by Edie Ramer
“I have to disagree.” Her voice stiffened. “This isn’t something I do lightly. I believe it’s better for the child to know the truth when he’s young. If told correctly and without drama, it shouldn’t be traumatic.”
“In a perfect world,” he said, coldness stabbing down his spine.
She leaned toward him. “I would never tell Cara the truth, if that’s a concern. Though it’s my professional opinion that falsehoods like this are confusing and unnecessary. If your ex-wife had told her parents the truth, they would never have dropped her off at your house.”
He frowned, aware that she was right...but also aware that there were different degrees of truth. “I had Cara’s...father investigated. The only reason he’d agree to take Cara would be for money.”
“That’s unfortunate.” She put her long-fingered, slender hand atop of his. “I admire you for taking responsibility for the girl though she’s not a blood relative. And when you consider the turmoil her mother put you through, it could be construed to be noble.”
“My time with Juliana wasn’t the best part of my life.” A living hell. “But it’s over, and I learned a valuable lesson.”
“What was that?”
He smiled at her, an effort, because he didn’t have the words to tell her that he’d decided his next life partner would fit all the priorities on his list: cool, serene, smart, responsible, educated, and financially secure enough not to need his money.
An image of Abby naked in his bed burned in his mind again.
He wiped it out. He’d made one colossal mistake following his libido. He wasn’t doing it again. Instead, he directed his focus on his fiancée. “To wait for a woman as wonderful as you.”
She tightened her hand around his, and the muscles in her face tightened, too, like a ripple in a calm pond. “We do seem to be in sync with one another.” Relaxing her grip, she leaned back. “I’m glad you found someone dependable to take care of Cara. I remember meeting Abby at hospital events. I went to her parents’ funeral with my father.” She frowned slightly then shrugged. “She was so...emotional. Her father was head of Neurology at Eagleton General. It’s a shame someone with such promise and brilliance died so young. I’m sure her father had much to contribute to the world.”
A chill crept up his spine. Her words were in praise of Abby’s father as a physician. Maybe to Eagleton, Wisconsin, the father’s contributions in the medical field were the finest things about his life. But knowing the daughter, with her vitality and passion, he suspected the father’s finest achievements resided in a small house in Eagleton, Wisconsin.
“It’s too bad he wasn’t as brilliant when it came to money.” Portia shook her head. “I heard there was hardly anything left for his daughters.”
Holden frowned and thought of Cara. She wasn’t his biological daughter, but it wouldn’t hurt him to set something up for her. He doubted her mother would do it.
“I have another connection with Abby,” Portia continued. “She’s a partner in an enterprise with a sorority sister. Sam dropped out before med school. It’s a shame. She was so promising.” She shook her head, her lips pursed in disapproval. “And now she makes cat furniture. What a waste of brain power.”
“Sam as in Samantha?” he asked.
She nodded. “Perhaps I’ll call her. I read about their venture in a sorority newsletter. Sam and I roomed together for two years. I should ask if there’s anything I can do.”
“If she’s anything like her partner, she’ll tell you to adopt a kitten.”
Portia’s laugh was as smooth as the wine she’d been drinking. She brought up the napkin to pat her lips then stood in one graceful movement. “I should leave. I have another full day tomorrow, and I planned on looking over my notes tonight. Will this...”—she waved her hand toward the bedrooms in the back of the house—“change our plans for the weekend?”
He wiped his hand over his face, remembering they were going to a new exhibition at the art museum on Saturday then to a play on Sunday.
“Never mind.” Her cool fingertips touched his wrist. “Of course you have to stay with Cara. The child comes first.”
“It’s just two weeks, and then I’ll get my life back.”
“Then you can concentrate on what’s important,” she said. “Your company.”
He got to his feet. “The company won’t wait until then. I concentrate on it every day.”
She made a moue of sympathy and turned toward the door. Before leaving, they kissed without passion then separated. Sundown was coming soon, the daylight thinned to a pale gray, and as he watched her walk to her car, the thought came to him that she blended into the coming of the night. As if this time of shadows was her time.
He watched until she got in the car and backed out of his driveway. Only then did he head to the bedrooms, his strides lengthening. The girl should be sleeping, but he’d felt uneasy the entire time he’d been eating and talking, and now his uneasiness was getting more intense.
He started to run....
***
Abby’s mind was too busy for her to concentrate, her thoughts refusing to shut off, not allowing her to get lost in the romance she hadn’t wanted to put down yesterday. Holding the book, she sat in the recliner that had belonged to her father. Minnie was inches from her elbow, on the top perch of the Double Seater, their biggest seller that came complete with a scratching pad. Epic was curled up on the perch below Minnie. Lion lay on his dog bed on the other side of the chair.
From the bedroom came Grace’s voice, either on the phone or Skyping with one of her friends. Quigley must be with her.
Abby gazed at Minnie, whose blue eyes were open, staring at her as if she knew this would happen. “Something isn’t adding up.”
Minnie responded, her sentences long and with great inflexion and emotion.
Abby leaned toward her, as if Minnie were speaking a foreign language that her brain was too stupid and slow to understand. And if she could only understand, glorious secrets of the universe would open up for her.
At least, enough to get her life together. Right now, she’d take help wherever she could get it.
Which made her think of him again.
“You’re right,” she said. And Minnie made a sound that was half huff, half agreement. “My kitty sense is telling me something’s wrong, too, and I’d better find out what’s really going on.”
She lowered the recliner’s leg rest and pushed off from the seat, leaving her book behind. Her cell phone was on the ottoman. She grabbed it, found the number she wanted. The ring trilled four times on the other end, and she was expecting a robotic voice message when Daisy called out a greeting and asked if everything had gone okay.
“Did you see Cara?” Abby demanded. She wasn’t in the mood to play nice. She felt as if she’d been tricked.
“Yes.” Daisy’s tone was cautious, and she was a woman who normally boomed out her words, confirming Abby’s suspicions.
“She’s like some cats I’ve fostered. Not used to being...cared for. I don’t mean physically,” she said quickly. “But as if they’d always been treated as a duty and a nuisance instead of precious and loved.”
“Her mother had custody. Holden had no idea she was being neglected emotionally.”
“That’s what bothers me. He’s the girl’s father. Why wasn’t he aware?”
“You should direct these questions to him.”
“You think he’ll answer?”
“I think he’ll say it’s none of your business.”
“Like that’s going to stop me.”
“I should have known you’d be this way.” Daisy laughed then abruptly stopped. “It was part of the divorce agreement. Lawyer shenanigans. Will you accept that and leave it alone?”
“If I believed that, I would. I don’t know Holden well, but what I do know is that he isn’t a man who would ignore his daughter. Maybe he isn’t the warmest man in the world—”
A snort of laughter came over the phone.
“But he would feel responsible for her. At the least, he would visit her. And if he’d found her the way she is, so timid and...almost frightened, he would do whatever it took to make it right.”
Daisy didn’t say anything. Just silence came from the other end of the phone. This from a woman who, even if she didn’t have the answer, always had an opinion.
“What? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“How often have you met my nephew?” Daisy asked.
“Twice.”
“And you know him that well?”
Abby frowned, feeling an itch inside her that she didn’t like and didn’t know how to scratch. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but don’t read anything into it. I’m a good judge of character.”
Another half snort came over the phone. “Abby, I’ve met a couple of your boyfriends.”
“They weren’t awful.”
“They were eye candy.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Abby felt defensive. She didn’t go out that often, too busy being a mom as well as a big sister, taking Grace to dance lessons, soccer practice, track practice, swim lessons, sleepovers.... Cooking and cleaning and trying to be make enough money to pay for everything. And then there were the cats she fostered.
She’d been leading the life of a single mom when she was still a teenager. So when she did go out, why not flirt with the cute guys? Why not dance and have a good time?
Perhaps too good of a time.
When her parents had died, she’d been young and grieving, and sometimes she had gone a little crazy.
The crazy was mostly gone now, the grief still there but a hum now, no longer a rap song that kept shouting at her to get it while she could. Now she was concentrating on a future for Grace and herself—the future she’d silently promised her mom and dad nine years ago as she’d emptied their ashes into Angel Lake.
“Nothing wrong at all,” Daisy said, bringing her back to the phone call. “I’ve had my share of eye candy.”
“You were trying to change the subject from your nephew, weren’t you?”
“It’s not my subject to change.” The laughter left Daisy’s voice. “If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Holden.”
“He’ll give me one of his looks.”
Daisy’s laughter flowed. “For someone who’s only spoken to him twice, you appear to know him very well.”
Abby shrugged, though Daisy couldn’t see her. “Aren’t all men alike?”
“You darling girl, men are like cats. None of them are the same—not even in the dark.” Her voice lowered. “Ask him, Abby. I dare you.”
Then the line went dead.
“Daisy?” Abby said. “Daisy!”
Silence answered her. Abby clicked her phone off and set it down. Daisy had done that on purpose, ending it as she had. The older woman knew her too well. Knew just how hard it was for her to resist a dare....
***
Holden opened the door, and the light from the hall spilled in. Cara lay on her stomach with the thin blanket pulled up to her shoulders, making small, hiccupping sobs. Almost silent, but each sob sliced through him like a crosscut saw. He stepped inside, and she stopped crying, becoming still. He had the idea that she was wishing she were invisible. That she was wishing he would step back into the hall and leave her.
“Cara?” He headed toward her. “Are you all right?”
Nothing. He could hear the hum of the house. The crickets singing. He even heard the slight breeze, the rustle of leaves from the birch tree outside her open window.
A shuddering exhale came from the bed, her held-in breath released. He knelt to be level with her. “Do you want anything to eat?”
She shook her head.
“A drink of water? Warm milk?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want me to tell you a story?”
She shook her head.
“I can’t leave when you’re crying. Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
She didn’t say anything, but another sob came. He had a strange urge to pick her up and hold her. To pat her back and tell her everything was going to be all right.
But he held back, his hands at his side. If he did that, she’d be more frightened than comforted. He was a stranger to her. And when the two weeks were up, she would go back to her mother or grandparents. Back to the same loveless life.
He straightened and glanced around the room and saw the chair in the corner. A compact, bedroom type, easy to lift. He took three strides to it then carried it back to her side. She’d turned her face to watch him, her head lifted from the pillow, her expression wary.
He sat then reached out sideways and patted her shoulder, feeling awkward. “You liked Abby’s cats, right?”
She nodded.
He drew his hand back. “Did you ever hear the story of Puss in Boots?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want me to tell you the story? Puss is a cat, and he’s the hero of the story.”
She nodded.
He relaxed and only then realized how tense he’d been. “It was my grandfather’s favorite fairy tale. He liked it because Puss was enterprising and proactive. Two of his favorite qualities.” He peered at the girl. “Do you know what they mean?”
Her forehead crinkled. “It means they find out ways to do things.”
“Exactly. You’re very smart for a six-year-old.” The thought slipped into his mind that his grandfather would have admired her. He would’ve admired Abby, too, from the moment she blackmailed him into getting her physics book. It would have brought on one of his rare bursts of laughter.
But he hadn’t told his grandfather. They hadn’t been on those terms.
He glanced at Cara. She was watching him, as if reserving judgment.
Though she wasn’t his daughter by blood, she was a lot like him, after all.
He took a deep breath. “Once upon a time,” he began, hearing his voice slow into a story mode instead of his normal curt and fast tone, “there was a miller with three sons and one cat....”
5
Day two, Abby thought. Though aware of Holden—too aware of him—she only gave him a brief glance, concentrating her attention on Cara as the two came into her house. Lion was at her side, his tail wagging happily, as she crouched and put her arms out.
Yesterday, Cara had looked at her nervously when she’d done this. Today she walked into her arms. Yesterday, she’d stood with her muscles stiff, as if uncertain what Abby would do. Today she leaned against her, but she trembled slightly.
Abby dropped a kiss on the top of her head, the same as she’d do for her cats or dog, before releasing her and straightening her legs.
“We’re going to have a lovely day today.” A great day, she thought. A day Cara would remember on days that were dark and lonely and she didn’t know if she could stand it.
The way Abby remembered her mom and dad on the days when every step felt like she was walking through quicksand and would never make it through to the other side.
Cara looked at her with wide eyes then shifted her gaze to Lion, her arms reaching out.
Abby stepped out of the way as the girl embraced Lion with no hesitation. How wise of Cara to trust a dog more than a human.
Her heart squeezed.
Two weeks. Only two weeks.
That’s what she’d thought yesterday. Eager for the two weeks to be over so she could go on with her life.
Watching Cara now, she changed her perspective. Only nine days to show Cara a wonderful time. Four days left this week, five next week. Every day she was with her, there would be laughter. Every day kisses. Every day hugs.
She looked up at Holden. His gaze was fixed on his daughter, his face unreadable.
Then he raised his eyes to her, and something in them, a bleakness, a need, made her suck in her breath. Made her want to step forward and hug him, too.
“I’ll try to be here earlier tonight,” he said.
“T
ry?” She reined in her volatile emotions. Maybe everyone needed a hug, but it didn’t mean she had to do the hugging. “That’s not a word I like. It’s a wiggle word.” She glanced down at Cara. “Like a wiggly worm.”
Cara giggled, and Abby felt a thrill. A little catch of lightning flickering through her.
“What kind of worm would you prefer?” he asked.
She switched her gaze to him and felt his intensity. As if he really cared about her worm choices. “I’ve actually never met a worm I wanted to...” His eyes lit up, and she knew she should keep her mouth shut. But since the first time she’d seen him nine years ago and threatened to call the police on his brother, her shut-up valve hadn’t seemed to work around him. A lot had changed in the past nine years, but not that. “Wiggle up to,” she finished.
Cara giggled again then said, “Epic!” She knelt on the floor and held her arms out to the white kitten. The normally timid kitten dashed straight to her, meowing and rubbing her head against her arms and her chin, marking her scent on Cara’s skin.
A hand clasped Abby’s shoulder, and she whipped her head up, staring at Holden who was staring at Cara. He didn’t seem to be aware that he was standing so close that she felt his body heat. He didn’t seem to be aware that he was holding onto her shoulder as if he had a right to touch her like this, as if she were more than just a babysitter.
She knew when his awareness returned, the intensity leaving his face, his muscles relaxing, his grasp loosening. She could feel his reluctance as he pulled his hand away slowly, his fingers brushing her shoulders in a caress that sent shivers through her.
“I’ll be back by six,” he said, his voice husky.
He told Cara goodbye. She looked up at him, her smile dipping. He headed to the door, and Abby followed him.
“So what are you going to be?” she asked. “A man or a worm?”
Gripping the screen-door handle, he turned slightly. His gaze flickered up and down her, and she was aware of her peach T-shirt with the cat outline and old, silky, blue shorts that she liked because cat and dog hair slid right off them, while her hair was barely combed and her face was clean of makeup. But none of that mattered because she could tell by the smoldering in his light blue eyes—no longer icy blue—that he saw her as a man saw a woman.
