by Linda Warren
“Call me Marisa,” she invited, hoping Colter wouldn’t mind.
“Okay,” Ellie said. “She’ll come back. I know it.”
“Ellie—”
The sound of a truck stopped her.
“Uh-oh. Daddy’s home.”
TULLEY CAUGHT COLTER’S ARM before he could get out. “Take a deep breath and calm down.”
He exhaled deeply. “I am so angry.”
“I know, and anger never solves anything. Ellie’s a little girl searching for answers and it’s time you told her the truth about her mother. That’s the only way all of this is going to stop.”
“None of this would’ve started if Marisa hadn’t put ideas in her head.”
“Stop blaming Marisa for everything,” Tulley said. “Ellie had these ideas before Marisa ever showed up.”
Colter glared at him. “You’re taking her side?”
“I’m stoutly on your side—always have been—always will be, but it’s time to lay the past on the table and sort through all the painful stuff. You blame Marisa for everything that happened to you after she left, so tell her. Tell her the whole damn story. That’s the only way you’re ever going to get over your feelings for her.”
Colter began to speak, but Tulley held up his hand. “Don’t say you feel nothing for her. I see it in your eyes every time you look at her and I see it in her eyes, too. You have Ellie, and she and Marisa seem to have a connection. So tell Marisa about Ellie and Shannon, and take it from there.”
“You’re asking the impossible,” Colter muttered, but his anger was easing.
“Maybe. You do best, though, when the odds are stacked against you.”
Colter got out of the truck without another word. On the walk into the house, Tulley added, “Go easy on Ellie. And you might think about going easy on Marisa.”
COLTER APPEARED IN THE DOORWAY dressed in jeans, boots and a leather jacket. Marisa’s stomach tightened. His eyes were worried and rimmed with shadows of resentment.
Ellie got out of her chair and stood facing her father. Colter removed his hat, placed it on the table. He was taking his time, making Ellie sweat, and it was working. Ellie shifted from one foot to the other.
“Are you gonna spank me, Daddy?”
Tulley cleared his throat and walked into the den.
All of Colter’s anger evaporated with those nervous words. He didn’t want Ellie to be afraid of him under any circumstances. “Have I ever spanked you?”
“No, sir, but I did something really bad, and Lori said when you’re really bad you get spanked. So I’m ready for my spanking.”
Colter reached down and picked Ellie up, held her tightly in his arms.
Ellie started to cry. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry.”
He smoothed her hair. “I know, baby. Now go to your room while I talk to Ms. Preston.”
Ellie slid to the floor. “Don’t be mad at her. She didn’t know what I was doing, and she was real nice and helped me.”
“Wait in your room and think about what you did. I’ll be there in a little bit and we’ll discuss it thoroughly.”
“Yes, sir,” Ellie muttered, her head bent as she went toward the back door.
“No.” Colter stopped her. “Go to your room without Sooner.”
Ellie’s bottom lip trembled and she ran toward the hall. Marisa noticed that Tulley quickly followed.
Ellie had been spared her father’s wrath, but from the glitter in his eyes Marisa had a feeling she wasn’t going to fare as well.
Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point as she watched him. His dark hair curled against the collar of his leather jacket and his expression was resentful. She waited.
“What happened?” he asked in a voice so low she could barely hear him.
Marisa did a double take. Those weren’t the words she was expecting and she could see he had a tight rein on his temper. But he was willing to listen—that was the important thing.
“I got a call at Madame Hélèna’s that Ellie was at Dalton’s asking for me.”
His eyes swept over her in the slim-fitting champagne-silk Madame Hélèna’s creation. Hélèna insisted that her staff wear her clothes to show them off to customers. Marisa was glad to do so; the dresses were fabulous and offered at a considerable discount.
“You buy your clothes at Madame Hélèna’s?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes. I work there.”
He shook his head. “You said you worked at Dalton’s.”
“I did until my father sent the police out here. I knew then that my parents were still controlling my life, so I left. I found a place to live and I got a job with Madame Hélèna. I’m out on my own, which I should’ve done years ago.”
He shook his head again. “We’re getting off track. Tell me about Ellie.”
She told him what Ellie had told her, and Colter sank into a chair.
“God, I get cold chills every time I think about her taking a cab by herself. Anything could have happened….”
“But she found me and I brought her home. She’s okay.”
His eyes flashed. “Why did you have to come back into my life?”
She chewed on the inside of her lip. This might not be the time or place, but she had to do it. She knew that now beyond any doubt. “I came here to tell you something—something important. But you wouldn’t listen.”
He sighed with fatigue. “I’m tired, upset, my head’s pounding and I’m not in a mood to listen to any more lies.”
“I haven’t lied to you.”
He stared at her, his eyes matching the challenge she knew was blazing in hers. “Okay.” He gave in with a hint of anger. “You’ve got five minutes.”
She glanced toward Ellie’s room.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Tulley can’t stand to see her cry and he’ll pacify her for a while. You’ve already told me you were seventeen instead of twenty-one and your mother forced you to leave by threatening to have me arrested. What else is there?”
His tone offended her, but she had to follow through. She took a steadying breath. “When I left, I had plans to find you again, but that never happened. Then I discovered one fact that changed everything.”
“What?”
She counted to three, then said, “I discovered I was pregnant.”
Nothing. Not even a flicker of surprise. For a second she was thrown, but she quickly recovered. “I had to find you, so I hired the private investigator. Then my mother found out and everything came to a head. I told her I was pregnant and she told me what the PI had discovered—that you were married. I know that’s a lie now, but back then I was devastated.”
She paused, waiting. No response. Nothing. She went on. “Mother insisted I have an abortion, but I refused.”
A distressed sound left his throat, but he didn’t say anything.
“She then demanded I give up the baby for adoption and I still refused. I wanted my baby. The stress caused a lot of problems with the pregnancy, and Mother put me in a clinic in upstate New York. I didn’t realize it was an adoption clinic until later. Then I became so upset that I went into early labor.” She swallowed. “After thirty long hours, the baby was born dead.”
His glare was chilling. “What did you say?”
She made herself repeat the words. “Our son was born dead.”
“We had a son?” he asked.
“Yes. I never got to see him or hold him…but I heard him crying. Though the doctor said I only imagined it, because he was stillborn.”
“You and I had a son?” he asked again.
“Yes,” she replied. “That’s why I came out here—to tell you about him. I wanted you to know he existed.”
“Did you give him a name?”
“Yes. James Colter—after you.”
Colter didn’t react. “Where’s he buried?”
“What?” She blinked in confusion.
“If he was full-term, then he’d be buried somewhere. All I’m asking is where.�
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She put a hand to her temple, which was beginning to throb painfully. “Mother took care of all that.”
“You’ve never been to your son’s grave?”
“No.”
“Every year during the holidays, Ellie, Tulley and I put flowers on my parents’ graves and Tulley’s wife’s grave. That’s what you do when someone’s important to you.” His eyes narrowed “Did you think I wouldn’t ask?”
“I…uh…” Words jumbled in her head. She didn’t know where her own son was buried. Her mother had said it would be too traumatic for her, and she’d been in such an emotional state that she’d adhered to her mother’s wishes. Then her father brought her to Texas and she never went back to New York—never went back to her son…
Colter stood abruptly. “Get out of my home and don’t come back.”
She shivered at the cold hostility in his voice. She’d expected a lot of reactions, but not this rage. He was acting as if he didn’t believe her. Did he think she hadn’t wanted their child?
Fear made her feel shaky. He didn’t believe her. The reality of that overwhelmed her and she had nothing to say, no words to defend herself. Callously she’d never asked to go to her son’s gravesite. That made her an awful mother. Oh God, she had to get away from him.
But how could she get away from herself?
“The truth has your tongue tied?” he asked, his voice ripping through her. “Our child might be dead to you but not to me, and if you cared anything about that child you wouldn’t sit there so selfishly and expect me to understand. Just leave and stay out of my life.”
Despair, swift and strong, swept over her and she stood on legs that felt like rubber. She gripped the table for support, but Colter didn’t offer any help. Numbly she grabbed her coat and purse and headed for the door.
Running to her car, she gulped in the chilly evening air, but it didn’t cool the heated emotions churning through her. As she drove away, tears streamed down her face. For years she’d agonized over the death of her son—not able to really live again. She’d thought it had to do with Colter and his not knowing, but it had to do with her and a deep-seated guilt she hadn’t even known was there. The guilt of never going to her son’s grave.
Her mother had convinced her of the trauma of such an act, and she’d acquiesced—as always. Where was their child buried? That was the first thing Colter had wanted to know, as a good parent would. A sob left her throat. She had to find out what cemetery they’d put her son in, and she’d be on the first plane to New York.
Her mother was on a cruise, but her father would have information on how to reach her. Since they both owned Dalton’s, it was imperative that they know each other’s whereabouts.
She could be in New York by morning. And she’d touch her son’s grave, feel his presence and apologize. Then maybe she could find that measure of peace she’d been searching for.
And she didn’t need to see Colter again. Not ever.
Chapter Nine
Her inner turmoil drove her thirty minutes later as she sped down the street leading to her father’s home. The brown brick was a Greek Revival mansion with classic white columns that framed the front portico. Built by her grandfather, it boasted spiral staircases, hardwood floors and stone fireplaces, echoing Texas style both past and present.
Seeing the familiar house didn’t make her feel better. She’d been a prisoner behind those wrought-iron gates and brick walls—sheltered, protected and suffocated. Coming back wasn’t easy and facing her father wouldn’t be easy, either. But she had to know where her son was buried.
COLTER SAT IN A STUPOR, hardly able to believe what Marisa had told him. They had a son? A son. James Colter. He was still grappling with that.
“Colt, boy.”
He jerked up his head to see Tulley staring at him.
“What’s wrong?” Tulley glanced around. “Where’s Marisa?”
“Gone—for good.”
Tulley took a seat. “What happened?”
He jammed his hands through his hair. “You won’t believe what she tried to tell me. Lies. Why does she keep lying to me? She stuck a knife in my heart eight years ago, and she keeps on twisting it.”
“What did she say?”
Colter told him what Marisa had said.
Tulley frowned. “A son? She said you had a son?”
“She sat there, her voice so sincere, her eyes sad, and she was pulling me in like she always did. God, Tulley, I wanted to believe her—and that makes me the biggest fool that ever lived.” He took a quick breath. “But you should’ve seen her face when I asked where he was buried. She was speechless and she could see that I knew she was lying.”
“Colt, boy, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. You two need to have an honest-to-God talk. Put the past on the table, call an ace an ace and a spade a spade. You have to get at the truth. Marisa doesn’t seem the type to tell lies but then, I don’t suppose either one of us really knew her.”
“I sure didn’t. But you’re right. I thought I could let this go, but—”
The phone rang, interrupting him, and he got up to answer it. “This is Cari Michaels with Dalton Department Stores. I’m calling to check if Ellie made it home okay.”
“Yes,” he said. “Ellie’s fine.”
There was a pause.
“May I speak with Marisa? She left a message that she’d be there.”
“She’s left.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad Ellie’s okay. Thank you.”
“Ms. Michaels,” he said before she could hang up. He had to sort out the truth, and to do that he had to see Marisa again. “Could you please tell me where I can find Marisa? I’d like to speak with her.”
This pause was longer. “Normally she’d be at home with her family in Highland Park, but she rented a room recently and that’s probably where she’ll be.” She rattled off the address, and he scribbled it on a pad.
“Thank you,” he said, hanging up and stuffing the paper into his shirt pocket.
“Before you blast out of here, you’d better talk to your daughter,” Tulley informed him. “She’s about to cry herself to sleep.”
“I wouldn’t go anywhere without talking to Ellie. She’s my first priority and always will be.”
HE FOUND ELLIE lying on her bed clutching a pillow. Her hair had come out of its ponytail and her face was red from crying. His heart twisted at the sight, but he forced himself not to take her in his arms and say all was forgiven. They had rules and she’d broken a big one today. As a father he had to make her understand he loved her, but she still had to obey the rules—rules that existed for her benefit, whether she saw that or not.
He sat in the old wooden rocker that had belonged to his mother. Becky had put pink and white floral cushions on it to match Ellie’s room. He’d rocked Ellie in this chair since she was a baby: when she had colic, when she was teething and when she was sick. Raising a child alone had been rough, but Ellie made it a pleasure. She was a smiling, happy baby and her bubbly personality had quickly surfaced. She took after her mother—a mother she wanted in her life. His heart twisted a little more.
Ellie sat up and wiped her eyes. “Are you mad at me, Daddy?”
“No, Ellie, I’m not mad,” he told her. “I’m troubled. Troubled that you’d take such a risk. Troubled that you’d take money out of my drawer without permission. And troubled that you couldn’t talk to me.”
Her bottom lip quivered and she dived off the bed into his arms. He held her tight. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He stroked her hair. “I know, baby. Tell me why you did it.”
“You said…you said we might have to go to Aunt Jen’s for Christmas, and I had to tell Santa Claus. He had to know where I’d be when he sends my mommy.”
“Ellie.” He tried not to show his frustration. “We’ve had this talk before, but obviously we’re not communicating. Is all this Santa stuff about your real mother coming back?”
Ellie nodded against h
is shoulder.
“Oh, baby.” How did he explain that her mother didn’t want her?
She raised her head. “It’s okay, Daddy. Santa said I’ll have a mommy by Christmas, and he told me not to worry about being at Aunt Jen’s. He knows where I’m all the time.”
“Santa told you that you’d have a mommy by Christmas?” Why would the man tell her that? Now he had to undo the damage.
“Yep.” Ellie nodded. “So all I have to do is wait.”
“Ellie…”
She placed her fingers over his lips. “Don’t say it, Daddy. I believe.”
He could see that she did, and he just couldn’t break her heart. He’d deal with it later. That was the coward’s way out, but he couldn’t hurt his daughter. Still, he had to talk about her trip to Dalton’s.
“Do you understand that what you did today was very dangerous for someone your age?”
She hung her head. “Yes, sir.”
“Promise me you won’t ever do anything like that again.”
She lifted her head, her eyes watery. “I promise, and you can spank me if you want.”
He gently pinched her cheek. “Ellie, I’ve never spanked you and I never will. Hitting doesn’t solve anything. However, you will not talk on the phone or watch TV for a week. And you will not get your allowance for a month.”
“Okay.” She clenched her hands. “Can Sooner come back in the house?”
It would hurt Ellie far more if he kept Sooner away from her, but he couldn’t do that. He hesitated, though, just so she’d think it was a possibility.
“Yes. Sooner can come back in.”
Her arms crept around his neck and she whispered, “I love you, Daddy.”
He swallowed. “I love you, angelface.” He held her for an extra moment. “Daddy has to go out for a little while, so help Tulley feed the horses, take your bath and read one of the books you brought home from school.”
“Okay. Can I go get Sooner now?”
“Yes. Go get Sooner.”
Like a whirlwind she was gone. He drew a long breath at what lay ahead of him. He had to see Marisa, though; that was the only way to settle this.
