Father Figure

by Rebecca Daniels

Marissa thought for a moment, working the handle of her purse nervously. “But what if I promise there won’t be a next time?”

  “Can you do that?” he asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” she said earnestly. “I think I can. It’s important for Josh to get his life together. I want him to know there’s someone in his corner, someone he can depend on, who isn’t going away, who’s never going to leave him.”

  Dylan recognized the look of love and sincerity in her eyes and almost felt himself believing. But dark, distant memories had him remembering a time he’d seen that soft look of hers before. She’d been lying to him then—was she lying now, too?

  Dylan took a deep breath. They might have been lovers, but they were hardly old friends, and it wasn’t fair to try and second-guess the motives of a woman who was little more than a stranger to him now.

  “It isn’t you who needs to promise,” he said quietly. “It’s Josh.” He stopped, searching for the right words. “I know this might be hard for you to believe, but I like Josh—I really do, and I think he’s basically a good kid. But he’s got to learn to be accountable, he’s got to start taking responsibility for his actions.”

  Marissa’s throat was thick with emotion. “But he’s…he’s just a boy, he’s—”

  “He’s fifteen years old,” he said, not waiting for her to finish. “Every time I’ve brought him in here, every time, there has been someone—Penny, or your father, or one of your family’s friends on the city council or board of supervisors—someone to step in and make excuses, someone to smooth things over for him. Now you’re here, and you’re asking me to do the same thing. I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s what Josh needs.”

  “Look, I’m not asking you to smooth over anything,” she said in a voice that belied the flash of anger. She’d come to ask his help, not to pull strings and make excuses. “Or sweep anything under the rug. What Josh needs is stability in his life again. I’m just asking for a chance to give him that, to make a difference in one boy’s life.”

  “Doing six months at juvy would make a difference, too.”

  “Well,” Marissa said after a moment, taking a deep breath. “It’s obvious we’re not going to agree on this.” She reached for her purse, slipping the long strap over her shoulder. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me.”

  He studied her for a moment, making no move to get up or usher her out. “You’ve changed a lot in sixteen years.”

  She stopped as she started to rise, settling back in the chair. His affable tone surprised her, and immediately her defenses were up. “Should I take that as a compliment or an insult, Sheriff?”

  He laughed, giving her a shrug. “It’s just I remember you were supposed to be the quiet one.”

  Yes, she’d been the quiet one, the one he hadn’t bothered with, the one he’d overlooked—second string and second best. “Well, a lot has changed since we were kids.” She hesitated only briefly, knowing it was dangerous ground she was treading. “And maybe you didn’t know me quite as well as you thought.”

  “Or…maybe you just didn’t let me,” he muttered quietly.

  Marissa stared at him, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again. “Regardless of what you may think, Sheriff, I’m committed to this, to Josh,” she said pointedly, refusing to stray from her purpose in coming. “To making a home for him and helping him get his life back on track.”

  “And helping him out of a jail rap is your way of doing that?”

  “No,” she said, coming to her feet. “By trying to spare him an ordeal that would only be destructive.”

  Dylan rose slowly, rounding the desk. He followed her to the door, watching her as she moved. Despite the weak ankle, her strides were smooth and determined, like a model on a runway. If there was one thing a career in law enforcement had given him, it was an insight into people, and if this woman had ever had been a shrinking violet—content to live in the shadow of her sister—she sure as hell wasn’t one now. This was a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. And even without the past they shared, she was someone he would never overlook again.

  He thought of her passionate defense of her nephew, how she had spoken with such fervor and intensity. Would she bring that passion to everything she did?

  His gaze dropped to her long blond hair. It looked shiny and lush against her blue-green linen jacket. He could remember what it felt like to have it fall against his skin—soft and satiny, with the delicate scent of honeysuckle and sunshine. Was it just as silky as he remembered?

  “I’ll bet you’ll make a great principal,” he said as he reached around her and pulled open the door.

  “Why? Because I want to keep my nephew out of jail?”

  “No,” he said, watching the light from the fixtures overhead flash golden in her hair. “Because you seem to care a lot about kids—about what happens to them.”

  “Well, it would be a little silly to work in a school if you didn’t care, don’t you think?”

  “I guess,” he admitted, taking a step closer and convinced he could smell a hint of honeysuckle. “Kind of ironic, though, don’t you think? I mean, you care so much about kids, yet you don’t have one of your own.”

  “You’re making too much of it.”

  “Mallory, you didn’t see how he looked at me.”

  Marissa heard her sister’s snort over the line and could picture the face she made.

  “You’re acting paranoid,” Mallory said. “I told you this would happen if you moved back there.”

  “I’m not paranoid,” Marissa insisted, even though she suspected that was exactly what she was. “I just thought it was kind of strange the way he stared at me, that’s all.”

  “He was probably staring at you because he thought you looked great, and he couldn’t believe what a jerk he’d been back in high school.”

  Marissa had to laugh, knowing she could always rely on her sister to make her feel better. “Yeah, well apparently he wasn’t so torn up that he felt he could put in a good word with the judge.”

  “Maybe not,” Mallory admitted, sensing her sister’s smile and smiling herself. “But the judge gave you what you wanted, anyway, so you didn’t need an endorsement from the good sheriff.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Marissa sighed, peering through the breakfast nook and into the living room to where Josh lay sprawled across the sofa watching television. He glanced up just then, giving her a crooked grin and making her heart swell with emotion. He belonged with her now, and she couldn’t help smiling.

  Marissa had waited a long time for this day. She could still remember how she had felt when the doctor had confirmed what she already knew in her heart to be true—that she was carrying Dylan’s child. First she’d panicked, then there had been a litany of self-recriminations, and then reality had set in. She was going to have a baby.

  Going to Dylan had been out of the question. He hated her. And as far as she was concerned, he’d given up all rights to their child when he’d called her the second string. But she’d still had to tell her parents, and plans would have to be made.

  With Mallory’s help, she’d gone to her parents. She didn’t think she’d ever loved her parents more than on that afternoon when she’d told them she was pregnant. There was no screaming, no fits of rage, no stern lectures or senseless scolding. That wasn’t their style. They hadn’t even pressed her to name the child’s father. They simply had sat her down and helped her work out a solution—together.

  The plan had been simple. She would go to her Aunt Bernice’s in Maryland, to finish out her senior year of high school and quietly have her baby, away from the prying eyes of all those in Amador County. She had insisted on keeping her baby—until her brother Caleb had come to see her.

  Caleb and his wife Penny had desperately hoped for a family, and had been devastated when they’d learned they could have no children of their own. They had pleaded with her, pointing out that she was so young, and had years of ed
ucation and hard work ahead of her. They could provide her child with the kind of home and security it would take her years to achieve. They promised her access to the child at any time, only it would have to be as his aunt, and not his mother.

  In the end, she turned the baby over to them, though a part of her died on the day. Her baby—a perfect little boy. She had named him Joshua—meaning salvation, because he’d been hers. And over the years she’d kept up the charade—playing the role of the doting aunt. But never had she stopped thinking of Josh as her own.

  And now he belonged to her again…legally. Judge Kent had granted her custody just as he had granted the plan she and Evan had proposed that spared Josh the ten-month jail sentence the district attorney had been seeking. He was going to allow Josh and the other two boys arrested with him to work off their sentences by agreeing to maintain their attendance at the continuation school—starting with the summer school session—and to work afternoons to rebuild the toolshed they’d destroyed. All in all, her day in court had truly been a wonderful one.

  “Of course I’m right,” Mallory said, sounding uplifting and enthusiastic. “And with the hearing out of the way, you and Josh can concentrate on getting on with your lives and not have to worry about seeing Dylan any longer.”

  “Oh…about that,” Marissa groaned, feeling some of her enthusiasm fade.

  “What?” Mallory demanded, feeling her sister’s disheartened spirit despite the sixteen hundred miles between them. “What haven’t you told me?”

  “Nothing, really,”. Marissa twisted the spiral telephone cord around her finger, remembering the look on Dylan’s face when the judge read the sentence. “Just that when the judge agreed to let Josh and the other boys work off their sentence, the district attorney requested that a series of random checks be made on their progress—to be sure they make it to class, that the work on the shed is actually getting done—things like that.”

  “So?” Mallory prompted when her sister hesitated.

  “So the judge granted the D.A.’s request.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means he’s asked the good sheriff to stop from time to time to check on Josh’s progress, and if Dylan finds that Josh isn’t fulfilling his obligation, he can take him back into custody and send him to the youth authority.”

  “Oh,” Mallory said glumly. “Which means Dylan James is smack-dab in the middle of your life again. You know, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, you moving back to Jackson—seeing him all the time.”

  “How can you say that? Mallory, I’ve got my son. Don’t you realize in my whole life, I never thought that would happen?”

  “But at what cost? You don’t think seeing Dylan over and over again won’t hurt. You forget, I know what you felt for him. I remember what it did to you to lose him.”

  Marissa closed her eyes. She remembered, too. “I’ve got Josh back, that’s all that’s important.”

  “Is that Auntie Mal?”

  Marissa jumped violently at the sound of Josh’s voice behind her. She turned around, feeling the guilt spread across her face like a flashing neon sign. “Uh…yes, yes it is. She—uh—she called to see how things went in court today.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  She searched his face, looking for any sign that he might have overheard any of their conversation, but his young handsome face looked innocent and sweet. Unaware until that moment that she was holding her breath, she slowly let it out. Maybe Mallory was right, maybe she was just a little bit paranoid.

  “Sure honey, sure,” she said, handing him the phone.

  “Hi, Auntie Mal,” he said, bringing the phone to his ear. “How does it feel to have a nephew who’s not a jailbird any longer?”

  Marissa watched her son as he talked and felt her heart swell. She took his teasing and flashes of humor as a good sign. The six weeks he’d spent at the juvenile holding facility at the Amador County jail had left him frightened, and very angry with life—and he still struggled with the loss of Penny. Of course, he’d done his best to put up a tough exterior—joking and acting like he didn’t care—but she’d seen the look on his face when the judge had released him into her custody. He’d been tremendously relieved.

  She walked across the kitchen, gazing out the window above the sink. But she didn’t see the foothills in the distance. She thought of Dylan. Josh was so much like him, so much like the dashing high school quarterback she’d known all those years ago.

  She thought of the man she’d seen in the courtroom today. He’d remained in the background of the proceedings, acknowledging her presence with only the slightest of nods. But she’d been aware of him just the same. He was different now. His shoulders were still as broad and straight as they’d been on the football field, but there was a harshness to his features now, a harshness in his face that hadn’t been there before.

  She pictured the stern set of his jaw, the lean cheeks, the cold, dark eyes. The beautiful boy had grown into a handsome man, but the life he’d seen was there on his face. And that is how he’d looked at her—hard, dispassionate and angry. Was there any of the boy left inside the man?

  She glanced back across the small kitchen to Josh as he talked on the phone. His profile, the set of his shoulders, the slant of his eyes, were all so familiar. The physical resemblance between father and son was striking—so striking it made her uneasy. What did Dylan see when he looked at Josh? How long would it be before he looked at his son and recognized himself?

  Chapter 3

  “She wants to talk to you again.”

  Marissa gave her head a shake, forcing her thoughts aside, and reached for the phone.

  “Hi,” she said into the receiver, her voice sounding distant even to her own ears. She smiled as she watched Josh grab a bag of the cheddar-flavored popcorn they both loved, and amble back into the living room to collapse onto the sofa again. “So, what do you think?”

  “I think what I always have—that he’s a great kid,” Mallory said without hesitation. “And that he sounds remarkably wonderful considering everything he’s been through. And that the two you are lucky to have each other.”

  “I think you’re right about that, big sister,” Marissa said with a smile, referring to the seven minutes that separated their births. “I’m just glad he’s out of that awful holding facility. It was such a terrible place.”

  “Well, it sounds like he’s pretty relieved about that, too.”

  Marissa was quiet for a moment, emotion squeezing her throat tight. “Tell me I can do this, Mallory. Tell me I can help him. I can figure out a way to keep him out of places like that forever.”

  Mallory felt her sister’s fears and insecurities, and understood them. Marissa wasn’t really uncertain or unsure, just in desperate need of bolstering and assurance. “Are you kidding—you? Of course you can. You’re the ‘smart’ one, remember? You can figure out anything,” Mallory said, playing the role of cheerleader again. “And look at it this way. You’ve made it through the worst part. You got your son, and you’ve faced Dylan James and survived. The rest is smooth sailing.”

  Marissa had to smile, her sister’s encouraging words doing what they were meant to—make her feel better. Gradually their conversation moved on to other things—their parents, old friends and Mallory’s new husband, Benjamin Graywolf. There was no need for “twin radar” for Marissa to feel her sister’s happiness—it virtually traveled through the telephone lines on its own. She listened as Mallory caught her up on her life as a newlywed and couldn’t quite help feeling just a small pang of envy. Did the kind of love that Graywolf and Mallory shared happen only once in a lifetime?

  After hanging up the phone, Marissa walked back to the window and glanced outside again. She’d loved Dylan once the way Mallory loved her husband. Had that been her once-in-a-lifetime chance? Had she lost her only chance at happiness when she lost him?

  “Second thoughts?”

  She spun around, startled. Josh’s voice ha
d sounded so much like Dylan’s just then it had gooseflesh rising on her arms. “Remind me to tie a bell around your neck so I’ll know when you’re coming up behind me.”

  Josh smiled. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to startle you. Honest.” The smile slowly faded from his face. “You looked so sad just now. I thought maybe…” He shrugged as his words drifted.

  At fifteen, he stood as tall as she, and the frightened look on his face tore at her heart. “For better or for worse, you’re mine now, so don’t be trying to wiggle out of it, you got that?” she said, reaching out and giving him a hug. She pulled back and looked into his dark eyes—eyes that were so much like his father’s. “And just in case I haven’t mentioned it, I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  Marissa thought she saw the hint of tears in his eyes when he reached out and hugged her again, but she couldn’t be sure. When he’d pulled away, his dark eyes shone dry and clear. Still, she knew the emotions were there, and understood how awkward he was with them.

  With an embarrassed grin, he stepped back and held up the half-eaten bag of cheese popcorn, and wiggled his orange-stained fingers at her. “I saved you some, and a movie’s just starting on the tube. Wanna watch?”

  Marissa’s heart swelled in her chest. “I’m right behind you.”

  “You sure you want to do that?”

  Dylan glanced up from the coffee urn, confused. “Do what?”

  “The coffee,” Kimberly explained, gesturing to the mug he was filling to the brim. “It’s been brewing all day. It will practically be lethal by now. I take it you don’t plan on sleeping tonight.”

  Dylan shrugged carelessly and finished filling his cup. “So I’ll take an extra patrol.”

  Kimberly’s big blue eyes narrowed. “What’s got you in such a mood?”

  “A mood?” Dylan taunted, sipping the caustic black liquid and wincing. “Am I in a mood?”

  “Never mind,” Kimberly muttered, turning back to the report she was typing. She recognized the tone, and knew to back off. She’d worked for Sheriff James long enough to know that when he was in a good mood, she could joke and tease with him, but when he wasn’t…well, when he wasn’t it was best to just stay out of his way.