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The Daughter He Wanted

Page 10

by Kristina Knight


  “Why?” The word was harsh, as if torn from his throat, but the look in his eyes...it wasn’t angry or annoyed. His tawny eyes were curious, maybe a little hurt, and that nearly did her in.

  Paige stiffened her spine. “Because of her.” She pointed across the room, to the little girl at the small table laughing with her friends, ignoring the pizza on her plate.

  “She seems well-adjusted to me.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her across the table. Paige couldn’t stop herself from leaning in, too, just for a moment. “We should have dinner, and not in a crowded pizza place with our daughter a few feet away.”

  She had to make him understand but didn’t know how to do that without either telling him every mistake she’d made in the past or every fear that had cropped up since he’d stopped on her curb. Neither could happen. “There is a lot that can go wrong in a romantic relationship. I’ve seen them implode in so many ways and I...I just think, for her sake, it’s better if we don’t get involved.”

  “We’re already involved.”

  “You know what I mean.” Paige clasped her hands in her lap, refusing to reach out and touch him. Feeling the warmth of his hand against her own that first day had nearly been her undoing. She didn’t think she could take another touch, even an innocent one. “We can be involved as her parents. But we aren’t just a man and a woman without any strings. She is a big string.”

  “And once her relationship with me is on firm ground?”

  “Then we’ll be friends and we’ll celebrate her birthdays and we’ll figure out a holiday rotation. You won’t even remember when you thought I looked good in these jeans.”

  Alex cocked his eyebrow. “I’ll always remember how you look in these jeans.” He touched her chin with his fingertip, just as he’d done in the parking lot. The touch burned but Paige was careful to keep her expression neutral, to not pull away. “For now, I’ll agree with you. I’ll focus on getting to know Kaylie.”

  “You’ll see that I’m right.”

  “And you’ll see that I am,” he said.

  That was the problem, Paige admitted. She was afraid she would start seeing things his way.

  * * *

  ALEX TURNED RIGHT at the stoplight out of habit. The gates were usually closed by now, but they remained open, as if inviting him inside. Maybe this time he’d be able to talk to her. Maybe she could help him figure out why Paige was the first woman in more than three years who made him feel.

  He didn’t want to feel. Didn’t like the turmoil that spawned in his belly when her eyes went dark. Didn’t like feeling as if they were on different pages when it came to Kaylie.

  Hated that even when they were on different pages, he still wanted her. How messed up was that? He and Dee were always on the same page, it was part of what he loved about her. That, and how she filled out everything from his old T-shirts that she salvaged as nightwear to the one-piece bathing suits she wore at the lake in the summer. He closed his eyes tight, trying to pull an image of Dee, any image, to his mind. He caught the fleeting sound of her laugh as he pulled through the gates and rounded the curve.

  He pulled to a stop before her gravestone and sat there, remembering Dee’s laugh but seeing the ghost of Paige’s image before his headlights.

  His hands gripped the steering wheel, but he didn’t reach for the door handle. Couldn’t.

  How could he tell his wife he was having these feelings for another woman? He hadn’t told her about the one-night stand after the softball tournament. Couldn’t tell her about Kaylie.

  Wouldn’t tell her how he felt about Paige. She was not a woman he should date, not now. Probably not ever. He’d been in love. Had had the storybook wedding that still gave him hives. Survived his partner’s death.

  He opened his mouth to tell Dee he loved her, but the words wouldn’t come.

  He couldn’t lie to her, and while he did love his wife, what he felt for Paige was...different.

  Alex sighed.

  He put the truck in Drive and wove his way back to the entrance where the night watchman was just closing the gates. Waved as he drove through and continued on to the big house in Park Hills.

  Sometimes life as an adult just sucked.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LATER THAT WEEK, Alex pulled into the driveway to his in-laws’ farmhouse and stopped the truck. The white-frame house looked exactly as it had for the past ten years: green shutters, wide front porch. Sue Parker had placed pots of red and orange chrysanthemums on the steps for fall and leaves were finally starting to drift down from the elms in the front yard. Off to the side, the doors to John’s equipment barn were open; he was probably in one of the fields this morning.

  Sue exited a side door, wicker laundry basket in her hands, and began hanging clean sheets from the line in the yard. She wore faded jeans, a pink hoodie and Crocs on her feet. Taking advantage of another Indian summer day, Alex mused.

  It was so familiar. A few years ago, Deanna would have been sitting on the seat beside him, chattering about nothing important. He rolled his shoulders.

  Reluctantly, he put the truck back into gear and continued down the lane to park under a big elm tree. He got out and zipped up his light jacket. Sue poked her head around the line of sheets and smiled.

  “Alex. This is a surprise. I didn’t expect you ’til tomorrow.” She wrapped her strong arm around his middle in a tight hug. “But I’ll take it. We don’t get to see enough of you lately.”

  As if he hadn’t been here last Saturday or the one before that...or the five hundred before that. It had been their custom, when Dee was alive, to spend Saturday afternoons with her family. He’d kept that tradition after she died because he was used to it. At first, it was comforting to be around people who understood and were content to talk about their own grief, distracting him from his own. Once the scars of Dee’s death began to heal, he simply hadn’t figured out a way to stop coming here every week. Besides, they needed him.

  John ran a tight ship, but there was always room for one more set of hands to change the oil in a tractor or help Sue hang a new wallpaper border.

  Sue pointed out the mums on the porch and then linked her arm with his. “I picked Deanna’s favorite colors this year. They’re pretty, don’t you think?”

  Alex nodded his assent. They were pretty and the fact that chrysanthemums had been Dee’s least favorite shrub didn’t matter. Telling her mother would just be mean.

  “What’s John up to today?” he asked as Sue led him inside and set him up with a cup of coffee and a plate of cinnamon rolls left over from breakfast.

  “He took one of the four-wheelers out to the corn field. You know, you should go out with him sometime. Like you used to. He’d like that.”

  He’d hate it, but again Alex kept quiet. John liked his quiet days in the fields, whether he was planting or harvesting or cultivating. He would return to the barn with the big machines and then take out one of the four-wheelers to look over his work. Making small talk was never on John’s agenda.

  “Maybe sometime. I was hoping I’d catch him at the house today, talk to you together.”

  “He should be back anytime.” Sue sat beside him, eyes wide, hands suddenly trembling. “Why? You’re okay, aren’t you?” Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and little bits of her bangs had escaped to fall over her forehead. The crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes seemed to deepen and her voice grew shaky. “You’re not sick?”

  “No, not at all.” Alex reached across the table, drawing her hands into his and patting them until she relaxed.

  Sue took a deep breath, released it. “Then, what?”

  “I have some news. It’s good news, but I wanted to tell you both together.” He’d hoped John would keep Sue calm. She had a tendency to overreact.

  “You’re moving. Oh, Alex, you can’t leave St. Francois County.” She plucked a paper napkin from the holder on the table and wiped the corners of her eyes. “Of course we only want the best
for you, but leaving St. Francois? It’s too soon. All the grief books say you shouldn’t make any life decisions for at least five years after a death—”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m not leaving. I like living here, I love my job. I’m not moving away.” He reassured her and tamped down a flicker of annoyance. The grief books didn’t say anything about five years being a magical date for moving on. Some mentioned a year, and some said you would know when it was time to make a change.

  He hadn’t been ready when the lawyer called. Had been hesitant until the barbecue last Sunday.

  Had been certain after the pizza party Thursday evening.

  It was time to move on. Admitting it made him feel itchy. Unsettled.

  Afraid, a little. Because he’d been so certain that part of his life was over. Gone with the finality of Dee’s casket lid closing.

  Now a little flicker burned in his chest when he thought of playing with Kaylie at the pizza place. Of maybe taking her to a swim lesson or two and not freaking her out. Watching her at a swim meet in a few years.

  The flicker of heat turned to a blazing bonfire when he thought about Paige.

  Turned to an all-consuming guilt when he saw the worry etched across Sue’s chubby face.

  He clenched his fists. Moving on was scary. He didn’t want to hurt Sue or John. He didn’t want to forget Dee, but apparently he didn’t have any control over that. She was still there, at the fringes of his memory, but the sharpness of his memories had dulled. It didn’t hurt to even look at the picture on his mantel. It hadn’t for a long time, if he were truly honest.

  He knew he couldn’t keep living this shell of a life. Tucker was right, he had shut everything down for the past few years. Let life wash past him without really feeling the newness of spring or the full heat of a Missouri summer. Maybe he hadn’t dealt completely with Dee’s death, but he was dealing now. Shutting doors that should have closed already. Opening doors that might bring him out of the dark place where he allowed himself to hide.

  Engine noise echoed faintly through the open windows and Alex looked out as John drove into the yard, parking just outside the big barn. He straightened his hat on his head and then caught sight of Alex’s truck in the yard. Looked toward the house and hesitated before starting inside.

  John let the screen door slam behind him and before saying a word made his way to the sink to wash his hands. His jeans were marked with dirt and he was careful not to brush up against the Formica counter while he poured a cup of coffee. He took a towel from the drawer and put it between his hip and the counter, still not saying anything. He was never one to chatter, but his silence made Alex nervous.

  “Alex came out to talk to us, honey,” Sue said. A look of relief passed over John’s face, and Alex wondered what caused it. He joined them at the table.

  Alex didn’t know where to begin. He’d had a speech planned out, but the words escaped him. All he could see were their broken faces that last day at the hospital. All he could feel was the weight of John’s hand on his shoulder the day of the funeral. Guilt, as strong as the day he’d packed Dee’s things into boxes for Goodwill, washed over him.

  This was wrong. He couldn’t do this to them. Couldn’t tell them he had a child when their child was gone forever.

  No, he had to tell them. Before one of their friends spotted him with Paige or Kaylie and told them. It was his responsibility. His obligation. They were the closest family he had left.

  He cleared his throat and started with the lawyer’s phone call.

  Sue interrupted almost immediately, her voice high-pitched and watery. “You and Dee have a—”

  “No, no, we didn’t. We don’t.” He started over. “Dee got sick right after the first implantation, remember? The clinic was supposed to have destroyed my sample, but they didn’t. I have a child. A four-year-old little girl named Kaylie.”

  John shifted in his chair, his usually booming voice quiet. “That’s...great, Alex.”

  “But Deanna has barely been gone that long.” Sue placed her hand in John’s on the tabletop. “How did they find out?”

  “New computer system, inputting old records. It really doesn’t matter.” He waited a moment for the news to sink in. The ramifications of what having a toddler meant. They had to know he couldn’t turn his back on his daughter. “I’ve met with her mother and we’re moving forward. She agrees that I have the right to know the little girl.” Sue’s face was as white as the sheets hanging on the clothesline, and Alex placed his hand over hers and John’s before continuing. “And I wanted you to hear, from me, what is going on. So you wouldn’t be blindsided if one of your friends saw us and mentioned it.”

  Tears streamed down Sue’s face and she didn’t bother trying to wipe them away this time. “I guess you won’t want to see us anymore, now that you’re moving on with your life. I knew it had to happen. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon, Alex.” She offered him a weak smile.

  This was what he’d been afraid of. Sue thinking everything in his life pre Paige and Kaylie would be thrown out. From the moment of Dee’s diagnosis, Sue thought the worst. She completely shut down after the funeral and when he took the boxes to Goodwill, she picked them up and stored them in her own attic. Sue couldn’t let go of Dee. Alex knew coming here would snip another thread between them, but keeping them in the dark was not an option.

  There had to be a way for all of them to coexist, he just had to figure out how.

  “Now, Sue—” John began, but Alex interrupted, choosing his words carefully.

  “I’ll admit I may not make it out here every weekend, but I have no intention of cutting either of you out of my life.”

  “You say that now, but what about Thanksgiving dinner? Christmas? You should be with your family. Which one will it be?”

  “I don’t see this as an either-or.” Alex took a breath. “You were Dee’s parents, but you became mine in so many ways. You are my family and that isn’t going to change just because I can now check the ‘Father’ box on school forms.”

  Sue pushed away from the table and a moment later Alex heard her footsteps on the stairs.

  He blew out a breath. “I didn’t mean to upset her, John. I’m sorry.”

  John shook his head. “It isn’t your fault. Losing Deanna... It changed her. I’ll talk to her, make sure she understands where you’re coming from.” He finished his coffee. “Bobby from the feed store saw you having coffee with a strange woman in Farmington last week. Told me about it.”

  Alex heard the question he hadn’t asked. “That was Paige, the mother.”

  “Bobby says she’s pretty. What does her husband think of all this?”

  More than pretty, but there was no reason to tell John how Paige made his pulse race. It would be cruel. Besides, he might want Paige, but so far he hadn’t been able to breach her defenses. Best to steer clear of that mucky conversation.

  “She isn’t married. No boyfriend, just her and the little girl. I’m going to be spending a lot of time with them both,” he couldn’t help saying. Like maybe his statement was readying John for another announcement. “It’s platonic between us. We haven’t told Kaylie—that’s the little girl’s name. Paige and I agreed it was best to start out as friends.”

  John nodded and got up to refill his cup. He offered a refill to Alex, but Alex shook his head.

  “I’ll make sure Sue is okay with all this. Don’t take her tears too much to heart, you know how vulnerable she is.”

  “I do. It’s why I came out today.”

  “It’ll help her if you keep coming out, from time to time. Not every week, you’ve been doing that long enough.” John chuckled and then sat back down. “You’re a good man, Alex. You were a good husband to my daughter and you’ve been like a son to me. But if you keep coming here every week, where will you find the time to become a father in your own right? No, you take a little time away from us.”

  Relief washed through Alex. He may have botched the conversatio
n with Sue, but he felt like he’d turned a corner with John. Progress and little steps, he told himself, but he couldn’t stop a hint of sadness from clouding the moment. Alex’s relationship with John had always seemed easy. He wasn’t letting go of John, he reminded himself, he was making room for another relationship to build.

  “I don’t mind helping out around here, especially if it helps you out.”

  “Down the road, if it’s okay with the mother and the little girl, I think we’d like to meet her.” He frowned. “We’ll never have grandkids.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “It might be nice to hear a chattering little girl’s voice around here sometime.”

  Alex swallowed and reached across the table to rest his palm over John’s fist. It wasn’t exactly a blessing, but maybe acceptance was the next best thing.

  Fifteen minutes later Alex pulled into his own driveway and stared at the beige-and-brick house. The shrubs along the front walk needed a trim and there were no fall flowers to catch the last rays of sunlight. Two neighbors had colorful flags in their flower beds; he had a bare flag post.

  The house looked like it always had but instead of welcoming him inside, he felt apart from it. As if he didn’t belong there. Which was ridiculous. It was a great house and close to work.

  Just restlessness, he decided. It felt like he was waking up after a nap that had lasted too long.

  He flipped off the ignition and grabbed the mail from the box on his way inside.

  Tossed the junk in the trash can and slipped a couple of bills into the computer table drawer in the corner of the kitchen. White cabinets. Marbled black granite countertops. White tile floor. Stainless-steel appliances. The kitchen he’d helped Dee design just after they were married. The place he’d spent so much time in before she died and so little now that he was alone.

  Alex plucked a banana off the tree on the counter and took a bite.

  Restlessness, hell.

  He hadn’t lied to John; his relationship with Paige was platonic, but damned if he wanted it to continue to be that way. When she was in the room, he didn’t feel like the widower, the man left to make sense of death. He was Alex again. Just Alex. Just a man who knew how to be on his own.

 

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