Jake's Bride (Search For Love)

by Karen Rose Smith

  A portable playpen was set up in one corner. But a child wasn't in it. Jake stood by the windows, holding a toddler. Sara couldn't believe it.

  Jake said, "I think Matthew's getting another tooth. I have an extra teething ring in the refrigerator--" He turned toward the doorway and went perfectly still.

  Sara knew she looked different. She'd let her hair grow longer after Christopher was born. She'd lost some weight, too. Working and running after her son had kept her in shape.

  But she wasn't the only one who'd changed her hairstyle. Where Jake had once worn his hair cropped short, it now hung to his shirt collar in the back and over his ears on the sides. As for the rest of him-- Her heart had already tripled its rhythm. In khakis and a cream polo shirt, he looked good enough to...hug. But the stance of his body, the set expression on his face told her this wasn't a reunion he'd anticipated or ever expected.

  Suddenly, the baby waved his arms and reached for Jake's collar. Jake tore his gaze from Sara's and rubbed the little guy's back as if he'd done it many times before. "I think your mom has plans for you."

  Gillian laughed. "It's time to go home. He's just trying to coax you into carrying him around a bit longer." She picked up the diaper bag sitting near the playpen, then held out her arms.

  Matthew reached for his mother, then swayed back toward Jake with a smile and a gurgle. Jake leaned closer to Gillian. "Go on, pal. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Gillian lifted Matthew from Jake's arms. After a short pout, he snuggled in his mom's arm. "Call me if you have any questions on the notes I made. I'll see you in the morning," she said, glancing at Sara, then back to Jake.

  Jake nodded, but his gaze returned to Sara's. It wasn't until the front door closed that he finally looked away.

  Sara felt shell-shocked, seeing him again. Memories came rushing back along with old feelings. She remembered the day she'd met him, the workshop he'd presented, his intensity when he'd talked about teenagers needing to be guided in the right direction instead of letting them end up in the criminal justice system. After his workshop, she'd approached him with a few questions. They'd gone for coffee and talked, becoming more absorbed in each other than the subject of his presentation. He'd asked her out over the weekend. And their courtship had begun.

  She remembered the kisses, the touches, that one special night...

  She'd matured and changed over the past four years. Watching Jake hold a child in his arms led her to believe he'd changed, too.

  Her memories and emotions kept her immobilized. Jake had to pass her to get to his desk chair. When he did, she could have sworn they both held their breath. The brief contact of his shoulder against hers as he bypassed the playpen acted like a jolt of electricity to her already overloaded nervous system.

  Not knowing where to start, she said, "Gillian said she was your partner."

  "Yes, she is."

  "She brings her baby to work?"

  Jake lodged one hip against the desk. "Sometimes."

  "How old is...Matthew, isn't it?"

  "Fifteen months." The lines along Jake's mouth that carved into his lean cheeks when he smiled now looked deeper than they had four years ago.

  Sara couldn't keep the burning question in her mind. "Is Matthew yours?"

  Jake looked as though he might not answer, but then in a brisk tone explained, "Gillian is happily married to a friend of mine. Matthew is theirs."

  "I was surprised to see you with a child."

  "I never said I didn't like kids. I just didn't want to bring any into the world."

  When the silence stretched into an unbearable awkwardness, he asked, "Why are you here?"

  There was no welcome in his voice, none of the gentleness she knew he was capable of. The wall he'd erected the last time they'd talked, the day he'd left her mother's house, was solid and sturdy. All she could do was take one step at a time.

  "My mother passed away two weeks ago." Sara's throat tightened and she had to fight back the tears that were all too ready to come to the surface these days.

  Jake's stony expression softened. "I'm sorry. I know how much she meant to you."

  Yes, he did. In fact, he'd known everything about her because she'd held nothing back. Not until she'd received the news of her pregnancy. "I've been staying at Aunt El's."

  "How's your aunt taking this?" he asked, his tone bringing back memories of his arms around her, confidences shared, yellow roses.

  She shook off the images and the feelings that went with them to concentrate on his question. Her Aunt Eloise and her mother had been close all their lives. "It's difficult for her."

  Jake stuffed his hands into his pockets, a familiar gesture. He always did it when he was uncomfortable. "I am sorry about your mother, but you could have sent me a note. Why did you come?" He seemed genuinely perplexed.

  "Because Mom left me a letter. She wants you to have something of my dad's."

  The seconds ticked by. "Why?"

  "Because she liked you, Jake. She...she just wanted you to have it." Sara knew Jake's memories of his mother weren't all happy ones, that's why she'd hoped he could share her mother. It was too late. But it wasn't too late for him to have a relationship with his son. "I wanted to invite you over to Mom's house to pick it up. How about tomorrow sometime?"

  Jake looked torn. Finally, he said, "All right. Around one?"

  "That's fine. I'll look forward to seeing you then."

  He pushed away from his desk. "I'll walk you out."

  Jake felt almost numb and didn't try to make conversation as he walked Sara Standish to the door. He'd never expected to see her again. He'd told himself she was history. But he couldn't look at a yellow rose, he couldn't close his eyes sometimes, he couldn't look at the tux still hanging in his closet without wondering what they could have had, without wondering why he still missed her, without wondering if she was now married to someone else, mothering the children she'd wanted.

  The sense of betrayal he'd experienced when she'd called off the wedding had never ebbed. He'd fallen in love with her and he'd trusted her--with his heart and with his life. But he hadn't been enough for her. His love hadn't been enough. She'd wanted more. She'd wanted something he couldn't give her because in giving her a child, he would have given himself unending heartache. His grief over his dead son hadn't lessened, it had taken a deeper foothold. Sara's broken promise had made him more guarded, and he knew he'd built an impenetrable shell around his heart.

  So why did Sara's presence in his house make that shell feel not quite as secure, as if it needed another layer?

  Jake glanced at her again. If he looked too hard, too long, he might feel something that after she left again could only hurt him more. She was so damn pretty. Those big blue eyes once filled with optimism and sparkling enthusiasm now reflected sadness and something else he couldn't put his finger on. But it didn't matter. After tomorrow he'd never see her again.

  He opened the door for her. When she stepped over the threshold onto the porch, he called, "Sara?"

  She turned.

  "Don't go to any trouble tomorrow. I won't be able to stay. I have appointments later in the afternoon."

  As soon as he saw her disappointment, he regretted his abrupt words. She looked as if she was about to say something, but then changed her mind. Instead, she nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow around one."

  Jake watched her walk down the path to her car, wishing he could deny her effect on him, wishing tomorrow over so feelings he'd kept in check for four years could stay buried.

  #

  Jake walked up the steps to the house Jennie Standish had rented, remembering the last time he'd left it the night Sara had called off their wedding.

  He'd thought he was over her. He'd thought he'd gone on with his life. But just one look at her, the scent of her, the lift of her brow when she was unsure, was enough to make every nerve in his body need. And not just any woman, but her. He hadn't slept last night. Not that insomnia was new to him. But too many mem
ories had come crashing back.

  When he rang the doorbell, Sara answered immediately. She must have been waiting. She was dressed in a navy top and shorts that wasn't intentionally seductive, but showed off her slim figure. Had she lost weight? He'd always liked her short hair, but he had to admit the longer style was sensually enticing. He wanted to touch it, to brush her cheek, to—

  He gave himself a mental kick.

  "Come in," she said softly.

  That damn soft voice. He'd never heard it raised in anger. "I can't stay long." He knew he was curt, but he had to watch every response, every syllable, every thought.

  She led him to the living room couch. He chose a side chair. Not commenting, she lifted a small felt pouch from the coffee table. "This is what Mom wanted you to have."

  Her fingers brushed his palm and the years slipped away. Heat forked through him and he remembered the night they'd made love. He'd never forget that night as long as he lived--the intimacy, the closeness, the sheer pleasure.

  Focusing on the pouch, he opened it and shook the contents into his hand. A gold watch. Her father's watch. A lump formed in Jake's throat.

  "Sara, I don't know what to say."

  "You don't have to say anything. I think Mom had a reason for giving that to you."

  He heard the seriousness in Sara's voice and his investigative senses went on alert. More was going on here than a bequest. Sara had come back into his life for some reason. "Why did she give it to me?"

  He watched Sara's breasts rise and fall as she took a deep breath. "I've been living in Wasco, Jake. When Mom died, I wasn't with her. It was a heart attack, out of the blue..." Her words faded and she blinked away emotion.

  He wanted to comfort her, but he knew better and stayed put. "Sara?"

  She regained her composure. "When Mom died, I had to rethink decisions I'd made. Decisions that involved you."

  He cocked his head and listened intently, to hear what she wasn't saying. "Go on."

  "I felt it was best at the time. I thought-- Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. The last four years I've been doubting my decision. Since Mom died, I realized I was wrong and you need to know."

  "What do I need to know?" He asked the question slowly, expecting a shock, trying to prepare himself for whatever was coming.

  "You have a son. I was pregnant the night I called off the wedding."

  The buzz of a lawn mower penetrated the windows. The space between him and Sara vibrated with his shock and something much stronger than came from his gut and surged through his bloodstream.

  Sara's hands fluttered. "I couldn't tell you. I didn't want you to marry me for that reason, not when you didn't want children. I couldn't see any other way to go."

  He could hardly contain his anger, his sense of betrayal, and he felt like a volcano ready to blow. "You could have told me the truth!"

  "No, I couldn't have. Because you would have done the honorable thing despite the way you felt, and that would have been wrong for both of us."

  He'd never imagined Sara could lie or deceive. He'd trusted her and this was how she'd repaid that trust. Anger rushed through him, vibrating in his quick response. "So you did the dishonorable thing. You lied," he added, his voice sharp and meant to cut through her.

  "I didn't lie. I told you I wanted children. I wanted this baby. I never could have given him up for adoption or--"

  Jake leaned forward, his arms braced on his knees, his breathing fast, his heart pounding. "Don't say it. I can't believe you believed I'd want you to do either. Not after what we shared." He remembered her telling him she loved him. He remembered loving her.

  Her voice quivered. "You didn't want children!"

  He straightened and tried to rein in his reaction so he could think clearly, so he could get the information he needed. "No, I didn't. But once you found out you were pregnant, I had a right to know. What's his name?"

  "Christopher," she said quietly.

  Pictures of Davie flashed in Jake's mind. Every one of them hurt to see. "Where is he?"

  "Right now he's with Aunt Eloise…at her house. We'll be staying with her as I empty this one."

  "I want to see him. Now." He was prepared for any argument she might give to keep him away from his son.

  To his surprise, she didn't argue. Rather she said, "I would have brought him with me but I didn't know if you'd have to think about this--"

  "There's nothing to think about." He stood. "Let's go. I remember where your aunt lives. I'll follow you." He wouldn't let Sara out of his sight until he saw his son. And then... One step at a time.

  Sara felt shaken to her core as she locked the door and they went to their cars. She wished she could say something to cut the tension between them, to diffuse Jake's anger. But she realized she had to let it wear off…she had to be patient. And she would be patient as long as it took. Because she still loved this man.

  She always would.

  When she pulled into the driveway of her aunt's house, she took a few deep breaths. She had no idea what Jake's reaction would be when he saw his son, but she'd soon find out. She didn't wait for Jake but went to the door, opened it, and called to her aunt. "I'm back."

  "In the kitchen," her aunt responded. "Cookie time."

  Jake's car screeched to a stop in front of the house. He ran up to the porch and came in behind her.

  "Christopher's in the kitchen with Aunt El."

  Jake grasped Sara's arm. "Does he know?"

  "What?"

  "Will he know I'm his father?"

  "No. I haven't talked to him about it yet because I wasn't sure what you'd want to do."

  He released her, but the heat from his skin remained. "Introduce me as his father. That's what I am. That's what I'll always be."

  Lord, she wished she had a child psychologist at her elbow. She supposed the best thing to do was to be honest with her son in the simplest way possible. "Give me a few minutes to explain to him."

  Jake searched her face, his eyes probing, anger still in evidence. "That's probably best for him. I'll wait here."

  Sara breathed a sigh of relief and went to the kitchen. Her Aunt Eloise stood at the counter mixing a meat loaf. "I saw Jake get out of his car."

  "As soon as I told him, he insisted on coming over."

  Eloise smiled. "Good."

  Christopher was eating a cookie. Sara crossed to him and sat beside him. "Hi, honey. How was your morning?"

  He took another bite of the cookie. "Okay."

  "I need to talk to you about something."

  Christopher kept munching.

  "Remember when you asked me if you had a daddy, I said you did but he lived somewhere else?"

  Her son nodded.

  "What would you think about meeting your dad?"

  Christopher's eyes brightened and he smiled. "A daddy like Patti's?"

  Patti was one of Christopher's friends from day care. Her father had picked her up every day. "He's your dad so he wouldn't be exactly like Patti's. He's is the living room. Should I get him?"

  Christopher nodded and put the cookie on the table.

  Sara returned to the living room and saw Jake pacing back and forth. "He's looking forward to meeting you." It sounded so formal. But what else could she say? She didn't know what was going to happen any more than Jake did as he followed her to the kitchen.

  "Hello, Jake," Eloise said simply. Her aunt had invited her and Jake to dinner a few times when they were engaged.

  Jake nodded, but his attention was all on his son.

  Sara went over to her three-year-old, who was still munching on his cookie. She laid her hand on top of his head and ruffled his black hair. "Honey, this is your daddy."

  Her son looked up at her with wide brown eyes. Sara swallowed hard. "Jake, this is Christopher."

  Jake approached slowly, as if he couldn't believe the three-year-old in front of his eyes. The lines deepened around his mouth and his quick intake of breath told her he was remembering another little bo
y, another son. The pain on his face was almost more than she could stand. Would seeing Christopher always bring him pain? How would that pain affect his relationship with Christopher and with her?

  Jake crouched down beside his son and glanced at the pile of crumbs in front of him. "I guess you like chocolate chip cookies."

  "Mommy's an' Auntie El's."

  "I know your mommy can make a great chocolate chip cookie. How many have you had?"

  Christopher looked up at Sara then leaned closer to Jake and held up three fingers. "I eat two."

  Jake smiled.

  Christopher took a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table and offered it to Jake. "Want one?"

  Jake's smile faded as he took the cookie and stood, leaning against the table as he took a bite. From experience, Sara knew he was reining in emotions, thinking, letting logic decide his next step.

  Finally he said to Christopher, "Maybe you and I could go outside and take a walk in the back yard. What do you think?"

  Christopher looked up at Sara. Trying to protect her son but wanting to give Jake every opening she could, she asked Christopher, "Do you want to?"

  Her son examined Jake from his six-one stature, over his face, to his sneakers. "Okay." Checking with his mother again, he asked, "Is he a stranger?"

  Sara glanced at Jake--the curling black hair at his throat where two buttons stood open, his taut stomach, his long legs and tanned arms, and she took another deep breath. "No, he's not a stranger." She and her son had talked many times about not playing or speaking with people he didn't know unless she was there. Daddy or not, he didn't know Jake.

  Jake's gaze met hers briefly. She felt the shock of it to her toes, anger mixed with anguish, and accusation. Taking a towel from the handle of the oven, she wiped her son's mouth and hands, then brushed her hand across his hair once more. "Maybe you can show your daddy the pretty rocks you found."

  Christopher jumped from his chair and went to the door. "See rocks?"

  Jake followed his son. "Sure."

  Christopher chattered about where he'd found his treasures, his voice fading as they walked down the yard.

  Eloise put her arm around her niece's shoulders. "It'll work out, dear. You'll see."