by Megan Kelly
“Maybe you should just leave it be then. Try to think the best of her.” Tara’s eyes beseeched him. “On behalf of all unwed mothers.”
Tara’s situation was different. She’d told the father of her child. Dylan shrugged, unable to agree to give Rose the benefit of the doubt. What she’d done hurt too much, but if Tara equated herself with Rose, he shouldn’t say such things. They didn’t need those kinds of recriminations straining their relationship. “I guess I’ll never know why Rosemary moved to Salina.”
“’Cause it was in Nowhere,” Lily piped up from across the room.
Both adults looked at her as she struggled to snap a dress on the doll she’d received for her birthday.
“What did you say, honey?” Dylan asked, his heart pounding.
“Mama said we lived in Nowhere. In the very middle.”
He cleared his throat. “Lily, do you know why you and your mom lived there? Why she chose that city?”
“So my daddy…” She raised wide eyes to him, her mouth open.
He nodded for her to continue, his gut knotting with dread.
“So you wouldn’t find us,” she finished slowly. She blinked at him a few times. “’Cause you would take me away from my mama.”
He closed his eyes against the raw pain piercing his chest.
“Your mama was wrong,” Tara broke in, squeezing his knee. “She made a mistake. Your daddy would have wanted you. He would have wanted to visit and get to know you and take you places, but he would never have taken you away from your mama forever, Lily. Never.”
Lily glanced from Tara to Dylan several times, her forehead crinkled, doubt evident in her eyes. “Really?”
“Really,” he croaked, not sure if it was true, but it hardly mattered now. Rosemary had made him into the bogeyman. Rage made it nearly impossible to remain seated. He was grateful for Tara’s hand on his leg, steadying him. Taking her hand, he held on tightly, glad to have the pressure of her grip to ground him. Leaving the room would make him appear as guilty as he felt. Tara’s absolute faith in him not only helped Lily, but it touched him deeply.
He wished he knew for certain that he deserved it.
“Oh.” Lily frowned and returned to playing with her doll.
Tara turned to him, but he couldn’t let her see his pain. He closed his eyes.
“Dylan,” she urged.
“Not yet.” Damn Rosemary to hell! Why would she do that?
Tara’s heart ached. Dylan would never forgive Rose now, never get over the betrayal. Not able to understand the woman’s actions and therefore unable to give Dylan any words of comfort, Tara sat quietly, just being there for him.
No wonder Lily had been so tentative around her daddy. What a hideous thought to put into a little girl’s head. That must be why Rosemary hadn’t contacted him even when she realized she was ill. She’d backed herself into a corner, unable to call Dylan at that point.
Rose had done a horrible thing. Maybe if she’d been able to face Dylan with the truth, they could have presented a united front for Lily and explained the “misunderstanding.” He could have spent the last weeks of Rosemary’s life getting to know his daughter and helping out the mother of his child.
Because he would have. Tara knew that with bone-deep certainty. Whatever animosity Rose’s actions engendered in him, he’d still have done what was right and best for his little girl. And for the woman who’d given birth to her and raised her.
Because he was an honorable man. The man Tara was falling in love with.
“Violet sent me some letters of Rosemary’s,” Dylan said hoarsely. “Tidbits of Lily as a baby. Instead of Salina, Kansas, the return address was Middleof, Nowhere, with the Salina zip code. She must have thought that was real damn funny.”
“Dylan.” Her heart broke at the raw pain and anger in his voice, knowing she couldn’t do anything to relieve it.
“I can’t be here right now. I’m going to explode.”
“Call Adam,” she said. “Or Joe Riley.”
“Maybe we’ll go hit a bar.” He rose.
As long as he wasn’t alone. Tara ached for him, wishing she had the right to comfort him, or even the words to do so. He must hate Rosemary right now. She feared he wouldn’t want her around either.
Some demons a man had to fight on his own.
After putting the kids to bed, with a lot of crying on Lily’s part, Tara paced, then tried to read, and wound up watching the clock and listening for the door.
Dylan didn’t return until 2:00 a.m., propped up by his business partner.
“He’s dead sober, unfortunately,” Joe said. “We’ve been sitting in his old condo, not out in a bar. Do you want me to help put him to bed?”
“I can do it,” Dylan muttered, rocking on his heels.
He could barely function. If he wasn’t inebriated, he must be emotionally drained. Tara frowned. “Are you sure he’s not drunk?”
Dylan snorted.
Joe shook his head. “He hasn’t had a drop all night. Said he didn’t want to disgrace himself in front of you.”
“Shut the hell up, Joe,” Dylan said, mild in his exhaustion.
Tara closed her bedroom door behind her, walking Joe out and thanking him. She’d had to put Dylan in her room, for appearances’ sake. Alone once more, she wanted to console Dylan while he recovered from this blow. Would he take comfort from her?
When she returned from seeing Joe out, her door stood open and Dylan’s was closed. Pausing outside his room, she took a moment to reconsider. Was she doing the right thing? A wiser woman would leave him alone to heal in his own time. A wiser woman would go back to her own bed. But a wiser woman wouldn’t have fallen in love with a man who didn’t love her.
She tapped softly on his bedroom door. He cracked the door open.
Tara ran her gaze over his haggard face. “I think we should talk.”
He stepped back to let her in and sat by her on his pulled-out bed. “I have only one thing to say tonight. I don’t think you’re anything like Rosemary just because you had a child and didn’t marry the guy. I don’t want you to worry that Lily’s revelation will turn me against you. You are so different. I can’t believe I ever thought about you and her in the same breath.”
Tara’s insides turned to marshmallow. Given his current feelings toward his ex, he couldn’t have said anything more moving. “Thank you.”
His hand cupped her jaw, eyes looking deep into hers. “You should go to bed.”
That’s the plan. She moved in closer, their gazes locked. “Shh.”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
She kissed him. “You said that the other night, and it turned out to be an excellent idea.”
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.” His lips twisted. “Pity sex.”
She put her lips on his and changed the sour expression into desire. “It’s not pity.”
“If you keep coming to my bed, you can expect the inevitable to happen.”
“Okay. So it’s inevitable.”
“Last chance to change your mind.”
Tara waited.
He dove toward her, pushing her back onto the bed. “Thank God you don’t listen to me.”
That was the last coherent thing she remembered him saying.
THE NEXT MORNING, Dylan had left for work before she woke. His absence had her doubting her action the night before. She shouldn’t have gone to his bed. Or, she should have, to comfort him, but not expecting anything to change between them.
“Lily,” Jimmy whispered, “do you want to color with me before we got to go to school?”
Tara narrowed her eyes at her son, determined to get to the bottom of this whispering. Tonight, when she put him to bed, they’d have a little heart-to-heart. She didn’t think he was mocking Lily—he was way too young to be that cruel, but something was going on, and she’d had enough of it.
Later, Dylan called to say he was working late. Tara tried—and failed—not to read too much into
him avoiding her.
She tucked Jimmy in and settled on the edge of his bed. “Honey, what’s with all the whispering the past few days? Is it a game?”
He shook his head.
“Then why are you doing it?”
“’Cause of Lily.”
Tara frowned, disappointed. Surely she hadn’t been wrong? Jimmy was usually so sweet and sensitive. “What about Lily?”
“She’s ascared of making noises.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She told me so.”
She brushed her fingers through his hair, thinking. “Did she tell you why?”
He shook his head again. “Just that she shouldn’t. So I figgered I shouldn’t either if she’s ascared.”
Her faith in him restored, she kissed his cheek. “That’s sweet of you, honey, but I think we should talk in normal voices. Then Lily will learn she doesn’t have anything to be afraid of here.”
His face scrunched up as he considered it. “Okay. But not too loud.”
“Deal.” Tara planted a noisy smooch on his cheek.
“Aw, Mom.” He scrubbed at his cheek, his grin showing.
Over the next days, Jimmy alternated between whispering and talking in low tones. Tara never thought she’d yearn for his high-pitched exuberance, but the subdued child didn’t act like her son.
Betty noticed it, too, and mentioned his behavior to Tara several days later at the Wee Care. “He’s quieted down.”
“You’d think that wouldn’t worry me, but he doesn’t seem like a three-year-old anymore. His entire personality has changed.”
“Is he eating and sleeping?”
She nodded. “Soundly. He doesn’t even wake up if Lily cries.”
“How’s she doing with that?”
Tara sighed. “Better. She goes to bed easily enough most nights. I’ve only had to sit with her twice in the past week.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
She laid a reassuring hand on Betty’s arm. “It is. She doesn’t act as tentative as she had been.”
Betty glanced over at her granddaughter playing with Jimmy. “I’ll have to let you be the judge of that.”
“Well, at home anyway. I’ve noticed her studying Dylan more. Making direct eye contact with him.”
“That’s good. But that means I’m out of ideas about Jimmy.”
“He says he’s talking quietly because Lily is afraid of loud noises.”
“Hmm. That would explain her unease here. It’s anything but quiet.”
The children laughed and played with clamor. They yelled over each other before remembering their “inside voices.” A day care was not a place for soulful meditation.
Tara decided to share the information with Dylan, in hopes he could help Lily feel more at ease. He should know, even though he wouldn’t have any more insight into the matter than she did, since neither of them had been around for Lily’s early years. It would also give her something to talk about with him other than their night together.
After dinner, she made sure the children had books to look at in Jimmy’s room so she could have some time alone with Dylan. Jimmy and Lily decided to “read” their favorites to each other.
She paused outside his door, ignoring the bed pulled out of the sofa. He sat at his desk, shuffling through papers. “Can I talk to you a minute, Dylan?”
He turned. “Please interrupt me. My eyes are crossing. This project is going to make me go blind.”
She pulled a chair closer.
Dylan raised his eyebrows. “Not sitting on the bed?”
“It’s not that kind of visit. I asked Jimmy about his whispering.”
“Is it a problem?”
“No. I thought at first it was a game, then I wondered if he was sick, but that wasn’t it. It occurred to me he might be making fun of Lily.”
His eyes widened. “Jimmy?”
She shifted guiltily, pleased to hear astonishment in his tone. “It didn’t sound like him, but I couldn’t figure out another answer.”
“Jimmy wouldn’t do that, especially not to Lily. They get along great.”
“I know.”
“Their relationship has been one of the best things about having you two in our lives.”
Tara’s hands involuntarily clenched into fists, but she quickly reasoned with herself. Just because he didn’t specifically mention their lovemaking didn’t mean anything. That wasn’t the topic under discussion.
Her rationalizing let her set aside her hurt. They weren’t supposed to be having sex anyway. Maybe it was better not to talk about it. “Their getting along is why I doubted he’d be mean to her, but you never know.”
Dylan shook his head, as though he would never have suspected such a thing. “What did you find out? Or did you not come up with an answer?”
“I did. Jimmy says Lily is afraid of making noise.”
His brows grew together in a frown. “Did he say why she was afraid?”
“No. I’m not sure if it’s something to worry about or something she’ll just grow out of as she gets used to being here.”
He threw his hands up in a gesture of futility. “She’s been like this since I’ve known her. At first I thought it was losing her mom, the funeral, the newness of everything here, and her grief in general. But she never does really…explode, either with anger or happiness. Even when she suffered constant crying jags, they were never loud.”
His phone buzzed, vibrating against the desktop, but he ignored it.
He ran a hand around his neck. “Do you think we should talk to her about it? Or is it better to just leave it alone and see what happens?”
Tara shrugged. “I have no idea, but if we don’t address it, we can’t help her. Do you think asking her would hurt her in some way?”
“How the hell should I know?” Tilting his head back, he blew out a breath. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I get frustrated, too.”
“I’d never have guessed it.”
She smiled faintly. “I have a few years more practice.”
After a moment, he nodded once and rose. “Okay, let’s ask her.”
“Now?”
“Why not?”
Tara couldn’t think of a reason, so they walked down the hall into Jimmy’s room. The children sat on his bed, a book on each lap. Jimmy finished up Stellaluna.
“Very good reading,” Dylan told him. “Have you read your book yet, pumpkin?”
Lily shook her head.
“I’d love to hear you read,” Tara said.
“Okay,” the girl whispered. The kids scooted to the middle of the bed, making room for the grown-ups. Tara purposely sat by Jimmy. The more opportunities father and daughter had to bond, the better.
“If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.” Lily showed each of them the cover of the book, mimicking her grandmother/teacher at school. She whispered her way through the mouse’s adventures, making sure everyone could see the illustrations on each page. “See?” she said at one point, glancing toward Dylan with a smile. “He’s got powder all over him.”
“He’s a funny little guy,” Dylan said.
Lily nodded and continued reading.
“Very good,” Tara said when she finished.
“Yes,” Dylan said. “You’re a good reader. You both are.”
He jerked a nod at Tara.
“Let’s have some popcorn.”
He frowned at her while the kids quietly cheered. As Tara followed the little ones out of the room, Dylan stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“I didn’t mean get them a treat,” he said in her ear. “I meant for you to ask her about the whispering.”
“I know that, but if we ask her now, she might take it as a criticism of her reading. We need to separate the reading from the questioning.”
He released her arm. “You’re right. Again.”
She met his eyes, holding his gaze for a moment. His lack of confidence with his daughter tore at her heart. “I know only b
ecause of my experiences at the day care and from classes in child development, not some parenting secret.”
“Do you think Lily has a problem? Is that why she reads so quietly? She’s trying to mask it?”
“No. I think Lily is a normal reader for her age. We need to expose her and Jimmy to other books, though. Expand their vocabularies and their memories.”
“We have plenty.” He nodded to Jimmy’s shelves.
Tara ducked her head. “Guilty.”
“No, it’s great. Lily has quite a collection started, too.”
“Still, I should take them to the library. We could check out different books and attend other activities for their age group.”
Dylan grinned. “At least they know how to be quiet.”
Tara smiled and shook her head, preceding him from the room. He could be so wonderful sometimes. Funny and a concerned father. She sighed, none too happy to be drawn to him. Annulment Ahead, she reminded herself. Although the sign would have to read, Danger: Divorce. Their sleeping together negated the possibility of an annulment.
She popped the corn on the stove, letting the kids take turns standing on a stool and shaking the pan. They giggled, the metallic pings and soft thuds of the exploding kernels not bothering either of them.
As they sat in the living room with their bowls, Tara studied Lily. The children sat on the floor while she shared the couch with Dylan. Tara waited for the girl to say something, so she could casually mention the whispering.
“Speaking of noisy things,” Dylan started.
Tara shot him a warning look.
“I enjoyed hearing you do the sound effects with your book, Jimmy. It’s about birds, right?”
Jimmy nodded then shook his head. “Stellaluna is a bat who gets lost then lives with some birds for a while.”
“I like the llama book,” Tara said. “Don’t you, Lily?”
She shrugged.
After a minute, Dylan asked Tara, “What llama book is that?”
“Well, I have two favorites. Is Your Mama a Llama? is really good, but so is Llama, Llama, Red Pajama.”
He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that last one, and I thought Adam’s kids had every book ever written. Which one do you like better, Jimmy?”
