by Tessa Radley
Catherine turned her head on the lace-edged pillow that matched the handmade quilt Candace had bought as a housewarming gift after her mother had moved into Apple Orchards five months ago. The room was cozily furnished. Candace had bought a compact love seat covered in pretty fabric where Catherine could sit in the sun by the window on days when she felt a little stronger. The dressing table where her mother’s favorite perfumes and toiletries were stored and the bed’s headboard were her mother’s own. So were the collection of knickknacks and photos on the bookshelf in the corner. The homey touches had transformed the institutionalized space.
“Hello, Jennie,” her mother said to the granddaughter she didn’t know existed.
A lump thickened at the back of Candace’s throat. “I’m looking after her.”
“But what about your work at the hospital, darling? I thought you were going back to a full-time post once you had me settled.”
“I’ll go back to that when I’m ready. I needed a break.”
For the last four months of her pregnancy, Candace hadn’t seen her mother. She’d established a fiction that she’d decided to travel overseas—Jilly had even generously offered her the funds to make the story a reality. It hadn’t taken the needy expression in Jilly’s eyes to affirm what a sacrifice she was making with the offer. Candace had known Jilly would miss visiting her, seeing Jennie grow as Candace’s pregnancy progressed.
Candace had declined. She hadn’t felt comfortable accepting the gift. Instead, she’d dropped out of sight, renting a cottage on the rugged West Coast, an hour’s drive from Auckland, where she’d lived quietly while her family and friends assumed she was on the other side of the world.
There was a certain irony in the fact that during the time Candace had been living that deception, Jilly had been practicing her own deception with a surreal fake pregnancy.
Perhaps that was why Jilly had visited the cottage so often—sometimes even spending the night in the cramped second bedroom that was little more than a closet. It would have been the only time Jilly could break out of her lie because it was only with Candace that she wasn’t pregnant. The charade must’ve been exhausting, waiting for someone to catch any slip…
Yet now Candace knew that those visits to the cottage, the nights away, would only have added fuel to Nick’s belief that his wife was having an illicit affair.
By the time Jennie had been born, Candace had been drained. The strain of the imminent parting from her baby had taken its toll. After nine months spent caring for her unborn baby, suddenly there was a dark, black hole of loss that threatened to swallow her.
Her mother had known instantly that something was wrong. She’d assumed—wrongly—that her daughter must’ve fallen in love with someone across the ocean.
Of course, Candace hadn’t been able to confess the enormity of what she’d done. The only way to survive was not to think about Jennie. To get back to work. It hadn’t taken her long to realize her days as a pediatric nurse were over.
She couldn’t bear to work with babies and children. Every time she looked into a little girl’s face, Candace wondered about her baby girl. What she was doing. And, most important, if she was loved.
The decision to switch to working in the emergency room—as far away from young babies as she could get—had been inevitable.
Then her mother had almost died.
Catherine had fallen off a ladder while packing winter blankets into storage and cracked her skull. It had been touch and go—and had taken a week for her to regain consciousness. The doctors had feared she would be permanently brain-damaged.
Looking at her mother now, Candace marveled over the amazing changes time had wrought.
Her mother wasn’t out of the woods yet and she still suffered memory lapses, but with every month that passed, Catherine grew stronger. The chances of the stroke that the doctors had initially feared were lessening.
“I’d like to go sit in the garden,” her mother said suddenly. “And I’m sure Jennie would like that far better than being cooped up in an old woman’s room.”
“You’re not old,” Candace said automatically, though her mother had aged since the accident. Being outside would lift her spirits and the vitamin D would be good for her, too. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Oh, yes. The sunshine is beautiful.”
Candace helped her mother into a wheelchair and planted Jennie on her lap. Then she pushed them both out into the sunlight.
“Let’s go to the rose gardens,” Catherine suggested.
Halting the wheelchair in her mother’s favorite spot, Candace said, “Here, let me take Jennie from you. She must be heavy.”
“She’s fine.” Catherine gave her a faint smile. “It’s been a long time since I held a baby. She smells just as I remember you did…of that special fragrance babies have. Clean skin, well-laundered clothes and something else—” she bent her head and inhaled “—lavender?”
“And tea tree.”
“Lavender will help her sleep.” Her mother looked startled. “I’d forgotten that.”
“It has good antiseptic properties, too.” Candace didn’t want to look too elated at the tiny breakthrough in her mother’s ability to recall information.
“But the lavender doesn’t always work.” Reaching out a hand, Candace touched the baby’s head tenderly.
“She doesn’t sleep?”
“Most of the time she’s an angel.” That instantly reminded her of Nick. He’d called her an angel…
“There’s a rocker in her room that I sit in when I give Jennie her nighttime bottle. That sends her to sleep most nights.”
“But what about her parents?”
Candace looked up to find her mother watching her, a frown wrinkling her forehead.
“Where are her parents?” Catherine asked again.
Drawing a deep breath, Candace said, “Her mother is dead.”
“Oh, poor little tyke. What about her father?”
“He’s a businessman—he owns a string of garden centers that keep him busy.”
“That’s a shame.” Her mother’s brow wrinkled. “I used to visit Valentine’s Garden Centers. I loved buying plants—particularly my roses.”
Candace stared at her mother. “I work for Nick Valentine,” she said slowly, the air that had been so summery suddenly chilling her. She shook the eerie sensation off.
Her mother wouldn’t—couldn’t—know that Nick and Candace were Jennie’s parents. It wasn’t possible. Catherine only remembered the centers because she’d been an avid gardener before the accident.
“In fact, we recently took Jennie to one of the centers—she loved the ducks.”
“There must’ve been swans, too.”
“Oh, there were.” Was her mother starting to remember? Months ago the doctors had said that her mother might never remember things from the past, so each recollection was a moment to treasure and be grateful for. “There were geese, too—one pecked Jennie.” That memory was one Candace would sooner forget.
But there would be other memories to replace that. Like the sight of Jennie in her grandmother’s lap. This was a moment Candace would treasure forever.
By the time Candace pulled the station wagon up in front of the Valentine mansion, the late-afternoon rays of sun had taken on a golden hue. The light warmed the stark lines of the residence, softening the hard, sculpted angles of the design.
She—and Jennie—were exhausted. But in Candace’s case it was the exhaustion of deep satisfaction, the feeling of a mission accomplished.
The glow didn’t dissipate when the front door opened and Nick appeared.
“So you’ve decided to come back,” he said from the bottom of the stairs as she clambered out of the car.
A quiver of apprehension fluttered in her stomach. Nick Valentine always looked crisply immaculate, but the man who faced her appeared nowhere near as well-put-together as usual. He was wearing suit pants, his jacket had been discarded and the white st
riped business shirt hung out, giving him an unusually rumpled look. She noticed that the top two buttons were unbuttoned, revealing a triangle of golden skin at his throat. Candace jerked her gaze upward, and clashed with a stormy pair of navy-blue eyes.
“Where have you been?”
She couldn’t have found her voice even if she’d tried.
“I’ve been calling you for hours,” he bit out.
Oh, no! Candace scrabbled in the side pocket of her tote and extricated her phone. Switching it on, she was met by a chorus of beeps signifying missed messages.
“My phone was off.” Remorse filled her. “I’m sorry, Nick. I didn’t realize.”
A vague memory of switching the phone off before entering her mom’s room surfaced. She’d been so preoccupied she’d forgotten to turn it back on.
She could hardly blame Nick for being irate.
Though normally he would never have noticed her absence. He never left the office early—that was one of the golden rules of Nick Valentine’s busy life. Everyone agreed on that. Jilly, Mrs. Busby, his chauffeur. Their schedules had all revolved around his very set hours.
Yet today that had changed…
“Was it something urgent you were calling about? Is everything okay?”
The tumble of questions was met with a short terse nod. Candace took in the way his hair stood up, as though he’d been running his fingers through the almost black strands.
“If everything’s okay, then why are you home?”
As the words left her mouth, it occurred to her that those were not the words of an employee. She sounded like a wife.
Flushing uncomfortably, she muttered, “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“It is your business all right. You’re the reason I came home. I canceled a meeting with a new supplier, because my sister wanted to see you.”
“She wanted to see me?” Candace frowned.
Why?
“Alison’s been concerned about you.”
“Oh.” So much had happened it seemed like a century since that awful confrontation that his sister had witnessed. “I’m sorry we were out.” Candace started up the stairs, Jennie firmly clasped in her arms.
Nick’s hand came down on her shoulder, halting her. “Where were you?”
With her standing two steps above him their eyes were level. Seeing the dark blue this close up was strangely intimate…and incredibly disconcerting. Candace sought a distraction. “Is your sister still here?”
“No, she left hours ago. I was about to file a missing persons report.”
She hitched Jennie up higher in her arms and smiled uncertainly. “You’re joking, right?”
The brooding scrutiny he subjected her to made her heart skip a beat. “Except I wasn’t sure that you were missing…I thought you might have taken Jennie into hiding.”
“Kidnapped her?” Astonishment caused her to blink. “I’d never do something so stupid.”
His mouth relaxed imperceptibly. But all he said was, “Good.”
“If I did something like that, I’d kiss goodbye to any sympathy I might get from the courts when I challenge your custody of Jennie.”
Nick glanced over her shoulder, and Candace became aware of Mrs. Busby hovering in the lobby.
“I’ll take the baby, shall I?” she asked.
Reluctantly, Candace surrendered Jennie to the housekeeper.
“Come into the sitting room.” Nick stood back, allowing her to pass into the stark room that Candace had decided she hated.
She halted in the middle of the cold space and wished, for once, that the immense flat-screen television was on so it could break the taut silence that vibrated between her and Nick. Candace could see the tension humming in his tall lean frame.
“I’d advise you to think long and hard before deciding to drag this through the courts,” he murmured. “You have everything to lose.”
Instantly, she started to panic. “What do you mean?”
He came closer, and the breathless fear changed into something else…something more dangerous, rooting her to the spot.
“It would be foolish to threaten me.” He spoke through his teeth. “I’m being as patient as I can. Don’t push me too far.”
“Or what?” Candace challenged boldly. “What will you do?”
“I might be tempted to pursue court proceedings myself and have you prohibited from coming within a hundred feet of Jennie.”
The impact of his words jolted her. Candace stared at him, stunned by his reaction. If he made good on his threat, her baby would disappear behind high walls and electronic gates. Then she’d be forced to go to court to challenge the legality of his custody of Jennie. That would take money. A great deal of money. Money that she didn’t have.
A vision of a future too bleak to contemplate faced her. She’d be standing on the outside—in a world that would become a desert if she was without her baby.
“You can’t do that.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No…please.” Tears spilled out her eyes. “I couldn’t bear never to see Jennie again. Please, not that.”
“Oh, Christ, don’t cry!”
The rough brush of his mouth against hers came as a shock. Yet instead of shoving him away Candace found herself yielding…leaning into the warmth of his body as he kissed her again. And again.
She tasted the salt of her tears, a hint of mint. Then she closed her eyes and her body slumped against him, his heat and hunger filling the empty numbness. His arms steadied her, pulling her more firmly into his embrace.
One hand stroked her hair, and he whispered, “Steady on.”
She rested her head against his shirt and sniffed.
His hands cupped her nape, tipping her head back. She shut her eyes, refusing to let him see the hopelessness, the hurt flooding through her.
“Look at me, Candace.”
Finally, she opened her eyes.
There was an expression on his face that caused her throat to constrict.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re such a bastard.” She discovered she was crying in earnest now. “How could you do that to me?”
“Candace—”
“Don’t touch me.”
She wrenched herself away and rushed from the room before he kissed her again…and she lost what little of her heart still remained intact.
Nine
In the summery morning light that streamed into his bathroom and sparkled off the white tiles, Nick stared at a face half covered in shaving cream in the mirror.
His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. Through the long hours of the night he’d been unable to shake from his mind the hurt, shocked look in Candace’s eyes. Her pain had haunted his dreams last night.
He didn’t much like what he saw; he wasn’t proud of himself.
Without flinching, he thought about how the women in his life might have reacted if they’d been caught in the same position as Candace: Bertha Williams, his grandmother, his sister…even his devious wife. And he came to one conclusion.
Every one of them would have fought to keep her child. And every one of them would’ve been stunned that he could threaten to cut a woman off from the child she’d given birth to.
Even if she had agreed to give that baby up…
Nick lifted his hand and carefully brought the razor down in a long sweeping line. In minutes the white foam was gone, the shave complete. His skin glowed, clear and unsullied by stubble.
Yet Nick suspected the same wasn’t true of his soul…
Once showered and dressed, Nick paused on the upstairs landing. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was already well past breakfast time.
Instead of heading for the stairs, he checked himself and went the other way. To the wing that held the nursery—and Candace’s room.
Where the landing widened into a sitting area, he stopped.
Candace had pushed the glass table aside and was lying flat on her back on th
e carpet. A DVD showing a group of mothers doing exercises with babies was playing on the television screen that hung on a wall. Candace’s arms were fully extended as she swung Jennie above her.
Both of them were laughing.
The shorts Candace wore were white and very, very brief. The ice-blue tank top fitted snugly over her curvy breasts.
Hell. The hollow in Nick’s chest contracted into a tight, hard ball.
Desperately he looked away, scanning the room. The place looked—sounded—like a home. In a way that the perfectly decorated space never had before.
It even felt like a home.
He dithered on the periphery, not wanting to break the mood.
But a movement must’ve given him away because Candace turned her head—and saw him. Her laughter stilled. She lowered the baby and started to sit up.
“Don’t stop,” he said. “It looks like Jennie’s having the time of her life.”
Candace smiled hesitantly, and Nick felt as if the room had been flooded with more sunshine.
His cell phone chose that moment to ring.
It was his doctor confirming that he was almost certainly Jennie’s father.
Nick thanked him for his help and killed the call. Staring at the woman on the mat, a heavy beat thundered in his ears.
Candace had told the truth. He hadn’t believed her. Once again the sense of his soul being less than pure struck him. He shook off the thought, strode forward and sank onto the floor beside her, his legs awkwardly long in the confined space.
Jennie reached a hand toward him, and he gave her his. She grasped his thumb with a grip that was surprisingly strong.
“You’ll get wool from the carpet all over your suit,” Candace warned, folding slim, bare legs under her and resting Jennie in her lap, still attached to his finger.
Nick forced his eyes away from her smooth limbs.
Down, boy.
So this was how she was going to play it. As if that ugly scene between them last night had never happened.
For a split second Nick considered forcing the issue, trying to explain his confusion—what Jennie was coming to mean to him. Strangely enough, he hadn’t needed the doctor’s call to care about the baby. That had happened all by itself in some miraculous way.
