Celeste’s mother had been a target of the whispering chain around town. There had been rumors about her morals and the kind of life she’d led. She supposedly spent afternoon to midnight at the bar, drinking with the clientele, and slept with men who were patrons. She left her daughters alone too much of the time. Yet Clay knew rumors never told the whole truth. Clay had liked Ms. Wells. She’d raised Zoie and Celeste on her own the best she could. Her death when the twins were in their twenties had hit them both hard.
After Clay took out his key, he cast a glance at Celeste and saw she was biting her lip. She was nervous. Nervous about not knowing what to expect with Abby? Or nervous about seeing his mother again? She’d spent Christmas with them all the year before Abby was born. She hadn’t been back here since.
Clay opened the door, stepped back into the life he knew, the life he liked…the life he was satisfied with now.
Celeste was right behind him.
He realized little had changed from the way the house had looked a few years ago. He had exchanged the outlandishly colored sofa Zoie had wanted for a more muted blue plaid one. The gleaming hardwood floors, the dark rafters across the ceiling, the stone fireplace with its mantel, had remained the same.
“Great TV,” Celeste joked with a smile.
He had to admit, yes, that was new, too. “Multipurpose. Not only does it allow Abby to watch her movies in almost life-size proportions, but I can run my footage of trips and wilderness treks, really seeing what I’ve got.” He gave her a wink. “I could do my email on here, too, if I really wanted to.”
She just shook her head. “I’m having trouble keeping up with technology and it’s part of my business. Sometimes I wonder—”
A child’s cry sounded down the left hall off the great room.
“Abby!” Clay called and hurried down the hall to the wing of bedrooms. In that moment, when his daughter needed him, he forgot about Celeste and why she’d come.
Clay’s mom, who must have been sitting in the rocker reading—her book lay open on the chair—sat on Abby’s canopy bed, holding her arms out to her granddaughter. But Abby huddled near the pale pink wall, crying as if her heart were breaking.
“She had another bad dream,” his mother said.
Abby had been having bad dreams on and off ever since Zoie had left two years ago. She couldn’t possibly remember her mother, but he understood when a child’s world changed, everything went topsy-turvy no matter how resilient they were supposed to be.
Clay crossed the room quickly, sat on the bed and gathered Abby into his arms. “Hey, ladybug. What’s wrong?”
Abby shook her head and hiccupped, tears running down her chubby cheeks.
Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Celeste in the doorway. He saw his mother’s frown and knew she was aware of her, too. He couldn’t deal with Celeste now. In fact, he wished she’d leave.
But Celeste didn’t leave. She looked uncertain—as if she might get thrown out—but she crossed the room slowly…as if she couldn’t stay away. She knelt down before Abby and said in a soft voice, “That must have been a very bad dream. But your daddy’s here now. He can protect you.”
Abby glanced up to look at Clay, but then ducked her head down again, almost as if she were trying to crawl into herself. “Daddy’s not always here.”
“I’m here, honey, when your daddy’s not.” Violet Sullivan’s voice sounded disappointed that her granddaughter didn’t know that.
As if Celeste recognized that children didn’t employ reason to come to a conclusion, she delved into Abby’s world. “I’ll bet your very favorite stuffed animal could protect you. I bet he could hold your hand all night if you wanted.”
Sniffling, Abby peered up at Celeste. “Granny says I shouldn’t sleep with my bears.”
Clay glanced at his mother, then asked Abby, “Why is that?”
Abby explained, “She says they get dusty on the shelf.”
Clay cleared his throat, unaware that conversation had ever happened. “If you think you’d like to sleep with one of your stuffed friends, we can make an exception tonight. Sometime soon maybe we can give them all a bath, then you’ll be able to choose any one you want.”
Abby removed her little arms from around her dad, swiped her wrist across her nose and studied Celeste for what seemed like an eternity. Then she squiggled to the edge of her pretty pink sheets and asked, “Will you come back and help me give them a baf?”
Clay could see that Celeste felt caught between what she wanted to do and what he might allow her to do. She answered, “I’ll talk to your dad about that.”
Abby just kept gazing into Celeste’s face as if she were trying to figure something out. Clay knew what. This woman wasn’t Zoie…but she was close.
Suddenly Abby held her arms out to Celeste, and without hesitation, Celeste took his little girl into her embrace. She sat on the edge of the bed, not far from Clay, and held Abby, her eyes shining with emotion, reverently brushing her long brown hair from her brow and cuddling her close.
The silence in the room seemed awkward to Clay, but Celeste and Abby didn’t appear to notice. They were looking at each other again.
Suddenly Abby asked her, “Can you sing a song?”
When Celeste’s gaze met Clay’s, he gave a resigned shrug.
Tentatively at first, Celeste began singing a song about favorite things—roses and kittens—and Clay’s stomach clenched. As Celeste’s voice grew stronger, he realized it was the song Zoie had hummed to Abby after she was born. She hadn’t sung it often, only on those rare times when she’d seemed to want to form a bond with her daughter. Did Abby remember? She wasn’t saying whether she did or didn’t. She was just cuddling into Celeste’s body, letting herself be soothed and rocked, letting her eyes close.
After a short while, Celeste bent her head to Abby’s and asked, “Do you think you’re ready to go back to bed now, little one?”
His daughter nodded.
Sliding closer to Celeste, Clay was ready to take his daughter. But Abby shook her head and held on to Celeste tighter. Celeste looked puzzled as to what to do.
“Does she have a favorite toy?” Celeste asked him.
Abby’s favorite toy. Did he even know which one that was? He’d been working so many hours lately, and she changed her mind every couple of months.
His mother’s voice came from the rocker across the room. “Try that bear with the blue bow on the shelves. That seems to be her favorite lately.”
Clay took it from the shelf and handed it to Abby. She tucked it under her arm.
Celeste asked, “Do you think you and your bear can go to sleep now?”
Abby’s little hand settled on Celeste’s cheek. Then she nodded and curled into a ball on the bed.
Oh, so gently, Celeste covered her with the sheet as Abby smiled sleepily, tucking the bear tighter into her side, then closed her eyes, gave a soft sigh and seemed to drift into sleep.
Celeste looked as if she never wanted to move.
Clay went to her and touched her elbow. She reluctantly stood and accompanied him out of the room, but not until she glanced over her shoulder for a long last look at the sleeping child. His mother followed them into the great room, and once there the three adults seemed stymied as to where to begin. Clay could decipher the look in his mother’s eyes that said she still didn’t approve of the Wells twins, and she certainly didn’t approve of Celeste coming here like this.
“It has been a long time, Celeste.” Violet Sullivan patted her sedately coiffed ash-blond hair as if she needed something to do.
“Yes, it has,” Celeste responded, still glancing down the hall to Abby’s room. Then her full attention focused on his mother. “I haven’t seen you since the Christmas before Abby was born. That was a wonderful holiday.”
“Yes, it seemed to be.”
Clay didn’t like the censure in his mother’s voice, didn’t like the way it had been there all through his marriage to Zoie. Celeste,
moreover, didn’t deserve it. Just because his family had descended from the founding fathers of Miners Bluff, just because his family had always been well-off, was no reason for his mother to look down on Celeste—especially after what she’d done for him.
“Mom, could you sit with Abby while Celeste and I talk? She might wake up again.”
After a long worried look, his mother returned to his daughter.
“Let’s go outside,” he said gruffly to Celeste, and headed for the front door. He knew what had just happened between Abby and Celeste had to be addressed and addressed now.
Because Celeste Wells was more than a concerned aunt.
She was Abby’s surrogate mother.
Chapter Two
Outside on Clay’s front porch, a motherly fervor rose up in Celeste she’d never experienced before. If Clay thought she was going to walk away from her daughter this time, he was wrong. Even though his sperm and Zoie’s egg had made Abby, Celeste had felt a motherly bond from the moment of conception, though she’d denied it for years.
She squared her shoulders and met Clay’s turmoiled gaze head-on. “After Abby was born, it practically broke my heart to give her to you and Zoie. But that’s what I’d promised to do. I know I signed release forms and still don’t have any rights. But having rights and doing what’s right are two different things. You’re her father and you have sole custody. I understand that. But I carried her for thirty-eight and a half weeks. I felt her move inside me. I looked into her little face after she was born and felt…connected. I came back here to get to know her, to spend some time with her, and I hope you’re compassionate enough to understand why I have to do that.”
Clay didn’t look moved and his silence troubled her. So she asked, “How often does Abby have bad dreams?” Celeste remembered the feel of her daughter in her arms. Abby had looked up at her as if she’d known her!
Finally Clay reluctantly admitted, “Every few weeks. She hasn’t had one for a while.” He ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. “I talked to her pediatrician about them but he believes they’ll pass.”
Clay’s eminent virility was difficult to ignore. And the regret in his voice tugged at her heart. Still, she probed for more information. “The dreams will pass when Abby feels secure again?”
“She is secure,” Clay assured her firmly. “She’s a happy little girl.”
“Until she goes to sleep at night…until she plays with other children and realizes she doesn’t have a mommy,” Celeste pointed out, unwilling to let this go.
“She was too young to remember Zoie. She was only eighteen months when Zoie and I separated.”
“Zoie came back to get the divorce a year later,” Celeste reminded him.
“She didn’t stay with us,” he protested. “She and I met at the lawyer’s office and she only saw Abby once.”
Celeste could clearly see on his face the turmoil her visit had caused. “Abby looked at me as if she knows me. She remembers Zoie.”
Swearing under his breath, Clay swung away from her and stared into the dark night, the mountains and the sky above. Finally he asked again with resignation, “What do you want?”
She wondered if he thought this time her answer would be different…if her answer would let him go back to the life he’d been leading before her email.
“For now, I’d just be happy to spend some time with Abby under ordinary circumstances.”
Clay came a couple of paces closer, the intensity in his eyes edging his words. “What’s this going to be, Celeste? You’ll be here a week then go back to your life in Phoenix? You want to spend holidays now and then with Abby? You intend to be a favorite aunt and come in and out of her life as it suits you?”
Celeste was stung by Clay’s anger, though deep down she knew some of it was justified. He’d been hurt by the divorce. He’d ridden out his turbulent marriage, tried to do the right thing and ended up as a single dad with a child to raise on his own. How could she tell him what she wanted when she didn’t know herself? She’d been hurt by love, too, not so long ago. But one thing was certain—she wanted a place in Abby’s life.
For a few moments, Clay’s closeness stole her breath. She remembered the strength of his fingers around hers as they’d danced, his hand splayed across the small of her back, the musk-and-pine scent of him that now stirred a sleepy need inside her.
Gathering her wits, reclaiming her senses, she tried to detach herself from Clay, the man, to talk to Clay, the father. “I’m here to stay if that’s what will be best for Abby.”
Shock deepened the brackets around his mouth, the lines at his eyes. “You’re willing to commit to staying in Miners Bluff to watch Abby grow up?” His voice held wariness and disbelief.
But Celeste had already spent many sleepless nights deciding what to do. “Yes. I think of her as my daughter. But I won’t disrupt her life and I’ll do what’s best for her.”
Clay was shaking his head, widening his stance. “You’ve got to give me some time to think about this, to figure out the best way to handle it.”
Trying to let him absorb her intention, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. “My cell phone number’s on there as well as my number at Mikala’s. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
When she handed him the slip of paper, their fingers brushed. Awareness rushed through her and the flicker in his eyes told her something jarred him a little, too. High school memories? A history they couldn’t refute? The way their lives were converging once more?
As Celeste descended Clay’s porch steps, she remembered how she and her mother had watched movies together when she was a teenager and Zoie was out with friends. Her favorite movie had been Raiders of the Lost Ark. Clay had always reminded her of Indiana Jones—intelligent, adventurous and too sexy for words.
Now as she made her way to her car, she felt his gaze burning through her back.
The disco ball was still spinning when Celeste returned to the cafeteria where the reunion was in full swing. When Mikala waved at her, she headed to join her friend, who was sitting alone.
“You disappeared,” Mikala said, pushing her wavy black hair behind one ear.
Easily settling into the years-old routine of confiding in her old friend, she revealed, “I saw Abby. I actually held her.” She stopped when she heard the tremor in her voice, knowing she was already caring too much. If Clay wanted her gone, she’d really have no right to stay, so she couldn’t let herself get too attached.
Mikala didn’t seem to need her to say more. They sat listening to the music for a few moments.
Celeste’s thoughts raced as she tried to find a distraction. This reunion wasn’t over tonight. In the summer, the chamber of commerce scheduled rodeos for alternate Sundays, so some classmates planned to attend the event at the fairgrounds tomorrow. Maybe Clay would be there?
So much for a distraction. “Are you going to the rodeo tomorrow?”
“I’ll go if Aunt Anna doesn’t need me. The family staying in our other suite is checking out tomorrow morning.”
The Purple Pansy only had two suites, but Celeste knew Mikala didn’t want her aunt to carry the entire burden.
“I saw you dancing with Dawson Barrett before I left,” Celeste noted just in case her friend wanted to confide in her.
Mikala’s gaze went to the tall man in question who was embroiled in a lively conversation with a group of classmates.
“Is he still CEO of his own company?” Celeste asked, knowing Dawson also lived in Phoenix.
“You don’t run in the same circles?” Mikala asked with a smile.
Celeste laughed. “Oh, no. I think he’s in the millionaire club. And Phoenix is way too big for me to run into him by accident. But I read about what happened to his wife. He has a son, doesn’t he?”
Mikala’s face suddenly took on her professional look, and Celeste knew what that meant. She was a stickler for confidentiality in her practice. Had Dawson talked to her about his son?
Even if Mikala wanted to, she didn’t get the opportunity to answer. They both heard raised voices coming from a corridor that led off the cafeteria to the stairway beyond.
“That’s Jenny,” Celeste said, rising to her feet.
Mikala put a hand on Celeste’s arm. “She and Zack Decker stepped out there for a private conversation. He arrived shortly after you left. No one thought he’d come, since he hasn’t been back to see his father at the Rocky D in years. I guess everyone expected him to drive up in a limo or something. But even with that Oscar for film directing under his belt, he acted like a regular guy.”
Just then Jenny and Zack emerged from the corridor, both looking angry. Zack headed out of the cafeteria towards the school’s lobby. Jenny headed in the opposite direction, toward the ladies’ room.
“We should see if she’s okay,” Celeste said, well aware Jenny and Zack had been involved their senior year of high school.
“Let’s give her a few minutes. If she doesn’t come out, we’ll go in.”
Celeste sank down onto her folding chair again, trying to decide if reunions were a good thing or a bad thing. Old friends reconnected. The night brought back memories everyone had forgotten. Yet being together with classmates in this room stirred up old hurts, too…as well as old hopes.
Don’t go there. Old dreams were just that—old dreams. She’d returned to Miners Bluff to find new ones.
Celeste had always loved the rodeo. The scent of french fries and hot dogs, burgers and barbecued chicken wings reminded her of the times she’d come here as a teenager. Along with hiking on Moonshadow Mountain, she’d attended the rodeo on summer Sundays looking for an escape from everyday life, from gossip about her mother, from the sounds of raucous laughter that had drifted up from the bar—The Tin Pan Tavern—underneath her bedroom almost every night. When she’d earned enough money as a cashier at the grocery store to buy a rodeo ticket, she’d thrown herself into the experience, cheering on the clowns and the riders, eating fries sprinkled with vinegar, pretending for a few hours that she was an adult, free to do whatever she pleased.
His Daughter...Their Child Page 2
