“His name’s Garrett, and, for one thing, you told me they went out.”
Okay, she had her on that one. But Faith wasn’t about to let this go. Tara was her firstborn, and it sounded as if she was going to need some direction from Mama. “But, I thought it was just an innocent date. That he was showing her the sights. Is there more to it than that?”
“No, no, of course not. All they did was visit some historic sites.” Thea would be twirling her hair around her finger about now. She claimed it helped her concentrate, but it mostly let her family know she was withholding information.
“I thought they went to dinner, too.”
“Well, yeah. That’s what I meant. All they did was see sights and go to dinner. Emma just said that she really liked him.”
Faith’s head spun with that news. If Understatement Emma said “really liked,” that meant Tara might be shopping for an engagement ring as they spoke. “Really likes him as in doing things she shouldn’t even be thinking about doing because she doesn’t know him well enough to be doing those things? Or thinking about them?”
“Uhh, geez, Mama, I’ve got to go. I totally forgot that I told my friend, uh, Melody that I’d help her, uh, move some furniture around today. I’d better get over there. Love you. Bye!”
Faith closed her eyes and groaned. Tara was sleeping with some Garrett guy in Paris. Her baby. Involved with somebody she hadn’t known long enough to barely be friends with, much less lovers. Getting serious with someone she had no chance at a relationship with because everybody knew that long-distance relationships didn’t work. Surely, she knew by now that “absence makes the heart grow fonder” was a fallacy. “Out of sight, out of mind” was the truth.
Or maybe Tara wasn’t getting serious. Maybe this was just a fun fling. A month of sex and then head home without a backward glance. That was even worse.
Faith twirled her wedding band, which had grown loose on her finger. She and Sawyer had tried to instill a belief in their children that physical intimacy was the highest means of showing love, and sex was not something to be taken lightly.
Like I did.
Her past hadn’t just come back to haunt her, it was claiming squatters rights smack-dab in the center of her life.
Well, she may not have been the perfect role model, but that wouldn’t keep her from being the best mother she knew how to be. “But I did it” was an excuse parents used way too often. She’d done a lot of things she didn’t want her kids to do, and she hoped they learned from her mistakes.
She picked up her phone and touched Tara’s number.
Her daughter answered immediately. “Mama?”
Faith saw no use easing into this. Tara’s frankness came straight from her own gene pool. “Thea tells me you’re sleeping with your neighbor.”
“She what?”
Anger and horror, but no denial. “Okay, she didn’t come right out and tell me, but you know how she loses her composure and can’t think of what to say? Well, she just did that, and we were talking about you and your neighbor, so I’m pretty sure I’ve jumped to the right conclusion.”
“I don’t think this is something I want to talk about.”
“Of course you don’t. I knew you wouldn’t. So don’t talk. Just listen. You need to think about the consequences of what you’re doing. You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak because you’re going to lose either way.”
A noisy sigh came from the other end of the line, but Faith wouldn’t relinquish the floor. At least Tara hadn’t hung up on her. “If you fall in love with him, you’re going to be leaving in two weeks, and everybody knows long-distance relationships don’t work. And, if you’re not in love and just doing this for fun, then you’re following in my footsteps. And look where they led me.”
“Mama...”
“I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I made, and I’ll go to any lengths to keep that from happening.”
“Like calling me in the middle of the night?”
Faith looked at her watch. Six-twenty. Which meant it was after one in the morning in Paris. The tide turned, and guilt swept over her. She’d disturbed her daughter’s sleep and probably scared the wadding out of her, too. “Oh, sweetpea, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even consider the time difference! Go back to sleep. I hope you’re alone. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
Faith dropped the phone on the table and picked up the photo that sat on one of Lacy’s hand-crocheted doilies. Her family smiled back at her—her family as it used to be a couple of years ago. The family she wanted back. Smiling. Hugging. United.
With the first utterance of Jacques Martin’s name, that family had vanished, and Tara had started looking for something to hold on to to keep her world upright.
Maybe that’s what she was doing with this Garrett person. Perhaps he was giving her something in Paris to hold on to while the world shifted beneath her feet.
But, if Tara found her father, she might not need the other man to hold on to.
A flash of inspiration lifted Faith’s spirit.
All this time, she’d been hoping Tara wouldn’t find Jacques Martin. She’d been afraid of what it would do to Sawyer and the family.
But fear of the unknown was a crippling kind of fear. The kind that held you back when destiny was calling your name. It took faith to step out into the darkness, as her mama always told her. That’s why she named Faith what she did.
Tomorrow, she would start with calls to Murray State University. Somewhere, someone would know something about Jacques Martin.
If Tara was determined to find her birth father, and if finding him would fill the void and keep her from making a huge mistake, then her mother would help her find him.
Faith would lead the way.
* * *
“SORRY ABOUT THAT.” Tara shot Garrett an apologetic look and set the phone back on the bedside table.
He gave her a sleepy grin and reached up to brush her hair from her face. “It’s okay. My mom does weird things like that, too.”
Tara covered her eyes, hoping by some feat of magic the gesture would make her invisible. “No chance you didn’t hear what she was saying, is there?”
It didn’t work because Garrett found her hand with no trouble and pulled it away from her face. He faked a sorrowful expression, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. “Nope.”
She groaned her exasperation, sinking back down into the pillow.
He sat up enough to lean on an elbow. “But maybe she’s right.”
His voice was quiet, and it made Tara’s heart thud in her chest. “You mean, you think we’re making a mistake by having sex?”
His expression became somber, and the mirth left his eyes. But heat replaced it, along with a look the depth of which thrilled her and terrified her at the same time. “I mean, I think we’re making a mistake if we believe we can walk away from this in thirteen days and treat it as if it meant nothing.”
Thirteen days. He’d used the exact number rather than the more arbitrary two weeks. He was counting them, just like she was. A knot formed in her stomach, hearing him verbalize the same agitation she’d dealt with all afternoon. “What do we do about it, though?”
“I think the first thing to do is to be honest about what’s really going on, so we know where we actually stand without any pretense. I’ll go first.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm a few times, and she sensed he was trying to work up his courage. “I’m falling for you, Tara.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “My connection with you has been so swift and hard, it scares me. I’ve wanted to ignore it. Act like it wasn’t there. But you’ve been on my mind for two weeks now, and, after that first touch Saturday night, I don’t want to think about not touching you. I already know you. I think I’ve always known y
ou. I’ve just been waiting for you to show up in my life. Does that make sense?”
She placed her hand against his chest, could feel his heart pounding at the sincerity of his words. “You said it prettier than I could, but I feel the same way. It depresses me to think about going home and leaving you and Dylan. I know that’s crazy—I have to go home. But...” Emotion clogged her voice, and she cleared her throat. “What if the reason I’m here isn’t to find my birth father? What if I’m here to find you and Dylan?”
He brushed a tear from her face that she hadn’t realized was there. “I love that idea, and I love that it’s in your mind. It tells me this isn’t one-sided on my part.”
She shook her head. “It’s not one-sided on your part.”
He touched his lips to hers. “But don’t give up on finding your father yet. He may still be out there.”
She felt her chin quiver, and she pressed her lips together to hold it still. “I’m not giving up, but I get my hopes up a little higher each time, and that makes me fall harder when it doesn’t pan out.”
“I wish I could snap my fingers and deliver the right Jacques Martin to you.”
Garrett lay back and pulled her close against him in a hold that made her feel protected from any hurt the outside world might throw at her.
“So what do we do now?” she whispered.
“About Jacques Martin?”
“About us.”
He kissed her forehead and her eyelids. “We handle it the same as the search for your father. We keep our hearts open to any possibility, and we believe that, if we’re meant to be together, love will find a way.”
Tara raised herself up this time, needing to see his eyes. “Love?”
He shrugged. “We can break out all the moves to dance around it, or we can call it what it is.”
She cocked her head and smiled at his straightforwardness. “Love.” She laughed. “Mama would be so horrified if she knew.”
He gave her a tender smile. “You have good parents. Weird, but good.”
“I know.” She lay down, her head on his chest listening to his heart. It was a sweet sound, a gentle sound that would lull her to sleep very quickly. “If I were smart, I’d get up and go home right now so the alarm wouldn’t have to wake us up so early.”
“Mmm,” he answered and she couldn’t tell if the sound was affirmative or negative.
“But I’ve never been accused of being a brainiac.”
“You couldn’t be too smart, or you wouldn’t have stayed a virgin until you were twenty-something. What a waste of talent.”
She smiled and continued smiling until his breath slowed to the deep sounds of slumber.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“TARA, SHE IS LOVELY, Garrett.”
Waiting in Garrett’s office for him when he arrived, Henri was obviously anxious to talk. He had his cup of espresso in hand and one for Garrett, covered to keep it hot.
“Bon matin, Henri. It’s good to see you, too.” He gave his friend a smile. “I knew you’d like her.”
“Her hair is very wild and crazy.” Henri’s hands flew above his head, gesticulating to make his point. “Mais, ils sont fabuleux!”
Henri never had a hair out of place, so it was interesting that he’d find Tara’s wild curls fabulous.
“And her poor hand! Mon Dieu! Does it cause her pain?”
“She never complains about it, but she warns Dylan and me not to squeeze it too hard. She sustained some major injuries in that motorcycle wreck. It’s amazing she’s even here.” A lump swelled in Garrett’s throat at that thought. He tried to get rid of it by swallowing his espresso in one gulp, which garnered him a disapproving eye roll from his friend. “But, I’m thrilled she is.” Even that felt like an understatement.
“Oui, c’est évident.” Henri paused, weighing what was coming next. “Can you share with me the circumstances of her father, this Jacques Martin? Did she recently learn of him, or has she known of him throughout her life and has only now the means or desire to search for him?”
Garrett didn’t think Tara would mind, so he brought his friend up to speed on the circumstances surrounding Tara’s conception.
“Très interéssant.” Henri thrust his bottom lip out and made a French sound that meant he was mulling something over. “And you say she found names and addresses in the telephone book and on the internet?”
“That’s correct.”
Henri shook his head. “Such lists would not be complete. He might be not listed. He has the cell phone, probablement. Oui?”
“Yeah. She knows that.” He and Tara had already talked about her archaic means of searching. “But she’s doing it the only way she knows how.”
“Did she consider to hire a private detective?” His shrug suggested it was so obvious he shouldn’t even have to mention it.
Garrett leaned back in his seat to get comfortable. He appreciated Henri’s interest in Tara’s predicament. Had his friend already figured out how very special she was to him?
“I suggested that, but she said she didn’t know anyone in Paris who could recommend one, and she was afraid, if she hired someone blind, he’d turn out to be a shyster.”
Henri’s nose wrinkled like he smelled something unpleasant. “Qu’est-ce que ça veut dire—‘shyster’?”
“A crook.” Garrett explained. “Someone who cheats people out of their money.”
“Ah!” Henri nodded. “Je comprends. But what if she finds this Jacques Martin, and he is the shyster?” His eyebrow lifted to make his point.
“We’ve discussed that, and she’s aware that she’ll have to be careful and trust her instincts,” Garrett agreed. “She’s a pretty good judge of character. She told me that if you’d looked her up and down one more time, she was going to ask you to leave a few clothes on her because she didn’t want to catch a cold.”
Henri had a good laugh at that. “It was the test for you, mon ami. Not Tara. And it worked. Your hand made the fist very quickly.”
Garrett recalled the flare of jealousy that had shot through him, and he had no doubt Henri was speaking the truth.
“But do not worry.” Henri gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I will allow you to keep Tara for yourself.”
That pulled a laugh from Garrett. He’d never encountered a woman who would choose him over Henri—until Tara. But she left him no doubt as to who her choice would be, and it felt damn good to be the winner for once. Good enough that he had to rub it in a bit. “This is one you have no chance with. Did you see the way she latched on to my arm after you ogled her? She wasn’t the least bit affected by your debonair French ways.”
Henri’s warm smile lit up his face. “The woman was blind. I have heard that the climaxes may cause that condition.”
Garrett’s face warmed at the truth in Henri’s folklore, but he wouldn’t cheapen what he had with Tara with locker-room talk. “Back to Jacques Martin.” He made his point by switching to their former subject. “It doesn’t look promising that she’ll find him. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Henri’s nostrils flared. “What is this needle in the haystack I always hear of? American idioms do not make sense. Why would someone put a needle in a haystack? Would he be sewing in a hay field? Why would it not be like finding a needle in the pin cushion?” He crossed his arms imperiously, making Garrett certain Napoleon Bonaparte’s blood ran in his friend’s veins.
“I don’t know, Henri. Make it a needle in a pin cushion if you want, but, either way, finding him is difficult and not likely to get any easier.”
Henri drummed his fingers on the desk, staring at them for a minute. Then he slid his eyes up slowly to meet Garrett’s. “You are falling in love with her. I see this in your eyes when you speak her name.”
“Yeah, I, u
m...” The serious turn in the conversation was far removed from their usual banter. “I believe I am.”
“Dylan is very fond of her. He brought her into most conversations during his visit.” A hint of worry edged Henri’s voice. “You had a fear this would happen.”
The strong coffee...or something...made the muscles around Garrett’s heart tighten. “But love’s a process that takes time, Henri, and if the right woman comes along, I have to open myself up to the process. Unfortunately, that means opening Dylan up to it, too.”
“And you think Tara could be the right one?”
Garrett took a deep breath, and the tightening loosened a smidgen. “Let’s just say it feels right at this time.”
Henri broke eye contact, brushing at something on the desk. “And when will she leave?”
“The fifteenth.” The reality of the time they had left closed off Garrett’s throat and made breathing impossible for a few seconds.
“If she found her birth father, would that change her plans? Would she stay longer, peut-être?”
Garrett hadn’t considered that, but it was certainly a possibility. Extending her stay to get to know her father would make perfect sense. “I don’t know. I guess that could change things. She has the summer off, so she wouldn’t have to be back until the middle of August.” His heart beat faster at the thought.
Henri pushed out of his chair. “Well, I must begin the work, oui?”
“What’s your hurry?” His friend’s swift change in manner was out of character. With the campaign over, Garrett had expected him to take it easy today.
“I have important things to do.” Henri pointed his finger dramatically upward as he hurried from the room.
Garrett rolled his eyes at his friend’s theatrics. “Frenchmen.” He chuckled. “Probably headed to the restroom.”
* * *
Moonlight in Paris Page 15
