Divided Hearts

by Susan R. Hughes

  Faye couldn’t remember a time before Jenna was in her life. They had met in kindergarten, forming a fast friendship. On the surface the girls were polar opposites: Faye the delicate blonde who was happy to sit quietly and draw animals, and Jenna the dark-haired adventurer who was perpetually on the move, compelled to see and experience everything. But they were a good complement to each other; Faye helped Jenna to settle down, while in turn Jenna gave Faye the nudge she needed to try new things. During the ordeal of her parents’ divorce, Faye had leaned on Jenna a great deal, their friendship being the one constant Faye could count on. Until now she had assumed there were no secrets between them, making Jenna’s deception about Simon all the more perplexing.

  The knock at the door startled Faye, sending her heart leaping high into her throat. Hastily she shoved her dust rag into a kitchen drawer on her way to the door. Why was she so nervous, for heaven’s sake? Surely she was doing the right thing for Hannah, after all.

  She glanced at the toddler, freshly bathed and clad in polka-dot pajamas, blissfully playing with her musical farm toy on the living-room carpet.

  Precious little girl, your life is about to change—for the better, I hope.

  After only a brief hesitation, Faye opened the door to find Simon in the hallway, his tall, broad form filling the doorway. His elegant mouth formed a soft smile that elicited a peculiar quiver in her belly.

  “Good evening, Miss Harper.”

  “It’s Faye. Please, come in,” she said, stepping aside to let him enter the apartment.

  Striding inside, Simon kept his gaze on Faye, the luminous sky-blue of his eyes stirring a flutter of feminine awareness. She felt suddenly self-conscious in her faded jeans and old cotton sweater, her long hair tied into a ponytail, and realized her forehead was damp with perspiration from her frantic cleaning. She’d been so focused on the look of the apartment that she hadn’t given much thought to her own appearance.

  Alerted by the tune of “Old Macdonald,” Simon peered into the living room, catching sight of Hannah there. Faye saw his expression change, a mixture of wonder and apprehension transforming his features.

  “She’s beautiful,” he said, his smile broadening. Witnessing the enchantment in his face as he set eyes on his child for the first time, Faye felt a constriction in her own chest, and she drew a deep breath to ward off a sudden welling of emotion.

  “Can I get you anything? Tea?” she offered.

  “No, thanks, I’m fine.” Simon’s gaze was firmly locked on his daughter. “Hello, Hannah,” he said gently, taking a step toward her.

  Hannah stared up at the stranger, her eyes round as marbles. As he approached, her rosebud mouth puckered into a frown, a crease forming between her small brows.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly, bending down. “I’m your daddy. I’m so happy to meet you.”

  Leaping abruptly to her feet, the little girl tottered toward Faye and clung to her legs, turning her face upward and letting out a desperate wail.

  “She’s always like this with strangers,” Faye explained as she scooped the toddler into her arms. “Especially men. Best to keep your distance for now. Let her come to you when she’s ready.”

  “Right,” Simon said, rising. Faye could see he was making an effort to appear nonchalant, while his expression betrayed bewilderment; clearly the man was out of his comfort zone, and Faye felt a surge of compassion for him.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll warm up to you.” Faye settled onto the sofa with Hannah on her lap, still clinging to her.

  Simon sat at the other end of the sofa, putting as much distance as he could between them. Hannah quieted down but stared at him warily, her mouth drawn down miserably, her lashes wet with tears.

  “She looks like my sister at that age,” he said. “She had the same mass of dark hair.” He looked both captivated and anxious as he continued to study the child. “Does she talk?”

  “She’s starting to say a few words.”

  As Simon’s gaze finally rose to meet Faye’s, her pulse quickened at once. She hadn’t realized until now that his eyes were the same deep azure as Hannah’s.

  “Seems she’s moved in with you quite nicely,” he remarked.

  “She’d lived here all her life,” Faye explained. “Jenna and I moved in together after Hannah was born, so I could help her look after the baby. She teaches afternoon and evening classes, so Hannah only has to go to a sitter for the afternoon, and I pick her up before supper. It’s worked out quite nicely.”

  His brows rose with mild surprise. “Jenna told me how close you were. You’re certainly a devoted friend to help her out like this.”

  Faye nodded, happy to hear Jenna had spoken of her that way. “Jenna’s mother has debilitating arthritis in her hands, and her father died several years ago. So how could I not step in? I know she’d do the same for me.”

  “Your business card says you’re an illustrator,” Simon went on. “You do this work at home?”

  She nodded. “It’s been great having that flexibility. Although my workspace is rather cramped. I make do with the dining room table a lot of the time.”

  “It’s a small place for three people.”

  “Money’s been tight,” she admitted.

  “Had I known about Hannah, I would have provided for her,” Simon stressed, his brows drawing together. “I’ve brought a cheque.” Reaching into the side pocket of his jacket, he fished around for a moment, then grew inpatient and emptied the entire contents onto the coffee table. Finding a folded cheque among the items, he offered it to Faye. “It’s not only for the amount I owed Jenna for her research work, but for Hannah as well. And I will send more regularly.”

  “Thank you.” Faye took the cheque and glanced at it, her eyes widening at the sizeable amount written there. Until now she’d wondered vaguely why he hadn’t asked for a paternity test on Hannah, just to be sure; now that a large sum of money was involved, Faye would have expected him to demand real evidence. But seeing the little girl for himself, and recognizing the resemblance to his family, had evidently satisfied him that she was indeed his child.

  Again she had to wonder why Jenna had lied. Simon Blake had a belligerent side, but he also came across as kindhearted and honourable, as well as generous. Faye didn’t get the impression of a vengeful man, even in the wake of an appalling betrayal.

  But then again, Faye cautioned herself, it wasn’t uncommon for a man bent on retribution to use tactics of manipulation to get around whatever, or whoever, lay in his path. Frustratingly, Jenna had never mentioned specifically why she feared Simon’s retaliation, and at the moment there was no way to ask her. What had gone on in their relationship that Faye didn’t know about?

  Suddenly Hannah pushed away from Faye and scooted off her lap, sidling along the coffee table to where Simon had left the contents of his pocket. Curious, the little girl snatched up the key ring and shook it briskly. Delighted by the sound of the keys jingling against each other, she chuckled, shaking it harder.

  She was inches from Simon’s knee, and he sat frozen, as though afraid of spooking her if he moved.

  When he looked up, his expression was troubled. “Do you really have no idea why Jenna didn’t tell me she was having my baby?”

  “None,” Faye replied, startled to hear her own thoughts mirrored in his query.

  “And she told you I knew?” His eyes narrowed as he studied Faye’s face. At once she realized that while she had been speculating about Simon, he’d been sizing her up, questioning her honesty.

  “Don’t you believe me?” she asked, not really resenting his suspicions under the circumstances.

  His lips curled up slightly at the edges. “I have no reason to doubt you.”

  “That is the truth, I assure you. You can ask Jenna yourself. She will recover, I’m sure. I can’t believe anything else. And when she does, we can get those answers directly from her.”

  His eyes closed briefly as he nodded, apparently reassured. “O
kay. Good.”

  “I’ve got an album of pictures of Hannah from the time she was a newborn,” Faye said, hoping to brighten the tone of the conversation. “Would you like to see it?”

  His smile broadened. “Please.”

  She had set the album on the end table before Simon arrived, anticipating his interest in it. She handed it to him and he opened it on his lap, pausing at the first page, which held photos of Jenna holding her tiny newborn in the hospital. Jenna looked exhausted but happy, smiling down at the bald, puffy-faced infant swaddled in a blanket in her arms.

  “She was six pounds, three ounces at birth,” Faye told him; it was something a father ought to know. “Hannah Louise, named after her great-grandmothers on both sides.”

  “It’s a beautiful name,” Simon remarked. Turning the pages slowly, he paused on each image with rapt interest, studying the images of Hannah’s early smiles, her first bites of solid food, birthday and holiday celebrations, and all the milestones the little girl had reached so far in her short life. When he closed the album, he simply set it on the sofa next to him, not speaking; his expression was melancholy, eliciting a twinge of sympathy in Faye, as she imagined him reflecting on all the special moments in his daughter’s life that he had already missed, never to be recaptured.

  It was Hannah who broke the silence. Losing interest in the keys, she dropped them onto the glass tabletop with a clatter and wandered over to her toy box in the corner. Grabbing her favourite stuffed dog, she brought it back to the sofa, thrusting it toward Simon.

  “Doggie,” she said, offering an impish smile. “Woof woof.”

  “Thank you, Hannah.” Taking the dog from her, he wiggled its furry face against her nose, eliciting a burst of giggles from her.

  A tender smile lit Simon’s face, and the warmth of it seeped through Faye, pooling pleasantly just below her breastbone.

  Grabbing the dog back from him, Hannah hugged it against her chest, then shuffled to the other end of the sofa, burying her soft head in Faye’s lap.

  “She’s getting tired. It’s bedtime,” Faye said, unexpectedly disappointed that Simon would now have to leave. Briefly it occurred to her to invite him to stay and talk further after Hannah went to bed, but she dismissed the thought just as quickly.

  He rose from the sofa. “Thank you for letting me come by, Faye. Now that it’s all very real, I’m rather overwhelmed. I wasn’t sure she’d take to me.”

  Lifting the sleepy child into her arms, Faye offered an encouraging smile. “You did fine.”

  “Goodbye, my sweet.” Simon reached up to lightly trace the little girl’s round cheek with his fingertips. “I’ll see you again.”

  With Hannah on her hip, Faye followed him to the door. Unexpectedly he turned and grasped her hand, where it rested on Hannah’s back, his fingers curling over hers only briefly. But even that fleeting touch sparked a bloom of sensation that spiraled through her limbs, leaving her flushed and breathless.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said as he left.

  Once he was out the door, Faye put Hannah down for a moment to busy herself gathering up the toys scattered on the carpet. A tremendous pang of guilt stole over her, not only for bringing Simon here without Jenna’s approval—but also for feeling so warm and sensual from the memory of his touch on her hand, her nerves still pulsing with anticipation.

  Dumping the toys into the toy box, Faye frowned. Simon Blake was attractive and charismatic, no doubt. His pull on her feminine senses had seemed harmless at first, but now she felt helpless against it. Her responsibility lay with Hannah and Jenna, and she couldn’t afford to let a heady physical attraction weaken her control of the situation. After all, Jenna must have had her reasons for keeping Hannah from Simon, even though Faye wasn’t having any more luck figuring out what they might be. Had Jenna’s fears been a fabrication, or was there a nefarious side to Simon Blake that Faye hadn’t seen yet?

  Could there be danger lurking beneath that English charm and those incredible azure eyes?

  Chapter Three

  “Slide! Wee!” Hannah squealed, as the older children scurried around her, scrambling up the rope ladder on the side of the play structure and then clambering onto the spiral slide for a dizzying descent. Too small to participate, Hannah was ecstatic just watching from the sand below, clutching her miniature plastic pail and shovel and stamping her feet with excitement.

  Seated on a bench only a few feet away, Faye observed with a contented smile of her own. The usually warm April afternoon offered an opportunity for a long play session at the park for Hannah, and a much-needed respite for Faye. Simply getting out of the apartment for something other than grocery shopping made a world of difference to her peace of mind. As well, the steady improvement in Jenna’s condition eased Faye’s anxiety day by day. The doctors had begun reducing Jenna’s medication, anticipating she’d regain consciousness in the coming days—an enormous relief to everyone who cared about her.

  A warm male voice interrupted her thoughts. “Looks like someone’s having fun.”

  Raising her hand to shield her eyes against the sun, she looked up to see Simon standing beside the bench, his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. He was wearing a navy-blue T-shirt, and she noted with mild surprise the impressively muscular arms on display.

  She smiled up at him. “We both are.”

  Hannah had heard his voice, too, and turned to look. He waggled his fingers at her, and the little girl grinned, peering up shyly from beneath her pink sunhat. It was hard to know if she remembered him from the week before, but the fact that she didn’t mind his presence was encouraging.

  “Thanks for inviting me here,” Simon said to Faye. She’d had little choice. He’d been phoning her almost daily, asking to see Hannah again. Finally Faye had agreed that the park was an ideal place for a short get-together.

  “You should get used to playgrounds if you want to spend time with Hannah,” she told him. “She’s addicted to them.”

  Simon chuckled amiably, the deep, resonant tone rousing the fine hairs on Faye’s arms. “Oh, I’ve spent my share of time clambering around play structures. My niece is six. There’s no starker reminder of the passage of one’s youth than trying to crawl through those bloody plastic tunnels without nicking your knees or putting your back out.”

  “You look like you keep yourself in decent shape,” Faye observed, glancing at his athletic frame, pleasingly outlined by the snug-fitting T-shirt. Briefly she allowed her eyes to linger on the enticingly firm contours of his biceps, and then roam across the taut plane of chest between that tapered smoothly to a trim waist.

  “You as well,” he replied mildly, and her gaze snapped up to catch a slow smile curving his mouth. Feeling heat scorch her cheeks, she shrank a little against the bench, wishing she could see the expression in his eyes beneath his sunglasses; she had no way of knowing whether his gaze met hers or had strayed to her fitted blouse and skirt, or down to her legs, exposed to mid-thigh on the slatted bench seat.

  Simon at last slid off the sunglasses, but not before his focus had shifted to Hannah. He crouched next to her, inviting her to play in the sand. Happily she obliged, using the shovel to scoop mounds of sand into the bucket, and then dumping them onto Simon’s shoes as he feigned distress at having his socks soiled.

  After a few minutes, Simon stood and lifted the little girl into his arms, holding her for the first time. Hannah didn’t seem to mind at all; she grinned up at him, patting his nose several times with her plump hand. He then carried her to a smaller slide at the far end of the play structure, setting her at the top and then kneeling at the bottom, his arms outstretched to catch her. Faye held her breath, unsure whether Hannah would be brave enough to take on the slide unaided. But she pushed herself forward readily, catapulting into Simon’s arms amid a peal of ecstatic giggles.

  Watching them together, Faye felt a stirring in her heart that caused a hitch in her breath. Already a bond was forming between father and daughter, the delight
in Hannah’s eyes matched by an unguarded tenderness in the depths of Simon’s deep-blue gaze. There was no going back now. If Jenna could only see this—how would she feel? Faye realized she had no clue. Her best friend’s feelings for the man who had fathered her child were a mystery to Faye. Thinking back, she was positive Jenna had never used the word love in reference to Simon while they were together. In fact she hadn’t talked about him much at all, as though their romance hadn’t meant a great deal to her. What had it meant to Simon? Curious as she was, Faye didn’t feel it was her place to ask.

  After a while he left Hannah to play with her pail and shovel, returning to the bench to join Faye. His expression lit with satisfaction, he was clearly pleased to have taken the first small steps toward being his little girl’s father, in practice as much as theory.

  As he sat down beside her, Faye found herself enveloped in his scent, a blend of spicy aftershave and the pleasant tang of sun-warmed skin. She inhaled deeply, letting it tingle through her senses as he spoke.

  “Have you thought about what you’ll tell Jenna when she wakes up?”

  Faye lifted her shoulders as she breathed out. “Vaguely. But I’m mainly concerned about how she’ll be. We don’t know what sort of condition she’ll be in, and what she’ll be able to handle at first. But her mother does want to meet you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You told her what’s been happening?”

  “I figured I had to. She’s been despising you as much as I have the past two years.” Faye offered a small smile to convey that the sentiment no longer applied. “Don’t worry about Carole, she’s very sweet. She’s been like a mother to me over the years.”

  “You don’t have a mother of your own?”