Reluctant Father

by Diana Palmer

  Meredith touched the small, dark head gently. "I might do that," she said, smiling involuntarily.

  Sarah smiled back. "I like you, Merry."

  She went back to play with Danielle, leaving a hopelessly touched Meredith staring hungrily at her. Tears stung her eyes.

  "Merry, could you watch the girls for a bit while Elissa and I run down to the ice cream shop and get some cones for them?" Bess asked with a quickly concealed conspiratorial wink at Elissa.

  "Of course," Meredith agreed.

  "We won't be a minute," Bess promised. "Do you want a cone?"

  "Yes, please. Chocolate." Meredith grinned.

  "I want chocolate, too," Sarah pleaded. "A big one."

  "I want vanilla," Danielle said.

  "Forty-eight flavors, and we live with purists." Bess sighed, shaking her head. "Okay, chocolate and vanilla it is. Won't be a minute!"

  Of course it was more than a minute. They were gone for almost an hour, and when they got back, Meredith was sitting in the middle of the carpet with Sarah and Danielle, helping them dress one of Danielle's dolls. Sarah was sitting as close as she could get to Meredith, and her young face was for once without its customary sulky look. She was laughing, and almost pretty.

  The ice cream was passed out and another hour went by before Elissa said reluctantly that she and Danielle would have to go.

  "I hate to, but King's bringing one of his business associates home for supper, and I have to get Danielle's bath and have her in bed by the time they get home," Elissa said. "But we'll have to do this again."

  "Do you have to go?" Sarah asked Danielle sadly. "I wish you could come live with me, and we could be sisters."

  "Me, too," Danielle said.

  "I like your toys. I guess your mommy and daddy like you a lot."

  "Your daddy likes you, too, Sarah," Meredith said gently, taking the child's hand in hers. "He just didn't know that you wanted toys. He'll buy you some of your own."

  "Will he, truly?" Sarah asked her, all eyes.

  "Truly," she replied, hoping she was right. The Blake she'd known in the past wouldn't have cared overmuch about a child's needs. Of course, the man she'd glimpsed today might. She could hardly reconcile what she knew about him with what she was learning about him.

  "That's right," Bess agreed, smiling down at Sarah. "Your dad's a pretty nice guy. We all like him, don't we, Meredith?"

  Meredith glared at her. "Oh, we surely do," she said through her teeth. "He's a prince."

  Which was what Sarah Jane told her daddy that very night over the supper table. He'd picked her up at Bess's house, but Meredith's car was gone. She was avoiding him, he supposed wearily, and he listened halfheartedly to Sarah all the way home. Now she was telling him about the wonderful time she'd had playing dolls with Meredith, and he turned his attention from business problems to stare at her blankly as what she was saying began to register.

  "She did what?" he asked.

  "She played dolls with me," she said, "and she says you're a prince. Does that mean you used to be a frog, Daddy?" Sarah added. "Because the princess kisses the frog and he turns into a prince. Did my mommy kiss you?"

  "Occasionally, and no, I wasn't a frog. Meredith played dolls with you?" he asked, feeling a tiny glow deep inside himself.

  "She really did." Sarah sighed. "I like Mer'dith. I wish she was my mommy. Can't she come to live with us?"

  He couldn't explain that very easily. "No," he said simply. "You'd better get ready for bed."

  "But, Daddy…" she moaned.

  "Go on. No arguments."

  "All right," she grumbled. But she went.

  He looked after her, smiling faintly. She was a handful, but she was slowly growing on him.

  He stayed home on Sunday and took Sarah Jane out to see the horses grazing in the pasture. One of the men, a grizzled old wrangler named Manolo, was working a gelding in the corral, breaking him slowly and gently to the saddle. Blake had complained that Manolo took too long to break horses, especially when he was doing it for the remuda in spring before roundup. The cowhands had to have a string of horses when they started working cattle. But Manolo used his own methods, despite the boss's arguments. No way, he informed Blake, was he going to mistreat a horse just to break it to saddle, and if Blake didn't like that, he could fire him.

  Blake hadn't said another word about it. The horses Manolo broke were always gentle and easily managed.

  But this horse was giving the old man a lot of trouble. It pranced and reared, and Blake was watching it instead of Sarah Jane when the lacy handkerchief Meredith had given her blew into the corral.

  Like a shot, she climbed through the fence to go after it, just as the horse broke away from Manolo and came snorting and bucking in her direction.

  Blake saw her and blinked, not believing what his eyes were telling him. All at once he was over the fence, just as Manolo yelled.

  Sarah was holding her handkerchief, staring dumbly at the approaching horse.

  Blake grabbed her and sent her through the fence, following her with an economy of motion. He thanked God for his own strength as it prevented what would have been a total disaster.

  Sarah Jane clung to his neck tightly, crying with great sobs.

  He hugged her to him, his eyes closed, a shudder running through his lean, fit body. Another few seconds and it would have been all over. Sarah would have become a tragic memory. It didn't bear thinking about. Worse than that, it brought back an older memory, of another incident with a bronc. He touched his lean cheek where the scar cut across his tan. How many years ago had it been that he'd saved Meredith just as he'd saved Sarah? A long time ago—long before the sight of her began to make him ache.

  The fear he'd experienced, added to the unwanted memories, made him furious. He let go of Sarah and held her in front of him, his green eyes glittering with rage. "Don't you know better than to go into the corral with a wild animal?" he snapped.

  "Where's your mind, Sarah?"

  She stared at him as if he'd slapped her. Her lower lip trembled. "I had to get my…my hankie, Daddy." She held it up. "See? My pretty hankie that Mer'dith gave me."

  He shook her. "The next time you go near any enclosure with horses or cattle in it, you stay out! Do you understand me?" he asked in a tone that made her small body jerk with a sob. "You could have been killed!"

  "I'm so—sorry," she faltered.

  "You should be!" he jerked out. "Now get in the house."

  She started crying, frightened by the way he looked. "You hate me," she whimpered. "I know you do. You yelled at me. You're mean and ugly… and… I don't like you!"

  "I don't like you, either, at the moment," he bit off, glaring down at her, his legs still shaking from the exertion and fear. "Now get going."

  "You mean old daddy!" she cried. She turned and ran wildly for the house as Blake stared after her in a blind rage.

  "Is she all right, boss?" Manolo asked from the fence. "My God, that was quick! I didn't even see her!"

  "Neither did I," Blake confessed. "Not until it was damned near too late." He let out a rough sigh. "I didn't mean to be so hard on her, but she's got to learn that horses and cattle are dangerous. I wanted to make sure she remembered this."

  "She'll remember," Manolo said ruefully, and turned away before the boss could see the look on his face. Poor little kid. She needed hugging, not yelling.

  Blake went in the house a few minutes later and looked for Sarah, but she was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Jackson had heard her come in, but she hadn't seen her because she was working in the front of the house.

  He checked Sarah's bedroom, but she wasn't there either. Then he remembered what she'd said about being locked in the closet when she was bad He jerked open the closet door and there she sat, her face red and tear stained, sobbing and looking as if she hadn't a friend in the world. "Go away," she sniffed.

  He got down awkwardly on one knee. "You'll suffocate in here."

  "I hate you."
/>   "I don't want anything to happen to you," he said. "The horse could have hurt you very badly."

  She touched the dusty lace handkerchief to her red eyes. "You yelled at me."

  He grimaced. "You scared me," he muttered, averting his gaze. "I never thought I'd get to you in time."

  She sniffed and got up on her knees under the hanging dresses and blouses and slacks. "You didn't want me to get hurt?"

  "Of course I didn't want you to get hurt," he snapped, green eyes flashing. "You're yelling at me again," she said, pouting.

  He sighed angrily. "Well, I've been doing it for a lot of years, and I won't change. You'll just have to get used to my temper." He stared at her half-angrily. "I thought I was getting the hang of it, and you had to go crawl in with a bucking bronco and set me back."

  "Everybody used to yell at me," she told him solemnly. "But they didn't do it just if I got hurt. They didn't like me."

  "I like you. That's why I yelled," he muttered.

  She smiled through her tears. "Really and truly?"

  He grimaced. "Really and truly." He got up. "Come out of there."

  "Are you going to spank me?" she asked.

  "No."

  "I won't do it again."

  "You'd better not." He took her hand and led her downstairs. When Mrs. Jackson found out what had happened, she took a fresh coconut cake out of the pantry, sliced it up and poured Sarah a soft drink. She even smiled. Sarah dried her eyes and smiled back.

  On Monday Blake took two hours off at lunch and went to a toy store. He bought an armful of dolls and assorted girlish toys and took them to the house without fully understanding his motives. Maybe it was relief that Sarah was all right or guilt because he'd hurt her.

  But she sat down in the living room with her new friends—which included a huge stuffed teddy bear— and the way she handled her toys was enough to bring a tear to the eye. She hugged the teddy bear, then she hugged Blake, who was half delighted and half embarrassed by her exuberance.

  "You're just the nicest daddy in the whole world," Sarah Jane said, and she was crying again. Jabbing her eyes with her hands. "I have a new Mr. Friend now, and he can help you fight monsters."

  "I'll keep that in mind. Behave yourself." He went out the door quickly, more moved than he wanted to admit by his daughter's reception to the impromptu toy surprise.

  On the way back to work, he remembered what Sarah had said about Meredith playing dolls with her. Meredith had been trying to keep Sarah at arms' length, so he wondered at her actions. Had he been wrong about Meredith's motives? Had he misjudged what he thought was her reason for avoiding Sarah?

  He remembered all too well the feel of Meredith's soft, innocent mouth under his that day in the stable, the wonder in her eyes when he'd lifted his head just briefly to look down at her. And then he'd lost control and frightened her, turning the wonder to panic.

  That she'd loved him didn't bear thinking about. At least he and Sarah were closer than ever. But she needed more than a father. Sarah needed a mother. Someone to read her stories, to play with her. Someone like Meredith. It made him feel warm to think of Meredith doing those things with his daughter. In time she might even get over the past and start looking ahead. She might fall in love with him all over again.

  His body reacted feverishly to that thought, and as quickly his mind rejected it. He didn't want her to love him. He felt guilt for the way he'd treated her and he still wanted her, but love wasn't a word in his vocabulary anymore. It hurt too much.

  Letting her get close would be risky. Meredith had every reason in the world to want to get even with him. He scowled. Would Meredith want revenge if he could bring himself to tell her the truth about why he'd been so rough with her?

  Not that he needed her, he assured himself. It was only that Sarah liked her and needed her. But Meredith wouldn't come to the house. She wasn't going to let him, or Sarah, get close to her, and that was the big hurdle. How, he wondered, could he overcome it?

  He worried the thought for two days and still hadn't figured out a solution, when he had to fly to Dallas on business for the day. But fate was on his side.

  While he was gone, Mrs. Jackson's only living sister had a heart attack and a neighbor called asking Amie to come to Wichita, Kansas, and help look after her. That left Mrs. Jackson with nobody to look after Sarah. She couldn't take the child with her while she tried to care for a heart patient. She called Elissa, but she and her husband and child were out of town. Bess wouldn't be able to cope with the angry little girl. That left only one person in Jack's Corner who might be willing to try.

  Without hesitation, Mrs. Jackson picked up the phone and called Meredith Calhoun.

  Five

  Sarah Jane was almost dancing with pleasure when Meredith came in the door. She ran to her, arms outstretched, and Meredith instinctively picked her up and hugged her warmly. Maternal instincts she hadn't indulged since Blake had sent her running came to the fore, making her soft.

  "Now don't you give Meredith any trouble, young lady," Mrs. Jackson cautioned Sarah Jane. "Meredith, this is my sister's phone number, but I'll call as soon as I know something and tell Mr. Blake what's going on. I hope he won't mind."

  "You know very well he won't," Meredith said. "I'm sorry about your sister, but I'm sure she'll be all right."

  "Well, we can hope, anyway," Mrs. Jackson said, forcing a smile. "There's my cab. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  "Bye, Mrs. Jackson," Sarah called.

  She turned at the door and smiled at the little girl. "Goodbye, Sarah. I'll miss you. Thanks again, Merry."

  "No problem," Meredith said as the housekeeper left.

  "We can play dolls now, Merry," Sarah said enthusiastically, repeating the nickname she'd heard for Meredith as she struggled to be put down. She then led Meredith by the hand into the living room. "Look what my daddy bought me!"

  Meredith was pleasantly surprised by the array of dolls. There must have been two dozen of them, surrounding a huge, whimsical tan teddy bear who was wearing one of Blake's Stetsons on his shaggy head.

  "He's supposed to be my daddy," Meredith said, pointing to the bear, "since my daddy's away. But ache's Mr. Friend. My old Mr. Friend got lost, so Daddy bought me a new one."

  Meredith sat down on the sofa, smiling as Sarah introduced every one of her new toys to her older friend.

  "I dropped the pretty hankie you gave me inside the fence," Sarah explained excitedly, "and a big horse almost ran over me, but my daddy saved me. He yelled at me and I cried and hid in the closet, and he came to find me. He said I mustn't ever do it again because he liked me." She laughed. "And then he went to the store and brought me ever so many toys."

  Meredith was feeling cold chills at the innocent story. She could imagine how Blake had felt, the fear that had gripped him. She remembered so well the day he'd had to rescue her from a wild horse. She wondered if it had brought back memories for him, too.

  Sarah looked up at Meredith. "My daddy has an awful temper, Merry."

  Meredith knew that already. She remembered his temper very well. A lot of things could spark it, but embarrassment, fear, or any kind of threat were sure to ignite it. She could imagine how frightened Sarah had been of him, but apparently toys could buy forgiveness. She chided herself for that thought. Blake could be unexpectedly kind. It was just that he seemed so cold and self-contained. She wondered if Nina had ever really touched him during their brief marriage, and decided that it was unlikely.

  Meredith got down on the floor with Sarah, grateful, as they sprawled on the carpet, that she'd worn jeans and a yellow blouse instead of a dress. She and Sarah dressed dolls and talked for a long time before Meredith got the small girl ready for bed, tucked her in and helped her say her prayers.

  "Why do I have to say prayers?" Sarah asked.

  "To thank God for all the nice things He does for us." Meredith smiled.

  "Daddy talks to God all the time," Sarah said. "Especially when I turn things ove
r or get hurt—"

  Meredith fought to keep her expression steady. "That's not what I meant, darling. Now you settle down and we'll talk."

  "Okay, Merry." She moved her dark head on the pillow. "Merry, do you like me?"

  Meredith looked down at the child she might have had. She smiled sadly, touching Sarah's dark hair gently. "Yes, I like you very much, Sarah Jane Donavan," she replied, smiling.

  "I like you, too."

  Meredith bent and kissed the clean, shiny face. "Would you like me to read you a story? Have you any books?"

  The small face fell. "No. Daddy forgot."

  "That's all right, then. I can think of one or two." She sat down on Sarah's bed and proceeded to go through several, doing all the parts in different pitches of her voice, while Sarah giggled.

  She was just in the middle of "The Three Bears," doing Baby Bear's voice when Sarah sat up, smiling from ear to ear and cried, "Daddy!"

  Meredith felt her face burn, her heart start to pound, as he came into the room, dressed in a gray business suit, sparing her a curious glance as he handed something to Sarah.

  "Something from Dallas," he told the child. "It's a puppet."

  "I love him, Daddy!"

  It was a duck puppet, yellow and white, and Sarah wiggled it on her hand while Blake turned to Meredith with a cool smile.

  "Where's Amie?" he asked.

  She told him, adding that Amie had promised to phone as soon as she knew something. "She couldn't get Elissa, and there wasn't anyone else, so she asked me."

  "We had lots of fun, Daddy!" Sarah told him. "Merry and me played dolls and watched TV together!"

  "Thank you for taking the time," Blake said, his whole attitude antagonistic. He'd done nothing but think about the irritating woman for days. And there she sat, looking as cool as a cucumber without a hint of warmth in her cold gray eyes, while his body had gone taut and started throbbing at the very sight of her.

  Meredith got to her feet, avoiding him. "I didn't mind. Good night, Sarah," she said, running a nervous hand through her loosened dark hair to get it out of her face.