The Water Baby

by Roz Denny Fox

  Temple’s gaze again strayed to Daisy, but he didn’t say yes or no to Dr. Rankin’s request.

  This time, however, Daisy thought she glimpsed deeper emotions overshadowing his pain. Anger. Distrust. Jealousy. Not that she could blame him. He didn’t know a blessed thing about her. Plus, it had sounded as if he’d been betrayed by a woman. One he’d loved enough to marry.

  For just a moment, Daisy wondered how a man of Wyatt’s sensitivity could have loved such a woman. But then, never having been in love herself, she was hardly in a position to judge what did or didn’t spark that level of passion. Still, duplicity of the magnitude he’d suffered would leave scars.

  She stood and began to move toward him, wanting to say something to allay his fears. It happened again, as it had the day before—when she drew near, all her senses first heightened, then failed. Around Becca’s father, Daisy found herself either tongue-tied or hostile. Right now, her knees threatened to fold and her throat felt tight. A stuttering stumbling woman wasn’t exactly the image she wanted to leave him with.

  Slowing her steps, Daisy let the moment pass. She fell in behind Dr. Rankin in time to hear him tell Wyatt that it would simplify things if he’d sign Becca’s discharge papers now.

  Wyatt considered the suggestion, then nodded. Dr. Rankin clasped his hand briefly, then ran to catch the state’s attorney.

  At that moment, the seriousness of what she’d done hit Daisy. After tomorrow, there’d be no more twenty-fourhour nursing care for Becca. No team of doctors dashing in and out offering encouragement and suggestions. Soon, she alone would be responsible for the well-being of another person. A tiny fully dependent person. Fleetingly Daisy was swamped by utter panic.

  Temple seemed to pick up on it. “Having second thoughts, Miss Sloan?” he asked. Although in truth, he didn’t know what he’d do if she suddenly backed out. Rebecca seemed totally reliant on this… floozy.

  “N-no.” Daisy croaked out a hasty assurance. But she was having second thoughts. And third. True, she’d cooked, shopped and cleaned house for her dad and herself. Had done a bit more when he’d taken ill. But he’d been an independent old cuss. (Some said she took after him.)

  Surely this panic was a perfectly normal response. But if that was true, why couldn’t she meet Wyatt’s allknowing gaze? Darn, what was there about the man that he could send her into a tailspin at a mere glance?

  Wyatt’s lawyers were still arguing. “Giving up like this is stupid, Temple,” Weasel Eyes said. “We didn’t even present Glendon’s statement. That would’ve impressed the judge.”

  “Thanks, but no.” Temple shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t have asked Glen to come. He’s been too close to Miranda’s and my problems to be objective.”

  “Nonetheless,” the younger attorney cautioned, “as Rebecca’s custodial parent, you have certain rights.”

  Temple turned and made another lengthy survey of Daisy and his child. “Yes,” he murmured, “I do have rights.”

  Daisy battled a quick stab of discomfort. What did he mean by that? She might have asked had Dr. Rankin not called to her from across the room, saying he was ready to leave. She made a conscious decision to circumvent Wyatt completely. With any luck she wouldn’t have to undergo his scrutiny ever again. At least not before Becca was completely well and ready to return home. Even then, busy as he sounded, he might send a member of his staff to collect his daughter. Daisy didn’t want to examine why she found that thought depressing. So she just wouldn’t think of him at all.

  And later there wasn’t time. When she arrived back at the hospital to collect their things, more bad news awaited her. The ward clerk handed Daisy a note from her boarder. Stephen said that he was failing med school, he was sorry to have missed her, but he had a ride home to El Paso. She’d known his grades last semester weren’t good, but he’d worked harder this term. Daisy hoped his caring for her house and her animals hadn’t been to blame.

  Her spirits plummeted. Not just because she felt vaguely guilty about Stephen’s dropping out. Not just because she needed the income from his rent, although it would be tough until she could advertise in the next college paper for a new tenant. She might need money, but the one thing she wouldn’t do was accept payment for Rebecca’s care. Even when times were tough, she’d always managed to get along—she managed and didn’t worry about money too much. No, Daisy’s discontent went deeper. It had to do with her unsettled feelings about Temple Wyatt. And with his lawyers’ assessment of her net worth. She, too, had dropped out of college and later regretted her hasty decision.

  At the time, her sisters and their friends used college as a place to land husbands. Daisy had scoffed at this and vowed to be a shrimper all her life. Later she’d discovered it took more than simply hauling in nets to make the job pay.

  Becca stared vacantly into space as Daisy packed their few things. Was this just another whim—this decision to take Rebecca Wyatt home with her? “No,” Daisy said, answering her own doubts. She sighed. Would Temple Wyatt go back to the coast? she wondered, feeling a little catch in her throat. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To never lay eyes on him again? “Yes!” And that would be accomplished if Becca got well. Then her bold action would be justified, leaving her with a story to tell her own grandchildren—if she ever had any.

  SHORTLY AFTER DAISY tucked Becca into bed the second night the girl was spending in her home, the doorbell pealed.

  Pipsqueak, Daisy’s fox terrier, tore downstairs.

  Daniel. Darn, he’d wake Becca. Daisy rushed to the door. Earlier, when he’d phoned, she’d expressly told him not to stop by.

  Daisy snapped on the porch light and opened the door. Pipsqueak nudged the screen ajar and escaped. As Daisy was about to give chase, she was stunned to see that it wasn’t Daniel leaning on her bell. Instead, standing kneedeep in boxes, was none other than the man Daisy had convinced herself she never wanted see again. Temple Wyatt.

  “You!” she exclaimed.

  He smiled. “Interesting house,” he said. “Are you adding a basement? Is that why it’s on stilts?”

  “It’s built on pilings—to avoid flooding during hurricanes. Many homes in Galveston are.”

  Wyatt lost his grip on a box he’d picked up. “You’re joking.”

  “No. Mercy, are these all Becca’s favorite things?” Daisy craned her neck to see.

  “More or less,” Temple muttered, beginning to move the crates into her tiled entry.

  Daisy stepped aside to give him room. Her black cat, Troublemaker, walked over, sniffed a box, then strolled out. She shrugged, knowing both dog and cat would soon return. “I must say,” Daisy groused good-naturedly, “I expected a doll and maybe a few stuffed animals, but this—” she considered a fair-sized crate “—what’s in it? Her canopy bed?”

  Temple ignored her. When the last carton was safely stacked inside, he closed the door and took out his wallet. “How much is rent? Give me a round figure.”

  Daisy blinked. She’d been trying to read the printing, but the boxes were all turned upside down. “What?”

  He gave her another crooked smile. “Do you require first and last month down, plus a cleaning deposit?”

  “You can’t believe I’d charge for keeping Becca. What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “Not for Rebecca,” he said, his voice falling to a rough whisper, “although I insist on at least paying her expenses.” He shook his head. “No, this is for me. Didn’t Dr. Rankin tell you? He showed me your ad and told me about your boarder leaving. I’ll rent both your spare rooms. One for an office and one for sleeping “

  Daisy couldn’t mask her shock. Suddenly the neat print on the boxes blazoned out at her. Words like Monitor, Keyboard, 600 MB Hard Drive, CD-ROM, Model 4790 Fax. Why, the nerve of the man! He planned to set up his business here in her home.

  “No, you won’t,” she declared. “Not one square inch will I rent to you.”

  “Two rooms.” He flashed two fingers in
front of her nose, then peeled several one-hundred-dollar bills from his wallet. “This should cover a bed and a second room for my computer, a fax machine or two and a desktop copier. I won’t need phone hookup. I have a cellular.” Folding the greenbacks, he tried to press them into her hand. “I’ll plan on two months. After that we’ll see.”

  Daisy pulled back, and the money hung between them a moment before it floated to the floor. “No,” she said again. “No way. You cart these things right back out, mister. I won’t rent to you.”

  “On what grounds?” This time his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked, on what grounds won’t you rent to me?” He started ticking things off on his fingers. “You didn’t specify only a female in your ad. I have the money and the references. I’ve never filed for bankruptcy. I have no criminal record. You need a reason to turn me away.”

  “Hold it right there.” She jabbed a finger in his chest. “I don’t care if you’re an Eagle Scout. This is my home and I don’t want you here.”

  He crossed his arms and shook his head. A sunbleached curl fell rakishly across his forehead. “I’m afraid that’s discrimination, Miss Sloan.” He shrugged and reached into his pocket, pulling out an officiallooking document. “Discrimination of any kind is prohibited under the Fair Housing Act. Besides, if you don’t take me, you could get the next Hillside Strangler.”

  Face paling, Daisy put a hand to her throat.

  A dimple creased his cheek briefly, then disappeared as he handed her a copy of the act.

  Recovering, she batted the pages from his hand. They’d no more than joined the money on the floor when the doorbell shrilled. Daisy jumped a foot. “Oh, for crying out loud, you’ve made me a nervous wreck. This time it’s got to be Daniel.”

  Temple scooped up the money and tucked it into Daisy’s hand. “The boyfriend, huh?” he said cheerfully as she shrank from his touch. “Well, point me toward those rooms and I’ll make myself scarce.”

  Exasperated, Daisy stepped over a box and jerked open the door. As she suspected, Daniel Coletti lazed there, one hand resting casually on the doorframe, the other tucked into the back pocket of worn too-tight jeans.

  “Hiya, babe.” It was his standard greeting, but it ticked Daisy off. Especially when he opened the screen door, grabbed her around the waist, pulled her close and nuzzled her ear. Daniel glanced up about then and caught sight of her well-dressed guest. He released Daisy abruptly. “Who’s the fancy pants?”

  “Shh.” Daisy flushed. “Keep your voice down. Becca’s asleep. Why are you here, Daniel? I distinctly remember telling you I wasn’t up for company tonight.”

  “I really wish you’d call her Rebecca,” Temple told Daisy as he hoisted a box on to one shoulder. “Dr. Rankin said to offer her the familiar. At home she always went by Rebecca. Now about those rooms…”

  Daisy’s back stiffened. “On the yacht, her mother called her Becca. I heard her myself”

  “Oh, I get it.” Daniel snapped his fingers. “The kid comes with her own shrink. Cool, babe. Now we can still go dancing Saturday night.”

  Daisy ran a hand through her untidy curls. “No, Daniel. This man isn’t a doctor. He’s Becca, er, Rebecca’s father. Temple Wyatt, uh, meet Daniel Coletti, my, uh… a fellow shrimper,” she ended lamely. She knew it must be obvious that she begrudged the introduction.

  Temple steadied his burden and extended a hand. His narrowed gaze ran swiftly over the visitor’s close-fitting jeans, striped tank top and on up to the small gold cross that dangled from Daniel’s left ear. “Ah, yes,” Temple murmured, “now I recall the name. Miss Sloan’s fashion coordinator.” He smiled then, and his solid handshake took Daniel by surprise—not a fact Daniel could hide.

  Drawing back, the younger man turned an accusatory gaze on Daisy. “What’s he mean, babe, your ‘fashion coordinator’?”

  “Nothing, Daniel. It’s his warped sense of humor. Mr. Wyatt didn’t care much for the shorts I was wearing the other day. I explained how you packed my suitcase. And don’t call me babe again. You know it makes me see red.”

  Daniel appeared to digest everything she’d said before he reassessed her guest, his straight black brows drawn together over suspicious eyes.

  Temple grinned an all-over grin.

  Daniel placed a proprietary hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “I’ll just bet he didn’t like those shorts, babe. What’s he doin’ here, anyway?”

  “Trying to rent a room. Honestly, Daniel, keep calling me babe, and I’ll toss you out on your ear.”

  Temple snickered as he shifted the carton to his other shoulder.

  She wheeled on him. “And you’ll be next.”

  Daniel set Daisy aside. “You won’t have to dirty your hands, sweet thing. I’ll be happy to get rid of him for you. What’s he think—you run a hotel, for crying out loud? You stick to medical students. Those kids are still wet behind the ears. I’m not trusting any big-city dude with my girl.”

  Daisy all but stamped her foot. “I’m not your girl. Just your friend—though maybe not for much longer. And since when do you tell me how to conduct my business affairs, Daniel Coletti?”

  Daniel puffed out his chest. “Since now.”

  “This box isn’t getting any lighter,” Temple said softly. “Name a room, Miss Sloan, and I’ll get this stuff out of your way so you and the boyfriend can kiss and make up.”

  “For pity’s sake! Go up the stairs. Take the first two rooms on your right. The bath is at the far end of the hall. And get this, Wyatt. Whoever I do or do not choose to kiss is none of your concern.”

  “Whomever.” Temple grinned, shifted the box and touched two fingers to his brow in a mock salute. “If you’re going to be a role model for Rebecca, you should try to use good English.”

  Daniel had disappeared during that last exchange. He returned holding a can of beer. After popping the top, he tucked one hand in his belt, leaned back against the doorframe and scowled.

  Hands on her hips, Daisy was snarling at the man standing two steps above her, “So that’s it. You think you can come here and prove me unfit to care for Becca.”

  Temple’s eyebrows rose as he surveyed the pair below. Daniel’s muscles bulged and his earring glittered in the light. Daisy’s autumn-gold locks stood out wildly around her head, and the shorts she wore were, if anything, shorter than the ones she’d worn the day they met. Only these were gold, like the flecks in her brown eyes.

  Then his lips thinned and he edged up another step. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t willingly leave Rebecca in the care of Bonnie and Clyde. But because of whatever cruel twist of fate I’ve been dealt, my daughter’s definitely bonded with you, Miss Sloan. More’s the pity.” With that, in spite of the cumbersome carton, he took the remainder of the stairs two at a time and disappeared from sight.

  Daisy smoothed a hand over her hair and down her blouse, as if doing so would rub away the trail of Wyatt’s gaze. He’d made it plain what he thought of her. And she’d heard it all before from a mother who’d wanted frilly daughters. In the end, Rose Sloan had had to settle for only two—Violet and Jasmine. Daisy’s father, bless him, had been willing to let his youngest daughter make her own choices.

  Frankly Daisy liked being a free spirit. She didn’t care what Wyatt thought.

  She kicked at his copy of the Fair Housing Act, then picked up the pages and put them in order. This was her home. Her sanctuary. Which he’d invaded. Except that…she’d do all that and more if Becca were her daughter. She couldn’t blame him.

  “So you’re going to let that joker stay?” Daniel spoke from the doorframe, and Daisy whirled, having forgotten he was there.

  “A shrimp in hand’s worth two in sea.” She gave him a peek at the cash.

  Daniel touched the edge of his beer to his forehead in a mock salute and opened the door. “If you get any time out from your baby-sitting, whistle. Otherwise, I’ll see you around. Lori Gilbert’s been all o
ver me lately. Maybe I’ll ask her to the dance on Saturday.”

  The screen door banged shut, and Daisy’s frayed nerves sent a jagged burst of pain to her head. For a moment she stared into the darkness after him. Then she walked over and held the screen ajar for Pipsqueak and Troublemaker to come back inside.

  Daniel should know she didn’t respond well to threats. Lori Gilbert was all over everyone. If he preferred her type, they were welcome to each other. Daisy slammed the door.

  “Boyfriend leave already?” a gruff voice asked behind her. “I hope it wasn’t on my account.”

  Daisy jerked around and collided solidly with Wyatt, who was practically camped in her hip pocket. Her internal radar zoomed straight to where their bodies touched. Her heart rate soared; Daisy gnashed her teeth until it slowed. “Don’t delude yourself, Wyatt. Daniel gets up at four in the morning to go shrimping. This is late for him.”

  “Terrible life,” he murmured seductively. “Myself, I prefer sunsets.”

  “Shrimping is a great life,” she insisted. “Morning’s the very best time of day. And a person can be his or her own boss. Not that I owe you any explanation.”

  “You’re absolutely right. You don’t owe me a thing. I came to ask what room Rebecca’s in. After I take the last load up, I’d like to look in on her.”

  She purposely avoided his direct gaze. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

  “Why not?” he flared. “Before…” Temple coughed, apparently unable to bring himself to finish the thought. Instead, he shrugged and said, “I used to read her a story every night. But that can wait. In one of these boxes is her favorite stuffed toy.” His voice faltered and he looked away. “I thought I’d give it to her tonight.”

  Daisy cleared her throat. “I only meant that I put her in a small room connected to mine. It used to be the nursery, but after my father died, I turned it into a dressing area. I moved a twin bed and small dresser in there so she’d be close to me in case she wakes up during the night. You’d have to traipse through my room to get there is all I meant.”