiped at the tears before they could fall onto the precious pages. She shook herself out of the unexpected mood and turned to the second page. The next several pictures were of various-aged children. Judging from the hair styles, clothes, and cars, they were the McCullough aunts and uncles. Anxiously she turned the pages, hoping for pictures of the cousins. She wasn’t disappointed. There were several. From having seen a few of the same childhood pictures in Alex’s album at the condo, she could pick him out of the crowd in several photographs. Lightly she pressed her finger to his cheek. He was more spirited as a child. His smile was fuller, his eyes glistened more. But he had grown into a good man. He was kind and generous. And he loved her. He didn’t always understand her but he cared about her.

  Other than a few pictures of Alex, she wasn’t sure who was who, except for one photograph of Sean. It was the eyes. A deeper blue than the Pacific Ocean. She shivered when she looked into them, quickly forcing herself to look away.

  As the cousins grew up, it was easier to recognize the ones she had met. Anne dancing. Skye smirking at the camera. Alex and Matt with their arms over each other’s shoulder. And Sean. It must have been Jeff who was by his side in most p
ictures, riding horses, fishing, swimming, riding a lawn mower, throwing pumpkins at each other, decorating the Christmas tree lot. Again a sadness washed over her and she thought of Arielle. Sean must have missed his best friend terribly. She was glad he had the support of his family to help ease the loss.

  But one more turn of a page, sent her spiraling downwards. Now she knew who was in some of the earlier pictures. When Alex wasn’t with Matt or Sean, he was with Cassie. Starting with the picture of them sitting by a pond, throwing rocks. They couldn’t have been more than six and eight years old.

  She stared at the more recent pictures. In their late teens, early twenties, holding hands, him grabbing her and threatening to throw her in the pond, her grabbing him and trying to smear him with cake batter. All the things he avoided doing with Sophie, riding horses side by side, eating ice cream sundaes, playing with a litter of puppies, even wearing worn-out blue jeans, barefoot and muddy, and laughing. Always laughing together as if they shared a secret. And the final photograph of Alex with his hand softly touching Cassie’s cheek as he gazed into her eyes with love and adoration. Never once since she and Alex had met, had he looked at her the way he looked at his first love. It was exactly like the look in his eyes at the picnic when he had first seen her. When he had first seen the woman he still loved.

  She wasn’t completely naïve. She had realized he still had feelings for Cassie. She just hadn’t known how deep those feelings were. Nor had she known that although he loved her enough to ask her to marry him, he had never loved her the way he loved the girl-next-door.

  He should have called, but once he was on the road home, he just kept his eyes straight ahead and his hands off his cell phone. Not much longer. He should be in the valley by nine o’clock. Sophie would still be awake.

  He was driving faster than he should have been, anxious to get to her with the news. The word “addiction” popped into his mind. He now had an inkling of understanding of the true meaning of the word. When he was away from her, he could not wait to be with her. And when he was with her, he wanted more of her. He felt like the little kid who was sent off to bed before the end of the movie or who had reached the bottom of the ice cream carton before he was full. He could never get enough of her.