“We need to talk,” she said, aware her voice sounded thin and stringy.
“We said everything we needed to say the other day.”
“We need to talk about our daughter.”
His expression went still. She could see the closed steel trap of resistance open just a little. “What do you mean?”
“May I come in?”
He slanted a tentative glance over his shoulder. A chill rolled down her spine. Had he already replaced her with another woman? Had she been a fool to think—to dream—that she might still have meant something to him?
Without another word, he stepped aside and motioned for her to come in. All of the insecure images vanished.
She entered his modest California bungalow with trepidation. It felt cool inside and he’d kept the house dark by leaving the curtains closed, though it was already noon. Large painted canvases covered his walls. Landscapes with colorful broad strokes, detailed abstract portraits, and intricate designs with whimsical patterns, all of them had the mark of Beck.
“Did you paint these?”
He nodded, without elaborating.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, feeling waylaid and a bit like Alice in Wonderland. Her little painted egg was just the tip of his talent. Thankfully, he’d pursued his natural gift, and she knew she’d played a role in the discovery.
He’d obviously worked all night, and appeared sleepy and somewhat disheveled. Dark stubble outlined his jaw, and the shirt he wore was unbuttoned and wrinkled, as though he’d slept in his clothes. Had he been suffering as much as she had?
He switched off the television. “I’ve made some coffee—want a cup?”
To be polite, and hopefully to ease the situation in any way she could, she nodded. “Thanks.”
He pointed to a streamlined honey-colored leather couch. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
So far there’d been no sign of the furious man from a few nights ago. She sat primly on the edge of the couch and hoped and prayed they’d be able to work civilly through their situation.
Shortly, he handed her a warm cup and barely caught her eyes before looking away. Taking his own mug, he sat on the opposite end of the couch. “So what do we do now?”
Jan stopped in mid-sip and swallowed with difficulty. She cleared her throat while her stomach protested. “Well, I’ve made a phone call to the Williamses. They’re Meghan’s parents, and they’ve agreed to meet with us.”
He sat straighter. “What makes you think I want to meet her?”
“I know you, Beck.”
His eyes drifted toward her face after nearly burning a hole in the ceiling. “I used to think I knew you, too.” He looked away, his gaze shifting around the room. A familiar expression of caution returned. “Why does she want to meet us?”
“Meghan has a school project she needs us to help her with.”
“Wait. Wait. She’s going to meet her birth parents and all she wants to do is interview us?” Pain and disbelief registered in his eyes. “We could do that online.”
Jan ached with every word she needed to say. “We’re strangers to her, Beck. Her mom and dad are the only parents she knows. I suspect we’re a mere curiosity. But she’s interested and they’re willing.”
Muscles twitched at both sides of his jaw. “So I’m just a ‘mere curiosity’ to my own daughter.” He shook his head, disgust oozing from his expression. He rubbed his hand over his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she hated me.”
Tension filled her throat along with a wave of nausea and sadness. She couldn’t take another sip of coffee and placed the cup on the nearby glass tabletop. “No more than she would hate me.”
They co-ordinated with the Williamses and agreed to meet in Sacramento Capitol Park on Saturday afternoon. Sacramento being 360 miles away, Beck and January agreed to drive up together the day before.
Expecting nothing more than a honk of the horn to alert her of his arrival early on Friday morning, Jan was surprised when Beck knocked on her door. She’d been ready and had sat chewing what was left of her fingernails while waiting for him with an overnight bag on her lap.
How in the world would she spend seven hours cooped up in a car with Beck, the man who hated her?
At the sound of his knock she leapt off the couch, almost crying out in surprise. Before opening the door, she composed herself and ran quick fingers through her hair. Did it matter how she looked?
Beck stood on the other side of her screen, appearing serious, and seriously handsome. From the look and smell of him he was fresh out of the shower, with smooth-shaven cheeks and tantalizing aftershave. He wore snug-fitting jeans and a cornflower-blue polo shirt, which highlighted his firm arms and broad shoulders and made his hazel eyes dark and mysterious. She quickly glanced away.
“Hi,” she muttered.
“You ready?”
She held up her overnight bag in answer.
“Then let’s go.” He held the screen door open for her while she locked up, stepping aside so as not to make any contact with her, then allowed her to lead the way to his car. He zipped around her in time to open the door and wait for her to slip inside.
The distinctive aroma of fresh-brewed coffee surprised her.
When Beck got into the car and started the engine he casually mentioned that he’d bought them both some coffee and a croissant. Even in his anger he was considerate, and that made a dull ache begin in her gut.
“Thanks,” she muttered, before taking a sip and noticing he hadn’t forgotten the cream she liked. Somehow she managed to break off a piece of apple-filled croissant, but it tasted bland in comparison to the great smell.
They drove in agonizing silence, his talking GPS system the only sound. When she’d finished her croissant and coffee, she thanked him again and offered to put his empty cup and pastry sack in the car’s trash bag. He nodded his thanks, and slanted a look at her. His gaze lighted briefly on her face then flew back to the road. From the corner of her eye she watched the muscle in his jaw twitch. The poor man had probably been grinding his teeth to a pulp lately. If she could only read his mind.
To break the monotonous silence, Beck turned on the radio and found a station that brought back memories from their high-school days. He quickly switched the station to a light jazz one.
Jan gazed out the window at the dry brown hills surrounding the northbound freeway. This would be the longest drive of her life.
Two hours into the trip, in the middle of nowhere, he pulled off the road at a rest stop so they could use the facilities and stretch their legs. When she left the ladies’ room she saw Beck across the courtyard talking on his cellphone. A wave of melancholy caught her by surprise. Who was he talking to? She had no clue about his personal life, or who his friends were.
She’d heard through Carmen that he’d kept vigil at his partner’s bedside while he’d been in hospital, instead of working in the ER. That sounded like the Beck she knew. She glanced back at Beck on the phone. For all she knew, he could be talking to a lawyer.
He flipped the phone closed just as he noticed Jan approaching him. “All set?” he asked, sounding almost affable.
“Yes.” She forced a smile. His gaze met hers and for half a second he looked directly into her eyes. If she could only interpret his expression, maybe she could find a way to make him understand why she’d given their daughter away rather than tell him she was pregnant. Maybe she could force him to see she’d done it to protect him and make his life better. If only. But sooner than she could think of one word to say, he’d started toward the car.
They barely said another word until they were halfway between Los Angeles and Sacramento. “What do you say we stop in Fresno for lunch?”
Not the least bit hungry, she agreed to it to break the tortured silence. They decided on a sit-down lunch of barbecue chicken sandwiches and cold lemonade at a roadside diner. Each bite felt like a golfball to swallow. Again she noticed him studying her, and wished she could hear his
thoughts, though she feared what they might be. Did everything taste like cardboard to him, too?
“How’s this going to work?” he asked.
She pulled out of deep contemplation. “What do you mean?”
“We’re just going to show up in a park and meet our kid and act as if it’s completely normal?”
Jan managed to swallow the lump of bread and chicken before answering. “For Meghan’s sake, we’ll have to.”
He shook his head and stared at the table. Jan couldn’t force another bite. The bitter tang of the lemonade almost brought tears to her eyes, but she knew their circumstances didn’t help.
At 4:30 p.m. they arrived at their downtown Sacramento hotel, having said fewer than a hundred words to each other the whole day. Before parting ways for their individual rooms, they agreed to meet at nine the next morning for the short drive to the gardens at Capitol Park.
Jan couldn’t stop herself from watching Beck’s long strides and tight butt as he walked away. The ever-present attraction humming through her body didn’t seem to wane, regardless of how screwed up their personal relationship was. He’d told her just a few short days ago that she still took his breath away. They’d made love as if they’d never been apart, yet now they were acting like complete strangers. Strangers with a daughter.
By seven, Jan couldn’t spend one more minute in her room, watching vapid game shows on TV. Needing fresh air, she opted to eat al fresco rather than order room service. She combed her hair, touched up her make-up and changed her top to the bright pink blouse she intended to wear the next day, then set out, making sure she’d brought her room card.
The moment she arrived at the quiet dining patio, she wanted to turn back. There, at a table in the corner, sat Beck by himself, ordering from a waiter. She wanted to hide behind the potted ficus plant, but before she could make her get-away, he noticed her and waved her over. Obviously, he was being polite. She took a deep breath and approached the wrought-iron and glass-topped table. He motioned for the waiter to leave the menu.
“I’m having a beer. Would you like something to drink?”
Oh, what the heck. Maybe it would make their agonizing awkwardness a wee bit better. “I’ll have a glass of Zinfandel,” she said to the waiter.
She glanced back and noticed Beck’s eyes traveling over her. Immediate warmth started at her neck and tiptoed up her cheeks. To her disbelief, he smiled at her. Out of reflex, she smiled tentatively back.
“So what do we do now?” he asked, elbows on the table, one hand fisted inside the other.
“Beats me.”
“Maybe we should come up with a game plan. You know, in case Meghan wants to know why we gave her away.”
“The Williamses have told her I was a teenage mother. So we can say that you were in the service and got sent away. That’s basically the truth.”
“I want to make sure she understands that I didn’t know about her until now.”
The request sent a boulder to her stomach. “OK.” Jan closed her eyes and chewed on her upper lip, reeling from yet more consequences from her misguided decision years before. “If that’s what you want.”
He nodded, his eyes sure and unwavering.
The waiter brought their drinks and Jan had an urge to gulp the entire glass down to help relieve the pain stabbing her heart, but she sipped as if she wasn’t wounded and her world hadn’t suddenly been knocked sideways.
One fact was true. Living a lie would always catch up with you, and that day of judgment was staring her down and daring her to try to break free.
The restaurant, with all the noise and clatter, went suddenly quiet. Beck had concentrated so thoroughly on January’s response that every other sound had been tuned out. It reminded him of listening to noisy frogs in springtime when, as if on cue, they’d all stop simultaneously. That silence often seemed louder than the chorus of croaking.
He’d been totally out of control of this situation. Now he planned to take back the reins. His daughter needed to know he hadn’t allowed her to be given away. If only he’d known, things would have been different. He’d contacted a lawyer to figure out his rights. He didn’t want to disrupt the girl’s life, but he wanted to be free to visit her—on his own if possible. He needed to make sure the Williamses couldn’t put a restraining order on him if he persisted.
When he’d called his mother earlier in the day, she’d reminded him about the serenity prayer, the prayer she prayed daily as the wife of an alcoholic. She repeated the part that made the most sense to Beck’s situation. “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.”
Beck swigged his beer and watched January shift uncomfortably in the booth. What would he have done if he had known? Even if he’d helped out financially, wouldn’t January still have been the one bearing the brunt of parenting responsibility? Hell, she hadn’t even been a senior in high school.
So many times today on the drive up he’d tried to ignore the part of him that had wanted to pull off the road and hold January and tell her he understood how difficult it must have been for her. But each time he allowed that line of thought, he reminded himself that she had chosen to keep him in the dark. She deserved whatever fallout came with the lie.
As soon as he met his daughter, and established his own line of communication, he’d stay out of January’s life for good and pursue a relationship with Meghan. He could find another woman to have mind-blowing sex with. He’d found them before. No problem.
He took another drink to ward off the chills that spiraled down his spine as he remembered how much more sex meant with January. How holding her in his arms felt so right, as if they were meant to be, and how no other woman in his life had ever come close to giving him that feeling.
Nah, he couldn’t go down that path. She needed to pay for her mistakes. He couldn’t give in to the desire vibrating through every fiber in his body to hold and protect her and make things a little bit easier.
And—aw hell—now she was crying.
He scooted his chair closer and handed her his napkin. “What’s going on?” He meant to keep up his hard façade, but his voice sounded husky with concern.
She fought off her outburst by shaking her head, dabbing at her eyes and sniffing. “I’m sorry. Just ignore me. It’s been a long day, that’s all.”
Without thinking, his hand shot to her shoulder, patted and massaged. “We’ll get through this,” he said grudgingly.
“I don’t want Meghan to hate you because of me, Beck.”
“Look. We’ll just have to wait and see how this plays out tomorrow.”
The waitress arrived with their meal. Beck didn’t move his chair back. Instead, he moved his silverware over, feeling the insistent draw of sympathy even while fighting it.
“Eat your dinner,” he said, pretending that their world wasn’t about to crash around them tomorrow.
She regained her composure, sniffing and wiping the last of the wetness from her eyes. She stuck out her chin, the way she’d once done when she’d been determined about something, and nodded. “You’re right. I can’t change things and I definitely can’t predict how tomorrow will go.” She took another sip of wine and Beck ordered another for her.
“Might as well relax tonight. Get a good night’s sleep.” He thought about taking a bite of the salmon he’d ordered, but didn’t want to remove his hand from her shoulder. He drew her closer and gave her one brief squeeze, then caught himself before he kissed her temple. Breaking free, he announced, “Let’s eat.”
Holding a grudge seemed harder than it should be. Beck tried his best to pepper their mostly quiet meal with superficial conversation, using the excuse that he couldn’t take any more silence. He couldn’t help seeing the pain in her eyes as she dutifully answered his queries, and it chipped away at his armor.
When the meal was over, he walked her back to her hotel room, fighting the urge to take her hand. Why couldn’t he just stay mad at her? It would make things so much easier. Because
she looked so beaten and vulnerable, and it ripped at his heart.
After she’d fumbled through her purse for the magnetic card and had slid it into the slot, she glanced up at him. Obviously feeling the effects of a glass and a half of wine with her dinner, she studied him with softened blue eyes. “I’d give all the money in the world for things to be different.”
He wasn’t sure what the hell came over him, but he went with it and leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. Because that wasn’t enough—it was never enough with January—he hovered close, listening to her measured breathing, then kissed her again. She stiffened, but when he pressed against her warm, soft mouth, she relaxed and kissed him back. He cupped her shoulders and kept the kiss in the tender range, though already embers of desire were kindling in his core.
Break it off, he told himself as his tongue touched the tip of hers. There was no such thing as a friendly, reassuring kiss with January.
But a little voice way in the back of his head interrupted the pleasure. She’d done a horrible thing. She’d lied to him. For years. She didn’t deserve his kindness or trust ever again.
And history couldn’t be changed.
Finding it suddenly easy to marshal self-discipline, he ended the kiss. She wasn’t the only one willing to give up all the money in the world for their situation to be different.
“Ditto,” was all he could say, as he briskly stood up and walked away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE next morning January and Beck met in the hotel lobby. She’d eaten a light breakfast in her room, but her jangling nerves had made it almost impossible to digest. She took a deep breath and approached him. He hopped out of the lobby chair, where he’d been reading the newspaper, and gave her a businesslike nod. She pretended her heart wasn’t pounding against her breastbone. “Good morning,” she said.
“Hey.”
She’d called the Williamses and verified the area of Capital Park they’d planned to meet. The rose gardens shouldn’t be that hard to find.
Temporary Doctor, Surprise Father Page 11
