by Pat Warren
He’d been quiet on the ride home from the doctor’s. Jamie had fallen asleep in her car seat, and Kate had respected his mood, occupying herself by looking out the window at the colorful leaves drifting down and covering the lawns. At home, she’d put the baby down for a late nap, then gone in to start dinner.
Ever since discovering that Fitz didn’t much care for cooking, Kate had spent some time going through Stephanie’s collection of cookbooks. Gradually, she’d taken over most of the cooking chores and found she enjoyed experimenting in the kitchen. Aaron still rarely ate dinner with them, but she always made enough and left a plate for him.
Today, because he didn’t return to the office and said he’d have dinner at home, she’d made a special meal. She’d had Fitz buy the ingredients some time ago and had been waiting for the right evening. The aroma of Cornish game hens baking had soon filled the downstairs. She’d served them with stuffing and sweet potatoes, baby peas and cucumbers in dill sauce.
She’d surprised Aaron, who’d eaten with a healthy appetite for the first time since her arrival. Even Fitz had taken seconds. Jamie had become less fussy at mealtimes, as well. It had turned out to be a nice dinner.
And she’d noticed that Aaron had moved his chair close to Jamie’s, had cut up her food and coaxed her to take bites of game hen when she wanted to play with the peas on her tray. Kate was pleased to see his increased interest in his daughter. She’d known all along that Jamie would blossom with more attention, and she had, no longer looking so sad and lost, smiling often and beginning to happily chatter away in her own language.
Kate had enjoyed the dinner hour, thinking that the four of them seemed like a family. Oh, she knew she wasn’t really a part of the Carver family, not even as much as Fitz was. She knew, too, that one day Aaron would be bringing someone home, that special woman who would be his second wife and Jamie’s stepmother. He was far too young and handsome to live out the rest of his life alone. After just a little over a month caring for the adorable little girl, already Kate felt a sharp pain at the thought of having to turn Jamie over to another woman.
Now, watching Aaron roll his daughter from his back to the floor and begin to tickle her, listening to their mingled laughter, she felt another, more confusing emotion as she gazed at the father. Aaron Carver was a very attractive man, one who easily could set any woman’s heart to beating rapidly. He was kind and thoughtful, and he was man enough to apologize when he was wrong. He was very much the type of man she’d hoped one day to find.
But he was still in love with his dead wife.
Which was why Kate had to keep her distance as much as possible, considering that they lived under the same roof. She mustn’t get her hopes up or her heart involved. Certainly, one day he’d get over Stephanie, but he’d undoubtedly reach out to a woman who was more like his first wife had been. A strong, successful career woman who could decorate a house and give fabulous parties with as much ease as she could head up the cardiac-nursing staff.
Still, she could dream, Kate thought as she watched Jamie muss her father’s hair. It would feel soft, she imagined, and silklike threading through her fingers. He was still wearing his white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up on muscular arms, his shoulders, seemingly a mile wide. Her fingers itched to trace those strong muscles, to caress those shoulders and the vulnerable nape of his neck before getting lost in the thickness of his hair, and…
With a start, Kate straightened, her face heating. What on earth had come over her? she wondered as she stepped into the room, hoping Aaron couldn’t read her mind. “Hey, guys, I think maybe it’s time for Jamie’s bath.”
Aaron picked up his daughter and got to his feet. “Is everything all right?” he asked Kate. “You look a little flushed.” The heightened color looked good on her, actually. Sometimes she seemed so pale, but lately, the sad bouts were fewer and further between.
Kate touched her cheeks and knew he was right. “It’s warm in here, that’s all. Do you want to bathe her?”
“I’d like to help.” He wasn’t sure he could manage alone just yet.
“All right. Follow me.”
* * *
Though he’d rolled up his sleeves and knelt on a rug alongside the tub as he washed his squirming child, by the time Jamie’s bath was over, Aaron was nearly as wet as she was. Nevertheless, he smiled at his daughter as he bundled her into a soft pink bath towel with a hooded corner, which he slipped over her head. He carried her to her room and laid her down on the change table, then began patting her dry.
“No wonder Fitz couldn’t keep up with this little dynamo,” he commented as he struggled to keep her from squirming off. “You have to be in darn good shape to cope with her day in and day out.”
“You can say that again,” Kate said, handing him a diaper. Next came the footed pajamas. Aaron looked at the pajama top as if it were a foreign object. “Do they snap in front or back?”
“Back. Then snap the bottoms to the top. Next comes the blanket sleeper, but that zips up.”
“Won’t she be too hot?” he asked, trying to stuff an uncooperative arm into a sleeve while Jamie jabbered at him and pulled at his nose with her other hand.
“Not really. Don’t you sleep in pajamas and cover with a blanket?” The moment the words were out, she regretted them. For the third time this day, her cheeks flamed as she turned aside to search for Jamie’s blanket sleeper. “Forget I said that,” she muttered.
Aaron was enjoying her discomfort. “Actually, I don’t wear pajamas, and a sheet’s usually plenty for me. I’m warm-blooded so, naturally, I thought my daughter would be, too.”
“Perhaps she will be when she grows up. For now, she tosses off her covers, which is why a blanket sleeper is best. She won’t catch a chill, because she can’t remove it.” Lord, when would she learn to control her runaway mouth?
Finished dressing his daughter, Aaron gathered her into his arms. But he wasn’t finished teasing Kate. “Do you sleep in pajamas?” he asked, an innocent look on his face. “Inquiring minds want to know.”
“I think that’s probably irrelevant.” But she was smiling, not at what he’d asked, but at the fact that he was in a kidding mood. It was the first time, ever, with her. With no small effort, Kate pulled her gaze from his laughing face to the sweet-smelling baby. “Are you ready for your ba-ba?” From behind her back, she produced Jamie’s nighttime bottle. Sleepily, she reached for it. Kate let her take it, then stepped back to switch on the nightlight and turn off the overhead light.
Aaron moved to the crib and laid her down, arranging her stuffed animals around the foot of the crib and tucking Elmo the dog to her side. He smiled at his daughter as she began to drink her milk, her eyes already heavy. “See you in the morning, sweetheart.” He backed out the door, leaving it slightly ajar, and found Kate in the hallway.
“I’ll say good-night, then,” Kate said, walking toward her room.
“Wait.” Picking at his damp shirt, he followed her down the hall, then stopped in front of her. “I just want to thank you.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You and Fitz forced me to look at myself and you put me back in touch with my daughter. I want you to know I’ll try not to let so much distance build between us again.”
He was close enough for her to recognize the distinctive masculine scent he wore. Close enough to cause her to take a step back. “I’m glad, Aaron.”
“She’s not the child she was when you arrived. You’ve made her happy. It’s wonderful to hear her laughing. I…I’d let my problems take over, and it seemed I had nothing left for Jamie. I mean to do better.”
“That’s good. She adores you.”
“You’re very good for her.” And very bad for me, he thought. In the dim light, she looked pale once more and very lovely. No matter the hour, early morning or late evening, she always looked serene and very beautiful. He envied that in her. He envied the man who would win her heart.
&n
bsp; “Thanks for saying that. I truly enjoy being with Jamie.”
“Well, it shows.” He shuffled his feet, glanced at his own room across the hall. He didn’t want to leave her, yet he had no right to remain with her. Guilt washed over him more surely than Jamie’s bathwater had, and he felt as if he were drowning.
Abruptly, he turned. “Good night.” Swiftly, he left her, going into his room and closing the door quietly behind him.
Kate stood for long minutes staring after him, wishing he wasn’t so troubled, wanting badly to make the pain go away, for both of them.
Fall 1981
It is three years since we left Mexico with Christopher in tow, Sloan and I. We returned to Michigan and made a family. Chris turned out to be quite healthy, despite his ordeal, and just as bright as his father. True to his word, although he returned to his work, Sloan works long hours daily trying to locate my three missing children. The waiting is a living nightmare.
Running down leads obtained through painstaking work can be devastating as each ends in failure. False hope, followed by frustration, begins to be a way of life. It eats at the fabric of a relationship. It is to Sloan’s credit that he is so understanding, so very patient with me. At times, I weep with the futility of our search and I question my faith. But Sloan never allows me to give up.
We lived together over a year with Sloan begging me weekly to marry him. I loved him then as I do now, but I wanted the wedding to take place after we located my three. It was not to be. Finally, I could hold out no longer. I had no right to continue refusing this good and kind man, nor his son, who sorely wanted a real mother that he could call his own. We were married last year. The absence of my own children was the only damper as I became an autumn bride, making me Julia Bradford.
Sloan has taught me the meaning of faith and patience and a love that never gives up. He claims that I’ve taught him to trust a woman again after his terrible first marriage. In many ways, God has blessed us with a second chance at love and happiness and a true partnership.
Yet there is still something missing. Or rather someone—three someones. Despite all my present treasures and my new family, I will never truly draw a happy breath until Michael and Hannah and Kate are reunited with me and become a part of this wonderful union.
I pray daily, hourly, that it will happen soon.
Chapter Four
The days were getting shorter, Aaron noticed as he drove toward home. Five o’clock and it was already almost dark. Of course, it was the last day of October.
He hadn’t intended to leave the office quite so early. He’d been putting in long hours lately for several reasons. To make up for the weeks he’d been only half-there, feeling numb and useless; to catch up on work that had waited for him; and more important, so he wouldn’t spend too many cozy hours with Kate.
The family scene worked on him as nothing else could have. He’d grown up in a household with only one parent, his father doing the best he could to raise two sons, with Fitz’s help. Aaron had wanted more for his child, for his marriage. And he’d had that, for a while, with Stephanie and Jamie.
Of course, he and Stephanie had argued now and then. All couples squabbled occasionally, especially if both parties were Type-A personalities. The major disagreement he and Stephanie had had was about her job. Aaron had wanted her to ease up on the hours she worked, especially after Jamie had come along. His wife had insisted she had as much right to a career as he did. Stalemate.
Aaron’s jaw clenched as he remembered with deep regret a quarrel they’d had shortly before Stephanie had taken ill. To this day, he wished he hadn’t said the hurtful things he’d told her, wished he hadn’t stormed out and left her there crying. Soon after, when she’d gotten so sick, he’d realized belatedly that their argument hadn’t been so very important after all, and his temper tantrum had left him with even more guilt.
Basically, though, his memories of their marriage and the home life they shared were good. Which was why the recent dinners around the kitchen table—with Fitz telling one of her long-winded but humorous stories, Jamie jabbering in her high chair and the wonderful cooking smells filling the room—made him wistful. Wistful at all that he’d lost, sad that the bright, smiling woman who’d been his wife all too briefly was no longer in their home and guilty that he was alive and enjoying himself.
Aaron turned onto his street, chastising himself for feeling as he did. Mentally, he knew better. The living had to get on with their lives, as his father told him all too frequently. But emotionally, he was caught in a web of his own making.
Since that evening when he’d made up his mind to be a better father to Jamie, he had made improvements. These days, when he walked into the house, if she was still awake, Jamie would come barreling toward him, crawling as fast as she could, jabbering a greeting. He’d kept his temper in check at work and even more so at home, being deliberately considerate of both of the women who worked for him.
Fitz was the only woman who’d ever been able to point out the error of his ways to Aaron and make him feel like a small, delinquent boy again. He could see she approved of the change in him. But it was Kate who worried him.
Or rather, his feelings for Kate.
He enjoyed her, plain and simple. Being around her, talking with her, listening to her, laughing with her. Always, when they were together, Jamie was with them, and often Fitz, too. They were never alone. Why, then, did he feel disloyal to Stephanie for even entertaining warm thoughts about Kate? Damned if he knew.
In the approaching dusk, he saw that several children in costume, followed by their parents, were going from house to house. A jack-o’-lantern next door to his home sat atop a thick post covered with a sheet. Porch lights were ablaze, and childish voices were calling out “trick or treat” threats to all who opened their doors.
It was Halloween night, and both Fitz and Kate had implored him to be home early for Jamie’s first beggars’ night. He pulled into his circular driveway and hurried inside, slipping off his jacket and tie. As usual, he found them in the kitchen. Walking in, he had to smile.
Jamie was seated on the counter wearing a billowy white clown’s costume, the shiny material liberally sprinkled with pink-and-purple dots. A pointed silver hat was fastened to her head with a chin strap. And much to his surprise, she was holding very still while Kate finished applying red circles to her cheeks and adding a bulbous nose.
“Hi,” Kate called out. “You’re just in time. We’re almost ready.” She straightened, examining her handiwork. “What do you think?”
Aaron grinned at his daughter as he grabbed his suede jacket from the back hall closet. “Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.”
“And what a good girl she is, holding still while Katie made her beautiful,” Fitz added. Then, hearing the doorbell ring, she picked up the basket of popcorn balls and candy bars, carrying them to the front to greet the little visitors.
Aaron lifted his daughter from the counter. “No mask?” he asked Kate.
“She wouldn’t leave it on even if we had one. Besides, they’re dangerous. She couldn’t see very well with it on and could fall.” Jamie was walking now as long as someone held her hand.
“I’ll stay here and hold down the fort,” Fitz said by the front door. “You three go on now and bring home some new goodies.”
“Wave bye-bye,” Kate reminded Jamie, and she did, though she was busily eyeing the candy basket on the hall table.
“I didn’t know you could wave bye-bye,” Aaron admitted, settling her more comfortably into the crook of his arm. Every week, it seemed, she learned something new.
“For a couple of days now.” Kate smiled at a ghost and a ballerina coming up the walk toward Fitz. “Are you going to carry her?” she. asked Aaron.
“I think so. The houses around here are far apart. She’ll get too tired. I’ll set her down when we get close to the doors.” He fell in step with Kate as he gazed up at a cold but clear evening sky. “Nice out.”
“Yes. I can hardly wait till it snows. Jamie’s never played in it. Do you have a sled?”
He hadn’t given it much thought, but the idea of playing in the snow with his daughter, maybe making a snowman, appealed to him. “No, but I’ll get her one, maybe for Christmas.”
Christmas. He’d been dreading the holidays, remembering last Christmas with Stephanie pregnant, the future looking so bright. Aaron swallowed hard and walked on.
There was that look again, Kate thought, glancing up at Aaron. Probably brought on by the mention of Christmas. This would be a difficult holiday for her, too. Maybe they could help each other through the bad moments.
Gazing around, she spotted something that she hoped would make Aaron smile. “Look at the two coming toward us.” She pointed out the little girl dressed like an angel, complete with a halo that was tipped sideways on her head. The boy was the caped crusader and wore tights on his skinny little legs and a blue shirt with a big red S emblazoned on his thin chest. He had a protective arm around the girl as they passed them. The father trailing after nodded to them as he puffed on his pipe.
“Cute,” Aaron commented. “You know, it occurs to me that I don’t know my neighbors, not hardly a one.” Several had sent notes of condolence, and a few had stopped by when Stephanie had died, but that whole time was like a blur. His father and Fitz had handled visitors for him.
“Well, you work long hours.” She turned toward the first house and held out a bright orange plastic pumpkin with a black handle for Jamie. “Go get ‘em, sweetie.”
Aaron carried her up to the porch, then set her down and, holding her hand, rang the bell. He called out, “Trick or treat.” In moments, a tall, bearded man came to the door with a large bowl.
“Mr. Carver. Good to see you.” He opened the screen and stepped out, offering his hand. “Matt Bennett.”
