"Yes, he really did. And one year later that boy was pitching for his team again."
"Honest?"
"Cross my heart."
Kelsey looked startled and just a little bit awed. Cait knew the feeling. She had felt the same way about Tyler once, especially when she'd been a green psychotherapy intern listening to the surgical residents sing his praises.
Kelsey traced the headlines with her fingertip. "Auntie Hazel says my daddy isn't in prison now."
"That's true. How do you feel about that?"
"Good, I guess. Sometimes I don't know how I feel about anything anymore."
"You know something, Kels? Sometimes I don't, either. It's a scary feeling for me."
Kelsey blinked solemnly, as though the idea of Mama Cait being scared of anything was a novel one.
"Me too," she admitted belatedly. "Sometimes I can't sleep 'cause I get so scared."
"Me too," Cait echoed with a soft smile.
She drew her daughter close and kissed her forehead. She wanted to promise that nothing would ever scare her again. But that was a promise no one could make.
"Mama Cait?" Kelsey asked when Cait released her.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Do you think my daddy gets scared?"
Cait hadn't expected the question. Stalling, she glanced down at the man in the white coat. His tie was askew, and he needed a haircut, but his eyes burned with a fierce dedication that still touched her, even after so many years. "I think your daddy gets scared a lot."
Kelsey's smooth forehead suddenly took on frown lines. "What's he scared about?"
"I don't know for sure, but I imagine he's scared that people will think he's a bad person because he's been in prison. Sometimes I think that makes him very lonely inside."
"Mommy said I shouldn't ever tell anyone that Daddy was in prison. She said other kids wouldn't play with me. But they already knew, 'cause my daddy's name was in the papers. His pictures, too. Lots of 'em."
"Yes, I know."
The media had had a field day. Most of the papers had had him tried and convicted before he'd even come to trial. But then, so had she, hadn't she? Cait glanced toward the fire. Suddenly all the joy had gone out of her tree-decorating party.
Careful not to tear the clipping, she refolded it before slipping it into the pocket of her robe. Kelsey watched glumly. Cait noticed that her small mouth had taken on a definite droop.
"What's wrong, Kels?" she asked softly. "Are you sad because we've been talking about your daddy?"
Kelsey nodded. "Will I ever see him again?" the little girl asked after a moment's thought.
"Would you like to?"
Kelsey gnawed on her lip. As she did, her expression grew even more apprehensive. "I think so," she said in a tentative little voice. "I mean, if he wants to see me. Mommy said he really didn't like being a daddy much. 'Specially since he only married Mommy 'cause she was going to have me."
The forlorn droop to Kelsey's mouth tore Cait apart inside. How could Crys have been so cruel to her own child? she raged. No wonder Tyler had grown to hate her. Cait was very close to that herself now.
"Kels, there's something I need to tell you. Okay?"
Kelsey looked startled but curious. "Okay."
"It's about your daddy."
Kelsey blinked but didn't say anything.
Cait took a moment to order her thoughts before she continued. "Remember that Saturday when I drove to the mountains? When you were at Sarah's for the day?"
"You mean when you went to see an old friend?"
Cait nodded. "That old friend was your daddy."
"You saw Daddy?" She sounded frightened, and just a little awed.
"Yes. Mostly we talked about you."
"You did? What did you say?"
"I told him how big you were getting and how smart you were. And I told him about the bad dreams."
"What … what did he say?"
"Actually, he gave me a letter to read to you. Would you like to hear it?"
Kelsey's small white teeth worried her lower lip as she tried to make up her mind. Finally she peeked at Cait through her thick lashes and asked shyly, "Would you be mad at me if I said yes?"
"Of course not! That's why I have it here, so that I can read it to you."
Kelsey's gaze dropped, her lashes trembling. "Mommy would have been mad. She said I shouldn't talk about Daddy to anyone ever again."
"Well, I think it would be a good thing if you talked a lot about your daddy. To me, if you'd like, and to Auntie Hazel, too, when you go to see her in her office. Especially to Auntie Hazel."
"Really?" Kelsey's face mirrored confusion, but Cait thought she saw a small flicker of relief in the little girl's eyes.
"Really." Cait stood and held out her hand. "C'mon, let's go upstairs to my room, and I'll get that letter for you."
Kelsey slipped her hand into Cait's, and together they climbed the stairs and entered Cait's bedroom. While Cait switched on the lamp, Kelsey walked to the bed and sat down with her hands folded primly in her lap. It's okay to be scared, Cait wanted to say, but she didn't dare. Kelsey's emotions were still too finely balanced.
The envelope was safely tucked away in her underwear drawer. As she drew it out, she realized that she was nervous.
Her hand was surprisingly steady, however, as she removed the single sheet from the envelope and unfolded it. The words were printed in careful letters, bringing a lump to her throat. Like most doctors, Tyler's handwritng was little more than a scrawl. Obviously he'd taken great care to make sure Kelsey could decipher his words.
"Here, sweetie."
Kelsey pushed the letter back toward Cait. It crinkled loudly in the silent room. "You read it to me out loud, okay?"
"Okay," Cait said before clearing her throat and raising the paper. Her vision blurred for an instant before she gathered herself together and began to read.
"Dear Button,
Guess what? It's almost time for your birthday. A little less than three months, right? I bet you're looking forward to it.
Are you having a party with your friends? You always did love parties, especially the presents. And you always wanted chocolate cake with extra icing. Maybe if you whisper in Aunt Cait's ear, she'll bake you one just like the one she made for your first birthday."
Cait glanced up to see Kelsey smiling softly. Her eyes misted, making it difficult to read on.
"Button, it's hard for me to think of you as a big girl of nine. Not only because it's been a long time since I saw you last, but also because I keep remembering the first time I saw you.
It was the day you were born, and you were only a few minutes old. You were impossibly tiny and perfect and cute as a button. When the nurse put you in my arms for the first time, I knew that nothing in the world was more precious to me than you.
Button, that's still true. I love you more than I have words to tell you. I loved you when you were saying those things about me in the courtroom, even though I didn't understand why. And I loved you during all the months when they made me stay in a place where I really didn't want to be.
Your Aunt Cait has told me that you've been having bad dreams. They can be really awful sometimes, I know. She also said that you're feeling bad because you think I blame you because the judge sent me to that place, to prison. But I don't blame you for any of the things that happened.
Now that I've had a lot of time to think about it, I know I wasn't much of a daddy, and I'm very, very sorry about that. But please, baby, don't ever think that I will ever stop loving you, no matter what.
So now I want you to do what Aunt Cait tells you. I know that she loves you very much and is trying very hard to be a good mommy to you. Also, I want you to do what Dr. O'Connor tells you so that you won t have anymore bad dreams. Okay?
Imagine me kissing you on your button nose and telling you that I love you.
Daddy."
* * *
Tyler had come to hate Sundays. In prison, it had b
een the day when families visited. On the outside, it was still a day reserved for families. He always worked Sundays.
It was a few minutes past ten. In two hours the Horseshoe would open and the regulars would stream in. The day was overcast. Worse, snow was predicted for the higher elevations, which meant the place would also be full of tourists.
As soon as he finished washing the glasses from the Saturday-night rush, he would need to haul up a few cases of beer from the basement.
He dried his hand on his thigh and reached for his coffee. It was his sixth cup of the morning. Or maybe seventh. He'd lost count. He just knew he needed the caffeine to clear his head. Sleep had eluded him for most of the night, and when he had slept, he'd dreamed of Cait again.
But this time the dream was different. This time he was holding her in his arms and kissing her. This time, when he awoke, he couldn't make himself stop thinking about those few moments in the school parking lot when she had walked into his arms and nestled there.
He was enough of a realist to know that it had meant nothing. Hell, she used to hug him all the time. She'd hugged everyone. There wasn't anything sexual in her hugs. Cait wasn't a tease like her sister. Sometimes he'd wished that she had been. It was easy to resist a tease.
He downed the rest of his coffee, then flexed his shoulders and reached for another dirty glass. It was foolish to remember the sleek softness of Cait's hair against his face, just as it was foolish to recall the feel of her soft body against his.
Sex had been the furthest thing from the lady's mind, he told himself as he concentrated on rubbing the soap from the slick glass with his fingers. Truth was, it hadn't really been in his mind, either. Not then.
Then he'd been thinking of Kelsey, and he'd been hurting. Cait had sensed that and offered comfort. On the long drive home it had occurred to him that she had been motivated by guilt. It also occurred to him that she might have been motivated by pity.
Guilt he could handle. The thought that she pitied him had his belly in knots and his frustration level soaring. He rinsed the glass and upended it in the drainer.
As he did, the door to the street screeched open. Daylight splashed into the gloom, and he saw a woman's slender silhouette.
"Sorry, we're closed until noon," he called over the sudden sound of street noise.
"I suspected that when I didn't see the hogs parked outside."
Mentally Tyler jerked himself erect, although he didn't move. "Cait?"
"Good morning. Terrific day, isn't it? The wind smells like Christmas."
She let the door close behind her and walked toward him. Unlike the last time she had dropped in on him, she was dressed for the mountains in jeans and a heavy sweater. More appropriate, perhaps, he thought as he dried his hands. But a hell of a lot more trying for a man who had been celibate for longer than he cared to remember.
Not that the jeans were tight. They weren't. Cait was far too elegant for that. But they were old and worn smooth across the seat. And her sweater was an unusual shade of gold that added sparkle to her eyes.
"I was in the area and thought I'd drop in," she said as she dropped her purse onto the bar and slipped onto a stool. "Aren't you pleased?"
She smiled, and Tyler realized that it was her smile that bothered him the most. It was just a bit crooked and softened her lips into a perfect shape for kissing.
"Law says I can't offer you anything alcoholic until noon."
"How about a few minutes of your time instead?"
He could almost feel her softness pressed against him. Almost. Had he ever wanted to hold a woman more than he wanted to hold her? he wondered, but he already knew the answer.
When he spoke, his voice was deliberately remote. "That I can handle."
Her sudden appearance had taken him by surprise. Because his guard was down, he'd revealed a glimpse of the man behind the stone wall. Now, however, all his defenses were in place, stronger than ever.
She wondered why she'd thought they wouldn't be. Someday she would learn that things were not always going to be the way she thought they should be. Or the way she wanted them to be.
Ignoring the coolness that had returned to his eyes, she allowed her gaze to trail slowly and thoroughly around the place where he spent most of his time.
She discovered hidden treasures. A marvelous brass wall fixture to one side of the mirror. A wealth of intricate carving on the floor-to-ceiling paneling behind the bar. Initials and dates carved into the thick walnut going back to 1878.
"This place looks different without people," she said when she realized that he was watching her. "More … welcoming, somehow."
Tyler gave the place he'd called home for eight months a quick once-over. It hadn't changed.
"Somehow that's not exactly the word I would use," he said wryly.
"No?" Lacy dark lashes narrowed slightly over brown eyes dancing with challenge. Maturity had honed the youthful lines of her face into an elegance that stunned him. Unlike Crystal, however, Cait seemed completely oblivious to her beauty. Perhaps that was why he didn't distrust it. Perhaps he was a fool not to.
"What word would you use?"
"Try seedy."
"No way. More like charming." Her tone was just the tiniest bit belligerent now, and her flashing eyes could entice an argument from a stone.
"A realist would see right away that it's dilapidated," he muttered with a telling look at the worn spots on the linoleum.
Cait's gaze lovingly traced the carved flowers twining down a graceful pillar framing the mirror.
"A romantic would know immediately that it's wonderfully historic," she maintained stubbornly.
The light of battle turned her eyes to shimmering amber. Her soft mouth took on a stubborn cast that dared a man to explore her lips with his tongue. Something stirred in him that he'd thought safely hidden.
"You win. If you want it to be historic, it's historic."
Triumph flickered over her face. "Don't forget charming."
Her hair was loose today, swinging freely against her neck whenever she moved her head. It had the luster of soft dark satin, making him wonder what it would look like spread out on his pillow.
"And charming," he conceded before focusing his attention on the glass in his hand.
"And welcoming."
His head came up at that. "Don't push it, Caitlin," he said with a half smile that might have seemed boyishly indulgent on a less masculine face.
"You're right," she said with a rueful grin. "I tend toward excess."
"Tend toward it?" he said with a sardonic slant to his hard mouth. "I'd say you were off the scale."
Just as he'd known they would, her eyes lit up a split second before she laughed. The pull came again, stronger this time. He reached for the last glass and plunged it into the soapy water as desire stirred low and deep. He made himself ignore it.
"You need a dishwasher in this place," Cait murmured as she watched him work.
"We have one," he said with a quick upward glance. "You're looking at him."
Her gaze lighted for an instant on the swell of his forearms where his wrists disappeared into the water. "Do you hire out?"
"Nope."
"Too bad," she murmured. He worked with an economy of motion that fascinated her. Every movement was precise, the way it must have been in surgery.
Age had given his body a heaviness of bone and muscle that suited him, yet he moved like a much younger man. A man accustomed to a physical life.
There was an earthiness about him now, a quality of simplicity and patient endurance of life's trials, yet a strength so deeply rooted he had no need to flaunt it.
Tyler finished with the last glass and pulled the plug from the bottom of the sink. His hands seemed very dark against the thick white suds that still clung to them. As dark as they would seem against the untanned skin of her breasts, she mused.
Instantly she felt the sudden heat of embarrassment and realized that her thoughts had taken a dangerous turn.
A certain amount of fantasizing was healthy, of course. But fantasizing about Tyler was dangerously foolish.
She jerked her gaze to his face and willed a teasing lilt into her voice. "If you treat me to a soda, I'll dry those for you."
"No need. I let them air dry when I have the time." He hesitated for only a moment before he reached overhead for a glass, added ice and filled it with soda from a nozzle attached to a machine under the bar. "Sorry, I can't give you a cherry. I have to bring up a new jar from the basement."
"Thanks. I like mine straight anyway."
This time she nearly had it. A genuine smile. Something warmed inside her. It was the therapist coming out in her, she assured herself. An occupational hazard all shrinks struggled with.
"Straight it is, just like the lady likes it."
He leaned over the bar to set the glass on a napkin in front of her. As he did, she noticed that tiny beads of steam from the hot water glistened like dew on his upper lip.
His shirt, too, was sweat soaked and clinging to his broad chest like a second skin. Perhaps because of the hot water, he'd rolled his sleeves above his elbows, where they banded his biceps like snug ribbing.
Cait's mouth went dry. She shouldn't have given in to the impulse to tell him face-to-face about the letter. When they were alone, it was far too easy to be aware of him as a man, as well as Kelsey's father. A very attractive, intriguing man with a hint of heartrending loneliness in his eyes.
Because she had asked for the drink, she took a sip. Tyler grabbed a towel and wiped the counter dry. Each movement of his arm pulled the cotton of his shirt tighter until Cait had a perfect mental image of the muscles of his chest.
"What's Kelsey doing today?" he asked as he wiped his face and neck with the towel. Cait caught a whiff of tart aftershave and musky masculine sweat. She found she liked the combination.
"Baking Christmas cookies at her best friend Sarah's house."
"Sounds festive."
He tossed the towel into a bin under the counter. Cait sipped her soda while he poured himself a glass of water and drank it all.
She waited for him to say something. When he didn't, she realized that his supply of small talk was all used up. Hers, too, seemed strangely depleted.
PAROLED! Page 10
