Fugitive Father

by Carla Cassidy

  Lindy shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I just know.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know who with...but I know he doesn’t love me anymore. He’s tired of me, of my craziness.”

  “You aren’t crazy,” Sarah scoffed. However, she wondered if what Lindy said about Ben was true, or if it was merely her sister’s depression talking. “When do you expect Ben home?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. He’s handling some big divorce case in Kansas City.”

  “Does he know about Mama?” Sarah asked.

  “I had the phone number where he’s staying and I looked everywhere for it last night, but I couldn’t find it.” Lindy sighed. “He’ll probably call tonight. You’ll tell him, won’t you? I can’t.” Lindy stood up. “In fact, I think I’ll go up and take a nap. I’m tired...really tired.”

  Sarah wanted to protest. She knew Lindy was on a downward plunge, descending into the blackness of one of her depressions. But she didn’t know what to do to stop the progression, and Lindy did look exhausted. “Okay. While you nap, I think I’ll head into town and take care of things for the funeral.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Lindy said, then moving like an old woman, she went up the stairs and disappeared into her bedroom.

  When she was gone, Sarah got up and walked over to the living room window. She’d always loved the view from here. There was nothing but nature as far as the eye could see. Huge oak and maple trees dotted the landscape, reaching out their massive limbs, their colorful autumn leaves whispering into the wind.

  She squinted her eyes, spying the tree—her tree—that had provided hours of solitude when she needed to think. It was an ancient oak with gnarled limbs that created a cradle of sorts in the center.

  She’d have to show Jackie the tree tomorrow. She’d love it. After several trips to the neighborhood park, Sarah had discovered that her daughter was a natural-born tree climber. She was long-legged and agile as a monkey.

  Sarah turned and looked at her daughter. She needed to go into town and make the arrangements with the funeral home, but she didn’t know what to do with Jackie.

  What difference would it make if Reese saw her or not? a caustic inner voice asked. He’d know at first sight she was his—she was a feminine replica of him. But it wouldn’t make any difference. She and Jackie wouldn’t be in town long enough for Jackie to know that Reese was her father and didn’t want anything to do with her. And that was why there was now absolutely no way in hell she could ever come home again. She wouldn’t let Jackie feel the pain of Reese’s rejection.

  But she wasn’t willing to spend the next couple of days hiding Jackie away like some horrible, embarrassing secret.

  Initially, with Reese’s baby inside her, she’d been scared to death with thoughts of responsibility and the future. She’d considered all the options to the pregnancy but couldn’t follow through on any of them. In truth, she’d wanted the baby...Reese’s baby.

  Finally, early on a Wednesday morning after fifteen hours of labor Jackie had been born. The doctor had placed the baby at Sarah’s breast, and as those new eyes had gazed into hers, she’d felt the bond, the eternal connection that would make her walk through fire, face any obstacle to keep her daughter safe and loved.

  Yes, she loved Jackie, wanted her to see her roots, the town where her mother had grown up. And because of her love for Jackie, she would make certain the child never had anything to do with her father.

  “Mommy, are we there?” Jackie sat up and rubbed her eyes as if pulled from her sleep by her mother’s reverie.

  “Yes, honey, we’re here.” Sarah sat down next to her daughter.

  “Where’s Aunt Lindy and Uncle Ben?” For so long, all of Jackie’s contact with family had been by phone. Sarah wasn’t surprised that she was anxious to actually meet the only family she had.

  “Uncle Ben is out of town for a little while and Aunt Lindy is taking a nap,” Sarah explained.

  Jackie’s eyes widened. “Aunt Lindy takes a nap just like me?” she asked incredulously.

  “Just like you.” Sarah laughed and touched the end of Jackie’s nose. “How would you like to go into town and eat lunch at the café?”

  “Can I get a grilled cheese?” Grilled cheese was one of Jackie’s favorite foods and she ate it whenever possible.

  “I’m sure they can handle that,” Sarah assured her.

  Fifteen minutes later, Sarah and Jackie were back on the road again, heading the five miles into the small town of Clay Creek. As they traveled, Sarah pointed out different places of interest to Jackie—the barn where she and her friends had played in the hayloft as kids, the creek where she caught her first fish, the pasture where they often played impromptu games of baseball. She didn’t point to the blackberry bushes where her mother used to take Lindy and Sarah to pick berries for jelly, and she didn’t point out Miller’s pond, where she and Reese had parked so often...where Jackie had probably been conceived. At the moment, those places brought with them too much pain.

  As they entered the town and drove down Main Street, Sarah felt a sense of satisfaction that it was all almost exactly as she remembered it. As she pulled into a parking space in front of the Good Morning Café, for the first time since arriving in Clay Creek, she felt a welcomed warmth seep through her. She’d spent many happy hours here in the café.

  As she and Jackie entered the restaurant, she was instantly assailed by sounds and scents that evoked bittersweet nostalgia.

  “Well, bless my soul,” a familiar voice cracked with emotion. “If it’s not my girl finally come home.”

  Before Sarah could respond, she found herself in Anna’s embrace. The old woman smelled of cinnamon and fried potatoes...and love. “I’m sorry about your mama, honey.”

  Sarah nodded and clung to her, her heart swelling with love for the woman who’d been like a second mother to her. For a moment, regret stirred inside Sarah. She should have stayed in touch with Anna over the years. Sarah had been so heartbroken, first in leaving Clay Creek, then so caught up in the mere act of surviving as a single parent in New York City. She’d also instinctively known that thoughts of Anna would always bring with them painful memories of Reese, and ultimately that’s what had made Sarah not stay in touch with the old woman.

  “Let me take a good look at you.” Anna held her at arm’s length and Sarah saw that the old woman’s gaze was as keen as ever. “Ah, Sarah, you were always a looker, but you’ve only managed to get prettier.”

  Sarah blushed and Anna smothered her in another hug. “Anna, there’s somebody with me I’d like you to meet.” Sarah turned around and placed her hands on Jackie’s shoulders, pulling the little girl from behind her. “Anna, this is my daughter, Jackie.”

  Sarah saw the shock that swept over Anna’s face—shock followed by instantaneous recognition. “Well, blow me over,” she whispered softly. She dabbed at her eyes, then crouched down to look at Jackie. “Hi, sweetie. I’ll bet you’re a chocolate milk drinker.”

  “It’s my favorite,” Jackie agreed shyly.

  “Let’s get you two a booth and see if we can’t rustle up some chocolate milk for this little sugarplum.” As Anna led them to a booth in the back, Sarah could feel the questions bubbling inside the old woman, questions she knew sooner or later she would have to answer. But at the moment all she wanted to do was enjoy some of Anna’s home cooking and eat a pleasant lunch in the familiar surroundings.

  They placed their orders, then Anna slid into the seat next to Jackie and grabbed Sarah’s hands across the table. “So tell me, how are you getting along in that godforsaken city of New York?”

  “Okay. We get by.”

  “I suppose you’ve got some fancy dancy city man who keeps you jumping.”

  Sarah laughed. “No, no man. Just Jackie and me.”

  “Mommy and me are best buddies,” Jackie quipped.

  “I’ll bet you are, sweetie.” Anna gave the girl a quick hug. “You know, your mama used to come in here all the
time, and she loved chocolate milk, too.”

  “She did?” Jackie looked at her mother as if trying to imagine her young. She giggled.

  “She even worked for me when she was in high school. She was the best waitress I ever had.”

  “That’s what Mommy does in New York,” Jackie said. “Sometimes she lets me come to work with her and I get to eat anything I want.”

  “Yes, but waitressing here and in New York City are two very different experiences.” Sarah smiled, remembering those days and nights of working in the café. She’d hurry here directly from school, eager for the tips that would line her pocket. She wasn’t sure what she was saving for, but she had a nice nest egg started and knew eventually she’d be able to buy something wonderful.

  Around nine o’clock Reese would come in to pick her up after work. He always showed up early and would sit at a booth in the back, his gaze hot and hungry as it followed her. And she would try to hurry out the last of the customers, anxious to be in his arms. God, it had been the one period in her life when she’d suffered a severe case of temporary insanity. She’d thought she could be enough for Reese, thought she could make him whole. God, she’d been a foolish child living in a world of dreams.

  “There’s your orders. I’ll be right back.” Anna jumped up and went to the counter.

  “I like her. She’s nice,” Jackie observed as Anna left.

  Sarah smiled. “Yes, she’s very nice.”

  Anna returned moments later with Jackie’s grilled cheese and milk and Sarah’s meat loaf special and iced tea.

  “Oh, Anna, nobody cooks like you. I think I missed your meat loaf as much as anything,” Sarah said a moment later as she tasted her meal.

  “If you moved back here you could have my meat loaf every day.”

  Wistfulness welled up in Sarah’s chest, pressing hard against her heart. “No, I can’t come back here. The price is much too high.” Her gaze lingered on her daughter, who’d quickly polished off most of her sandwich and milk and now had a frothy chocolate mustache on her upper lip. “Use your napkin, honey. You have a mustache.”

  “I do?” Jackie peered into the shiny chrome surface of the napkin holder and giggled at her distorted reflection. “Can I have a quarter?” she asked, gazing longingly at the jukebox in the corner.

  “Okay, just one.” Sarah dug into her purse and handed her daughter the coin, then watched as Jackie scampered to the jukebox, where she couldn’t read many of the song titles but knew her favorites on sight.

  “She’s the spittin’ image of—”

  “I know.” Sarah cut Anna off before she could say his name. She didn’t want his name mentioned aloud.

  “Well, she sure explains why you hightailed it out of here years ago without a word to anyone.”

  Sarah shrugged. “At the time it seemed the only answer. I knew I couldn’t stay here and see him every day. I knew he’d somehow feel like he had to marry me and he’d grow to hate me. Mama made the arrangements and I lived with my Aunt Karen for a couple years, then finally got a place of my own.”

  “Have you seen him yet?” Anna asked.

  Sarah nodded, knowing immediately who she meant. “He came out to the farm earlier. He wanted to talk with Lindy, but she’s in no shape to talk to anyone.”

  “Then you know he’s the sheriff now.”

  Sarah laughed, a harsh sound that rang hollowly in her own ears. “What a surprise. The boy everyone thought most likely to end up in the state pen is now protecting the good folks of Clay Creek.”

  “He’s good at his job.”

  Sarah laughed again. “He would be. Who else knows the mind of a criminal better than a man who spent most of his life as a juvenile delinquent?”

  “He’s changed, Sarah,” Anna said softly.

  Sarah held up a hand. “Please, spare me the details. I’m not interested. I don’t need him and neither does Jackie.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe he might need you two?” Anna’s eyebrows danced upward.

  “That’ll be a cold day in hell,” Sarah exclaimed. She shoved her plate away, the topic of conversation effectively killing her appetite. “The day that man needs anyone is the day I need two heads.”

  “Has he seen Jackie yet?”

  “No, she was napping when he stopped by earlier.”

  “Well, grab a head and pull up a couple of hats—you’re about to be part of a family reunion of the first kind.” Anna gestured toward the door, where Reese had just walked in.

  He smiled at Anna, nodded curtly to Sarah, then slid onto a stool at the counter.

  He seemed to fill the entire place with his presence.

  Sarah looked over to where Jackie still stood at the jukebox. Her heart suddenly felt too big for her chest. Her head pounded with an unnatural rhythm. Even though she’d known instinctively when he’d stepped out of the patrol car earlier in the day that this moment was inevitable, she had a sudden desire to scoop Jackie up in her arms and run for the door...before he realized she was his...before she saw that it didn’t matter to him, that he didn’t care.

  Everything had gone into slow motion. Each and every sound in the café was magnified as Sarah waited for her own personal moment of reckoning.

  She heard the clink of silverware from a nearby table, the distant sizzling sound of meat hitting a hot grill, the squeak of Reese’s stool as he swiveled around at the same moment that Jackie turned away from the jukebox.

  “Mommy, they’ve got lots of good songs. Can I have another quarter?” Her voice seemed to echo as she came running back to the table, her eyes—the same shade as her father’s—glittering with excitement.

  “Okay,” Sarah said, digging into the bottom of her purse, studiously keeping her gaze away from Reese. She gave Jackie another quarter, then watched as the little girl ran back to the jukebox. Only then did Sarah slowly turn to Reese.

  Her gaze met his and she realized the tempest was back. His eyes flamed with the fires of hell. Shock. Anger. It was all there, then swiftly doused and gone, leaving behind only a chilling emptiness.

  He stood, his gaze never leaving hers, and for a moment Sarah felt as if the entire café had vanished around them, leaving the two of them completely alone, isolated from the rest of the world.

  He stood for an eternity and Sarah waited, knowing somehow this was a moment she’d dreaded for a very long time. Then, without saying a word, he turned his back on her and walked directly out the door.

  The slam of the door echoed the slamming of a chamber in Sarah’s heart, one she hadn’t even realized was still open.

  “You okay?” Anna asked softly, her eyes bright with sympathy.

  Sarah nodded. Even though she had expected his reaction, the hurt still surprised her. Knowing she’d been right all those years ago didn’t stifle the sudden sob that choked at the back of her throat. She raised her hand to her throat. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of Anna, not in front of Jackie. She drew in a deep breath, trying to control her emotions.

  Making the painful decision to leave town and never return six years ago had definitely been the right choice. She wouldn’t raise Jackie in a town where her father lived, where she would eventually grow old enough to realize he didn’t want her.

  As music filled the air and Jackie ran back toward the table, Sarah was grateful that the little girl would never know that her father had just turned his back on her and walked away.

  And that’s exactly what Sarah had expected. What she hadn’t expected was that, after all this time, it would still hurt so much.

  Chapter 3

  It was too nice a day for a funeral, Sarah thought as she stood at her mother’s grave site. Somehow it would have felt more appropriate if the sky had wept rain or the wind had blown with death’s cold breath.

  However, the sun was brilliant, using the last of its fall rays to warm the mourners gathered at the Clay Creek Cemetery. Overhead in the boughs of a huge oak, a bird chirped a cheery song, as if unaware of
the human drama being played out beneath the tree.

  A huge crowd of people had gathered to say their last goodbyes to Margaret Calhoun. Sarah wasn’t surprised. Margaret had been well liked, and besides, funerals were always social events in the small town. It was an opportunity for neighbors to visit, offer comfort and be grateful it wasn’t one of their own being buried.

  As Reverend Creighton droned on, Sarah looked around her, desperately seeking any diversion from the grief that swelled oppressively inside her. She noted the changes that had occurred in the people from her youth. The young had matured with the passing of years, and the old had become ancient.

  Mrs. Wilton, the woman who’d manned the post office for as long as Sarah could remember, was now in a wheelchair, her left side paralyzed by a recent stroke. Mike Johnson, the little boy she had occasionally baby-sat, stood tall and proud, wearing a high school letter jacket bedecked with football medals.

  She also recognized Suzanna Wilcox. She’d gone to school with the buxom blonde, although Suzanna had been two years ahead of Sarah. And if she remembered correctly, Suzanna had once had an enormous crush on Reese—as had most of the girls in town. She frowned as she remembered Lindy telling her that Suzanna and Reese were dating. She wondered if Suzanna knew that getting a commitment from Reese was like wringing water from the desert. Impossible.

  Reese...he’d arrived in the patrol car moments before and had taken a position at the back of the crowd opposite where Sarah stood. She shook her head, not wanting to look at him, not even wanting to think about him. She hadn’t seen him since the day before, when he’d stomped out of the café without a backward glance. Bitterness welled up inside her as she thought of him and the way he had run out the door, as if running away from her and the reality of his daughter.

  She swallowed hard and looked over to where Lindy leaned weakly against her husband, her eyes red and swollen with the tears that seemed to come from a bottomless well.