by Jane Toombs
Karen smiled, liking Jade better every minute. “You got it. I live on that wall.”
Jade returned her smile, but briefly. Waving her spatula for emphasis, she said, “My brother has his flaws, like all males, but he’s not a liar. I saw your photo and I agree that man could be Zed’s clone but, apart from the fact he was with me in Alaska during the crucial implantation time, if he says he isn’t Danny’s father, then he isn’t.”
“I didn’t believe him at first,” Karen admitted. “After all, the private detective I’d hired had tracked him down using the photo and, as you say, there’s such a close resemblance to the man in the photo. Then there’s the blood match, which is hard to explain if he’s not Danny’s father. I’ve been wondering—why did your grandparents raise the two of you?”
Jade turned back to the stove, leading Karen to believe she might not answer. “I don’t mean to pry,” she added.
“You’re not,” Jade said. “I was just trying to organize my explanation. Our mother died when I was born—Zed was almost four at the time. We lived in Los Angeles then but moved here to Nevada while I was still a baby. Our father—” She paused before going on. “We never knew him. He had died before I was born—we were told when we were old enough to ask. That was why our mother had come home to live with them. Our grandparents seemed reluctant to talk about him, saying they knew very little. Grandma once let it slip that my mother had married him against their wishes.”
“No aunts or uncles or cousins?”
“None. Just the two of us.”
“Danny slept in your cradle last night,” Karen said, abandoning the questioning that hadn’t led anywhere and not wanting to return to why she had a problem with believing Zed.
Jade turned to her again. “That cradle is the only thing we have that came from our father’s side of the family. He was supposed to have slept in it when he was a boy. I don’t know why Zed refers to the cradle as mine—he must have slept in it, too, when he was a baby.” She cocked her head assessingly, brushing back a lock’ of hair that fell over her eye. “You’ve changed your mind about Zed since you’ve been here, haven’t you? I mean despite the photo and the blood match.”
Karen hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right, actually, I have—with reservations.”
“Reservations?” Zed’s voice said from behind her. “About what?”
Unwilling to discuss how she felt with Zed, Karen thought quickly. “For my trip back to San Diego,” she said. “My flight leaves from Frisco two days from now.”
“Why did you fly into San Francisco?” Jade asked.
Karen shrugged. “I realize now that Reno would have been a better choice, but at the time I didn’t know.”
“You thought everything would be settled in a week’s time?” Zed demanded.
“I’m a teacher,” she reminded him. “I could only afford to take off a week.”
“The French toast is ready,” Jade said. “Someone better set the table.”
While eating they discussed the weather and what her chances of getting over the Sierras in what Zed kept referring to as a skateboard would be if it snowed again. Not good was the consensus.
“The best solution is for me to go along with you,” he said finally. “I’ve been over those mountains in every kind of weather.”
Karen would have liked to insist that she was perfectly capable of driving alone no matter what the weather, but the problem was she wouldn’t be alone—Danny would be with her. With him along, she wasn’t willing to take the risk of being stranded. “You’d fly back to Reno from Frisco?” she asked, postponing her final agreement.
He raised his eyebrows. “No. I’m going all the way to San Diego with you.”
“That’s not necessary,” she snapped.
“But it is,” he insisted. “Danny has a father somewhere. What better place to search for him than in the place where the picture was taken?”
Karen stared at him, speechless, momentarily taking her attention away from Danny, who immediately plunged his hands into the remains of her maple-syrup-covered French toast and then shoved his sticky fingers into his mouth, obviously enjoying the sweet taste.
“See?” Zed said. “You’ve got your hands full with Tiger and teaching besides. This is a slow season for ranching—my foreman can take care of what little has to be done—so I’m free to spend my time searching. I also have the advantage of looking like the man I’m searching for.”
Karen couldn’t deny she could use his help. What troubled her was having him so close at hand—in the same city with her. They’d obviously get together often to discuss his search. Would she have enough sense—or should she say willpower?—to keep from falling into his arms at the first opportunity?
“I don’t know…” she began.
“I do,” he said. “Right, Jade?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jade responded. “I’ve got one well to finish up and then I’ll have some slack time, too. Want my help?”
“Why not?” Zed asked. “You’ve always been more devious than me, and that might be useful.”
Jade snorted.
“How about you, Tiger?” Zed asked, reaching over to ruffle Danny’s hair. “What’s your opinion?”
Danny grabbed Zed’s hand with his sticky fingers and then opened his mouth. Karen sighed in resignation as she waited for the inevitable.
“Da,” Danny said enthusiastically as he tried to taste Zed’s middle finger. “Da, da.”
Jade glanced from Karen to Zed. “Russian, my eye,” she said. “A likely excuse. The kid’s calling you Daddy.”
Chapter Four
As they deplaned from the jet at Lindbergh Field in San Diego, Karen finally blurted out what she’d been trying to find a tactful way to say from the beginning of their trip south. “I live in a very small one-bedroom apartment. There’s hardly even room for Danny, so I can’t invite you to stay with us.”
Shifting the sleeping boy to his other arm, Zed said, “I wasn’t expecting you to put me up. I’ll find a bayside motel tonight. After that I hope to rent a sailboat for the time I’m here, and I’ll sleep on the boat. That seems the logical way to begin the search, since I haven’t a clue except for the Maddamti.”
Karen had stared at that odd name often enough in her many examinations of the photo of Erin and Danny’s father, and had wondered what it meant, if anything. “Does the name of that sailboat mean anything to you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Sailors often make up strange names to call their boats—it’s a very personal thing, akin to naming a child. We may never find out what Maddamti means.”
“The private detective did discover no boat by that name was currently docked here,” she said. “He also learned they register the boats by their number and, since that wasn’t visible in the photo, he had no way to trace the owner. It didn’t occur to me before to research the name, but it’s worth a try, don’t you think? I know one of the reference librarians at the downtown library—I’ll call her and ask her to check and see if it’s a foreign word of some kind.”
“Good idea. We need all the help we can get.”
Karen marveled at how she had made almost a complete turnaround in her beliefs since she’d met Zed. From being convinced he was the man who’d fathered Erin’s child, she’d come to accept that he probably wasn’t. It was mind-boggling to realize he was here in San Diego helping with her search for the man in the photo. If that man really wasn’t Zed. A niggling doubt still remained despite viewing Jade’s convincing Alaskan videos.
Later, after ransoming her car from the airport parking lot and dropping Zed at a motel, Karen drove east along the freeway toward her La Mesa apartment. Her mind wasn’t on Danny or the search but rather was filled with remembering the devastating feel of Zed’s lips on hers and the sensual warmth of being in his arms. She didn’t dare succumb to her longing to have him hold her again. How could she want him to kiss her when she wasn’t completely convinced he was being honest wit
h her? Unfortunately, that fact didn’t diminish her attraction to him. “I’ll have to watch myself as much as I do him” she told the sleeping Danny. Easy to say, hard to do, but somehow she’d manage. She had to.
The next morning Zed walked along the waterfront, pausing when he reached the Star of India to admire the 1863 bark, the oldest merchantman afloat. Amazing how seaworthy she still was. Those Isle of Man shipwrights certainly knew their craft. After years and years of neglect, she’d been restorable. Even with her sails furled she was a magnificent sight. If you loved ships, as he did, the Star was almost alive.
Alive or not, unfortunately she couldn’t tell him who the hell the man aboard the Maddamti had been. His job was to find someone who could. Not only to get himself out from under but to provide Danny with a father and, not so incidentally, to relieve Karen of the burden of trying to raise the boy alone.
Zed strolled on, savoring the mild, damp morning, the Southern California coast weather so different from Nevada. He wouldn’t change where he lived for any amount of money, but he did love the sea. The sight of the sailboats moored in the marina made him long to be out on the ocean flying before the wind.
He smiled as a thought struck him. Sailing was his joy and his passion. He sailed wearing only shorts but he’d never sailed naked—what would it be like? Awesome, he was sure. If he didn’t freeze his buns off.
Once at the marina, he surveyed the boats, choosing several he’d be interested in renting temporarily if their owners would agree. He jotted down sailboat names and numbers, then checked his watch. Karen would be up by now; she might even be off to school already. He’d resisted the urge to call her earlier, telling himself not to play the fool, to wait and call when he had something positive to report.
Staring at the boats without really seeing them, he thought about his few days with Karen. He hadn’t dreamed it was possible to miss anyone so much after so short an acquaintance. He actually missed Tiger, too, and wondered how long the kid would remember him. How much did seven-month-old babies remember? He didn’t have a clue.
A man’s voice jarred him from his reverie. “Admiring my boat? She’s a nice one, ain’t she? Wish I could take her out oftener.”
Zed turned, to see a sixtyish man wearing casual clothes topped by a yachting cap. He was leaning on a horse-headed cane.
“She’s a beaut,” Zed agreed. “Actually, I was wondering if I could rent her for a week or so. My sailboat’s moored up at Lake Tahoe at the moment. I’m here for several weeks and it’s hard to be in San Diego without sails.”
The man examined him carefully. “Never occurred to me to rent her,” he said slowly. “Not sure I want to. Be willing to show you around her, though.”
“That’s kind of you.” Zed offered his hand. “My name’s Zed Adams. I’m a rancher from Nevada, near Carson City.”
“George Stone,” the man said as they shook hands. “My old daddy, God rest his soul, was a Texas rancher, worked his butt off. Mine, too, when I was a kid. Got out of there as soon as I could.”
Zed grinned. “I know what you mean about work, but I happen to like ranching.”
George raised his eyebrows. “Takes all kinds.”
The Painted Lady had been meticulously cared for, Zed observed when he went aboard. After her owner had given him the grand tour of the boat and he’d honestly admired her qualities, he said, “I understand why you’re reluctant to rent her. This is the most shipshape rig I’ve ever been on.
George turned from him and looked out over the water, one hand covering his mouth. “Tell you what,” he said finally, swiveling to face Zed. “I know a real sailor when I meet one. Give me some information so I can check you out, and the phone number where you’re staying. Ain’t promising anything, mind you, but might be we can make a deal, after all.”
After George left, Zed wandered around the marina, striking up conversations when he could and mentioning the Maddamti. No one he talked to had ever heard the name or seen the boat. Asking about a man who looked like him proved equally fruitless. Eventually, a feeling he hadn’t had since he was a child began to creep over him—the sensation that something was missing, something unknown. He’d hated the feeling then and he didn’t care for it now. Hoping to rid himself of the unpleasant sensation, he called his sister, by some miracle catching her at the drilling office.
“Just checking in,” he said. “Thought I’d leave the motel number.”
“Okay,” Jade told him, “but Karen gave me hers, you know, so I can always find you if I have to. Speaking of Karen, I didn’t get the chance to ask you what’s going on between the two of you.”
“Nothing,” he said firmly.
“Come on, brother mine, I’ve been a big girl for quite a few years now. The two of you are obviously on the verge of—”
“Of nothing. With this paternity business she’s dangling over my head, Karen’s the last woman I intend to get involved with.”
“Okay, I’ll grant that your intentions are good. But Grandma always told me the road to hell was paved with good intentions. At the ranch the air was positively sizzling with the electricity you two were generating.”
“All right—she’s pretty, I’m attracted. So what? I’m not going to act on any crazy impulse.”
“You turn her on, too. That’s a dangerous combination.”
“You hit on the right word,” he admitted. “Dangerous. I know trouble when I see it. I’d be a damn fool to plunge headlong into an affair with her. I’m here because I need to find the man in that photo to clear myself and, in the process, to give Danny a father.”
Jade sighed. “He deserves someone better than a jerk who’d run out on a pregnant woman.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if the guy ever knew. Erin sounds like she was enough of an airhead not to realize what was happening to her until after the guy split.”
“She’d know.” Jade’s tone allowed no room for argument. “Also, she must have had some idea of how to get in touch with him.”
“If I can’t locate him, we’ll never find out whether he knew about Erin’s pregnancy or not.”
“Hang in there. It’s only been one day. I’ll be down sometime next week with a six-pack of deviousness stuffed in my backpack.”
Zed grinned, feeling better, his strange mood dissipating. “I’ll keep in touch,” he said, and hung up.
After lunch he returned to his motel room and, since Karen had offered to sign a release-of-information form, he called the private eye’s office and made an appointment to talk to him the following afternoon. No point in going over ground the guy might already have covered.
Fighting a return of his earlier strange mood, he decided to get out of the room, and was about to leave when the phone rang.
“Oh, good,” Karen said when he answered. “I hoped I might catch you in. I couldn’t wait until this evening to tell you what I found out, so I’m calling on my break. I didn’t have to phone the reference librarian. This morning in the teacher’s lounge I mentioned that I was trying to find out what Maddamti meant. One of the women is married to an Arab and is taking a course in his language. Our mysterious word happens to be one she’s already learned. Maddamti means ‘my lady’ in Arabic.”
“In Arabic?” Zed echoed, frowning.
“Yes. Maybe that’ll give us something to go on, don’t you think?”
She sounded so upbeat that he conjured up an enthusiasm he didn’t really feel. “Great. I’ll see what I can do with the info.” He found he didn’t want to end the conversation. “Danny okay?” he asked.
“Yes, but I guess he’s been with me too much the past week, because he cried when I left him with the babysitter this morning. Ordinarily he’s happy with her.”
“Maybe he misses me.” Zed was only half joking.
A short silence ensued. “He hardly knows you,” she said finally.
Zed decided he couldn’t feel much worse than he already did, so he might as well go for broke. “I’d like to c
ome over and see both of you this evening,” he said. “Sort of touch base. I’ll bring pizza or Mexican or Chinese. Take your pick.”
Karen, grimacing in disgust at the way her pulse sped up, told herself she’d simply thank him but add that she was busy. Instead, she said, “Pizza sounds good. But no wine!”
He chuckled.
“Do you know how to get to my place?” she asked.
“I have the address, I have a map and I’ll be renting a car. See you later.”
That evening, while Karen was rushing around trying to make the apartment half-presentable, she came across one of her copies of the photo of Erin and Danny’s father. Pausing, she examined the man critically. Dark hair and eyes and tanned skin didn’t necessarily add up to him being Arabic, but it didn’t prove he wasn’t, either.
She thought of her cousin saying, “Gone,” when she’d asked if the man was accompanying Erin on the cruise. Was it possible her cousin had meant he’d left the States to return to his own country? That could be the reason Erin was never able to locate him—if she’d tried. Karen shook her head. All this was nothing but speculation based on the boat’s Arabic name.
The doorbell rang. She dropped the photo, took a quick glance around and hurried to the door. Peering through the spy-eye confirmed it was Zed and she let him in. “If he’s gone back to the Middle East,” she said in lieu of a greeting, “we’ll never find him.”
Zed handed her the pizza box he carried and said, “Who won’t we find?”
Before she could explain her reasoning, Danny, who had been playing contentedly in his playpen in the living room, began to babble excitedly. Zed looked at him, smiled and said, “Hey, Tiger, what’s up?” Setting down a pack of soft drinks, he crossed to the playpen, leaned over and lifted the boy into his arms.
Danny grinned happily and patted Zed’s face.
“See,” Zed said, “he did miss me.”
Karen couldn’t argue—it was obvious Danny remembered Zed and was delighted by his presence. To tell the truth, she was equally pleased to see him. Not that she meant to be as demonstrative as Danny about it. Or even say so.
