Daniel's Gift

by Barbara Freethy

  "Jacob -- "

  "I'll miss you, kid." He put a hand on Danny's forehead and slowly ran it down Danny's face, closing his eyes. "Rest. Sleep. Live."

  * * *

  Jenny and Luke sat by Danny's bedside, dressed in hospital gowns and masks to prevent any further spread of infection. It had been two days since the outbreak of pneumonia, two days of fear and anguish, two days of waiting. The rest of the family went on with their lives while Jenny and Luke kept vigil.

  Jenny looked over at her son and touched the angel pin on her chest. "Thank you, Danny," she said. "Thank you for this and for giving me back your father." She leaned over and rested her face against Danny's cheek, feeling the slight warmth of his skin, not nearly as hot as it had been before. For that she was grateful.

  "Mom." His voice came tiny, weak, frightened.

  Jenny lifted her head. Luke moved around to Danny's other side. They exchanged a long, wordless look, then watched as Danny's eyes began to flutter. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

  "Danny," Jenny said. "Wake up." She gave him a little shake with her hands.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. "Mom?"

  "I'm here, honey, I'm here."

  Danny blinked his eyes, squinting at the harsh light. Jenny couldn't believe what she was seeing. He was waking up. Against all odds, her son was waking up. "Call the doctor, Luke," she cried.

  "What's wrong? You're crying, Mom," Danny said.

  "I'm happy, so happy you're awake."

  "Why? Am I late for school?"

  Jenny smiled, then laughed, then cried. She looked over at Luke. He was crying, too. "You're late all right," she said. "But it's okay. Everything's okay."

  "You're acting weird." Danny wrinkled his nose as if he had an itch. "What's that smell?"

  "You're in the hospital, honey. You were in an accident. Do you remember?"

  Danny looked at her blankly. "Am I okay?"

  "You're better than you were," Jenny said. "I can't believe you're awake, and I'm talking to you."

  Danny tried to lift his hand, but his arm fell back against the bed. "I'm tired."

  "Go slow, Danny. We have time, now. Plenty of time." She covered his hand with hers.

  "I had this strange dream," Danny murmured. "I met my dad. He came back to us."

  Luke stepped up to the bed so Danny could see him. "I'm here, Danny."

  Danny's eyes widened. "Dad?" He looked over at his mother. "It's true then?"

  Jenny nodded. "Yes, it's true."

  Dr. Lowenstein came in and checked Danny's eyes and reflexes. He gave commands to which the boy sleepily responded, moving first his arms then his legs.

  Jenny held her breath, afraid to believe that Danny was going to be all right after so many weeks of waiting.

  Dr. Lowenstein questioned Danny about his name, his birthday, and what grade he was in. Danny answered every question correctly. Then the doctor looked at Jenny and Luke with an incredulous smile. "Wow," he said.

  Luke and Jenny laughed.

  "Is that your professional opinion?" Luke asked.

  Dr. Lowenstein shook his head in amazement. "He looks good. We'll run a complete set of tests just to make sure, but right now I would have to say that I think he'll make a complete recovery."

  "I can't believe it," Jenny said. "Did you hear that, kiddo? You're going to be fine."

  "How long have I been here?" Danny asked.

  "A while, honey, but you're back now, and that's all that counts." She pushed down the cowlick at the back of his head. Danny brushed her hand away.

  "Aw, Mom," he said.

  "I never thought I'd hear you say that again."

  Danny frowned. "Did I miss your birthday? I had the best idea for a gift."

  "You gave me a gift, Danny."

  "I did? What was it?"

  Jenny exchanged a tender look with Luke. "It was your father."

  "Are you together again?"

  "Yes, and we're going to be a family, the three of us," Luke said firmly. "The way it was meant to be."

  "I feel like I died and went to heaven," Danny said in utter delight.

  Jenny stepped backward and tripped over something. Down at her feet was a baseball. She picked it up. "Danny, your next home run is on me," she read. "Where did this come from?"

  Danny took the ball out of Jenny's hand. He looked down at the end of the bed and saw an old man in a baseball uniform, the man from his dream. "Jacob," he whispered.

  Jacob tipped his cap at Danny. "Have a nice life, kid."

  # # #

  Continue Reading for an excerpt from JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

  EXCERPT

  JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

  @ Copyright 2011 Barbara Freethy

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Prologue

  "Are you ready to go for a sail?" John MacGuire asked his wife. A young, handsome man, he stood on the edge of a wide sandy beach, wearing summer shorts and his favorite T-shirt. He pointed toward the water behind him, to the sailboat that bobbed gently in the quiet bay. "It's the perfect day."

  "I can't sail. I'm sick. I don't know what happened, but I can't seem to open my eyes." Phoebe MacGuire took a quick breath as panic filled her soul and the sounds and smells of the hospital threatened to pull her out of her dream. "I'm seventy-six years old now, John. How did I get to be so old? I'm scared."

  "No need to be scared, my darling, not when I'm here."

  "But you're not really here," she whispered, knowing his image was nothing but a memory, and her love had been gone for a very long time.

  "I miss you, Phoebe," he said softly, his voice as gentle as the morning breeze.

  "I miss you, too. Nothing has been the same since you died. You were the one who kept the family together. It was you, your strength, your vision. Without you, we fell apart. Alli and Tessa are strangers now, and I don't know how to bring them back together."

  "Do you still have the pearls, Phoebe?"

  "Of course I do."

  "Do you remember the one we found on our first anniversary? That's when we discovered you were pregnant. Then we had a son, and later granddaughters, and we taught them to love the sea, to cherish the family, and to treasure the pearls for the strength that they gave us each year to go on, to live life to its fullest, to complete the circle."

  "But we didn't complete it," she said in despair. "Because you died. You left me."

  "It was my time, Phoebe, but you must finish the necklace now. The pearls weren't meant to just be a symbol of our love, but of our family, our strength, our unity. The pearls are nothing on their own. But together in a strand, they are everything. It is the lesson we must teach Alli and Tessa." He paused, his expression as tender as a sweet blooming rose. "I wish for our girls a love as deep and as satisfying as the one we share."

  "I want the same thing." But as his image faded away, Phoebe wondered if even the last pearl could save Alli and Tessa from themselves.

  Chapter One

  "Daddy, did you ever love Mommy?"

  Allison Tucker caught her breath at the simple, heartfelt question that had come from her eight-year-old daughter's lips. She took a step back from the doorway and leaned against the wall, her heart racing in anticipation of her husband's answer. She'd thought she'd explained the separation to her daughter, but Megan still had questions, and this time it was up to Sam to answer.

  Sam cleared his throat, obviously stalling for time. For the life of her, Alli couldn't move away. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but when she'd arrived to pick up Megan after her weekend with her father, she had been caught by the cozy scene in the family room.

  Sam sat in the brown leather reclining chair looking endearingly handsome in his faded blue jeans and navy-blue rugby shirt. Megan was on his lap, her blond hair a mess in mismatched braids, her clothes almost exactly the same as Sam's, faded blue jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt. Megan adored dressing like her father.

  "Did I show you the picture of Mommy when she dressed up like
a giant pumpkin for the Halloween dance?" Sam asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

  They were looking at a yearbook, Alli realized with dismay. There weren't just pictures of Sam and Alli in the yearbook, there were other people in there, too. People she didn't want Megan to know.

  "Did you, Daddy? Did you ever love Mommy?" Megan persisted.

  Answer the question, Sam. Tell her you never really loved me, that you only married me because I was pregnant, that your heart still belongs to—my sister.

  Alli held her breath, waiting for Sam's answer, knowing the bitter truth but wondering, hopelessly, impossibly wondering...

  "I love your mother very much—for giving me you," Sam replied.

  Alli closed her eyes against a rush of emotion. It wasn't an answer, but an evasion. She didn't know why she felt even the tiniest bit of surprise. Sam would never admit to loving her. She couldn't remember ever hearing those three simple words cross his lips, not even after Megan's birth. Or after, in the days and weeks and years that followed, not even when they made love, when they shared a passion that was perhaps the only honest part of their relationship. Sam always held a part of himself back, a portion of his heart and his soul that he would never give to her. He could tell her that he cared about her, that she was important to him, that they were family, but he could never bring himself to say I love you.

  Alli clenched her fists, wanting to feel anger, not pain. She'd spent more than half of her twenty-seven years in love with Sam Tucker, but he didn't love her, and he never would.

  She'd lived in a dream, wanting to believe that one day things would change, that Sam would change, that he would suddenly see her for who she was, that he would want another baby. Even now, a deep ache echoed through her soul at the thought of never having another child with the man she loved, but she could no longer live in a fantasy world. He'd married her because she was pregnant. She'd been his duty, not his love, and though they'd built a life together, shared some wonderful moments, deep down Sam had always wanted someone else.

  The last straw came three months ago when it had become startlingly clear that Sam still held hopes of being with her sister. The realization that, despite years of trying to be the best wife, the best mother, the best woman she could be, Sam still loved Tessa had driven Alli to do the unthinkable—to ask for a separation.

  Sam had been shocked, and no wonder. She'd chased after him forever. But no more. She couldn't keep loving someone who didn't love her back. Could she?

  The niggling doubt ran through Alli's mind, her heart still battling her brain. She'd always acted on her emotions, forgetting about logic. Even her seduction of Sam all those years ago hadn't come from a master plan. It had been more like a crime of opportunity. And she'd paid for it a thousand times over.

  Alli let out a sigh. She'd done so many things wrong, taking forever to grow up, as her grandmother was fond of telling her. Her biggest guilt came from putting Megan in the middle of her battle with Sam, but there was no way to avoid it. Megan had always been in the middle. And she always would be.

  "Damn," Alli muttered as tears filled her eyes. She ruthlessly rubbed them away. She had to let go of the past and focus on the future. Making sure her daughter had a wonderful loving relationship with her father was her main concern. In the long run, Alli could only hope that it would be better for Megan to grow up in two peaceful homes than in one unhappy one.

  Taking a deep breath, Alli smoothed down the sides of her short-sleeve emerald-green dress, the first new outfit she'd bought in years. It was tighter than she would have liked, but married life and childbirth had only encouraged her naturally curvy tendencies. She took solace in the fact that she still looked better than she had in ages, and there was a small part of her, make that a big part of her, that couldn't help hoping Sam would be floored by her new look.

  Clearing her throat with purpose and determination, she entered the family room and said, "Hello."

  Sam looked at her, his light blue eyes filled with annoyance. "You're early. You said seven-thirty, and it's only six. Megan and I were planning to have a pizza."

  "I'm sorry." She knew his frustration covered pain. Sam might not miss her at all, but he did miss his daughter.

  "This is our time together," Sam reminded her.

  "I know." Alli tried not to feel anything for the man, but his physical presence had always overwhelmed her. A rugged, outdoor man, Sam had sun-streaked brown hair that was always windswept, never styled. His face was perpetually sunburned. His body was lean and fit, his fingers and palms callused from working his boats. She could still remember the way his fingers felt drifting down the side of her cheeks, her breasts...

  She drew in a quick breath and looked out the window at the storm clouds about to descend on Tucker's Landing, one of the small seaside towns along the southern Oregon coast. Although it was late June, the weather was still unpredictable, and on days like today, summer seemed far away.

  "It's starting to rain," she said. "The forecast said maybe an inch or more. I didn't want to get caught in the storm. You know I hate to drive in the rain."

  Sam tightened his hold on Megan, as if Alli were attempting to steal his dearest possession. But she wasn't a thief; she was Megan's mother. Turning her attention to Megan, Alli could see that her daughter felt torn between them. Megan's blue eyes were worried, her mouth slightly pouty as she chewed nervously on the end of her braid. The last thing Alli wanted to do was make Megan feel like a wishbone, but sometimes it seemed impossible to avoid. They both loved Megan so very much.

  "I'll bring her home at seven-thirty," Sam said.

  "That's in an hour and a half."

  "Exactly. And it's my hour and a half."

  She sighed. "Come on, Sam. It's been a long day."

  "Maybe Mommy could have pizza with us," Megan suggested. She put her small hands on Sam's face so he couldn't look away from her and gazed at him with bright, eager blue eyes. "Please."

  Sam's mouth set into a hard line. "I suppose. If she wants to."

  Megan looked at Alli, drilling her with the same relentless gaze.

  Alli hesitated, knowing the last thing Sam wanted her to do was stick around. But she hated to disappoint Megan over something so small.

  "I could stay, I guess." She glanced at Sam. "Are you sure it's all right with you?"

  "Does it matter?" He didn't look her in the eye. Sometimes she thought he went out of his way to avoid looking at her. Maybe she did the same thing. It was easier to keep the distance between them.

  Sam gently urged Megan out of his lap and rose to his feet. "I'll call Nina's. The usual?"

  Why was it always the simple words, the familiar memories that hurt the most?

  "The usual," she agreed.

  Sam walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. While he dialed the number for the pizza parlor, Megan handed Alli the high school yearbook.

  "Daddy showed me your picture," Megan said. "You were really pretty, Mommy."

  Alli stared down at her sophomore photograph. She'd been trying to grow her hair out, to be more like Tessa. But where her sister's thick, wavy blond hair grew like a weed, Alli's own copper-colored hair never quite made it past her shoulders, and was so thin and fine it almost seemed to disappear.

  Once, a very long time ago, Sam had told her that her hair was like silk, and she'd thought, foolishly of course, that he'd found something about her that he liked better than Tessa.

  Alli slammed the book shut. Megan looked at her in surprise.

  "What's wrong, Mommy?"

  "Nothing." She forced a smile on her face. "What did you do today?"

  "We waxed the hot rod."

  "Of course," Alli said. Because next to his business, waxing his 1955 red Thunderbird was Sam's favorite pastime. She wouldn't have minded so much if the damn car hadn't been just another reminder of Sam and Tessa. In her mind's eye she could still see the two of them tooling around town in it.

  "Do you want to see it
?" Megan asked.

  "The car?" Alli asked in confusion.

  "No, the thing I made you. Weren't you listening, Mommy?"

  "I'd love to, honey."

  "I'll get it." Megan ran out of the room, and Alli walked over to the bookcase and stuck the yearbook in a dark corner where she hoped it wouldn't be discovered for another decade.

  As her gaze traveled around the familiar room, she realized that Sam had done some cleaning, made some changes since he'd moved back into his family home and his parents had retired to Arizona. His father's pipe no longer sat in the ashtray on the desk. The three-foot-high pile of fishing magazines had been tossed in a large open box along with some other knickknacks—obviously destined for storage.

  The changes made her feel uncomfortable. The thought that Sam was finally accepting that this was his home bothered her more than she cared to admit. That he was changing the house to fit him as a man instead of a child was odd, too. This house had been a part of her own childhood, because she'd grown up next door.

  When she was nine, and Tessa eleven, they'd lost their parents in a car crash and come to live with their grandmother, Phoebe MacGuire. They'd traveled between houses as kids do, and Alli had come to know this one almost as well as her own. Although she had usually been the one tagging behind, trying to catch up to Sam and Tessa, and somehow the door always seemed to slam in her face.

  Sam hung up the phone. "The pizza will be here in fifteen minutes."

  She nodded. "Great. So, how did the weekend go?"

  "Fine."

  "Megan starts summer school tomorrow. We'll have to redo our visitation schedule."