His Daughter...Their Child

by Karen Rose Smith

  Oh, he wanted her to stay…on so many levels. But what he wanted and what they were going to do were two different things. “We’re adults, Celeste. We can put Abby first. We can get along without doing anything we’ll regret. Four days before I leave isn’t a long time.”

  “No, it’s not,” she agreed brightly, as if he were putting her fears to rest as well as his.

  “So you’ll come stay with us?” he asked.

  “I will,” she agreed, her arms hugging Abby just a little tighter.

  He knew he wasn’t out of the rapids yet. Letting Celeste bond with Abby even more could be a big mistake. But she was obviously committed to forging a relationship with his little girl. How could he get in the way of his daughter’s need for a mom?

  He asked himself that question again a few hours later after Abby was tucked in for the night and he was showering. It felt odd having Celeste in the house, present at meals, playing with Abby, just being in the next room. She’d set up her computer in the guest bedroom, and he supposed she was working on a project for her business. They didn’t seem to know how to act around each other, but she’d decided to take the safest route by disappearing into the guest bedroom for the evening after Abby went to bed.

  After his shower, he dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and went into the kitchen for a beer. After he twisted off the cap, he took the longneck bottle out into the sunroom.

  He had drawn only a few swigs before he heard Celeste’s footsteps in the kitchen. These were the moments he was both anticipating and dreading during the next few days. He was revved up with her staying here, even more revved up when she came within a few feet of him. Now, however, there seemed to be purpose in her step, and she was carrying her laptop.

  “Going to work out here?” Two of the windows were open, and a breeze wafted in. She sat beside him on the wicker sofa, and hairs on the back of his neck practically stood on end.

  But she kept a few inches between them as she opened her laptop on the glass-top table in front of them. “I’d like to show you something.”

  “Work you finished for a client?”

  “A prospective client,” she said with a small, sly smile.

  After the laptop booted up, she clicked a few keys. Suddenly he was looking at a page, a very attractive page with beautiful northern Arizona scenery, along with his logo and photo.

  “What’s this?”

  “If you want an internet presence, I’d like to create a website for you. I was just playing around and this is something I came up with. I used your brochure as a guide.”

  She clicked one of the dark green buttons along the side of the website. “I’ve included a page with your bio and qualifications.” She reverted back to the front page and clicked another button. “This one lists the available tours you give. Notice that I mentioned you’re willing to customize tours to your clients’ needs.” She clicked on another button. “These are FAQs so it will give clients a basis for information.” She pressed another key. “On this one, they can fill in the type of tour they’d like if they want it customized. They can also ask questions and email you the form, or as you’ve noticed…” She went back to the front page. “They can email you directly from here. I can also set this up if you’d want to do a blog. You know, highlights from the tours you do each week, something like that.” She pointed to another icon. “And I can upload info to one of the social networking sites. We can sign you up so clients can follow you if they want.”

  “I’m amazed. How long did it take you to do all this?”

  “A few days. I snatched time here and there. I just finished putting it together tonight. What do you think?”

  “I think I’ve underrated what you do. It’s terrific, Celeste!”

  “We can also do a couple of well-placed internet ads if you need more business. I’ll hook you up to the search engines that matter. It will just make finding you a lot easier for someone who’s across the country or in another state. If you have to turn people down for tours, you have to turn them down. That will put your services that much more in demand.”

  This was another facet of Celeste he’d never seen—a professional, savvy businesswoman.

  He sat back on the sofa, staring ahead at the webpage. She relaxed against the cushion, too, and their shoulders touched.

  “How much will all this cost me?” he teased.

  “I might give you a discount since you’re an old friend.”

  “Old?” he asked, with a raised brow.

  She laughed. “Relatively speaking.”

  They turned toward each other at the same moment. In that moment, Clay realized why he’d been hesitant to ask Celeste to stay here. The impact of them sitting alone on the shadowy porch teased his libido, encouraged his hormones to run after one another, tickled restlessness that could make him reckless.

  On their way home from the urgent care center, Celeste had stopped at the Purple Pansy to pick up some clothes and necessities. He hadn’t thought much of it then, but now he realized these nights were a pajama party of sorts. She was wearing cotton lounging pants, patterned with pink and yellow flowers. Her tank was pink, too, tucked into the drawstring waistband. The outfit was meant to be comfortable, not alluring. Yet to him, it was. She was.

  Too long without sex, he thought. That’s all this attraction was, wasn’t it?

  Celeste seemed to be as immobilized as he was by the sense of awareness between them, by the palpable rippling of attraction, by the alarm bell reminding them both they had good sense and they’d better not lose it.

  “Do you think my staying here is a mistake?” Celeste asked in almost a whisper.

  “I think that, at the moment, your being here is a necessity.”

  “For Abby.” She obviously wanted to be clear about it.

  “And for us. We have to figure out what we’re made of, Celeste, if a couple of kisses could throw our lives off track, or if there’s something greater that can motivate us to do what we know is right.”

  “What’s right, Clay?”

  There seemed to be a hint of challenge in her voice and he wasn’t sure where that was coming from. She didn’t want to get involved any more than he did, did she?

  “Right is being clear about who we are and what we want, and not confusing Abby.” He took a sip of beer. “While we were hiking on Moonshadow Mountain, I got the feeling you didn’t want to talk about your relationships with men. A woman as attractive as you has had to have had some romantic liaisons.”

  She was silent, and he didn’t understand why until she answered, “Not many. I never felt I needed someone else to give my life meaning. I mean, yes, I wanted to find love. I wanted a family. But I didn’t actively search, if you know what I mean.”

  He found that hard to believe. After all, when Zoie had had an affair, he’d wondered if she’d been searching all along, if she compared every man to him, or vice versa, if they were both to blame for her wandering eye, or just her.

  “You look as if you don’t believe me.”

  “I haven’t been on the dating circuit since high school, so what do I know? I guess I thought all single women were on the hunt.”

  She was already shaking her head. “When I first moved to Phoenix, I worked nonstop in an art supply store to earn money for classes. Then I worked for an employer who didn’t understand forty-hour weeks, which was fine because I liked what I was doing. When I went out on my own, I definitely didn’t have time for happy hour.”

  “So you’re telling me you didn’t date?”

  “I’m telling you that I found someone when I least expected to, but it didn’t work out.”

  “You’re leaving a lot out.”

  “I’m not trying to be coy, Clay, but does it really matter?”

  She had a point. Did it matter? Yes, for some reason, it did. He wanted to know who she’d been involved with and for how long. “Tell me about it,” he requested gently, not wanting to drag it out of her. He wanted her to willingly confide in him
and didn’t analyze that fact too much.

  The lamplight from the side table gleamed in the golden strands of her hair as she revealed, “I met him at a rock-climbing workshop. It was just a one-day class at a gym. Peter was taking it, too.”

  “Peter.” Clay tried out the name, then he decided he didn’t like the guy no matter what he did or looked like. “Was he trolling for women?”

  “That’s why you’d take a rock climbing workshop?”

  He shot her a quick smile, trying to make the conversation nonthreatening. “I already know how to climb. I wouldn’t take a workshop.”

  She scrunched up her nose at him. “You know what I mean.”

  Not understanding why Celeste’s quiet prettiness hadn’t affected him in years past as it did now, he answered truthfully. “I don’t know. I never thought about it. What did he do for a living?”

  “He’s a commercial pilot. He was great on those rocks…helpful…caring. It wasn’t his first workshop.”

  “He was from Phoenix?”

  “Originally from Florida. That’s where his family lived. He’d been based in Phoenix about five years.”

  “So what happened? Why didn’t it work out?”

  “We dated for over a year. I thought everything was great between us. We weren’t engaged yet, but we were talking about moving in together and I thought we would be soon.”

  Once she stopped and didn’t go on, Clay prompted, “But?”

  “He had an affair.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, he was sorry he’d pushed her—the pain was visible in her expression. Still, she went on without his prodding. “He met Marie in Italy. I don’t know how many times they were together. I didn’t want the details. But she became pregnant and he moved to Naples to be with her.”

  “Whoa.”

  “That tells you something about what he thought of me, doesn’t it?”

  Clay couldn’t help but move closer to her until their bodies were a whisper apart. “That’s not true and you have to know it.”

  Looking away, she bit her lower lip. “No, I don’t know it.” Her gaze swung back to his. “How gullible was I? How naive? All this happened about the same time Zoie asked you for a divorce and for the next year all I could do was think about the family that I wanted—the fact that I did have a daughter and she could be my family if you’d let her.”

  Ignoring that for the moment, he said, “I guess we both know how to pick ’em.”

  Celeste’s hair rippled over her shoulder as she shook her head and protested, “Zoie loved you, Clay. I know she did. But the two of you were young when you married. And Zoie, she had expectations. You were a Sullivan with a trust fund and a potential career in banking like your father. Along with that, she was headstrong and when she made up her mind, nothing could change it.”

  “You mean the way I couldn’t change her mind about leaving.”

  “Yes.” Celeste hesitated. “Did she ever really bond with Abby?”

  More times than he could count, Clay had asked himself the same question. “I don’t think so. She hired babysitters. She didn’t get along with my mother, but Mom kind of watched over Abby anyway. She’d show up whether a sitter was here or Zoie was here. Zoie didn’t like it, but in a way, I felt as if Abby had a guardian angel watching over her.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  Delaying the truth and an admission he didn’t want to make, he pushed his fingers through his hair. Finally he confessed, “Because I didn’t want to see. What man wants to think his wife can’t bond with their child? What man wants to think his wife’s unhappy, or that he’s not enough?”

  Celeste didn’t say anything. That was probably better because she couldn’t really change the way he felt about his guilt and his regrets.

  “Zoie did try to be a mother,” Clay said, remembering. “She’d carry Abby around in one of those slings. She cared for her—her physical comfort, I mean. At first I thought she had some kind of depression, and I urged her to talk to her doctor. I don’t know if she did or if the cloud passed on its own. After about six months, she perked up, bought new clothes, used makeup again, started having lunch with friends. But I know now she wanted to see the world and she was stuck in Miners Bluff. She was stuck with a child who wasn’t the center of her universe.”

  “But Abby’s the center of your universe,” Celeste reminded him.

  “Since the day she was born.”

  “Do you think Zoie could have been jealous of Abby?”

  “I don’t know what Zoie was and I’m tired of thinking about it. She’s moved on to the life she wants and I have a life I’m satisfied with.”

  “But is it enough?” Celeste asked, and he didn’t quite understand the questioning look in her beautiful green eyes.

  “It’s enough. Why would I ever want to put myself or Abby through that kind of wringer again?”

  After a long silence, Celeste quietly asked, “Do you still think she’s bonding with me because I look like Zoie?”

  He didn’t want to hurt Celeste, but he had to be honest with her. “Your looking like Zoie might have triggered familiar memories, so you weren’t a stranger. But I also think she senses something about you, a type of caring she hasn’t exactly received from a woman before, not even from Mom. So she’s very comfortable with you.”

  “Has she had any more bad dreams?”

  “Not since you arrived. But I don’t think we can read anything into that. They’ve been sporadic.” He didn’t want to read anything into that because of what it would mean.

  “I’m glad I’m here, Clay. I’m glad you invited me to stay.”

  “Anything for Abby.”

  Celeste sat forward and he did, too. He nodded toward the website. “If you do this for me, we need a formal contract. I’ll pay you.”

  “Clay, no.”

  “That’s the only way I’ll let you set it up.”

  She thought about it. “If you pay me, I’ll just put the money aside for something for Abby.”

  “That’s your prerogative.”

  “Do you need the website?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I can always use more business. I thought about taking on a partner. That could give me more time at home. The website and the added exposure would be a jump start toward that end.”

  Celeste didn’t say what they were both probably thinking—that a partner in life as well as business could make things easier, too. But he wouldn’t even consider that right now. One failed marriage on his ledger was quite enough.

  Celeste looked out the window at the sliver of a moon, glowing with silvery light. “I’d forgotten about late summer nights like this in Miners Bluff. We have them, but it’s so hot there. I love the changing seasons here. In Phoenix, it’s like one big season.”

  They were both gazing at the moon now, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, heat to heat. If he put his arm around her, he didn’t think she’d move away. But putting his arm around her, kissing her again, was not a good idea. He needed to keep the atmosphere light, needed to distract himself from her sweet scent, her peachy skin, the heat of her body beside his.

  Reluctantly, he took his gaze from the moon and set it on the laptop screen. “I really do like this, Celeste.”

  “Good.” That one word seemed a little wobbly to him, but he couldn’t be sure.

  She tapped a few keys and closed down her computer, then she shut the lid. “I’d better turn in. I’m sure Abby will be up early.”

  He stood and so did she. They walked into the kitchen together. He glanced around again to look anywhere but at her and saw the message light blinking on his phone.

  He gestured to it. “I’d better check my messages. Clients could be calling to change plans.”

  Celeste didn’t move away, he realized, because this could affect her, too. He didn’t mind if she listened. It wasn’t as if there’d be anything personal. However, the first one was from his father. “Clay, give me a call when you get a chance.
I need to discuss something with you.”

  Clay didn’t comment, and he knew he didn’t have to. He and Celeste exchanged a glance, and she gave him an understanding smile.

  The second message was from a client who wanted to discuss the itinerary on his tour the following week. Clay took a pen and pad out of the drawer and made a note. The next message was from a potential new client, and Clay jotted down the numbers.

  Celeste began to head down the hallway when the final message played. The voice was familiar, one neither of them would soon forget.

  “Clay, it’s Zoie. I’m traveling but I need to talk to you. I lost your cell phone number. I’ll try to call you when I get to Cannes. I hope you and Abby are well.”

  The click after Zoie’s call was a resounding noise in the room. Before Clay could even consider what it meant, Celeste had walked away. He heard her door close and wondered what in the hell she was thinking.

  Chapter Eight

  On Friday Celeste answered the ring of Clay’s doorbell and said to Violet Sullivan, “Come on in. Clay went into town to buy supplies before he leaves this afternoon.”

  Clay’s mother was dressed in a pale lilac linen suit and a matching handbag. A driver waited in a luxury sedan outside to take her to the airport in Flagstaff. “I just wanted to stop in and say goodbye and make sure everything was all right here. Is Abby resting? I’ve really missed her.”

  “She has more energy every day. She’s playing with her dollhouse in the sunroom. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you, too.”

  For a moment, Violet looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she headed through the great room and kitchen’s dining area. Celeste followed, wondering what Violet thought about this whole arrangement. Could Clay’s mother possibly approve?

  When Abby saw her grandmother, she ran to her with open arms and hugged her around the knees. “Granny! Granny! C’leste is here.”

  In spite of her impeccable outfit, Violet crouched to her granddaughter and gave her a hug. Then she looked toward Celeste. “I know she is. Are you happy about that?”

  “Happy, happy. She’s gonna stay wif me. Daddy’s showing people the big hole.”