His Daddy's Eyes

by Debra Salonen

  Ren reached out and cupped her jaw in his palm. “I mean forever, long-after-Brady-is-grown-and-gone love. Just you and me, Sara. The whole nine yards, as Bo would say.”

  She squeezed her eyes tight and moved back. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Ren, I love you, too, but I can’t make love to you.”

  Ren’s heart soared, then crashed. “Why not?”

  She wouldn’t look at him. “I couldn’t stand to see the look of disappointment on your face.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ren asked, although deep inside he knew.

  “I could never live up to my sister’s image. Even when she was alive, I barely fit in her shadow. You’ve had two years to build and shape your memories of a sexual goddess, and trust me, I’m not like that. I don’t even know how to pretend to be like that.”

  Her confession ripped his heart out. Moving very cautiously, he slid along the gazebo seat until he was beside her. He wiped a tear that seemed poised to drop to her cheek. “I kissed you once, remember?” She nodded. “At the time I thought it was a mistake. I thought it would complicate things between us.” He lowered his head and kissed her cheek, the corner of her eye, the bridge of her nose. “Maybe my mistake was in stopping.”

  She tilted her head to meet his lips.

  SARA CLOSED HER EYES and slipped into the magical world Ren provided. His lips were warm and sweet, a hypnotic blend, gentle and demanding. When his tongue entered her mouth, a spike of passion ripped through her midsection. On their own, her arms went around his shoulders.

  Ren gently pushed her knees away so he could move closer. Without the impediment he pulled her to him; her bosom flattened against his chest. Sara wondered if he could feel her heart pounding. He slipped his hand beneath her top and made room between them to cup her breast. The warmth of his touch spread to every part of her body.

  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Sara, you have beauty so rare, so perfect, no one can compare to you. You said yourself, sex without love doesn’t really count, whether it’s good sex or bad sex—it’s only sex.”

  He’s right. Sara realized in that instant Ren wouldn’t be thinking of Julia when he made love with her.

  She smiled. “Should we go to my room? Or yours?”

  His grin made her heart flip. “How ’bout the Hyatt?”

  “Do they have baby-sitters?” The word barely left her lips before she pushed him back and jumped to her feet. “Oh, my God! I forgot about Brady.”

  “Hell!” Ren exclaimed. “So did I. Go get your purse. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  Like an Indy driver, Ren raced to the house where two harried mothers were waiting patiently at the door for parents to show up and claim their children. Ren apologized profusely, while Sara rounded up a very wired Brady.

  In the car, they shared simultaneous sighs, then looked at each other, grinning. Sara couldn’t name a time when her heart had felt more filled with joy.

  “We’re postponed till tonight, right?” he asked, reaching out to claim her hand.

  “What about Claudie’s party?”

  “After the party.” He smiled at her with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Don’t worry—I promise I won’t ask you to skip dessert.”

  She brought his hand to her cheek. Just the scent of his skin made her heart happy. “I read something once about strategically placed whipped cream,” she teased. “Maybe we could make our own dessert.”

  His low groan made her laugh.

  “Did we decide where?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Brady.

  Sara thought a moment, picturing the kind of love that belonged in a home filled with family, children and friends. “Your room.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “SO? WHAT DO YOU THINK’S going on?” Bo asked Claudie once they were sitting beneath the shade of the gazebo. “Is this little celebration tonight going to involve more than your personal achievement? Maybe we’re going to see a little high-scoring by Judge Bishop, too, huh?”

  He’d recognized a change in Sara the minute he walked in the bookstore to pick her up. His gut instinct told him it was good, but he didn’t ask, choosing instead to observe.

  “I don’t know,” Claudie said. She wore a simple, canary-yellow linen dress that gave her a young Audrey Hepburn look. “They both seem a little weird. Ren was humming when he carried out the garbage. When I asked him what was going down, he hugged me.” She frowned. “What about Sara? What’d she say on the way home?”

  “She said they had a long talk.” He snickered. “I think perhaps there was less talk and more touch.”

  Claudie’s eyes opened wide. “Seriously? It’s about time.”

  “Ren and I did a little golfing this morning, and, I told him to shit or get off the pot.”

  Claudie made a gagging sound. “That’s romantic.”

  “Humph. It worked. When I called him at noon, he said things were clicking. I got the impression progress had been made.”

  Claudie looked skeptical. “I hope so. For a while there, I was afraid I was going to have to be the one to kick him in the butt.” She crossed her legs.

  Bo noticed, as he had on several occasions, the shapely quality of her limbs. Claudie and Bo had spent a lot of time together thanks to Brady. This wasn’t the first time Bo regretted an obvious lack of interest on her part—a friendly camaraderie seemed to be the extent of their relationship.

  “Do you think he’ll propose?”

  Bo pictured the look on Sara’s face when he’d entered the store. She’d been wearing a denim skirt and a T-shirt with the slogan I Read For The Love Of It. Bo thought she looked as radiant as an angel atop a Christmas tree. But when he mentioned the sale of her house and the changes it would bring, some of that glow had dimmed. “Maybe, but I think whatever’s going down is still in the early stage.”

  Claudie frowned. “I don’t know. It’s been like a pot ready to boil around here lately. So I wish he’d hurry up. Maybe even tonight.”

  “Nah. Ren likes to take things slow and conservative.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Bo couldn’t resist the challenge in her eyes. “You’re on.” He looked at her sternly. “But there’s one condition. No interference. Tonight we’re just out celebrating your scholastic triumph—no match-making, okay?” he said. “If it’s the real thing, it’ll happen on its own.”

  Claudie stared at him a moment, then threw her head and laughed. “God, Lester, that sounded positively poetic. You’d better be careful or someone might mistake you for a real human being instead of a redneck hillbilly.”

  He gave her his most ferocious squint. “How’d you like to wear that pretty little dress swimming?”

  With a shriek of fake terror she bolted from the gazebo. Smiling, Bo followed.

  SARA HAD JUST PUT the finishing touches on her eye makeup, when she heard the sound of the doorbell. “Can somebody get that?” she hollered.

  “I’m still working on Brady,” Ren called back, followed by a high-pitched shriek and Ren’s muffled “Come back here, you little sneak.”

  Sara had returned home from the store to find Ren up to his elbows in bubble bath, trying to wash Brady’s hair. So sweet was the image that she’d watched in silence longer than she was able to afford to do. Then, realizing she was running late, she’d grabbed her clothes and dashed to Ren’s bathroom. Although pressed for time, Ren’s big marble shower evoked an exhilarating fantasy—just the scent of his soap was enough to make her wish the festivities were already over.

  Would they make love tonight? Sara was pretty sure the answer was yes, and the thought made her jittery with anticipation, queasy with apprehension. She had no idea how she was going to get through dinner. It had been tough enough dodging Bo’s and Claudie’s questions earlier.

  “What am I—an open book?” she’d asked aloud after Claudie’s barrage of questions that afternoon. Julia had always said Sara was too easy to read. “You give away all your secrets
every time you smile,” she’d once said. Sara feared that was true. Somehow she’d managed to keep her feelings about Ren a secret, but it had been difficult.

  All that’s changed now, Sara thought as she started down the hallway. Ren and I are going to be together. A nagging voice reminded her that she didn’t know exactly what that meant—but he had used the L word. She was almost to Brady’s door, when a flash of movement made her pause.

  Shrieking with delight, a naked Brady dodged Ren’s outstretched hands. “Come back here, you little streaker. I could put you in jail for indecent exposure,” Ren teased.

  The doorbell chimed again, making Sara tear her eyes from the scene. He said he loves me, she thought, slowly descending each step. God, what if it’s true? What if he meant it—really meant it? Could we make a family here in this beautiful home? Maybe give Brady a baby brother or sister someday?

  Her speculation ended the moment the front door opened and a familiar head popped into sight. “Is anybody home?” Babe Bishop asked, stepping into the foyer.

  Sara gulped. Even dressed in a wonderful black Yves Saint Laurent sheath—her splurge at the consignment shop down the block from the bookstore—Sara felt inferior. To her amazement, today Babe wore sporty knee-length shorts and a loose top in a post-holiday red, white and blue pattern. Sara had never seen her dressed so casually.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Bishop. Ren’s upstairs with Brady, and I just finished getting ready,” Sara said, closing the door behind her. Babe’s expensive-smelling perfume reminded Sara she’d forgotten to put on cologne. “Come in. We really appreciate your helping out like this.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Sara looked at Babe more closely. For some reason the older woman seemed subdued, a little sad even. “Are you all right? Are you sure this isn’t too big an imposition?”

  Babe straightened haughtily. “I managed to survive Lawrence, I’m sure I can handle Brady.”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t. I just thought you seem a bit…down.”

  Babe stepped back as though the observation had somehow undermined her control. Her chin rose in a standard Babe Bishop gesture, but her gaze went to the top of the stairs. Sara looked, too. No one was there. All she could see was the collage of family photos.

  In a halting voice, Babe said, “Today’s the anniversary of my daughter’s death.”

  Sara’s heart sunk. Ren hadn’t mentioned that fact. He rarely spoke of his sister, and Sara had never pressed for details of the accident.

  “Oh, no,” Sara cried. “I’m so sorry. We’ll cancel. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Nonsense. It was almost forty years ago. I sometimes feel a little blue, but it’ll pass. I’m fine.”

  Sara took a step back. “Would you care for a glass of wine?” she asked, wishing Ren would appear.

  “Yes. Chardonnay, please. Lawrence usually keeps a bottle chilled for me.”

  “I think there’s some in the refrigerator,” Sara said. She walked toward the kitchen, conscious of Babe following her.

  They were halfway through the dining room, when Sara heard Babe gasp. She looked over her shoulder and saw Babe standing frozen in the middle of the room, looking around in shock. Ren had hired the same contractor who’d made the repairs on Sara’s house to renovate his dining room. A crew had begun stripping the walls and cabinets on Monday. The chandelier was gone—six black holes for the new recessed can fixtures made the ceiling resemble a domino. Babe’s table and chairs were stored in the garage.

  “Didn’t Ren tell you he was remodeling?” Sara asked gently.

  “He might have mentioned it, but I didn’t think…” Babe walked to the wall where the windows, now relieved of their heavy venetian blinds, displayed a panoramic view of the backyard. She ran her fingers over one of the few strips of embossed wallpaper that remained. At its edge was a remnant of an earlier wall covering—pale blue, the color of a summer sky. “This was Sunny’s favorite room. She would come home after school and do her homework at the dining room table.”

  Babe looked out the window. “We used to have a big concrete birdbath right there—” she said, pointing.

  Sara could almost picture it nestled among the thick ferns and philodendrons.

  “She loved to watch the birds play and splash,” Babe went on. “She was such an animal person. I always imagined she’d grow up to be a veterinarian.” A bemused look crossed her face. “I wonder what ever became of that fountain.”

  Sara had no answer. Her heart ached for the loss Babe Bishop had endured. Quietly she slipped into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. Hurrying back, she handed the glass to Babe, as if her offering might in some way ease the pain. Ren’s mother accepted it without looking at Sara, her attention focused on Bo and Claudie, who were walking across the lawn from the direction of the gazebo. They were obviously laughing and joking with each other.

  “She’s come a long way toward changing her life, hasn’t she?” Babe asked.

  “Some might say a quantum leap,” Sara said. “I had good news from my friend Keneesha, too. She’s back in Georgia.” Keneesha’s e-mail message yesterday said her health was stable and she’d reconciled with her son, who was teaching her how to work the computer. Sara couldn’t have been happier for her.

  “Nobody chooses the low road,” Sara said quietly. “Sometimes you just find yourself there.”

  Babe turned to look at her.

  “When you get off-track, you sometimes need a helping hand to get back on course.” Screwing up her courage, she said to Babe, “After you showed me that picture of Julia, I spent a lot of time thinking about why she would have done that—it wasn’t like her at all. You have to understand,” Sara continued forcefully, “Julia was a very private person. With good reason. When she was twelve, our mother’s boyfriend tried to molest her. He’d been living with us for over a year, and he was very sneaky about ‘accidentally’ catching Julia in her underwear, leaving pornography around for her to see, and touching her even though she tried to avoid him—” Her voice cracked. “Anyway, the point is, Julia never would have posed for that picture without a very compelling reason.”

  Babe remained silent.

  Taking a deep breath to regain her composure, Sara said, “I think she did it to help me.”

  “How do you mean?” Babe asked.

  Sara knew what she was about to say would probably drop her even lower in Babe’s opinion, but she didn’t care. “My mother died shortly after I graduated from high school. She was only forty-nine.”

  Sara sighed, trying to picture herself at the time—barely eighteen, scared spitless and all alone, except for Julia. “I was working at the bookstore but I didn’t feel as though my life was going anywhere. Julia was dating a guy who was stationed at Travis—he made the Air Force sound exciting and glamorous. So one day I enlisted.”

  Babe didn’t show any sign of surprise, so Sara guessed this part of her history had shown up on her background check. “At first it felt like I could make a life for myself in the military—the structure was something I’d always craved. But I was young and naive, and I made a couple of bad choices. I might have gone to jail if Julia hadn’t come to my rescue. She hired a lawyer to defend me.”

  “I thought the Air Force had to provide you with a lawyer,” Babe said.

  “They did, but Julia said that wasn’t good enough. She wanted the best person money could buy. She wired me the money to pay him—he wasn’t cheap. She never told me where the money came from, but I think I’ve now figured it out.” Sara bit down on her lip.

  In the kitchen, Bo and Claudie’s banter seeped from the backyard through the door. Babe took a sip of wine, then cocked her head as if in thought. “Lawrence has always picked up strays. One Christmas I bought him a purebred puppy—a Cardigan Welsh corgi. I wrapped up a photograph of the breed because the dog was too young to leave its mother—but do you know what Lawrence did?”

  Sara shook her head even though Ba
be didn’t seem to be addressing her directly.

  “He said, ‘Thank you, Mother,’ then ran to the garage where he’d been hiding the most ragtag looking mutt on the face of the earth. He told me that since I was willing to let him have a puppy, he’d prefer the one he’d found, instead.”

  Momentarily, her smile seemed tinged with pride, but when she looked back at Sara, Babe’s face was blank. A loud crash in the adjoining room made her flinch. “Bo is another example.”

  “I suppose you think Brady and I are, as well,” Sara said softly.

  Babe sighed heavily. “I have nothing against you, Sara. I think you’ve done a fine job with Brady—he’s a delight. But Lawrence has a promising future in politics ahead of him. Thanks to a few high-profile cases, he’s become noticed. There’s been talk of a possible Senate race. A scandal would destroy all that.”

  Nothing more was said, because at that moment Ren walked in carrying Brady, a bright, clean bundle of smiles. “Hello, Mother, I thought I heard your voice.” He looked at Sara, but she felt too exposed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes. Instead, she put on an artificial smile and held out her arms to Brady. He dove for her.

  “Whoa, kiddo, take it easy,” Ren cautioned. “Your mommy looks beautiful. We don’t want to mess with perfection.”

  Sara hugged her son fiercely, inhaling his just-bathed smell. Tears clustered in her eyes. Maybe the best thing she could do for Ren’s future was disappear, but she knew he’d never let Brady go unless the test came back negative—and in her heart, Sara knew that wasn’t likely. These past weeks had confirmed what Sara had feared from the start—Ren and Brady were two peas in a pod, so alike at times that Sara marveled at them.

  Nope, if it came down to doing the honorable thing, she knew it would fall to her to leave.

  She looked up and saw Ren watching her, his brow knit with concern. She took a deep breath and put on a pretend smile. Any serious decisions would have to wait until after Claudie’s celebration.

  REN TOOK A SIP of wine, his gaze following the two women as they headed for the rest room. Peripherally he caught the admiring glances of other men. Two beautiful women. One he admired, the other he loved more than words could express.