Maybe he would continue to judge her. Maybe he would break her heart all over again.
When she turned to look at him again, Daniel knew that she'd thrown up another wall against him. Frustration made his hands tighten around the length of wood he held until he thought it would snap.
"You have no right to judge me, Daniel. You don't know what my life was like—"
"And whose fault is that?" he interrupted. "How many times have I asked for an explanation?"
"None. You demand, Daniel, you don't ask. You demand to know why I was such a horrible mother to your daughter, but you don't want to know the truth. You just want something to support what you already believe."
"That's not true."
"Yes, it is. The day Katie came to live with you, you tried and condemned me, and nothing that's happened since then makes any difference."
"No—"
"Yes! Have you ever once considered the possibility that I had no choice in what I did? Has it ever occurred to you that giving her away affected me more than anyone, that it hurt me more than anyone? Have you even once thought that I could give her up and still be a good mother?"
Daniel stared guiltily at his hands, but he didn't relent. "I need to know."
"Why? Is your conscience bothering you for sleeping with me? Of course, the first time you didn't know what kind of woman I am, but this time you do know, and you want me anyway. Does that disgust you, Daniel? Does that offend your precious honor?"
"Stop it, Sarah," he muttered, rising to his feet.
"It's all right, Daniel," she continued recklessly, tears glittering in her eyes. "Men are attracted to women like me all the time. It's part of our allure—that we're not respectable, we're not good enough, that we're nothing but tr—"
"Shut up!" His voice was an angry crack of thunder that, across the room, stirred the sleepy quiet around Katie and made her whimper. Pushing the stool aside, he started toward the door. He had to get out. He couldn't stay here and listen to her talk that way, couldn't hear her say such things about herself and know that, because of him, she believed them.
Sarah waited until he'd pulled his coat on and jerked the door open before she spoke again. "You want to hear the best part. Daniel?" she asked sadly. "I love you anyway, knowing that you think I'm an awful mother and an awful person. Knowing that you think you deserve someone better, knowing that you sleep with me only because I'm available and easy … I still love you."
He stopped suddenly, his fingers tightening around the cold metal knob, her words whispering around him. I still love you. He had waited all his life to hear those words, and for a moment he felt nothing but joy—sweet, warm, comforting. It smoothed the rough edges of his anger, and for just a moment, it let him believe. After years of being as alone as a man could be, now he had Sarah. Now he had her love.
He turned back into the room and slammed the door. Disturbed by the noise, Katie lifted her head and looked around, frowning sourly at Sarah for bothering her nap, then went right back to sleep.
Daniel advanced on Sarah, grasped a handful of dust-covered sweatshirt and jerked her close. Her cry was swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her with all the passion and anger and sorrow and joy he felt at that moment. "You're wrong," he muttered, brushing his lips over hers. "I don't think you're awful…" He nipped at her bottom lip. "And I don't think I deserve someone better than you…" He kissed her again, swiftly, hungrily. "And I make love with you because the need for you has crawled inside my soul…" He raised his head a few inches and stared into her eyes. "And you don't love me."
He was saying that he didn't want her love, Sarah thought. Because he could never return it? So she could blame it on the argument and her emotional state, and they would both pretend that the declaration had never been made? It was an easy way out—a few moments' discomfort, then it was over. But she wasn't taking it. "I do love you, Daniel. If you don't want me to say it, I won't. But not saying it won't change the way I feel."
He felt what that polite little speech cost her pride, knew the deeper price she would pay if he asked her not to mention her love. He raised his hand to her face, stroking her soft skin. "Sarah…" There was nothing he could say. He couldn't accept her love, nor could he reject it. Either one could break her heart … and maybe his. Gently he pulled her close.
He held her for a long time. It was the way he solved his problems, Sarah realized. He apologized with kisses. He smoothed away arguments with embraces. He was a physical man, and he relied on physical means to express what he was feeling. It made him a hard man to read, but she could learn, if he gave her a chance.
Daniel pushed her back and brushed his fingers through her hair. "Why don't you take Katie to the house and get lunch?" he asked gruffly. "I'll be up in a while."
"But she's not—" Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see Katie standing in the playpen, her arms filled with dolls, and watching her parents with a grin. "All right."
He didn't release her immediately. "Sarah … thank you." For Katie. For herself. For her love. He couldn't give her love in return, not yet, not until he knew the whole story of what she had done, but for the first time in his life, however briefly, he'd had the pleasure of hearing those words.
She lifted Katie out of the playpen. "What time do you want lunch?" she asked as she dressed the child in her jacket and knit cap.
"Give me half an hour," Daniel said with a glance at the clock on the wall. That would be long enough to think about this morning's discussion. It would also be about as long as he could stand being away from them.
"Bye, Daddy," Katie called from Sarah's shoulder as they stepped outside.
He watched them go before he started cleaning the workshop. Ordinarily it was a job he saved for the end of the week, but he needed something to occupy his hands, something that didn't require the full concentration of his mind. I do love you, Daniel.
Was it true? Who knew but Sarah? He certainly didn't. He didn't even know if he wanted to believe it. Then he scoffed at that. He'd waited all his life for someone to love him. Now that Sarah was trying, instead of accepting it gratefully, he was doubting her sincerity, trying to convince both her and himself that she didn't really mean what she'd said.
She had accused him of judging her, and she'd been right. She had accused him of condemning her when he knew nothing about her life, and she'd been right about that, too. Under the circumstances, he ought to be more than grateful that she thought she loved him, he thought wryly. He ought to get down on his knees and thank God—because everything was working out the way he'd planned.
His actions slowed as the full implication of Sarah's love sank in. His plans for marriage were virtually assured now. If Sarah loved him, she would almost certainly agree to marry him. That would mean they would be a family, that he could take care of her, that Katie would be with him always. It would mean a new life for him, filled with people who loved and needed and depended on him.
And it would mean using Sarah's love to accomplish his goals, twisting it, taking advantage of it, so he could have what he wanted.
No, it wasn't like that, he argued silently, guiltily. Marriage would be good for her, too—he would be good for her. It was the only solution to their situation, and it was one that would benefit both of them—all three of them. Sarah would be happy as his wife. He would spend the rest of his life making sure of that.
He swept the dust and wood shavings into a corner, leaned the broom against the wall and started toward the door. Only fifteen of his allotted thirty minutes had passed, but that was long enough. He was going inside. To his family.
The rain ended after dinner, after Katie was in bed and the kitchen was cleaned, after the lights were turned low and the fireplace stoked. The absence of the drops pelting the roof and the windows created a sudden silence that made Sarah sit straighter to listen. "The rain has finally stopped. I was beginning to think it never would." Sighing softly, she settled in once more, leaning against Daniel's chest, the top o
f her head providing a place for his chin to rest. His arms were draped loosely around her, his hands clasped on her belly.
He gazed at the fire, watching it sizzle and flare. His feet, in thick white socks, were stretched toward the hearth, absorbing the heat from the flames. He felt lazy and comfortable until Sarah spoke again.
"I need to go into town tomorrow."
"Why?" He had planned to ask her to take care of Katie while he went to Zachary's office. He had planned to lie to her, to tell her that he needed supplies. He didn't want her to know that he was meeting his lawyer. He especially didn't want her to know that it was about her.
"It's only a week until the end of the month, and I haven't made any plans. Remember, I told you I have to look for a job and a place to live." She should have done it days ago, but she hadn't been able to motivate herself. As long as Daniel welcomed her into his life, she could pretend that everything would work out, that maybe once in her life there would be a happily-ever-after. She had been living in dreams, not facing reality. She'd done that for a while with Tony—had pretended that there would be a cure, a miracle, a transplant, or that the whole thing was simply a mistake and her son wasn't sick after all. Finally she'd been forced to face the facts: he was sick; there were no miracles; and, for him at least, there was no transplant. No donor. No chance.
It was once again time to face facts. She had enough money to last a few more weeks, another month at most. She had to find a job. She had to find a place to live. Maybe Daniel would still welcome her once she and Katie had moved out; maybe someday he would even learn to love her, but those were dreams for the future. She had to live in the present.
"Can't it wait until next week?" By then the lies would be over—the private detective's report read and filed away, the plans to sue for custody of Katie forgotten, and the guilt dealt with. By then he would have asked her to marry him, and she would have no need to find a job or a place to live.
Sarah laughed softly. "You've never looked for a job in the real world, have you Daniel? If I'm lucky, I'll get something right away that will at least support us, while I look for a teaching job."
"Money's no problem."
Again she laughed. "Maybe for you, it isn't, but most folks live paycheck to paycheck—and it's been a month since my last one."
"I'll support Katie, and you, too."
"No," she said firmly. "I'll appreciate your help with Katie, but you're not responsible for me, Daniel."
He was trying to be—couldn't she see that? he thought in frustration. But how could she, when he'd given her no hint of his plans for their future? The only time they had talked about marriage to each other, pregnancy had been one of the conditions. He wanted to marry her whether or not she was pregnant, whether or not she loved him, whether he loved her. They were meant to be a family, the three of them and whatever children they had in the future.
He had eight more days to make her see that. He prayed it would be enough.
October 25
As usual, Daniel was awake long before Sarah on Thursday morning. He left the bed long enough to open the door so the room would get warm for her; then he returned to lie beside her, his arms holding her close.
Every night she made love with him with unbelievable passion, and every morning she looked so tiny and fragile in his arms. He wondered what magic kept him from hurting her physically and wished it could protect her against emotional hurts, too. He had hurt her yesterday in the workshop—had made her cry, had made her say terrible things about herself. But last night she had come to him anyway, had loved him as fiercely, as sweetly, as she had every night before. Because she had forgiven him. Because she loved him.
But what would happen if the day came when she couldn't forgive him, when she stopped loving him? What would his life be like without Sarah? Cold. Grim. Bleak. Like it had been before, only worse. Then he'd had only his dream of what a woman's love could be like. Missing something he'd never had couldn't begin to compare to missing something he'd had and lost.
He wouldn't lose her, he vowed fiercely. He would be the best husband, the best father, the best friend any woman could ever want. He would give her everything she ever wanted, would be everything she'd ever wanted, and she would stay with him for as long as he needed her. For forever.
When he hugged her tightly, Sarah stirred, then woke. "What time is it?" she asked sleepily.
"A little after seven."
She snuggled closer to his warmth, rubbing her cheek against his chest. "Is the sun shining?"
"Yes."
"Is Katie still asleep?"
"I guess."
"Good." She laid her hand on his side, sliding it back and forth. She loved touching him. His skin was warm, stretched taut over powerful muscles and as flawless as a piece of fine wood after endless sanding and smoothing. She also loved his responses to her touch. Sometimes, like now, he relaxed, giving himself over to the soothing sensations. Other times, when she used just the tips of her fingers in a barely-there caress, his muscles twitched reflexively, and his skin rippled with chill bumps. Always he responded by becoming aroused, sometimes swiftly, sometimes slowly, but always thoroughly, hard, throbbing. Always satisfying.
"Does Sweetwater have a newspaper?" she asked, rubbing the hard curve of his spine. When her hand reached his neck, she felt the tension there and began massaging it away.
"A weekly. It comes out every Wednesday."
"You don't mind my going into town, do you?" After all, she had taken over most of Katie's care, along with fixing lunch and even occasionally helping him in the workshop.
It took him a long time to answer. Too long. "No … I don't mind." He wouldn't stand in her way by asking her to wait. The only excuse he could give would be his own errand, his meeting with Zachary, and that could wait until tomorrow. "When do you want to leave?"
"I guess about nine. I'd better go to the house and get ready—"
"You can get ready here. Tell me what you need, and I'll get it while you're in the shower."
She started to argue but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Besides, the idea of getting bathed and dressed in the ice-cold farmhouse didn't sound very appealing at this time of the morning. She told him what to get, then started to burrow close again, but he was already sitting up. "Maybe it could wait a little while," she suggested, drawing her hand down his back to his hip.
He sat still for a moment, considering it, then lay down once again. Rolling onto his side, he studied her for a long time before touching her, his hand flattening itself over her belly. "You're pretty." It wasn't a compliment as much as a simple statement of fact. There was such a sweet, innocent beauty in her face, her body, her soul. If she was the kind of woman who could selfishly give up her own child, wouldn't it somehow show? Wouldn't it leave a mark that would destroy the sweetness, the innocence, the beauty?
Sarah's gaze held his. If she returned the compliment and told him he was handsome, he wouldn't believe her, and in the literal sense of the word, it wasn't true. He looked hard and rough and rugged, but not handsome. Still, she found more beauty in the lines a hard, lonely life had etched into his face than she could ever see in a typically handsome man like Zachary Adams or Brent Lawson.
"I like waking up with you." He moved his hand slowly until it was underneath her breast, his fingers following the curve of the small mound. "I've never had this kind of relationship with a woman before. If I ever gave it any thought, I guess I knew the nights would be special … but I didn't know the mornings would be, too."
"I like waking up with you, too."
His grin was quick and a little uneasy before it faded.
She lifted her hand until her palm cupped his beard-roughened cheek. "I do like it." She rubbed her hand back and forth. "I like it a lot."
He caught the tip of her stroking finger between his teeth and bathed it sensuously with his tongue. When he finally released it, he touched his mouth to hers.
Sarah wrapped her arms around hi
s, pulling until his body was warm and hard over the length of hers. As she shifted her hips to accommodate him, as he found his place, heated and welcoming inside her, she whispered in his ear, "I love waking up with you, Daniel."
Katie was annoyed at being ignored by her parents. By the time Daniel, dressed in hastily buttoned jeans, lifted her from the crib, she was in the middle of a full-fledged temper tantrum.
"Ignore her," Sarah advised when he came back to his room carrying Katie. She waited until he'd set the baby on the rug before wrapping her arms around him. "She's spoiled rotten, you know."
"I don't think so," he said stiffly, his blue eyes made darker by their frown.
Sarah laughed softly. "You look like a mother bear whose cubs are in danger. I'm not criticizing you or her. I'm just saying that she's so good-natured because she always gets what she wants when she wants it. She has two full-grown adults who jump when she cries. When she sees that screaming isn't getting her what she wants—namely your attention—she'll shut up and try some other method."
It was less than five minutes before Daniel felt a tug on his pants leg. Smiling in spite of her red-rimmed eyes, Katie lifted her arms. Nestled in his arms between him and Sarah, she was as happy as could be. She gave him a kiss, offered her mother one, too, then demanded in her sweetest voice to go.
"She's not going to like your leaving without her," Daniel remarked, leaving her in Sarah's arms while he finished dressing.
"Well, she'll have to get used to it. Once I get a job…" Breaking off, she sat down on the floor and busied herself with removing Katie's pajamas. Once she had a job, they would be living elsewhere, and there would be no lazy mornings in bed with Daniel. Dear God, she was going to miss him! To not be able to share his bed or his meals, to touch him or to simply look at him—how could she give that up? But, unless he offered her something—marriage, an extended affair, anything—what choice did she have?
Daniel's hands had become still on his shirt. Now he finished buttoning it, tucked it into his jeans, then fastened his belt. "Once you get a job, what?" he asked guardedly.
SOMEBODY'S BABY Page 18
