Fugitive Father

by Carla Cassidy

  He shut off the whirling red lights as he turned onto the narrow lane that led to the Calhoun house. He couldn’t think of his personal involvement with Sarah right now. At the moment the most important thing he had to do was figure out who, other than himself, might have a reason to want to harm her. Had the shooting merely been an accident or was it something more ominous?

  * * *

  It was more than an hour later that Reese and Sarah finally sat down at the kitchen table, no closer to figuring out who had shot at her than they had been before. Reese had taken a flashlight and examined the area all around the house but had found no spent shells, nothing that would indicate a gun being fired.

  He’d talked to Ben and Lindy. Both had said they’d heard the shots and had looked out the window. When they didn’t see anyone, they’d assumed it was somebody doing target shooting nearby.

  Ben and Lindy had gone back to their room. Sarah had taken a pain pill, made a pot of coffee, then put Jackie to bed. She now wrapped her hands around the mug in front of her, noticing how quiet the house was around them.

  It was a comfortable silence, broken only by the noises that belonged—the hum of the refrigerator, the occasional gurgle of the coffeemaker, the audible clicking of the minute hand on the old clock that hung above the stove. They were the sounds of home.

  She sighed, aware of Reese’s scent, the warmth of his body close to hers at the table. She’d hoped he would question her in the car, then leave. She hadn’t counted on the two of them ending up alone in the kitchen, a place where they’d often ended their dates.

  “Maybe I was mistaken,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “Maybe the shots came from another direction. It all happened so fast, and maybe the sound was distorted or something.”

  He nodded. “How’s your head?”

  “Better. The pill took the edge off the pain.”

  He leaned forward across the table. “Sarah...we need to talk.” There was no sign of his anger, though he suddenly looked older than his years. The lines down the sides of his mouth were deeply etched, as was the wrinkle across his forehead.

  “Talk about what?” she asked, even though she knew...knew and dreaded the conversation about to happen. She glanced away from him. She’d dreaded it from the moment she’d come back and realized he was still here and would eventually have to be faced.

  “About us, about the past...about Jackie.” His eyes flared with some indefinable emotion.

  Sarah took a sip of her coffee, wishing the warmth could penetrate through to the sudden chill in her heart. She didn’t want to rehash the past. It was over. She’d made her choices and moved on with her life. ”Reese, what’s done is done. Why go over it all now?”

  He seemed to grow, expand in height and width, as his eyes smoked with the fires of suppressed anger. “Because you owe me at least that much. You owe me an explanation—”

  “I’ve never asked you for anything and I don’t owe you anything,” she retorted, her anger rising to meet his. She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t.

  Despite her anger, despite the deep ache in her heart, she knew all too well the comfort of his arms. Her head pounded and there was a lingering taste of fear in her mouth from having been shot at. She was afraid that if he offered, she’d fall into his arms and lose herself, her sanity, for the second time in her life.

  “Damn it, you should have told me. You should have given me some options.” His voice was low but filled with bitter anger. “You should have stayed. You should have told me you were pregnant. Maybe we could have worked something out.”

  This time she did look at him—hard and cold. “Worked something out? Like you worked it out with that other girl who got pregnant?”

  He frowned. “What girl?”

  “I don’t know...somebody named Amy who was a senior when I was a sophomore. I heard you two dated and she got pregnant and you made her get an abortion.” She shivered and wrapped her hands once again around her mug.

  “Where did you hear a story like that?”

  “Girls talk, especially high school girls.” Sarah could still remember the conversation she’d overheard in the girls’ locker room. At the time it had meant little to her. She wasn’t dating Reese, knew him only by sight. It wasn’t until she found herself pregnant with his child that the conversation had come back to haunt her.

  “Amy Overton was a good friend of mine,” he began, his voice tight with tension. “She lived down the street from me and our fathers were both mean drunks. We spent a lot of time together, commiserating with each other, comforting each other. But I never slept with her. As far as I know, she never had an abortion or a baby.”

  Reese drew a hand through his hair and muttered a curse beneath his breath. “Damn it, Sarah, you know how people are in this town. Somebody locks gazes at the café one night and before morning the stories are circulating that they’re having an affair. Gossip is a fact of life in Clay Creek, and it’s usually worth every penny that’s paid for it.”

  She stared down into her coffee cup, knowing what he said was true. Still, it didn’t matter whether the old rumor was true or not. She’d heard for herself the way Reese felt about having a family. “I almost told you I was pregnant. It was the night we went to Cindy and Bob’s wedding. You remember that night?” She looked back at him.

  He nodded. “So why didn’t you tell me?”

  She hesitated and rubbed the side of her head where the sharp pain had dulled to a blunt throb. “We left the reception early because you were so angry that Cindy was pregnant and had trapped Bob into marrying her.” Reese opened his mouth as if to protest, but Sarah held up a hand to still him. “You ranted and raved and swore that one way or the other you’d get out of Clay Creek before you got trapped here for the rest of your life. You told me how much you hated your own father and how you’d never give a kid the chance to hate you.”

  The memory of his words, each one like a knife cutting into her heart, caused tears to spring unbidden to her eyes. She hurriedly swiped them away and drew in a deep breath. “You didn’t want to be a father, so I made sure you didn’t have to be one. I let you off the hook. You’re free and clear of any responsibility.”

  She stood, the ache in her head magnified. “It’s over, Reese. Over and done. We can’t go back.” She gestured wearily toward the doorway. “And I really need to call it a night. My head hurts and I want to go to bed.”

  He hesitated, his eyes still blazing with anger. He drew a deep breath, then nodded, and she walked with him to the front door.

  He paused in the doorway, his gaze lingering on her face, his expression inscrutable. He reached up and touched the bandage, his touch achingly gentle. Sarah fought the impulse to lean into him. Despite the hurtful past that was between them, despite her fear for Jackie’s emotional well-being, she realized there was still a part of her heart he owned...would always own.

  “It may be done, but it’s not over,” he said softly, his hand moving to capture her chin. “It’s not over between you and me, Sarah. We never really finished what we began.”

  She stepped back, away from his touch. She looked at him without flinching. “Does that mean you’re ready to become a full-time father?”

  His face blanched and his hand fell to his side. Bitterness welled up inside Sarah. “Good night, Reese.” Before he could say anything more, she closed the door and locked it, then leaned wearily against it. The look on his face, his hesitation, had said it all. He might have changed in many ways. He was no longer the hoodlum with the unkempt hair and wild streak, but in the most important way of all, he hadn’t changed a bit. You couldn’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, any more than you could make a father out of a man like Reese Walker.

  * * *

  “Damn it!” The gravel of the driveway crunched beneath his feet as he walked back to his car. Instead of immediately leaving, he leaned against the side of the car and took a couple of deep breaths, fighting against the old demons that rea
red up inside him.

  The whole conversation had disturbed him and still echoed in his head, resounded in the emptiness of his heart. Does that mean you’re ready to become a full-time father? Her question had thrown him. He hadn’t expected it and the unfairness of it railed inside him.

  She’d had five years of being a mother—nine months before that to prepare for becoming one. She’d had time to adjust, time to nurture and learn all about their child. He’d had two days to digest his instant fatherhood, two days in which to try to sift through the warring emotions inside him.

  He tilted his head up and stared at the stars overhead, each one winking as if it knew the secrets to the entire universe. A father. The word itself was still enough to scare the hell out of him.

  Sarah was right about one thing. He’d never wanted kids. He’d never wanted to be a father. The only kind of father Reese knew was the kind that used fists instead of words and hid in the bottom of a bottle of whiskey when the responsibility became too much. With that kind of a role model, what could Reese possibly know about being a good parent?

  But she should have given me a choice, a small voice whispered inside, refusing to let go of the anger. She should have told me, instead of running out on me and taking everything out of my hands.

  “Damn.” The word escaped him with a deep sigh. The bottom line was that Sarah hadn’t wanted him to know he was a father. If not for her mother’s death, he might have never known. She’d made the decision to leave the town she loved, leave her family so that he wouldn’t know. And he understood her reason. She’d obviously suspected what he had known all along. He wasn’t fit to be a father.

  Chapter 5

  Sarah awoke groggy from a deep, dreamless sleep. She heard music playing someplace in the house and smelled the hickory scent of bacon frying. She smiled, imagining her mom clad in one of her many flowered housedresses, standing before the stove watching so the bacon got evenly browned and crispy. Margaret always cooked with the transistor radio playing oldies and her foot would tap in rhythm as she went about her morning work.

  The vision warmed Sarah, filled her with joy before it shattered and fell away, leaving her aching and empty. She opened her eyes, time and reality jarring firmly into place. Her mother wasn’t downstairs cooking breakfast, she was gone forever. Ben must be up, playing the radio as he drank his morning cup of coffee.

  She roused herself out of bed, knowing he would be anxious to get her back to town for her car, then continue his three-hour drive to Kansas City. She went into the bathroom and frowned as she stared at her reflection. She looked horrendous.

  The bandage on the side of her head caused the events of the night before to replay in her mind. The shooting, the trip to the doctor’s office and, finally, the conversation with Reese. That particular conversation was the one thing that stuck in her head.

  She’d seen the changes in Reese, subtle changes that spoke of growth and maturity. There was a new confidence in the set of his shoulders, a pride shining from his dark eyes. He looked like a man who’d finally found himself and liked what he’d found. And yet in the most important area of all, there had been no change. She frowned, thinking of her daughter.

  Jackie had only asked once about her daddy. It had been after her preschool had invited fathers to class for snack time that Jackie had come home and asked if she had a father. Even though Sarah had known eventually the question would come, that sooner or later she’d have to tell Jackie something about Reese, she had been unprepared. She’d handled it badly, telling Jackie about the frailty of human relationships, the inadequacies of love, the responsibilities that some people couldn’t handle, until finally Jackie had said, “Oh,” and with a look of bewilderment had wandered off to play.

  But Sarah knew sooner or later the questions would come again and the next time Jackie wouldn’t be so easy to put off. What was she going to tell her daughter? What could she tell her about the man who was her father?

  She shoved these concerns aside. She had enough to worry about without anticipating further complications in her life. She had an appointment at noon with the family lawyer and she wanted to look over her mother’s books to see exactly how the farm was doing financially.

  She dressed quickly, then worked on brushing her hair, grateful that Doc Burwell had left enough to cover over the unsightly bandage. She checked on Jackie, still sound asleep in the small spare bedroom next to her room, then went downstairs.

  “Good morning,” Lindy greeted her brightly as she entered the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” Sarah replied in surprise. She went to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup, trying to assimilate Lindy’s unexpected appearance and obvious energy. Lindy not only was cooking breakfast but had apparently been up for some time. She was dressed, her hair clean and shining, and she looked more vital, more alive than she had since Sarah had first arrived. “You must be feeling better,” Sarah said.

  “I feel wonderful,” Lindy exclaimed, moving the skillet of popping bacon from the burner. “I woke up just after five and couldn’t stay in bed another minute.” She went to the refrigerator and removed a carton of eggs. “As soon as I opened my eyes this morning, I knew I had to strip off this old wallpaper today.” As she walked back to the stove she tapped a finger on the faded paper that had adorned the kitchen walls for as long as Sarah could remember. “I’ve been after Mama for months to redo this room and now, well, I just knew I had to do it today.”

  Sarah nodded hesitantly, realizing that for the first time she was actually seeing what her mother had related to her by phone—the swift mood shift from depression to mania that marked Lindy’s disease.

  Lindy sat down on the chair across from Sarah and grabbed her hand. “I know I haven’t been much help since you got here and we really haven’t had a chance to catch up with each other’s lives, but I’m better now and everything is going to be terrific.” She frowned sympathetically. “How’s your head?”

  “Okay, just a little sore.”

  Lindy jumped up and headed back to the stove. “How about some breakfast? I make a terrific cheese omelet.”

  “No thanks. I’m not much of a breakfast eater. Besides, I’d better get Jackie up so she can go with us to get the car.”

  “Oh, let her sleep,” Lindy protested. “She was up late last night, wasn’t she?” Sarah nodded and Lindy continued, “Ben’s going to be ready in just a few minutes and you can probably be there and back before she wakes up.” She poured the egg mixture into the skillet.

  At that moment Ben walked into the kitchen. He nodded a greeting to Sarah, then kissed Lindy on the forehead. “Hmm, smells good.”

  “Cheese omelet,” Lindy replied, smiling up at him. “I wanted to send you off with a good breakfast. I know you don’t eat right when you’re on a case—fast food and stale coffee. Speaking of coffee, sit down and I’ll get you a cup.” She paused only a moment for breath, then began describing the wallpaper she wanted to buy for the kitchen.

  She kept up a steady stream of chatter as Ben ate his breakfast. Sarah listened, amazed at Lindy’s boundless energy, the exuberance she displayed as she washed the dishes and put them away.

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Ben said later as he and Sarah headed into town to pick up her car. “She becomes a different person when she’s up.”

  “It’s pretty unbelievable,” Sarah agreed. “Nothing Mama told me quite prepared me for the reality of it. She was so down last night...and seems so high this morning.”

  Ben nodded. “The doctor explained to us that she’s a rapid cycler—her highs and lows sometimes almost collide with each other.”

  “Mama told me she’s on medication to help with the mood swings. Is she still taking it?”

  “Yes, and she’d been doing pretty well until a month or two ago. The medicine doesn’t seem to be working as well.” Ben sighed. “The last couple of months have really been difficult. She’s so unpredictable, at times so irrational.” He glanced at S
arah for a moment. “I love her, Sarah, but it’s been so hard.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead closed his mouth and focused on the road ahead.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, then Ben spoke once again. “It will be good for her to have you around for a couple of days. She’s missed you. In the meantime, while I’m in Kansas City I’m going to make an appointment to speak to her doctor. Maybe it’s time to try another kind of drug.”

  “Why on earth did Mama take her to a doctor in Kansas City to begin with?” Sarah asked. “Couldn’t she find somebody closer to home?”

  Ben shook his head. “She tried to find a doctor closer to Clay Creek, then she heard about Dr. Manning in Kansas City. He was supposed to be an expert in the treatment of manic-depression.” He cracked his window open, allowing the sweet-scented morning air to waft in. “Your mother talked about finding a doctor closer to home, but Lindy seemed to be doing so well with Dr. Manning. She related well to him and until the past couple of months seemed to be thriving.” Ben frowned. “Unfortunately, Dr. Manning does a lot of traveling and lecturing and it’s sometimes difficult to get an appointment when needed.”

  “Do you think Lindy would see somebody else if we could find someone?” Sarah asked.

  Ben’s frown deepened. “I don’t know, Sarah, it’s difficult to guess what Lindy will do and won’t do. There is a new psychiatrist, Dr. Westliner. He just moved outside of town a couple of months ago.”

  “Maybe I should get Lindy in to see him.”

  “I don’t want her upset. Give me a day or two to see if I can get her in to see Dr. Manning. If I can’t, then we’ll check out Dr. Westliner.”

  “I sure would feel better going back to New York knowing that Lindy was more stable than she appears to be at the moment.”

  “You won’t consider staying here in Clay Creek? Moving back here to live?”