His Daughter...Their Child

by Karen Rose Smith

  Celeste. Could it be Celeste?

  No. He’d done irreparable damage there. She wouldn’t be knocking at his door anytime soon. Not unless it was for Abby’s sake.

  When he found out who his visitor was, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Dad!”

  His father looked as uncomfortable as he’d ever seen him. He was still wearing his suit with his tie tugged down. “I had a meeting and I wanted to wait until Abby was asleep. Is she?”

  What could bring his father to his door this time of night? He never came just to chat. He never came just to see Abby. So what was this all about?

  “She had a bad dream and I just put her back to sleep again.”

  “Can we talk?”

  His father wanted to talk. Clay tried to absorb that. “Is this about my retirement account?”

  “Hardly. This is important, son.”

  When had his father last called him “son?” He stood aside, inviting his dad in.

  They settled in the great room, his father in the recliner, Clay on the sofa. “Is something wrong with Mom?”

  “Other than the fact that she’s thinking about leaving me?”

  “What?”

  “If I can make this right, I think she’ll forgive me. Women are better at forgiving than men, don’t you think?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “Well, we can hope, because from what I’ve heard, you’ve got some ground to cover, too.”

  “What have you heard?” Clay asked warily.

  “Apparently your mother called Celeste about getting together to look at her family history documents. You know your mother. She asked about the camping trip, et cetera. Celeste told her the two of you had had words and she didn’t know when she’d be seeing you, though she was hoping you’d let her see Abby.”

  “I wouldn’t keep her from Abby.” Clay rubbed his hand over his face. Just thinking about all of it made his heart sink, made his stomach turn. “So what does this have to do with you and Mom?”

  “I offered Celeste money.”

  That couldn’t mean what Clay thought it meant. Before he rushed to some absurd conclusion, he’d better hear his dad out. He waited.

  “I don’t mean that trust fund for Abby or anything like that.” Now his dad stood and paced across the room. He seemed to have trouble looking Clay in the eye, and that’s when Clay knew they were in for a bumpy ride.

  “You’d better finish explaining before I jump to the wrong conclusion.”

  “Your conclusion would probably be right.” His father’s gaze finally met his as he stood still. “I offered Celeste half a million dollars to go away and leave you and Abby alone.”

  Clay jumped to his feet, anger rushing into every particle of his body. But before he could get a word out, his dad held up his hand to stop him. “She wouldn’t take it. She said money had nothing to do with why she was here.”

  Clay’s fury must have shown clearly in his eyes because his father started shaking his head. “I know I’ve interfered before. I know I shouldn’t have interfered now. But I just couldn’t bear the thought of a woman taking you across again. You have blinders on when you get involved. Just look at what Zoie did to you. I was only trying to help.”

  Clay took several deep breaths to calm down. “Are you apologizing or defending yourself? Because if this is the way you told Mom, no wonder she wanted to walk out.”

  His father seemed to grow smaller in front of his eyes. His shoulders slumped a little, and his back wasn’t quite as straight. “I know. I don’t really think she meant she’d leave me. She was just so mad. She went up to the bedroom and slammed the door.”

  For his father to say all this to Clay—Clay knew he indeed had to be upset. But there was only one thing he cared about. “When did you offer Celeste the money?”

  “The day of the fundraiser. I asked her to come to the bank and she did. She didn’t even have to think about it. She tore up the check, threw it on my desk and left. And listening to your mom and thinking about how Celeste has cared for Abby…I finally can believe she cares about you and Abby.”

  His father believed that, yet Clay had doubted her. What did that say? “Zoie’s back,” he informed his father without inflection.

  His father’s brows raised. “No one told me that.”

  “She still has a key to the house and she came in while Celeste and I were…kissing.”

  The nerve in his dad’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t say anything. He just waited as Clay had.

  “Zoie was surprised, flustered, I guess a bit angry. She made the comment that Celeste was just involved with me so she could have access to Abby. I…considered it.”

  Silence pulled between them until his father broke it. “You doubted Celeste’s motives, too.”

  “I know she wants to be a mother to Abby. And we’d had a wonderful overnight trip that I could hardly believe. But in that moment, when Zoie made the remark, I thought about her pretending to be happy, pretending to want a family, pretending we still had something when we didn’t, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Celeste was pretending, too.”

  His father crossed to the sofa and sank down onto it.

  Clay did the same.

  “How do you feel about her now?” his dad asked.

  “I feel as if I’ve cut a bond I need as much as air to breathe. I feel as if I’ve destroyed what we’ve built. It’s only been twenty-four hours and I miss her and what she brings to my life.”

  “So, what do we do?” His father’s voice was filled with the same remorse and regret Clay was experiencing.

  “So I think we’d both better hope that we’re in love with women who have kind hearts and know how to forgive,” Clay answered.

  His father asked, “Do you have any beer?”

  Clay went to get two.

  Celeste didn’t know why Mikala had suggested she go to the music store with her and then out to dinner. She supposed her friend was just trying to cheer her up. That was tough. Tomorrow she’d have to call Clay to see about Abby. She wasn’t going to let too many days go by without visiting her, but her heart hurt when she thought about it…whenever she thought about Clay.

  When she slipped the old-fashioned key into her door after saying good-night to Mikala, she was surprised when she found it unlocked. She was sure she had locked it before she left. But then she’d been absentminded the past few days, so maybe she had forgotten.

  As soon as she walked into the suite, she knew she hadn’t forgotten, and someone had been here. There was a huge, round lit candle on the coffee table, smaller candles on the sofa side tables and the desk. Rose petals were strewn in a path around the coffee table.

  Clay stepped into her line of sight. There was a serious expression on his face and emotion in his eyes. “I hope you like it,” he said, his voice gruff as if this wasn’t easy for him.

  “I’m not sure what it means,” she replied honestly, her pulse racing, her heart thumping so hard she thought it would pound through her chest.

  He came toward her then and held out his hand. “Sit with me.”

  She was glad he suggested it because her knees were shaking. They sat beside each other on the sofa, their shoulders brushing but their bodies tense because neither of them knew what to expect.

  “I owe you an apology,” he began.

  “Clay—”

  “Let me finish this or I’ll forget things I want to say.”

  She almost smiled at that but didn’t because those things could push her out of his life.

  “I should have known better than to think your motives were anything but pure. And I’ll tell you why. I remember the girl you were in high school, and I know the woman you are now. The past two months with me and Abby, you’ve been genuine, no pretense, no guile because you don’t have that in you. I knew that but I still let Zoie’s words affect me. I’m sorry for that.”

  His apology was so unexpected she didn’t know what to say.

  So he conti
nued, “Dad came over to visit last night.”

  Now she almost felt as if she’d faint. What had his dad said about her? Had he lied and said she did take the check? Did he want her out of his son’s life that much?

  She managed to pull her voice from somewhere down her throat. “What did your father want to talk about?”

  “He wanted to confess what he’d done. Apparently he told my mother last night and she wasn’t too happy about it, either. He told me he offered you money to leave Miners Bluff…so you’d walk away from Abby and me.”

  She was so shocked. When she realized her mouth was open, she closed it. “He actually told you that?”

  “He did. He was shaken up about it, too. Apparently my mother was so mad she threatened to leave. He didn’t want to lose her, and he didn’t want to lose me. That was a surprise. I always thought I was a thorn in his side.”

  She was glad Clay’s father had finally told him how he felt. “I wanted to tell you about his offer, but I was afraid it would hurt you.”

  Clay took her hand between the two of his. “You were afraid if you told me, there would be an even bigger wedge between me and my dad. I got that right away. But his telling me that, it just reinforced how wrong I was to even consider what Zoie said.”

  He shifted on the sofa cushion and brought her hand to his lips. She began to cry even before he said with so much sincerity she couldn’t doubt him, “Celeste, I love you. I never wanted to fall in love again. I don’t think I even wanted to consider a serious relationship again. But then I danced with you at the reunion and something about you got to me. It was more than attraction. It was your determination to be a mother to Abby. You didn’t just feel it was a duty or responsibility. You wanted to be a mother. At first I thought, oh, that’s great in theory. After a few days of it, you’d give up. After a few visits, you’d get tired of it. But that didn’t happen. And when Abby was sick, you took care of her so kindly, compassionately, so lovingly, I knew what you were telling me was true. You wanted to be a mother and you were going to be one whether I wanted you to be or not. It had nothing to do with the bond that was growing between us. It had everything to do with your relationship with Abby.”

  When he paused, she had to jump in. “Did you say you love me?”

  “Oh, yes, Celeste. I love you with all my heart. And—”

  He rose, then bent down on one knee in front of her on the rose petals he’d so carefully strewn about.

  She was crying seriously now. Tears ran down her cheek into the corner of her mouth.

  Clay smiled and gently wiped them away. Pulling a black velvet box from his pocket, he opened it.

  She saw a beautiful diamond in an antique setting secured in the velvet. “Oh, Clay.”

  “I hope that means you like it. Celeste Wells, will you be my wife?”

  In a flash of comprehensive awareness, she realized he was proposing! “Yes, of course I will. Oh, Clay, I love you so much. I’ve been so afraid you’d never trust me. But I was just going to stay here and show you and Abby how much I love you no matter how long it took.”

  Clasping her hand, he slipped the ring on her finger. “I want you to stay here for a lifetime. I want you to stay with me for a lifetime. I’m going to look for a business partner and cut back my trips.”

  “No. You love doing what you do.”

  “I love you more. And,” he said with a wink, “you and I will be taking some of those trips together, down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, rafting on the Colorado River, hiking up Moonshadow Mountain. We’ll go alone and we’ll take Abby, too. We’ll have a wonderful life, Celeste, if we both work at it. We both know marriage is give-and-take. But mostly giving because we love Abby and maybe, just maybe, we can give her a brother or sister some day.”

  At that, Celeste threw her arms around Clay’s neck and hugged him hard. He rose with her to his feet, holding her close.

  When he kissed her, Celeste knew he was promising her a lifetime of adventure and love because that’s who Clay Sullivan was—a man who knew the importance of a promise.

  Epilogue

  Early October

  Celeste put the finishing touches on Abby’s hair by tying a rose ribbon around a few of her daughter’s long ringlets. “There,” she said. “All done. And you look so pretty.”

  Abby’s rose-colored dress, which in a few minutes would be covered by a matching coat, suited her perfectly. She would be the perfect flower girl at the perfect wedding.

  Abby looked up at Celeste in awe and exclaimed, “You look like a pwin-cess.”

  Celeste laughed, feeling like one. Her satin gown with long sleeves, sweetheart neck, slim waist and tiered layers might make her look like a princess, but Clay made her feel like one. In spite of orders from her bridesmaids not to get wrinkled or mussed, Celeste hugged Abby close, grateful for every minute she had with her, grateful she was going to be her mother.

  There was a light rap on the open door to Abby’s room. Celeste looked up and saw Zoie.

  “Ready for the walk on the runner?” she asked, a smile in her eyes as well as on her lips.

  Celeste knew her twin was truly happy for her. In the weeks since they’d trekked up Moonshadow Mountain, Celeste had learned that Zoie was a buyer for a shoe designer—a European shoe designer. He not only appreciated her sense of style, but he’d invited her to spend a few weeks on his yacht when she returned. She’d found a life for herself, even if it wasn’t the one Celeste would have chosen. Celeste just hoped the life or her shoe designer would make her happy.

  “Aunt Zoie,” Abby said. “I’m gonna throw flowers.”

  Zoie stepped into the room and crouched down before Abby. “Do you know what kind of flowers?”

  “No. But they’re pink.”

  Zoie laughed.

  Celeste had watched her sister visit with Abby since she’d returned, and Celeste guessed as Abby grew older, she and Zoie could become friends. She and Clay had had a long talk about it, and this seemed to be the best idea. Celeste would step into the role of Abby’s mother, and Zoie would be her favorite aunt. There would be plenty of time for explanations and the truth.

  Jenny and Mikala now came to the door, too, and beckoned to them. “Come on, the music started. Your mother-in-law-to-be has a wonderful taste in harpists,” Mikala noted with a smile.

  “And the arbor she helped you select is gorgeous, too,” Jenny added. “In fact everything is absolutely beautiful. Maybe you and Mrs. Sullivan should go into business together planning weddings.”

  Each day, Celeste was getting to know Violet Sullivan better. She and Harold had even come to terms. He’d visited her just as he had Clay, and he’d apologized. It had seemed sincere. Just last night at the rehearsal dinner, Violet had nudged her husband into making a toast. He’d done it and done it well.

  Celeste took Abby’s tiny hand in hers. “Let’s go get married.”

  Clay and Celeste had insisted on keeping the wedding small. They’d asked friends and classmates, Mikala’s aunt and Silas Decker. Clay’s groomsmen, Riley O’Rourke and Noah Stone, escorted guests to their seats.

  The time had come for the procession. With a last hug and kiss from Celeste, Abby started down the aisle with her basket, tossing flowers onto the white runner, looking ahead and waving at her dad.

  Celeste saw the smiles and heard some chuckles. She liked the way the wedding was getting off the ground. When Mikala and Jenny and then Zoie preceded her, Harold stepped beside her and offered her his arm.

  “Thank you for accepting my offer to do this. This was one thing Violet didn’t suggest. I did.”

  Celeste studied Harold’s face. “I never had a father.”

  He was obviously taken aback by her comment, and his face flushed a little. “Well, if that’s an invitation, I’d like to try to be a stand-in. If I promise not to give too many orders, it might work.”

  Celeste squeezed his arm and smiled. “It might.”

  They started down the aisle, and
Celeste felt that she and Harold could come to an understanding that could make both of their lives richer.

  Before the arbor where the minister and Clay stood, Harold placed Celeste’s hand in Clay’s. Dressed in a Western-cut tuxedo, he’d never looked more handsome.

  He leaned close to her ear, murmuring, “You take my breath away.”

  She hoped she could do that for the rest of their lives.

  Facing the minister and Moonshadow Mountain, their wedding began.

  As the minister opened his book of ceremonies, Clay leaned into her again. “When we go to Horsethief Canyon next weekend, you and I will have our own private ceremony and exchange vows again, okay?”

  “More than okay.”

  Clay’s smile, his arm suddenly encircling her waist, told her they would renew their vows often, to remind each other of their promises and commitment. She liked that idea. She liked that her husband-to-be had thought of it. She loved Clay and knew she would until the end of time. She was a happy woman, and she could see from Clay’s face, he was a happy man.

  The minister began, “Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here—”

  Their life together had begun.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-8478-8

  HIS DAUGHTER…THEIR CHILD

  Copyright © 2011 by Karen Rose Smith

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.