Always Devoted

by Karen Rose Smith

  Her voice quivered. "You didn't want children!"

  He straightened and tried to rein in his reaction so he could think clearly, so he could get the information he needed. "No, I didn't. But once you found out you were pregnant, I had a right to know. What's his name?"

  "Christopher," she said quietly.

  Pictures of Davie flashed in Jake's mind. Every one of them hurt to see. "Where is he?"

  "Right now he's with Aunt Eloise…at her house. We'll be staying with her as I empty this one."

  "I want to see him. Now." He was prepared for any argument she might give to keep him away from his son.

  To his surprise, she didn't argue. Rather she said, "I would have brought him with me but I didn't know if you'd have to think about this--"

  "There's nothing to think about." He stood. "Let's go. I remember where your aunt lives. I'll follow you." He wouldn't let Sara out of his sight until he saw his son. And then... One step at a time.

  Sara felt shaken to her core as she locked the door and they went to their cars. She wished she could say something to cut the tension between them, to diffuse Jake's anger. But she realized she had to let it wear off…she had to be patient. And she would be patient as long as it took. Because she still loved this man.

  She always would.

  When she pulled into the driveway of her aunt's house, she took a few deep breaths. She had no idea what Jake's reaction would be when he saw his son, but she'd soon find out. She didn't wait for Jake but went to the door, opened it, and called to her aunt. "I'm back."

  "In the kitchen," her aunt responded. "Cookie time."

  Jake's car screeched to a stop in front of the house. He ran up to the porch and came in behind her.

  "Christopher's in the kitchen with Aunt El."

  Jake grasped Sara's arm. "Does he know?"

  "What?"

  "Will he know I'm his father?"

  "No. I haven't talked to him about it yet because I wasn't sure what you'd want to do."

  He released her, but the heat from his skin remained. "Introduce me as his father. That's what I am. That's what I'll always be."

  Lord, she wished she had a child psychologist at her elbow. She supposed the best thing to do was to be honest with her son in the simplest way possible. "Give me a few minutes to explain to him."

  Jake searched her face, his eyes probing, anger still in evidence. "That's probably best for him. I'll wait here."

  Sara breathed a sigh of relief and went to the kitchen. Her Aunt Eloise stood at the counter mixing a meat loaf. "I saw Jake get out of his car."

  "As soon as I told him, he insisted on coming over."

  Eloise smiled. "Good."

  Christopher was eating a cookie. Sara crossed to him and sat beside him. "Hi, honey. How was your morning?"

  He took another bite of the cookie. "Okay."

  "I need to talk to you about something."

  Christopher kept munching.

  "Remember when you asked me if you had a daddy, I said you did but he lived somewhere else?"

  Her son nodded.

  "What would you think about meeting your dad?"

  Christopher's eyes brightened and he smiled. "A daddy like Patti's?"

  Patti was one of Christopher's friends from day care. Her father had picked her up every day. "He's your dad so he wouldn't be exactly like Patti's. He's is the living room. Should I get him?"

  Christopher nodded and put the cookie on the table.

  Sara returned to the living room and saw Jake pacing back and forth. "He's looking forward to meeting you." It sounded so formal. But what else could she say? She didn't know what was going to happen any more than Jake did as he followed her to the kitchen.

  "Hello, Jake," Eloise said simply. Her aunt had invited her and Jake to dinner a few times when they were engaged.

  Jake nodded, but his attention was all on his son.

  Sara went over to her three-year-old, who was still munching on his cookie. She laid her hand on top of his head and ruffled his black hair. "Honey, this is your daddy."

  Her son looked up at her with wide brown eyes. Sara swallowed hard. "Jake, this is Christopher."

  Jake approached slowly, as if he couldn't believe the three-year-old in front of his eyes. The lines deepened around his mouth and his quick intake of breath told her he was remembering another little boy, another son. The pain on his face was almost more than she could stand. Would seeing Christopher always bring him pain? How would that pain affect his relationship with Christopher and with her?

  Jake crouched down beside his son and glanced at the pile of crumbs in front of him. "I guess you like chocolate chip cookies."

  "Mommy's an' Auntie El's."

  "I know your mommy can make a great chocolate chip cookie. How many have you had?"

  Christopher looked up at Sara then leaned closer to Jake and held up three fingers. "I eat two."

  Jake smiled.

  Christopher took a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table and offered it to Jake. "Want one?"

  Jake's smile faded as he took the cookie and stood, leaning against the table as he took a bite. From experience, Sara knew he was reining in emotions, thinking, letting logic decide his next step.

  Finally he said to Christopher, "Maybe you and I could go outside and take a walk in the back yard. What do you think?"

  Christopher looked up at Sara. Trying to protect her son but wanting to give Jake every opening she could, she asked Christopher, "Do you want to?"

  Her son examined Jake from his six-one stature, over his face, to his sneakers. "Okay." Checking with his mother again, he asked, "Is he a stranger?"

  Sara glanced at Jake--the curling black hair at his throat where two buttons stood open, his taut stomach, his long legs and tanned arms, and she took another deep breath. "No, he's not a stranger." She and her son had talked many times about not playing or speaking with people he didn't know unless she was there. Daddy or not, he didn't know Jake.

  Jake's gaze met hers briefly. She felt the shock of it to her toes, anger mixed with anguish, and accusation. Taking a towel from the handle of the oven, she wiped her son's mouth and hands, then brushed her hand across his hair once more. "Maybe you can show your daddy the pretty rocks you found."

  Christopher jumped from his chair and went to the door. "See rocks?"

  Jake followed his son. "Sure."

  Christopher chattered about where he'd found his treasures, his voice fading as they walked down the yard.

  Eloise put her arm around her niece's shoulders. "It'll work out, dear. You'll see."

  "He's angry with me, Aunt El."

  Her aunt patted her shoulder. "Of course, he is. He has a right to be."

  Sara thought about it as she had a million times before. "I couldn't marry him. It would have been wrong. But I should have stood my ground, not married him, and then told him about the baby."

  Eloise dropped her arm and went to peer out the door at Jake and her great nephew. "You were young, Sara. Jake was ten years older and a strong-minded man. If he'd insisted on marriage, I'm not sure you could have held out against him."

  To see Christopher walk beside Jake gave Sara great joy. To watch Jake take his son's hand also caused her great sadness because she'd kept them apart. How could she ever make up for that? Her aunt's words penetrated.

  Could she have held out against Jake if he'd wanted marriage anyway back then? "I don't know. Maybe that's why I did it the way I did. But I do know I'm going to move back here and give Jake as much time as he wants with Christopher. I owe him that."

  "You don't know what kind of father he'll be."

  "I think I do. Just look at them."

  Father and son hunkered down over a pile of rocks. Christopher pointed out something.

  "The novelty might wear off."

  Sara knew her aunt was playing devil's advocate. "No. Jake's not that type of man. He doesn't pretend what he doesn't feel."

  Eloise faced her ni
ece. "Do you think he'll be staying for supper?"

  "I have no idea, Aunt El. I have no idea what Jake's going to do. I'll have to wait and see."

  #

  Sitting in the sun on the warm grass beside Christopher, Jake couldn't help staring at the boy. He looked so much like Davie. His features--Jake's features. His eyes--Jake's eyes. Had Christopher looked like Davie as an infant, as a one-year-old? How old was he when he cut his first tooth, said his first word, took his first step?

  Jake still couldn't believe Sara had lied to him, left him, and cheated him out of three years with his son. Finding it hard to absorb, fighting off the dark anger he didn't want to influence his attitude toward Christopher, he suddenly felt the immensity of the responsibility that had fallen on him out of nowhere. Without warning, or time to prepare, he was a father again. This time he had to do it right. This time he had to make sure his son was safe every minute of every day. He didn't want to let the boy out of his sight. Yet he knew he had to temper his fears.

  What was Sara planning? Why had she told him now? Was she willing to move back to L.A.? Would she let him be a parent? She had no choice. No matter where she lived, Christopher was Jake's son and he'd get to know his child one way or another. The problem was--how was he going to handle having Sara back in his life?

  The way he handled everything else...very carefully.

  "Look, Daddy."

  The sound of the title, the childlike quality of Christopher's voice, tore Jake apart. Because he remembered another time, another voice. Yet when Christopher handed him the gray stone and his small fingers touched Jake's palm, Jake felt the pride of fatherhood again. Yes, this time he would do it right.

  A half hour later, when Jake and his son returned to the kitchen, Christopher ran to his mother. "Milk, Mommy? Daddy drinks milk, too!"

  Sara's gaze met Jake's with uncertainty. The fact of the matter was that he felt such confusion about Sara right now, he knew he needed time away from her and Christopher so he could think, and plan, and decide the best route to take. He certainly didn't trust her. He might never be able to trust her again.

  She went to the refrigerator and opened the door, pulling out the milk carton. "Jake, would you like to stay for a while, maybe for dinner?"

  Jake looked at Christopher and then back at her. "No. I have to get back. I left some work unfinished." He turned to his son. "But I'll see you again. Soon." He ruffled Christopher's hair. "We can have milk and cookies together next time. Okay?"

  Christopher bobbed his head enthusiastically.

  Sara waited for the three-year-old to sit at the table, then she poured him a glass of milk. "I'll be right at the front door. Aunt El's in her sewing room. If you go in there with her, don't touch anything unless she says you can."

  Jake had trouble tearing himself away from Christopher, putting physical distance between them. After a last long look, he walked to the front door. Sara stood a few feet from him.

  His voice was gruff with all the unsaid thoughts and feelings churning inside him. "Are you going back to Wasco?"

  She straightened her shoulders and tilted up her chin, looking directly into his eyes. "What do you want, Jake?"

  The question she should have asked four years ago intensified the churning in his gut, and he couldn't keep the anger at bay. "So now you're going to think about that?"

  "I've always thought about what you wanted and didn't want."

  She was lying. She couldn't have thought about him and still kept Christopher away for so long. Silence stretched between them until he said in a low tone, "I need time to think. Just don't go running off without telling me. Because if you do--"

  She didn't let him finish his warning. "I won't. Do you want to spend time with Christopher tomorrow?"

  Could he believe she wouldn't run? Could he believe she'd stay at least until they made some decisions? He looked into the kitchen where his son was still drinking his milk. "I'll call you."

  And with that, Jake stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him, in more turmoil than he'd experienced in years.

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  Excerpt from TOYS AND WISHES:

  CHAPTER ONE

  "What in blazes is going on here?"

  Lexa Kittredge almost dropped the porcelain figurine she'd lifted from Clare Flannigan's bookshelf. Before she could answer, Clare slipped from behind the desk she'd been dusting.

  "Josh! You're back!" She pushed her blue glasses farther up her nose. "Lexa, this is my nephew, Josh Flannigan. Josh, meet Alexandra Kittredge."

  Lexa only had time to nod before Clare rushed on, "So how was Colorado, Josh? You deserved that long vacation. Anything exciting happen? Meet any bears?"

  Lexa suppressed a smile, recognizing Clare's attempt to turn the focus of the conversation on her nephew, rather than the disordered state of her apartment.

  "Aunt Clare, what's going on?"

  His question was directed at Clare but his gaze was on Lexa. Suddenly she wished they'd opened a window. She hadn't noticed it before, but the heat in Clare's apartment was stifling. Her sweatshirt was sticking uncomfortably to her shoulders. It wasn't supposed to be this hot in Pennsylvania in October, Indian summer or not. Or did the sudden rise in temperature have something to do with Josh Flannigan's piercing blue eyes, the same startling blue as Clare's?

  "I'm moving."

  Josh's attention flew to his aunt. "You're what?"

  Clare climbed onto the step stool to remove books from the top shelf of the bookcase. "I'm moving. Some friends and I have invested in a lovely old house," she explained airily as if she did something like this at least once a week.

  Josh's fingers dashed through his shaggy black hair. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

  Lexa set the figurine back on the shelf and took a step forward, deciding it might be time to help Clare explain the situation to her nephew. She offered her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Flannigan. Clare's told me so much about you."

  Josh's gaze switched back to her. "And just who are you?"

  "Joshua, don't be rude!" Clare scolded.

  He took Lexa's hand but also took the time to give her a more thorough looking-over. She didn't have to guess at what he saw. Sweatshirt and jeans. Curly blonde hair that probably looked as if she'd just escaped a stiff wind. Shiny face. "I'm a friend of Clare's."

  He dropped her hand. "Since when?"

  "Josh..."

  "It's all right, Clare. About two months ago Clare came to a workshop I was giving," Lexa explained.

  "About?" Josh looked at Clare as if she'd been bitten by some strange bug.

  "Senior citizens developing second careers."

  "Oh, great. Just what Clare needs when she's finally retired."

  "You don't know what I need." Clare's tone matched the fiery hue of her red hair.

  "Mr. Flannigan, your aunt has acted very responsibly."

  "Where did you get the money?" Josh asked his aunt.

  "I had money saved."

  Josh's hand slashed through the air. "But that was your nest egg. I don't believe you've done something so...

  impulsive."

  Clare exploded. "It's about time I'm impulsive if I want to be impulsive."

  Lexa took a deep breath. She had to do something to prevent a full-blown fight. "I've directed Clare to an experienced financial advisor."

  Josh shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Clare, you can't be serious about moving. You've lived in this apartment all your life. I've lived here much of mine. The rent's always been reasonable, you don't have to worry about mowing grass or shoveling snow." He looked around the room at the chaos. "My God! I go away for six weeks and when I come back, you're packing boxes."

  Clare shrugged and took Lexa's place at the bookshelves. She reached to the top shelf for two volumes of poetry. "I'm doing the right thing. Ask Lexa."

  Actin
g as a buffer wasn't Lexa's favorite position. She'd had to do it too many times between her younger sister and their stepmother. But at least she'd had practice. "I think you're doing what you want to do. That makes it right."

  Striding toward Clare, Josh took the books from her hand and dumped them into an open carton. His denim jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders, and the snug fitting jeans encased long legs and muscular thighs. He wasn't drop-dead handsome, but even with the beard stubble, he'd certainly do. Do for what? Lexa asked herself, then pushed every possible answer out of her head.

  "I want to know where you got this crazy idea," Josh was saying. "Do you know the work you're letting yourself in for? The hassles?"

  Clare's eyes threw rebellious darts. "What about the joy? The challenge? The thrill of a new adventure? Just because I'm over sixty, Joshua Flannigan, is no reason to put me out to pasture. I'm still alive and kicking more than ever. Thirty-five years of teaching English to teenagers is not enough to wear me out or put me in a rocking chair."

  She pointed her finger at him. "You thought I'd be happy retired, you thought I'd be happy living a life of leisure. Well, if it wasn't for the senior center this past year, I'd have gone crazy! Lexa thinks this is a magnificent idea and I expected more support from you."

  Josh pushed his jacket flaps aside and stuffed his hands in his back pockets as if he were considering the best way to reason with his aunt. "Don't you thing you're acting recklessly?"

  Lexa squared her shoulders. This was going to be more difficult than she'd expected. "Mr. Flannigan, your aunt came to talk to me because she was bored, because she was feeling useless, because sitting here by herself was making her feel ancient."

  Josh's blue eyes were steady and concerned as they swung back to Clare. "Aunt Clare, all you have to do is call me. I can spend more time with you."

  "What nonsense!" Clare planted her hands on her hips. "You're thirty-four, You have your own life to live and so do I."

  Realizing her presence increased the tension, Lexa stepped forward. "Clare, it might be better if I wait in the other room."

  "Don't let Josh chase you out."

  Lexa crossed the room. "He's not. I think you two need to hash this out on your own. I'll take down the wall decorations in the living room."