“I’m sorry, Baylee.” He saw the sorrow come into her eyes. “How about before I get on the computer and check my e-mails, we take Sarah for a walk? You look like you could use some fresh air.”
Her eyes danced. “That sounds wonderful.”
He grinned, knowing what to dangle as bait to get on the woman’s good side. Kit had after all, given him a heads up about Baylee when he’d been curious enough to ask. “And why not grab one of my boards out of the garage, hit the surf? Kit said you were the best of the lot. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got? I’ll keep an eye on Gidget here.”
She arched a brow. “Gidget?”
“Yeah. She looks like a Gidget to me. After that, we’ll head over to see your dad?”
An hour later, Dylan stood on the beach, holding a sleeping Sarah to his shoulder. He had no idea when he’d offered to watch the baby while her mother took a turn on the waves what an excellent athlete Baylee was.
Concentrating on the shapely form in the water, as she effortlessly navigated the waves, Dylan realized she moved with all the grace of an Olympic-trained competitor. He loved sports of all kinds, appreciated the effort it took to compete at even an amateur level whether it was a company softball game or playing in a pickup game of beach volleyball. But he knew one thing watching Baylee; she was good. Kit had been right about her ability. And if he’d thought she had toned arms from lugging around an infant carrier, he shouldn’t have been surprised now to learn how physically fit she was. Her petite frame had her handling the water like a dolphin.
He stood there riveted to every move she made. When she finally started paddling in on her board, coming out of the water, walking toward him, his mouth went dry.
Baylee stepped out of the surf, spotted Dylan, and waved.
“That was some ride out there. You’re pretty good even if you are goofy-footed,” Dylan said, as he handed her a towel with his free hand so she could dry off her hair.
“Goofy-footed, huh? You aren’t the first to notice. I’m a little rusty though. A couple of times I was up too far on the board, had to remember to glide back. The water was fantastic though. You’ve got good natural breaks here. Thanks for watching Sarah. She’s still sleeping.”
“Like a rock.”
They started walking back to the house at a leisurely pace.
“There’s something I meant to ask you, a favor really.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s big. You may not want to do it. If you don’t, I’ll understand completely.”
“Just ask.”
The words lodged in Baylee’s throat. She choked, could she really ask this man to do something so huge? She shook her head. “No, I’m thinking it’s too much.”
“Spit it out.”
“Okay. But it’s a bad idea.”
“Baylee.”
“Okay. If Reese Brennan could legally amend Sarah’s birth certificate, would you be willing to put your name on the dotted line so to speak, willing to be listed as her father? I wouldn’t want child support or anything like that. It wouldn’t mean financial support in any way, zero; none because I’d sign a waiver to that effect or whatever.”
Dylan stopped walking. Humbled at the offer, he tried to act casual. “I’ll call Reese when we get back to the house, get him working on it.”
“Just like that? You should take some time to think about it. I’d insist on signing anything Reese suggests to make sure you aren’t obligated to pay child support in the future. But even with that, this is serious stuff, Dylan. I’m no lawyer, but I know what I’m asking. It would mean lying, lying on an official state document. You shouldn’t take this lightly. And Reese would have to take care of it in Colorado since she was born in Denver. I’m not even sure Reese could do that in another state. But I have a copy of her birth certificate if that would help.”
“I’ll tell Reese. I don’t know why I didn’t think about the birth certificate angle first. It’s a perfect solution. If I’m listed as her father, Connor wouldn’t even consider she might be Dylan.” At least he hoped not.
“I’ve thought about this all morning. I know what I’m asking is huge. But her birth certificate might be the one convincing document that Boyd would respect in court if it comes to that. Of course he might make you take a paternity test and then the jig would be over.”
“But it would buy us time. I’ll get Reese working on it.”
As soon as they reached the deck, Baylee hung the wet towel on the railing and turned to get out of her wetsuit.
Dylan heard the zipper go down from five feet away, and made the mistake of turning around.
Living at the beach, he scoped out scantily clad women all the time traipsing around in bikinis, women of all shapes, all sizes, and all colors. But staring at Baylee, he found he couldn’t form spit.
Even though her yellow string bikini top didn’t match the red bottoms, it didn’t need to. It did the job just fine, giving him a glimpse of her wet, sun-touched skin, her flat stomach, her cute little bellybutton. The sight was enough to hold his gaze until his eyes drifted upward. Apparently, she’d gotten cold in the water because her nipples stood at peak attention. Dylan stood there like a schoolboy fighting for control. Luckily for him, she quickly disappeared inside the house to shower off the saltwater, totally oblivious to the effect she’d had on him.
Yeah, taking it slow definitely sucked, he thought, as he ducked inside with Sarah, wondering why the hell he’d wanted to take it so turtle-moving-slow in the first place.
CHAPTER 5 Book 2
Two hours later, Dylan found himself sitting down with the infamous William Scott in the director’s study, a massive room filled with shelves that held books and awards from days when the man ruled Hollywood’s list of elite directors.
He looked over at the man sitting in a wheelchair now and was struck by his appearance. Even though he’d never met William Scott until today, as a bit of a movie buff, Dylan had seen interviews of him many times on TV, and was reluctant to admit before the meeting, he’d Googled the guy on the Internet and memorized his impressive bio just in case.
But as he sat across from William, who slumped now in a wheelchair, he could tell the man was barely hanging onto life. It didn’t look as if he had three months to live, but rather three days.
After he had undergone brain surgery in January and endured months of chemotherapy, the cancer had taken a toll on the man’s body. Frail and emaciated, his pallid skin hung loosely over his bones. His eyes were glossy. The man looked nothing like the photos Dylan had found on the internet.
William sat quietly, content to hold his granddaughter on his lap, even though it looked as if it took every ounce of strength he could muster to keep the wiggling infant in place. As he sat there cuddling Sarah, Dylan noticed the man had tears in his eyes.
“I’m so glad you came to see me, Baylee-girl. I was worried when Tanya said you had to leave.” He pointed a bony, accusing finger at Dylan. “Is he the reason?”
When a small, primly dressed woman in her early sixties with toffee skin, entered the room carrying a tray with tea and cookies, Baylee got up to help her set it down on the coffee table, if for no other reason than to delay getting into the reason she’d left.
Her father would never in a million years admit she was no longer living here because of his verbal abuse. And trying not to stare at his sorry state, she doubted the man was up to an argument about anything in his weakened condition.
Quietly, she answered, “No Daddy, he isn’t the reason.”
“He’s Sarah’s father though, isn’t he? I’m not stupid, I can see the resemblance.”
Baylee bit back the comment that almost slipped past her lips and sighed instead. She gave Dylan a slow smile. This was the test. The lie hung in her throat. The wishful girl inside wanted this blue-eyed man with the all-American-surfer-good-looks to be her baby’s father, not Connor Boyd. That same want, deep inside, had her choking out the words, “Yes, Daddy. He’
s Sarah’s father.” The lie slid off her tongue as easily as ice on glass.
Dylan couldn’t help it. He sat up straighter in his chair. His chest swelled with some nameless pride. He was more than a little surprised that she’d actually stuck to the lie, especially with her family, even after they had agreed to do just that.
At the time, he had no idea he’d be sitting here furthering the fictional story along to her father. As he sat there he told himself she’d gone along with it simply because they were in Beverly Hills, virtually sitting in Connor Boyd’s backyard, and it was prudent they keep up the ruse. The Scott estate at 15202 Bel Green was five houses away from Alana’s, after all, and with Connor handling the woman’s probate he could easily stop in at any time, ostensibly to check on things.
Dylan told himself this was the reason she’d stuck to the plan even though, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wished it were true. He wanted to be Sarah’s father not the monster who’d raped a defenseless woman and then threatened her into keeping quiet.
“Young man, do you plan to marry my daughter? I haven’t got much longer, you know. Don’t wait too long. Is there any chance for another grandchild any time soon? I’m convinced I’d make a better grandfather than I ever did a father. It takes cancer and old age to make a man see his mistakes, admit to so many regrets.”
“Dad! That’s none of your business. Dylan and I haven’t even discussed getting married let alone having more children. We have no plans to marry. He’ll be a part of Sarah’s life, have visitation, but…that’s it.” As the lie got more complicated, Baylee felt six again, as if Tanya were reminding her that good little girls do not lie. She glanced over and met Tanya’s stare. She was surprised when Tanya winked as if to say when little girls lie they can expect their noses to grow longer with each one. Baylee couldn’t help it. She smiled and winked back.
So far Dylan hadn’t said much, but now he spoke up with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m working on that, sir. Can’t let the right woman slip through my fingers just because we sort of put the cart before the horse, so to speak. Your daughter is no pushover. She’s picky. I’m trying to measure up.”
William’s shoulder shook with laughter, pleased. He liked this young man. “And got your work cut out for you with this one. She’s a good girl, always was. I can tell you this she deserved a better father than she got with me.” But then suddenly, as if he’d just thought of something, William’s eyes misted over again. “You named her for your mother.”
They’d been over this again and again at least once a week or so since she’d surfaced back in December. After all, she’d lived in this man’s house from January to her recent move-out in May. But she knew that since the brain surgery, and with the cancer eating away at him more and more by the day, William’s mind sometimes came and went, hence the verbal tantrums.
Because of Dylan’s presence, she indulged her father once again, smiling ruefully, telling him, “After hours of labor, as soon as I knew I had a healthy little girl, I tried to come up with the perfect name. I thought of her then, my mother, and it seemed like naming my little girl Sarah, I had a second chance at something.”
Dylan wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but there was a sudden, tense undercurrent going on between father and daughter. He tried to recall whether or not Baylee had mentioned her mother that day at the bookstore and decided she hadn’t.
He glanced around the room, noting all the pictures of Baylee the man had sitting on his desk, lining the mantel over the fireplace. Nosy by nature, Dylan got up to take a look. He saw photos of a little curly-headed, blonde girl beaming back at him, some with gap-tooth smiles, and others with teenage braces from eleven to fourteen. There were various pictures of Baylee with Kit and Quinn, even pictures of Baylee with Tanya, but there were none of her with anyone that looked like she might be her mother. He made a mental note to ask her about that when he got her alone in the car.
William nodded absently, and then without warning, started to ramble. “If it’s possible, I love you more for that. Sarah Moreland was a beautiful woman. And a damn fine actress. You were always the spitting image of her, look just like her, in fact. Did I ever tell you that? You do. Maybe that’s why… that’s why I’d get so upset whenever I’d think about my lovely Sarah. I loved that woman with all my heart.” But look what he’d done; he thought now, he’d ruined everything. He couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t go back. The past was too painful to think about, and too sad; it made his head hurt. He started to shake. “And now I have a beautiful granddaughter. I’m so sorry, Baylee, so very sorry. All those years of drinking, all those years wasted, without my Sarah.”
Tanya passed Baylee a knowing look. “William, you look tired. I think it’s time you rested now. Why don’t you give Sarah back to her mother?”
Just as William’s body began to give in to any more tremors, the tears fell in earnest. Baylee took one look at her father and snatched Sarah up out of his lap. The baby looked as if she was ready to pucker up and cry.
Tanya made her way around the back of the wheelchair. But before she could push him from the room, confusion rained down on William Scott like hail from a haunted past.
Years of verbally and physically abusing his daughter for some phantom infraction had his voice rising in fear as he looked into Baylee’s eyes. He began to rant, “I’m sorry, Baylee. I’m sorry I took Sarah from you at such a young age. I’m sorry Sarah, my love. So sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t mean it. Please, Sarah, say you forgive me. You must forgive me. I have to know you forgive me before I die.”
Baylee didn’t know what to think. The man was getting worse by the day, rambling on and on without making much sense. She glanced over at Dylan, who was watching her with wide eyes.
By the time William’s wheelchair had reached the hallway, Baylee’s eyes were misting over. Noting she was visibly shaken, Dylan walked over and put his arms around both her and Sarah. She let him comfort her because it felt good to have someone hold her for a change. She blotted her damp eyes. “You see why I needed to come. He’s going downhill a little more every day. He’s worse today than he was a week ago.” At least Tanya had somehow managed to keep him sober for the visit.
“You want to talk now?”
She sunk down into a wingback chair, adjusting Sarah on her lap. “Oh, Dylan, it’s hard to talk about.” And something she hadn’t done since spending three years in group therapy right along with Kit and Quinn, recalling the awful incidents from their childhood with twice weekly sessions at Dr. Strasburg’s office in humiliating detail. “Where do I start?”
He gave her a quizzical look and then shot her one of his charming smiles. He put his hands in his pockets to keep from wrapping her up. “How about at the beginning?”
She was too tired to put up much of a resistance. “My mother, Sarah Moreland, was an actress, a good twelve years younger than Dad. He directed some of her early pictures beginning with one when she was only seventeen. But they didn’t marry until she was twenty-one. I came along when she was twenty-two. According to what little I know from Dad, I guess she had a restless spirit. Their marriage was rocky from the start maybe because of the age difference; I just don’t know. He’s never talked about the specifics.” Only ranted like a raving lunatic at times when he drank, Baylee thought.
“When I was three, she was only twenty-five. The same age I am now.” Baylee stopped talking. An image popped into her head. The same one from the same recurrent dream she’d had often since she was a small child.
The grainy scene always played the same. She’d been in bed. She’d heard an argument. When she’d gotten out of bed to see what the commotion was all about outside her bedroom door, she thought she had seen her mother fall down the stairs, no not fall, but rather being pushed after a violent struggle with two women, one who had light hair, the other dark.
In a child’s mind, she’d always pictured the woman with dark hair dressed like an ev
il witch. Her therapist had said the evil witch represented a very common manifestation in the mind of a small child. According to Strasburg, she had the recurring dream because it was better to see her mother die like that than to accept Sarah Moreland had so easily abandoned her. The dream with the “mean people,” as she so often thought of the two women, was simply that, something she had learned to deal with and accept over the years.
But even now, Baylee shuddered just remembering the images that frequently played out in her head from time to time. Then suddenly, she realized Dylan was waiting patiently for the rest.
“Anyway, one day my mother walked out on my father, ran off to Europe with a tennis pro. After that, my father started drinking heavily. Whenever he drank, he got mean, verbally abusive, sometimes physically. To this day the man is a mean drunk. You don’t want to serve him a little wine at dinner. No, Dad can’t stop with just one glass of wine, or anything with alcohol in it for that matter. During the times he was sober he could be animated, funny, charming even, and absolutely wonderful. We’d do things together; maybe go to the amusement park or to the beach, normal father-daughter outings. He was fine as long as he didn’t drink. But the moment he opened the bottle, the moment he took that first drink, he changed into someone else. During the times he drank, he could get violent at the drop of a hat. Anything might set him off. I never knew what it would be. But the older I got, I got pretty good at avoiding him. I’d go down to Kit’s or over to Quinn’s house. We’d ride bikes or drift down to the beach, anything to get out of the house.”
She rubbed a hand over her face. “We’d go anywhere just so we wouldn’t be here.” Of course she didn’t mention that sometimes she’d have to sneak out of her own house, sneak around their various parents to get to spend time together because so often they were grounded or punished for some small infraction.
“Then there were all the times he’d be in a drunken rage and Tanya would hide me, tell him she didn’t know where I was. Sometimes she knew where I was, sometimes she didn’t. But Tanya saved me more times than I could count.”
Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set Page 45
