His Daughter...Their Child

by Karen Rose Smith

  Violet laughed. “I see.”

  “Two moons,” Abby said, holding up two fingers.

  “Two moons?” Violet asked, needing clarification.

  Celeste explained, “I told Abby that her dad would be gone for two moons and we’ll cross the days off on the calendar.”

  “That’s a good idea. I wish I had thought of it. I’ll remember that the next time Clay goes away and I’m taking care of her.”

  “Play wif me?” Abby asked Violet.

  “I don’t have much time, honey, but next time I come I’ll play. I promise. Can you play with your dollhouse a little bit while I talk to Celeste?”

  “Okay,” Abby said with a bit of disappointment. “C’leste will play wif me after you go.”

  Violet’s smile was filled with a grandmother’s love. “I’m sure she will.”

  Her attention now focused on her dollhouse, Abby dropped down on her knees in front of it and began taking everything out.

  The two women went to the corner of the room. With a studied glance, Violet asked, “How do you feel about staying with Abby?”

  “I feel good about it. I love being with her, taking care of her.”

  “Clay told me how you’ve helped nurse Abby. Zoie wasn’t very good at that kind of thing, at…nurturing. I think Clay is surprised that you are.” After some hesitation, Violet asked, “Are you here for a reason other than Abby?”

  There was something about Clay’s mother that Celeste had come to trust. She hoped she wasn’t being naive or gullible. “I was worried about Clay, too. The divorce had to be excruciatingly hard. Being a single dad with a daughter isn’t easy, either.”

  “Zoie hurt him badly,” Violet admitted.

  “I know.”

  Violet scrutinized Celeste. “I hope you’re the type who sticks around.”

  Celeste didn’t know if Clay’s mother was talking about sticking around for Abby or for him. So she merely said, “I know I’ve only been here less than two months, but I’m beginning to feel like Abby’s mom. I’m learning what being responsible for her means. I have a long way to go. If Clay will let me, I want to be here for her as much as I can.”

  “And for Clay, too?”

  There it was, the direct question. What should she say? “I don’t know what’s going to happen between us next.”

  Violet nodded.

  Maybe because she wanted Violet’s approval, maybe because she wanted to feel connected to Clay’s mother in some way, Celeste confided in her. “There was a message on the machine when we returned from the medical center with Abby on Monday. It was Zoie.”

  “What did she want?” Violet’s tone had taken on haughty disapproval.

  “She didn’t say. She was traveling and said she’d call back again.”

  “What would you do if she came back here?”

  This was something Celeste had thought about—a lot. “I know you believe Clay and Abby are better off without her, but as Abby gets older, we’re going to have to explain all of this to her. If Zoie wants to stay in contact with her, I’m not sure that’s something we should discourage.”

  Violet looked troubled. “Oh, Celeste. You can’t believe she’d be good for Abby.”

  Maybe sharing her reasons would help Clay’s mother understand. “Zoie and I never knew who our father was. Mom admitted when we were older that some of the rumors about her were deserved. But I always wished I knew. I always wished I could find him.” She sighed. “That hole can’t ever be filled. With Abby, it can be. She’ll have me and I’ll be here if she needs me. I believe she’ll eventually want to know who Zoie was and who Zoie is. I think cutting her off from Zoie could cause resentment and anger later.”

  Violet moved her purse handle from her right wrist to her left. “Have you discussed this with Clay?”

  “No, but at some point I’m sure it will come up. I’ll tell him what I’ve told you. I’m just tossing it out there as a consideration. There’s no road map for this kind of thing. But if we keep Abby’s interests front and center, I think we’ll all do the right thing.”

  Clay’s mother looked doubtful. “Even Zoie?”

  “We’ll know if she’s not thinking about Abby first.”

  “So you’re aligning yourself with us?” Violet seemed surprised at that.

  “I guess I’m saying maybe there shouldn’t be us and her. What one of us does will affect the whole family, especially Abby.”

  “And just what if Zoie decides she wants to be Abby’s mother again and pushes you out?”

  Straightening her shoulders, glancing at the little girl who would forever be close to her heart, Celeste took a deep breath. “She’s not going to push me out.”

  Violet glanced over at her granddaughter, who was absorbed in her play, talking to her dolls, rearranging furniture. “I’m glad I stopped in today.”

  Celeste didn’t know if she was glad or not. Only time would tell.

  Violet called to Abby. “I’ll see you soon, honey.” She blew her a kiss and caught one in return. “I can let myself out. Make the most of your time with her. It’s very precious.”

  After Violet left, Celeste worried that she’d said too much. Yet wasn’t honesty always the best course to take?

  “Are you nervous?” Clay asked Celeste an hour later as Abby sat on her booster chair finishing her lunch.

  “I don’t think nervous is the word,” she responded. “I can cope with almost any situation. But what if Abby wakes up in the middle of the night missing you? Then I wonder what I’ll do.”

  “What would you do?”

  Celeste thought about it. “I’d rock her and sing to her and read to her or stand on the top of my head if I had to to convince her everything would be okay until you got home.”

  Clay had to smile. Celeste seemed to know what to say to ease his anxiety. “As I told you, I’m not going to have cell phone service where I’m going.”

  “I know, but I have a network, too, Clay. Mikala is a therapist and knows kids. Jenny teaches children how to ride, and she said I could call her day or night, too. On top of that, I have the number of Abby’s pediatrician. We’ll be fine.”

  Clay’s cell phone buzzed. He took it from his belt and studied the caller ID screen. He frowned, not sure if he wanted to take it or not. “It’s Dad,” he told Celeste. “I’d better take this since he won’t be able to reach me for a couple of days.”

  She nodded and returned to Abby’s side, asking her if she wanted more milk. He heard his daughter say instead, “More juice please,” and he smiled, knowing he was going to miss her high voice, her arms around his neck at bedtime.

  Stepping out into the sunroom, he answered his phone. “Hi, Dad. What’s up? I’m on my way out.”

  “Yes, I know you are. That’s why it was paramount that I reached you before you left. You didn’t stop in or call about the meeting I wanted to have with you.”

  “There just hasn’t been time.”

  “I don’t like the fact that you’re leaving Abby with Celeste. I definitely don’t like the fact that Zoie called.”

  “Just how did you find that out?”

  “Apparently Celeste told your mother, and of course she called me on the way to the airport. She keeps me informed.”

  Clay didn’t know whether to be put out at Celeste or not. What had she and his mother been discussing?

  “Well? Did she call back? Is she trying to get more money out of this?”

  “She hasn’t called back. I have no idea what she wants, if anything. She could simply be trying to make contact before the second half of her divorce settlement is finalized. This isn’t your concern, Dad. It’s mine. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “You made a mess of your life with her.”

  “I have Abby. She’s not a mess. I have to meet my client in fifteen minutes and need to get going.”

  “Didn’t you ever stop to think that Celeste could run away with your daughter?”

  That made Clay
stop and consider the past few days. “The thought ran through my head, but I don’t believe Celeste would do that.”

  “And what’s that belief based on?”

  Gut instinct. But he wasn’t about to tell his father that. Harold Sullivan would scoff at the idea. “She’s solid, Dad. She’s not like Zoie. She understands Abby and what she needs. She understands that Abby needs me. Right now she wants to be involved in Abby’s life. She wouldn’t want to be chased across the globe or hunted down—because that’s what I would do if she took Abby into the next county without my permission, let alone across the state line.”

  “I think you’re foolhardy to trust anything about her.”

  “Just as I was foolhardy in starting a guiding service and making a success of it?”

  Silence met his challenge until his father warned, “You’re going to be sorry.”

  “At some point, you’re going to have to stop thinking of me as a teenager you can mold into who you want, and deal with me as an adult. I’ve got to go now. Abby will be fine. I’ll give you a call as soon as I get back. Don’t worry.”

  “Famous last words,” his father muttered, then ended the call.

  Clay just shook his head and went back to the kitchen, where Abby was dipping tiny pieces of fruit Celeste had cut up into yogurt and popping them into her mouth. He motioned to Celeste to join him in the hall so his daughter couldn’t overhear.

  Celeste leaned down to her, said, “Finish your fruit and I’ll be right back,” and came to meet him. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Not really. Just Dad’s usual machinations. But I do have a question. Why did you tell my mother about Zoie’s call?”

  Celeste’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “She told your dad already?”

  “Apparently.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you’d tell her yourself. I did it…” She paused for a moment. “I did it because I want your mother to trust me. It led into a discussion about what would happen if Zoie came back, and I was taking over her place in Abby’s life.”

  “What would happen?”

  “Your mom thought I’d try to keep Zoie away, but I don’t believe that would be best for Abby. Some day Abby will have to know the truth. If we keep Zoie from her, that could cause even more emotional upheaval for all of us.”

  “I can’t believe you and my mother discussed this.”

  “Why? Because she disapproves of me? Because I’m still not the woman she’d choose for Abby’s mother? Maybe not the woman you’d choose to be Abby’s mother?”

  “Celeste…” He didn’t think that. In fact, chemistry between them aside, she’d make a terrific mom.

  “Look, Clay, I know this isn’t easy for anybody. Maybe I shouldn’t have told your mom about Zoie’s call. I’m sorry if that puts you in an awkward position. But at some point we all have to be honest about what we want and what we intend to do.”

  Clay’s attraction to Celeste was growing by leaps and bounds, hour by hour, minute by minute, and right now, listening to her stand up for what she wanted and what she thought Abby needed, his desire for her became a living, furious thing.

  He took her arm and pulled her deeper into the shadows of the hall. “You want me to be honest about what I want? I want you. I go to bed at night wanting you, and wake up wanting you, and I’m damn tired of trying to ignore it.”

  Sliding his arm around her, he nudged her close, close enough that he could look into her eyes and search for deception or manipulation or a plan to carry off his daughter to another part of the world where he couldn’t reach her. Yet he couldn’t see any of that. All he saw mirrored was his own confusion, his own need, and passion just begging to be tapped.

  “Clay?” she asked, assuming he had some of the answers.

  He only had one. He dipped his lips to hers, pressed her into his body and searched her mouth with his tongue. Tiny explosions seemed to go off all over, and he knew he’d lit desire that couldn’t be satisfied here…or now.

  Tearing away, he pressed his fingers to her swollen lips. Then he went to the kitchen to say goodbye to his daughter. After hugs and kisses and a promise to bring her a stone from the Grand Canyon, he ruffled her hair, picked up his keys, blew her a last kiss and went to the door.

  In the hall, looking recovered now from their kiss, Celeste asked, “If Zoie calls, do you want me to talk to her?”

  “She’s your sister. That’s up to you.”

  As he strode to his SUV, he knew the future had never been more uncertain. He was suddenly glad he had a couple of days away to put the puzzle pieces together.

  Jenny wore a straw hat with a huge yellow ribbon to Abby’s Sunday afternoon tea party. Mikala’s pink bonnet had a smaller brim and tied under her chin. Celeste had adorned her hair and Abby’s with daisies from the garden for the occasion as they all sat in the sunroom, cross-legged on the floor, enjoying the warm September afternoon, laughter and each other’s company. Entranced with playing dress up, Abby had donned a tiara along with her flowers.

  She hugged Lulu close and looked up at Celeste. “Daddy coming home soon?”

  She’d asked the question about ten minutes before, and Celeste knew that was her own fault. Before he left, Clay had told her he expected to be home around three on Sunday, and she had let that slip to Mikala while they talked over fruit and milk. Abby had picked it up right away.

  “I’m not exactly sure how soon, but I’m hoping before dark.”

  Jenny said helpfully, “I saw sewing cards on those shelves over there. Would you like to do that for a while? I love to sew.”

  Abby nodded, jumped to her feet and in her little silver dress-up Mary Janes, went to the shelves for the sewing cards.

  “She misses him,” Celeste said.

  Mikala empathized. “You know that doesn’t have anything to do with whether or not she likes to be with you.”

  “Oh, I know. We’ve had a wonderful time. I’m so glad Clay trusted me enough—”

  Celeste heard a sound in the kitchen. Clay appeared, dusty from the top of his wide-brimmed hat to his well-worn boots. He didn’t look happy.

  Yet the frown slipped from his face as he spotted Abby and the three women. After a hi and an acknowledging nod to all of them, he scooped up his daughter and gave her a breath-squeezing hug. “Hi, there, princess! Don’t you look gorgeous. I’m home.”

  “I see you,” Abby answered, as if what he’d said was obvious.

  He laughed heartily, and Celeste could see the lines drop away from his face. “Do you know how much I missed you?”

  Abby held her arms out wide. “This much.”

  “Ten times more than that much.”

  After a last loving look at his little girl, Clay lifted his gaze to Celeste. Pulsing vibrations seemed to ripple between the two of them as sudden silence descended.

  Jenny cleared her throat, then asked, “How was your tour?”

  He broke eye contact with Celeste. “It was fine until we met up with a reporter in the Village.”

  The intensity and simmering desire in Clay’s look unsettled Celeste as she thought about the settlement near the south rim of the Grand Canyon where there were lodges, a general store and viewpoints for one of the most beautiful wonders on earth.

  “What happened?” Mikala asked with genuine interest.

  “A Phoenix network was taping a segment about the end of the tourist season and ran into us. The group I was with was still on an adrenaline rush from everything they’d seen and done. When the reporter asked them questions, they bubbled over with enthusiasm. So now she wants to do an interview with me and maybe even go on one of my tours. I agreed to meet with her at five o’clock at the Feather Peak Diner. I checked it out with Frank Stone, Noah’s dad. He’s managing it now for Noah’s grandmother. He said when the interview airs it might bring more customers in.”

  Clay’s gaze went to Celeste again. “I thought maybe you and Abby could come along and get somethi
ng to eat. It shouldn’t take more than half an hour. Do you think Abby’s ready for a meal out? She looks and sounds as if she’s back to normal.”

  The question for Celeste was—was she ready for a meal out with Clay? As long as she focused on Abby, she’d be fine. “Abby seems completely recovered—no coughing, no fever and she’s been playing nonstop.”

  “Just what I wanted to hear,” he said, giving Abby another squeeze, tickling her, then setting her down on the rug. He checked his watch. “I’m going to have to get a quick shower and change.” Then he asked Celeste, “Could I talk to you in the great room for a minute?”

  “Abby was just going to show us her sewing cards,” Jenny slid in easily. “Go ahead.” She exchanged a look with Mikala, and Celeste knew what all that was about. She was sure they could sense the high-velocity attraction that had zipped back and forth between her and Clay the moment he’d strode into the room.

  Once in the great room, Clay got to the point. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I know you’re here for Abby, but you still have a life. If you mind going to dinner tonight, I can figure out something else.”

  Although he was thinking of her—and she appreciated that—she also wondered if he was distancing himself by giving her an excuse not to go. “I don’t mind, Clay, really.”

  “Will you stay again tonight?” he asked.

  “I don’t have any place more important to be. We have to figure out what comes next.”

  He seemed to consider that. “Did Zoie call?”

  “No.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” he muttered. Then he took a step closer to her, definitely into her personal space. “Abby seems happy. Thank you for staying with her. Thank you for acting like the mother Zoie never was.”

  “I’m not acting, Clay.”

  Reaching out, he ran his thumb over her cheek, so tenderly she wanted to cry. “I’m beginning to realize that,” he said in a low voice. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ve got to shower. I’ll help you get Abby ready when I’m finished.”

  Celeste watched him walk down the hall, thinking about the touch of his finger on her cheek and just what might happen later tonight.