Haven picked up a tea towel and began drying the wet dishes stacked in the drain. Although the kitchen had come equipped with a perfectly functioning dishwasher, Josephine insisted on washing the dishes by hand, saying that no manmade machine could clean them to her satisfaction.
"You going to tell me what's eating you, child, or are you just going to stand there and stew?"
Lost in thought, Haven started at Josephine's words. "What makes you think something's bothering me?" she hedged.
"You just put a pile of plates in the refrigerator."
Haven opened the refrigerator door and grimaced. "Guess I did."
"Care to tell me why?"
Haven wanted nothing more than to dump her problems onto Josephine's broad, capable shoulders. But it wouldn't be fair. The woman had shouldered too much for her already these past few years.
She didn't delude herself; she'd have to tell Josephine about Brady Ross eventually. Especially when he started visiting with Anna. Because if his claim was true and he really was Anna's father, even if the law would permit her to do so, she couldn't deny the child the right to know him. She couldn't deny Anna the fulfillment of the dream that had haunted her own childhood and had lasted well into her adult years.
Though she'd had twenty-eight years to accept it, it still hurt to know that her parents hadn't wanted her, had in fact found the contents of a petri dish more fascinating than they'd ever found her. How many nights had she cried herself to sleep, aching for their touch, for just a word of love and encouragement from them? If Brady Ross could keep Anna from experiencing a similar loss, she wouldn't deny him.
Yes, Josephine would have to know. But not now. For now, Haven would keep her own counsel. This was one problem she would handle on her own.
"Haven?" Josephine prompted.
She moved her shoulders in what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. "I just have a lot on my mind, is all."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not now, thanks. Don't worry, I'll be okay." She carefully placed a handful of knives in the silverware drawer and hung up the tea towel. "I think I'll put on a pot of coffee. Want some?"
Fifteen minutes later, the dishes were done, and Haven and Josephine sat across from each other in the breakfast nook.
"Haven," Josephine said.
"Hmm?"
"You just put ten teaspoons of sugar in your coffee."
Haven took a sip of the cloyingly sweet liquid and made a face. "Ugh. Seems to be my night for absentminded behavior."
"I've never seen you act this way." The older woman peered at her closely. "It's not a man, is it?" The note of hope was unmistakable in her voice.
In vivid detail, Haven saw Brady's face. The words popped out of her mouth before she could bite them back. "Yes, it's a man."
Josephine looked thrilled. "Who is he, child? How'd you meet him? What's he do?" She held up a hand. "No, don't answer. You'll tell me in your own good time. I'm just happy you're finally having a life of your own."
"I already have a life of my own."
Josephine's snort was worth a thousand words.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that, between Anna and the center, the only thing you've curled up in bed with lately is a book. When was the last time you had a date, child?"
Feeling restless, Haven rose and dumped her coffee into the sink. "I don't see you out on the town every weekend."
Josephine tilted her head, her brown eyes bright with curiosity. "What do you think I do on the nights I spend away from here?"
After pouring herself a fresh cup, one into which she stirred only one teaspoon of sugar, Haven crossed her ankles and leaned against the counter. "Visit your parents. That's where you always say you're going."
The older woman rolled her eyes. "Child, you really are an innocent. I visit my parents for a couple of hours, but the rest of the night I spend in the arms of a warm, tender, caring man."
"Josie," Haven said with a delighted smile, "you wicked woman you. Who is he? Why didn't you tell me about him before?"
"His name's Jackson. And I never said anything because I didn't want to flaunt my happiness in your face. Not with you working so hard and sacrificing so much. But now, child, I'm starting to wonder."
Haven knew she shouldn't ask, but she did anyway. "Wonder what?"
"Whether you're using Anna and the center as an excuse to hide from the world."
"Well, you can stop worrying. I'm not."
"Good. Then there's no reason for you to be sitting home alone at night. If this man asks you out, go for it." The phone rang, and Josephine answered it. A minute later, she was deep into an animated conversation with one of her bridge partners.
Grateful for the distraction, Haven rinsed her cup and saucer out in the sink. After waving good-night, she wandered upstairs to her bedroom.
Was Josephine right? she wondered as she washed her face. Was she using Anna and the center to hide from the world? She'd never thought so before. Since Melinda's death, she really had been too busy for a relationship. Still, before Josephine had brought it to her attention a few minutes ago, she hadn't realized how long it had been since she'd had a date. Or how many excuses she'd made whenever she'd been asked.
She hadn't realized how much she missed being enfolded in a pair of strong arms and simply held close.
Josephine's words echoed in her ears: If he asks you out, go for it.
Inevitably, Haven's thoughts turned to Brady Ross and their coming meeting. Incredible as it seemed, she found herself looking forward to it with an eagerness that had nothing to do with her desire to have the matter of his paternity settled.
She shook her head at her own foolishness. It figured she'd be drawn to the one man who had the power to do her the most harm. Josephine would be thrilled to death if she knew.
* * *
Other than the occasional passing car and barking dog, the only sounds to mar the silence of the night were the rain, the slap of his footfalls against the wet pavement and the rush of his breath as Brady negotiated one of the hills that were a Pittsburgh trademark. The lungfuls of freshly washed air that he pulled greedily through his nostrils carried the scents of spring buds.
He'd started running as a child, when speed and agility had meant survival. What had begun as necessity had soon turned into a lifelong passion. In high school and college he'd been the star runner on the track team. When he hadn't been jogging in place in his cell or doing calisthenics to maintain his muscle tone, one of the ways he'd relieved the boredom of his captivity was to relive in his mind every footfall and every breath of every race he'd run. It had kept him sane.
Of course, with his limp, he wouldn't be running in any more races. But he could still run for the sheer joy of it, slow and awkward though he might be. For that small pleasure, he was heartily grateful.
The rain didn't bother him. On the contrary, he relished the clean feel of it on his face and shoulders. The blackness of the night didn't bother him, either. During his captivity he'd spent so much time in darkness that it had become, if not a friend, no longer an enemy to be feared.
What did bother him, had in fact propelled him from the warmth of his bed in the middle of the night, were not nightmares of his time as a prisoner but the faces of Anna Dolan and Haven Adams. They seemed to be indelibly etched in his brain. Memories of his captivity, when he couldn't stop them from bulldozing their way into his consciousness, didn't begin to disturb him the way thoughts of the two new women in his life did.
His years as an army major had taught him to plan, down to the smallest detail, every operation he undertook. That was precisely what he had done before he'd approached Haven Adams. Everything had been mapped out carefully, from the initial contact, to the scheduling of the blood tests, the verification of his paternity and eventual visits with his daughter. He'd taken into consideration every obstacle, every contingency. Or so he'd thought.
As he'd discovered that morning, planning for
parenthood was not the same as planning a clandestine operation. He'd thought—mistakenly—that he would just do his duty, and that would be that.
One look at both Haven Adams and his daughter had rid him of that delusion. He'd found it impossible to remain neutral toward either one. That he had any feelings at all came as a revelation. The only other person who had ever provoked such a strong response from him on first meeting had been Charles Ross, his adoptive father. As disillusioned and mistrusting as he'd been at the time, Brady hadn't been able to ignore the man's innate goodness and honesty, any more than he could brush aside the pull he felt toward Haven and Anna. His attraction to Haven wasn't the problem. He'd been attracted to many women over the years. What bothered him was that his attraction to her shouldn't have made any difference to him, one way or the other.
But it did. His formidable self-control seemed to take a hike in her presence. He took some solace in the knowledge that his feelings for her were purely physical, and thus would fade over time.
As for his daughter, his feelings toward her defied definition. They were elemental in nature and totally uncontrollable. That was what terrified him.
Never promise more than you can deliver was the first rule of guerrilla warfare. What if Anna wanted more from him than he could give? What if he failed her the way his biological father had failed him?
Anna didn't need him. Financially, Melinda had seen to it that she would never want. And, from all reports, Haven was more than adequately meeting her emotional needs. He could leave now, ensuring that he would never hurt or disappoint her, the way he had every other woman in his life.
Always deliver what you promise was the second rule. Years ago, he'd made a promise to himself that he would never abandon a child of his own. Besides, there was one thing he could give his daughter that Melinda, with all her money, and Haven, with all her affection, couldn't. He could give her answers.
Growing up, he'd had so many questions that had gone unanswered. Most of them were still unanswered, and the not knowing had left an emptiness inside him that had seemed to grow larger with every passing year. The one thing he wanted above all else was for his daughter to grow up with as few unanswered questions as possible. He wanted her to grow up whole. He owed her that much, at least. He would simply have to make sure that his shortcomings didn't get in the way.
At the crest of the hill he paused, gasping for breath. The cramp in his side reminded him of his weakness. Despite the hours he'd devoted to keeping in as good a shape as a three-by-seven-foot cell would allow, he still had a long way to go to regain his former level of fitness.
A soft mewing sound caught his attention. Ahead of him, under a pool of light cast by a streetlight, he saw what looked like a discarded duffel bag. As he approached, the sides of the bag moved.
"What have we here?" he murmured, grasping the zipper and pulling. Inside he found three gray kittens, soaking wet and shivering. By their size, Brady guessed they had just been weaned from their mother.
He swore. Though he'd been disenchanted with the human race since the age of three, he could still be surprised by those who would deliberately harm the weak and defenseless. He supposed he should be grateful that whatever coward had dumped the kittens on the side of the road hadn't dropped them into the river.
After zipping the bag shut, he carefully arranged it in his arms and jogged toward home. Briefly, he considered taking the animals to a shelter, then discarded the idea. He would not be responsible for any animal being in a cage. After he was sure they were healthy, he'd place an ad in the paper and give them to a good home.
Thirty minutes later, he entered the furnished efficiency he'd rented upon his return to Pittsburgh. It was nothing much, but then, he didn't need much.
Ignoring his own sodden state, Brady carefully placed the bag on the kitchen table before hurrying to the bathroom and grabbing a handful of towels from the closet. He rubbed each kitten until its fur was dry and it purred in contentment, then he went to the refrigerator for some milk. While he watched them eagerly lap at the bowl, he found himself wondering if his daughter liked cats.
* * *
Haven didn't sleep well. After tossing and turning for most of the night, she at last succumbed to exhaustion toward dawn. When her alarm went off, she groaned and wearily climbed into her jogging clothes. She groaned again when she returned from her run and looked in the mirror to find dark circles beneath her eyes.
After listening to the weather report, which promised plenty of sunshine and temperatures in the upper seventies, Haven did something she rarely did: agonized over what to wear. She finally settled on a sleeveless yellow linen sheath dress with a bright-pink hip-hugger belt and matching yellow sandals.
Makeup helped disguise the evidence of her sleepless night, but, as usual, her hair refused to cooperate. Curls rioted around her head in every direction but the one she wanted them to go, and she finally tossed up her hands in defeat. Who was she trying to impress anyway? Certainly not Brady Ross.
Liar, her inner voice chided. Haven ignored it and went to wake Anna.
For once, the weather forecast was on target. As Haven marched up the curved sidewalk leading to the laboratory's main entrance two hours later, Anna's small hand clutched in hers, the sun gently bathed her bare shoulders with warmth. Dogwoods in full bloom lined the path, along with tulips and azalea bushes, their bright colors dazzling to the eye. Birds sang in the trees, and the air smelled fresh and clean.
It was the kind of May morning Haven loved. This morning, however, she was too keyed up to enjoy the wonders of nature.
"Pwetty flowers, Binny!" Anna cried, tugging her hand free and running to investigate.
"Careful," Haven cautioned automatically. She crouched beside the little girl, who was reaching a pudgy hand toward a bright-red tulip. "Be gentle."
"Beautiful, aren't they?" a deep voice asked.
Haven's heart skipped a beat, then thudded fiercely as she shaded her eyes and looked what seemed a long way up into Brady Ross's face. The beauties of nature might have escaped her notice, but there was no way she could ignore how magnificent he looked in a pair of faded jeans and matching denim shirt, his long blond hair gleaming in the sunlight. And if he looked this good in a pair of worn jeans, she hated to think how devastating he'd be in black tie and tails.
She stood up quickly, smoothing the wrinkles from her linen dress. Somehow, the man always managed to make her feel at a disadvantage.
"Who's minding the store?" he asked.
"The store?" she murmured, still too disconcerted to think clearly. "Oh, you mean the center. My assistant."
She still felt guilty about leaving Violet in the lurch on such short notice. Violet hated to be left in charge and usually needed a couple of days' advance warning to prepare herself for the responsibility. Haven felt even more guilt for lying to Josephine. She'd told the woman she was taking Anna to the pediatrician for a checkup. On the drive to the lab, she'd explained to the little girl that a doctor was going to check her blood.
Wearing a sailor dress the same color blue as the small cast on her right arm, and with matching blue ribbons in her brown hair, Anna abandoned the tulip and approached Brady with open curiosity.
"Hi. I'm Anna."
Haven resolved to have a stern talk with the child. Forty thousand readings of Evangeline and the Stranger and still the little girl approached Brady without hesitation. Not that Haven really blamed her. The man was as handsome as sin. Maybe the discussion should center on the dangers of good-looking men, instead. And Haven would be wise to listen to her own advice.
She waited for Brady to introduce himself and was surprised when he said nothing. Turning to him, she saw a curious thing. His throat worked, and there was an odd light in his eyes as he stared at Anna. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was terrified.
Understanding dawned, and with it, an unexpected compassion. He was meeting the little girl he believed to be his daughter for the first time,
and he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say or how to act.
"This is Mr. Ross, Anna," she said. "He's having his blood checked, too. I think he's a little scared about it."
His gray eyes filling with warmth, Brady shot her a look of gratitude. At that moment, he looked not only heart-meltingly handsome, but also far too human.
Haven didn't want him to look human. If he looked human, she might forget herself and start acting like a woman in the throes of a powerful physical attraction. She might be tempted to flirt with him—if her old skills hadn't dried up from lack of use—and see what happened. And that would be dangerous. For her and for Anna.
"Are you ascared?" Anna asked.
Brady knelt so that he and Anna were at eye level. "A little."
"I'm not ascared."
"You're very brave. I wish I were as brave as you."
The little girl's chest puffed out with pride. "Binny holds my hand when I'm ascared. Want to hold my hand?"
"Thank you, Anna," he said solemnly. "I'd like that very much."
A mixture of emotions swirled through Haven as she watched the two of them together. Anna had taken a step toward the man who, in all likelihood, would prove to be her father. That meant she'd taken a step away from Haven.
Unsettled by that troubling thought, Haven led Anna through the laboratory's front doors.
The testing went smoothly. Anna didn't let out so much as a peep when the needle pricked her skin. Murmuring soft words of encouragement, the little girl held Brady's hand while his blood was drawn. Afterward, she praised him for his bravery.
He still seemed a little dazed by the whole thing when they emerged from the lab into the sunlight an hour later.
"I think you two deserve a treat," Haven found herself saying. "There's a fast-food place across the street."
"Does it have a playland?" Anna asked.
"Sure does."
"Yay!" the little girl yelled. She skipped ahead of them down the street, then dutifully stopped to wait when she reached the corner.
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