Hearts in Hiding

by Patty Smith Hall

  “You know.” Claire pursed her lips together in a childish pucker. “Like he was smart and that he played first base in high school before he ran away.”

  “Your mother told you that Beau ran away from home?”

  The little girl dropped her chin to her chest. “I didn’t mean to listen, but Momma was talking to my cousin Maggie about my daddy and she mentioned how hard it was when Beau ran away.” She looked up at Edie through pale lashes. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve got to tell Momma?” Claire whined.

  Edie draped her arm around the little girl’s shoulders and brought her close. “You know it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I just wanted to know more about my daddy.” Claire sighed. “At least now, I’ll have Cousin Beau around—to ask him questions. He was really good friends with Daddy.”

  Edie’s throat tightened at Claire’s words. Ever since it was discovered that John Davenport had signed over the deed of the Daniels homestead to Merrilee, Claire had developed an insatiable curiosity about her father. Hopefully, Beau Daniels would have enough sense not to fill the young girl’s head with nonsense about her absent father.

  A tug at her sleeve drew her attention. “So? What’s my cousin like?”

  “I really didn’t get the chance to talk to him, honey.” She started back down the stairs, Claire close behind her.

  “Is he handsome?” Claire asked when they reached the bottom.

  Butterflies fluttered around her midsection. Edie walked to the ornate mirror Merrilee had hung near the front door and dropped her purse and gloves on the bench. “Why in the world would you ask something like that?”

  “Momma says that the only way you can learn anything is by asking lots of questions,” Claire replied quietly. Pale green eyes stared back at her in the mirror, her warm body pressed close to her side, the scent of Ivory soap and sunshine reminding Edie just how young Claire was.

  Lord, keep her heart safe. I’d hate to see it get broken like mine. She bent to brush a kiss against the girl’s soft hair. “Your mother’s right, Claire Bear. It’s always good to ask questions.”

  Claire leaned back to stare straight up at her, giving her a hopeful smile. “Then is he handsome?”

  Edie lifted her hat to her head, moving it from one side to the other, trying to decide how to best answer Claire’s question. It annoyed her that Beau Daniels was so attractive. Even in the dim light of the lantern, he had been devastatingly handsome. But as Merrilee was fond of saying, the physical was just packaging. What was Beau like on the inside, where it counted?

  “I guess some would say that your cousin is a nice-looking man.” Edie pushed her hat pin into the gray felt. “Not that it matters.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Claire sighed. “Though I like the idea of coming from a good-looking family.”

  Turning, Edie cupped the young girl’s chin in the palm of her hand. “You know what your mother says. Beautiful is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.”

  “Sounds like Aunt Merri.”

  Edie and Claire looked toward the stairway to where Beau Daniels occupied the bottom step. How long had he been standing there? And more important, how much had he overheard?

  “Cousin Beau?” Claire took a step toward the man, then stopped.

  There was no mistaking the confusion in his eyes when his gaze met Edie’s over the little girl’s head. Claire had told her that Beau had left before she was born. Was it possible the man didn’t know anything about his aunt’s child? “I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced. Beau Daniels, this is Claire Davenport, Merrilee’s daughter.”

  “Merrilee’s…” His voice drifted off. He covered the short distance between them, then knelt in front of the child, his gaze moving over Claire’s oval face. “Claire. That’s a beautiful name.”

  “It’s my grandma’s name.”

  “Yes, I know. She was my grandma, too.”

  Claire giggled. “Of course she was. We’re cousins, silly.”

  The smile Beau gave the girl made Edie’s heart pound like rivets against steel that filled the air outside her office door at the bomber plant. “Except I think you’re a bit prettier than I am.”

  Claire giggled again, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. “You really think so?”

  Beau nodded. “Yes, I do. You look the spitting image of your momma.”

  “What about my daddy? Do I look anything like him?”

  Edie’s chest tightened. How was Beau going to handle Claire’s endless stream of questions about the man? A father who had betrayed her, much like Edie’s own.

  Beau touched the tip of the little girl’s nose. “You’ve got your daddy’s smile.”

  Edie let out the breath she had been holding. So far, so good. But what would happen when Claire’s questions got tougher? Would Beau fill her head with useless fairy tales about a man who’d never had anything to do with her or her mother? Sure, he’d signed over the house to Merrilee, but it should have been hers in the first place. Edie would have to keep an eye on him. She wasn’t about to stand by while Beau Daniels broke Claire’s tender heart.

  Chapter Three

  “Did you hear that?” Claire stared back at Edie, her green eyes shining. “I have my daddy’s smile.”

  “That’s lovely, sweetheart.”

  The slight edge of concern in her voice told Beau that Edie Michaels wasn’t crazy about the direction this conversation had taken. Well, that was too bad. One look at this little girl who shared Merrilee’s eyes and her father’s impish grin, and he’d been lost. At least, his aunt wasn’t as alone as he’d thought, but now the promise he’d made to John took on more importance. There was a child involved—John’s daughter. A protectiveness he’d always felt toward Merrilee grew with each girlish giggle from Claire.

  “Don’t you need to get ready for school?” Edie asked.

  Claire’s face fell. “But I still have a lot of questions to ask Beau.”

  Beau cupped her cheek in one palm and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, sweetie pie. So I’ll be around for you to ask as many questions as you want to.”

  Claire flung her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. “So you’ll tell me more about my daddy?”

  Beau wrapped his arms around her slight body and glanced up at Edie. Why did the woman look so worried? Was something going on here that he didn’t know about? He pressed a kiss into Claire’s hair, then pulled back to look at her. “You need to hurry. Don’t want you missing the bus and getting me in trouble with your momma, now do we?”

  She hopped out of his embrace, then leaned back in to give him a wet kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad you’re home, Cousin Beau.”

  “Me, too, kiddo.” Beau watched the little girl race up the stairs, stumbling over her feet like a newborn colt yearning to break out in a run. John would be so proud. His daughter certainly knew how to wrap someone around her little finger.

  “Do you think that was such a good idea?”

  Beau glanced over his shoulder at Edie. The housecoat she had worn the night before hadn’t done her justice. The sky-blue shirt tucked into a slate-colored skirt complemented her lithe form and shapely legs. A dove-gray hat sat nestled above a loose knot of chestnut curls gathered at the nape of her neck. The woman really was a looker, probably one of the loveliest girls he’d ever seen.

  And German.

  Meine tochtor, Edwina. The phrase had played through Beau’s mind well into the early hours of the morning. He knew enough of the language to know it was an endearment, something a mother or grandmother might write. But what if the whole thing was just a cover, to send everyone chasing the wrong rabbit down the hole while Edie gave plans for the B-29 to her German comrades.

  Beau grimaced. He’d tended to men ripped apart by Nazi bullets, carried the stains of their blood on his soul
while he’d tended to their wounds as they died on the enemy’s soil. No, something about Edie’s letter bothered him, and until he found out more about her situation, he planned on watching her like a hawk.

  Beau shook the thoughts from his head as he stood to face her. “Don’t you think Claire needs to know a little something about her father?”

  Irritation flashed in her blue-green eyes. “Not if she’s going to be hurt.”

  Hurt Claire? Beau clenched his hands into tight fists. He’d no more cause pain to that little girl than he would himself. “Now why do you think it would hurt Claire to know a little about her father?”

  “It’s just that ever since we learned John Davenport bought this house and signed it over to Merrilee, Claire’s talked of nothing else but her father.” She hesitated, a glimpse of pain streaking across her face then, just as suddenly, gone. “The man abandoned her and her mother.”

  Heat flooded Beau’s veins, and it took everything inside him not to lash out at her. “There are two sides to every story, Ms. Michaels.”

  Edie crossed her arms over her waist, digging her fingers into the cotton material of her shirt. “Well, he’s not here to tell us his side, now is he?”

  No, and with good reason. Beau glanced around the room, choosing to ignore her question by asking one of his own. “Why hasn’t Merrilee told Claire anything about her daddy?”

  Edie shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably felt that the less Claire knew about him, the better.”

  Beau scrubbed a hand over his face. This didn’t make sense. John had loved the idea of having a child with Merrilee. It was all he talked about on those long days, shoveling asphalt along the winding highways near Hoover Dam. How he couldn’t wait to get home to start his life with Merrilee.

  Then one day, everything changed, and John never spoke of Merrilee and home again.

  And what about Merrilee? His aunt had never been the type to harbor bad feelings for ten minutes, much less ten years. So why hadn’t she told Claire more about her father?

  “I don’t understand.” The words came out before Beau could think to stop them.

  “Most people don’t when it comes to a parent giving up on their child.”

  Grabbing her purse from the bench, Edie opened the latch and rifled through it, as if looking for answers that eluded them both. But there had been no mistaking the hitch in her voice. This situation with Claire bothered her, but it hadn’t caused the faint lines that had settled in the corners of her eyes. Had Edie experienced that kind of rejection? Did it have anything to do with the letter he’d found last night?

  He shook the thought aside for the moment. “What if John doesn’t know about Claire?”

  “Maggie says your aunt sent him letters every week, right up until he served her with the divorce papers.”

  “We were all over the West Coast, Ms. Michaels. Letters get lost.”

  “Maybe one or two, but Maggie said there were dozens.” She grimaced. “Why are you so determined to think John doesn’t know about Claire?”

  “Because I know him. He’s like a brother to me. And if he knew he had a kid, John would do whatever it took to get home, whether Uncle Sam liked it or not.”

  Her chin raised a notch, almost as if she were throwing down a challenge. “You seem so sure of yourself.”

  “I am.”

  “Then tell me, Mr. Daniels. Why do you think John has never heard about his daughter?”

  Beau couldn’t decide whether to shake that smug look off her face, or kiss her. He compromised. His fingers gently clamped over the soft curve of her chin. “Because until I saw Claire a few minutes ago, I didn’t know about her myself.”

  * * *

  Beau entered the dining room, feeling cleaner and more rested than he had in the month since leaving the hospital. Usually, the nightmares woke him, but last night, he’d drifted off to sleep, the German words from Edie’s letter chasing him around until he’d finally succumbed to a dreamless sleep. Better than the nightmares of the prison camp.

  His stomach gave a painful growl at the heavenly aroma of fried bacon and strong coffee filling his lungs. He could get used to three squares a day after months of gnawing hunger, wondering where his next bite of food was coming from.

  If only he could hold his tongue with Edie Michaels. Frustration ripped through him. Women had never given him much trouble, but this one…

  This one was something else.

  “I’ve got you a seat right here, Beau.” Claire pulled a high-back chair from under the table, the wooden legs making a low thud against the scratched hardwood floors.

  “All right, squirt.” Beau nodded before his gaze drifted to a young woman eyeing him from the end of the table. “Maggie?”

  “How are you doing, Beau?”

  Beau smiled. He hadn’t heard that voice since the night he’d left, and while it had taken on a more feminine tone, he could still picture the stubborn little wildcat with the reddish-gold ponytail that Maggie had been. He gave a low whistle. “Wow, Magpie. I bet Uncle Jeb has to beat the men off with a baseball bat.”

  “Would you please not call me that?” Her lips quirked up in a faint smile. “I am, after all, an engaged woman.”

  “Old Man Bailey down at the train station told me.” Leaning forward, Beau grabbed the coffeepot from its spot on the table and poured himself a cup. “Said you were marrying you a pilot.”

  “Captain Wesley Hicks,” Claire answered, pressing up against Beau’s side.

  “Thank you, squirt.” Beau smiled at the little girl then turned his attention back to his older cousin. “Margaret Hicks. It’s got a good sound to it.”

  “I like it.”

  Beau turned toward the doorway. A man, tall with blond hair, stood wearing the dark green uniform of the United States Army.

  Stuffing his hat under his arm, the man held out his hand. “Wesley Hicks. Merrilee told us you came home late last night.”

  “And liked to scare poor Edie to death,” Maggie added.

  “Really?” Claire asked, her eyes sparkling.

  “No.” Beau gently squeezed Claire’s shoulder before turning to shake Wesley’s hand. Firm grip. Maggie had done well for herself. “Ms. Michaels did a pretty good job of holding me off with a fire poker.”

  “Poor girl. Everyone interrupts her during her quiet time.” Maggie snorted out a girlish laugh. “First Jimbo and his nightly drunks, and now you breaking in through the front window.”

  “The window?” Wesley looked first at Beau, then at Maggie.

  “My cousin doesn’t enter a room like normal people,” Maggie said over the rim of her coffee cup. “He’s been climbing in through Merrilee’s parlor window since he was nine.”

  Beau shot a glance at Maggie. He probably deserved that dig for all the times he’d tortured her growing up. He’d only realized later how horrible it must have been for her. A case of monkey see, monkey do. An apology was in order the next chance he got. Beau picked up a cup and handed it to Wesley. “So you’re the guy marrying my cousin?”

  “As soon as I can get her to the altar.” Wesley took the coffee cup from Beau. His gaze settled on Maggie, and a faint smile played on his lips. “Though it can’t be fast enough for me.”

  Maggie smiled back at him. “Me, either.”

  Beau busied himself pouring cream in his coffee, all the while stealing glances at the couple. Maggie glowed with happiness. They both did. Was this what real love looked like? Not that he would know. Mom had left years ago. Said living with Dad and a houseful of boys was too tough.

  Beau took a deep breath. Well, good for Maggie. She’d always been a good egg, putting up with all the tricks he had played on her when they were growing up. Maybe, just maybe she had a chance at finding real happiness.

  “Congratulations to you both,” Beau said.

  “Thank you. We appreciate it.” Maggie pushed back from the table and stood. “I hate to cut this little reunion short, but I’ve got to get going. I’m s
upposed to meet Edie in an hour.”

  Beau watched her round the table and place her dirty plate in a dish pan. Maybe Maggie could answer some questions he had about Edie Michaels.

  Like why someone would write to her in German?

  When he pushed back from the table, a small hand covered his sleeve. “Where are you going?”

  Leaning forward until his forehead touched hers, Beau brushed his nose against Claire’s. “I’ll be right back.”

  Her girlish giggles chased him out into the hall. Maggie stood in front of the mirror, a bobby pin clenched between her teeth as she tucked a curl behind her ear, pinning it there. Her green eyes met his in the glass. “Couldn’t get enough of me at breakfast?”

  That was Maggie, always teasing. “I’ve got some questions for you if you don’t mind.”

  She stuck the last pin in her hair and turned to face him. “What’s up?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. “How well do you know Edie Michaels?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  Typical Maggie. Even as a kid, she always answered a question with one of her own. But he couldn’t tell her the truth, that he had Edie’s letter, that he intended to keep it until he knew some truths.

  Like was the woman a patriot or a traitor?

  “Just wondering,” Beau finally answered.

  Maggie cocked her head to one side, a vague smile playing on her lips. “You’re interested in her, aren’t you?”

  Yes, but not for the reasons his cousin thought. “I’m always partial to a woman who takes a swing at me.”

  “You deserved it, sneaking up on her like that.” Maggie folded her arms across her waist. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  “And give her the chance to take another swing at me? No, thanks!”

  “She really spooked you, huh?”

  “Let’s just say I’d like to know her without the poker in her hand.”

  “Fair enough.” Maggie laughed. “So what is it you’d like to know?”

  “Anything.”

  “Well.” She tapped the tip of her index finger against her chin. “She’s from some small town just outside of Detroit, but moved down here when Abner Ellerbee hired her on as his secretary over at the bomber plant.”