As she had every morning for the four mornings that had passed since she and Brady had decided to make their marriage a real one, the minute the sun climbed over the horizon, Haven disentangled herself from the warmth of his arms and went for a jog. Rain or shine, no matter how exhausted she was from making love the night before, she made it a point to run at least five miles. At a flat-out speed.
This morning, she pushed herself to the limit and ran ten. She'd discovered that if she ran hard enough, all she had time to concentrate on was the punishment she meted out to her body. There was no room for any thought but the source of her next torturous breath, and in that she found a measure of peace. The only thing she couldn't leave behind on her early-morning journeys was the realization that she was trying to outrun her problems.
When she stumbled through the front door, sweat plastered her hair to her head and her T-shirt to her skin. Her legs felt so weak it was a wonder they didn't collapse beneath her like the limbs of a newborn colt.
Thirst drove her to the kitchen, where the smell of frying bacon told her Brady was awake.
"Water's on the table," he said, his back to her as he worked over the stove.
"Thanks." Haven drained the glass he'd placed in the center of the kitchen table in one long gulp. After wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she crossed to the sink and refilled it. This time, she drank slowly.
"Have a good run?"
She nodded. "It's a beautiful morning. Still cool, with just the hint of a breeze. The perfect day for a birthday party. Want to go for a jog before it heats up?"
"Thanks, but I'll wait till later." He removed the pan of sizzling bacon from the burner. "Since it's her birthday, I promised Anna I'd make her pancakes for breakfast."
Haven glanced toward the den, which was conspicuously silent. Normally at this time on a Saturday morning, the sounds of Anna's favorite cartoon would be blaring. "Where is she?"
Brady chuckled. "Believe it or not, still asleep."
"I'm not surprised. You know how excited she was last night. I thought she'd never fall asleep."
She set her glass in the sink. "Need me to help out around here?"
"Nope. Everything's under control. Why don't you go shower?"
Twenty minutes later, dressed in a pair of white shorts and a sleeveless black tank top, Haven went to wake Anna.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," she said as she opened the drapes to a stream of sunlight.
Stretching one hand above her head, Anna yawned and opened her eyes. "Is it my birfday yet?"
Haven turned from the window with a smile. "Sure is. And a beautiful day it is, too. Happy birthday, sweetheart."
All at once, Anna was wide-awake. "Yippee!"
She jumped from her bed and ran to give Haven a hug. "Can I open my pwesents now?"
Haven swept the little girl up into her embrace and thrilled to the feel of the chubby arms that wrapped around her neck. Anna's cast had been removed the day before, and her wrist was as good as new. "Not until your party."
"Aw, Binny!"
Haven kissed the soft cheek, then set Anna back down on the floor. "No pouting on your birthday, okay? Your party's just a few hours away. Now, in honor of this special day, I'll make your bed. Why don't you get dressed, so we can eat breakfast. Uncle Brady's making pancakes just for you."
Five minutes later, Anna raced toward the kitchen. "Unca Bwady, Unca Bwady!" she called.
"What is it, squirt?" Haven heard him ask as she followed a few steps behind.
"Do you 'member what today is?"
Haven paused in the doorway and watched Brady smile at his daughter. "Um, let me think." Leaning against the counter, he cupped an elbow in one hand and tapped his fingertips against his chin. "It's Friday—no, no, it's Saturday. Am I right?"
"Um-hmm," Anna said.
Brady spread his arms. "Well, if it's Saturday, then it must be mow-the-lawn day."
Anna giggled. "No, silly, that's not it."
"It's not?" He snapped his fingers. "I've got it. It's clean-out-the-garage day."
"Nooooh."
He scratched his head and squinted his eyes as if deep in thought. "Is it—now, let me think—could it be … your birthday?"
Anna clapped her hands with glee. "Yes. And I'm gonna haf a party wif a clown an' everthing."
"You are? That's great. How old are you?"
The little girl held up three fingers.
Brady looked impressed. "That old? I am impressed."
How he'd changed from the dour, unsmiling man who had marched into the center and baldly announced his paternity, Haven thought, not for the first time. Physically, he bore little resemblance to the wan, too-thin man he'd been then. Now he looked hale and hearty, and far too handsome for Haven's peace of mind.
But it was the internal changes that were, by far, the more profound. A smile seemed to constantly hover about his lips, and he'd totally relaxed—with Anna, at least. There were no walls between them. Gone was his awkwardness, his hesitation when he spoke to her. He'd submerged himself into fatherhood the way some actors submerged themselves in the role they'd been contracted to play, completely and unhesitatingly.
While Anna chatted about the doll she wanted for her birthday, Brady glanced over at Haven, the smile on his face loving and indulgent. Even though she knew the smile was for Anna, her heart thundered in response.
It amazed her that during the day they could act like platonic roommates who shared the same living space, while at night they couldn't keep their hands off each other. But then again, it amazed her that she'd grown into such an accomplished liar. She'd never expected she could keep secrets the way she had. From Josephine, as well as from Brady.
Why did children think that having a secret was such fun? She hated it. The weight of it never left her shoulders.
She'd have to tell Brady the truth. Soon. She'd have to tell Josephine the truth, too. She didn't know which chore she dreaded more.
* * *
"How many children did you say you invited?" Brady shouted to her over the din of squealing voices. They were in the den, playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey. After Haven placed a blindfold on a child, Brady would spin her around, hand her a tail and then aim her for the poster tacked to the wall.
"Ten," Haven shouted back. "Eleven, including Anna."
"Is that all? I could have sworn there were at least fifty."
She laughed. "It does sound like it, doesn't it?"
The phone rang, and she went to answer it. When she returned, Brady had arranged the eleven little girls in a circle and started a raucous game of hot potato.
He took one look at her face and crossed immediately to her side. "Bad news?"
"That was the clown. Actually, it was his mother. He can't make it. He has the chicken pox."
His eyebrows raised. "The chicken pox? How old is this clown?"
"Twelve. He's the brother of one of the kids at the center. What am I going to do, Brady? Anna's going to be so disappointed."
"How long can you hold the fort?" he asked.
"I don't know." She shrugged. "An hour, I suppose."
"Be right back."
He dashed out of the room. Haven heard the pounding of his feet as he raced up the stairs. When he raced back down, she thought she glimpsed something black hanging over one arm, but he was moving too fast for her to identify what it was. The slam of the front door was followed by the sound of his car engine roaring to life.
Exactly one hour later, the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, Haven saw Brady wearing his tuxedo jacket over his jeans. He had on a red bow tie and black gloves, and a huge plastic daisy rested in his lapel. A top hat sat on his head. At his feet lay a green duffel bag.
"What?" she said, laughing.
With a flourish, a deck of cards appeared in one hand. "Pick a card, any card."
Shaking her head, she drew the queen of hearts.
"Place it back in the deck, please. Anywhere."
&nb
sp; She complied, and watched while he shuffled. After spreading the cards again, he riffled them with one gloved finger, then drew a card from the center of the deck. It was the queen of hearts.
"Is this your card?"
"Amazing," she said. "But can you pull a rabbit out of your hat? Something tells me those three-year-olds in there won't be thrilled with card tricks. They don't know a diamond from a spade, let alone how to read numbers."
"Don't worry about Brady the Magnificent." He picked up the duffel bag and brushed by her. "One of my army buddies was an amateur magician. He taught me a trick or two."
"Where'd the equipment come from?" she asked.
"I raided the five-and-dime. They have everything."
Bemused, she closed the door and followed him into the den. For his first trick, he pulled a bouquet of roses out of his hat and handed them, with a bow, to a delighted Anna. When she took them, he pointed to the daisy in his lapel. Anna gave it a squeeze, and water streamed onto Brady's face. He reeled back with a comic look of surprise, and eleven little girls erupted in laughter.
Forever after, Haven would remember that moment. Because, whether he knew it or not, Brady the Magnificent had just pulled the biggest trick of all. He made her do what she'd been fighting against from the moment she met him. He made her fall in love with him. Completely and irrevocably. It was crazy and irresponsible and beyond stupid. But she did it anyway.
She couldn't help herself.
* * *
Ten days later, Haven went to see Josephine in the day care center's kitchen. The day of reckoning had come. It was time to fess up. Time to tell the truth, or at least part of it. The hearing date was fast approaching. If the case went to trial, Josephine would be called as a character witness. She'd receive notice of that any day; she needed to be prepared.
Leaning against a stainless-steel table, Haven watched in silence for a minute while the older woman whipped up a batch of cookie dough. Bowl tucked in the crook of one arm, Josephine stirred the batter vigorously. Her entire body vibrated with the effort.
"Hey," Haven said.
Josephine looked up with a smile. "Hey, yourself."
"Haven't seen you much lately."
"Guess we've both been busy."
Haven smiled at the understatement. "Guess we have."
With one finger, she traced an idle pattern across the cool stainless steel. "I miss you, Josie. I miss our talks."
A tender light lit the older woman's eyes. "I do, too, child."
"Want to talk now?"
"I'd like that a lot." Josephine set the bowl down. After picking up a rolling pin and dusting it with flour, she plunked the dough on the table and began rolling it out.
Haven didn't want to baldly announce her news. She wanted to lead up to it slowly, to prepare Josephine for what was to come. But before she could ask the first in a list of several innocuous questions she'd prepared, Josephine beat her to the punch.
"So tell me … how's married life?"
Even though they'd agreed to make their marriage a real one, for Anna's safety they still couldn't disclose the reason for their union. Since she couldn't tell Josephine the truth, and she was tired of lying, talking about her marriage was the last thing Haven wanted to do. She couldn't tell Josephine that being married to Brady was torture. Sheer, unadulterated torture. For the past two weeks, she'd spent her days at the center, her evenings playing with Anna and her nights in the heaven of Brady's arms.
He'd noticed, as she'd known he inevitably would, the faint scarring on her abdomen. While she'd had to tell him about the car accident, she hadn't been able to bring herself to admit the extent of her injuries. Even worse, he'd bought condoms to protect her from the pregnancy she'd told him she wasn't ready for. Each time he used one, guilt stabbed at her.
Instead of his passion waning the more familiar they became with each other's bodies, with each passing night his lovemaking had grown more wild and intense. It was like riding on the winds of a hurricane. And every time the storm was over, and she lay in his arms, panting from exertion and beautifully satiated, she felt empty. The secret yawning between them only made the emptiness more vast.
To have Brady but not his love was like being a child who'd been let loose in a toy store and told she could have all the toys she could carry outside, except that the toys were bolted to the shelves. Try as she could, they wouldn't budge. While she could play with them in the store, they would never belong to her. Like that little girl, while Haven could have Brady in her bed and enjoy the pleasure his body gave her, she would never have his love.
Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Josephine's mouth tightened into a thin line. "What is it, child? Something's wrong, isn't it?"
Haven drew a deep breath. "There's something I have to tell you."
Josephine stabbed a cookie cutter into the dough. "I knew it, I just knew it. He up and left you, didn't he, child? I'm going to kill that man."
It amused Haven how, now that she thought the marriage was in trouble, Josephine conveniently forgot how excited she'd been about it at the time it took place.
"No, Josie, he didn't leave me. We're doing just fine. What I wanted to tell you is that Douglas and Pamela Zieglar are suing me for custody of Anna."
Lord, but it felt good to tell at least part of the truth, although Haven hated the lines of worry that now creased the older woman's eyes.
"Oh, child, no. When did this happen?"
"Not too long ago."
"Do they have a case?"
"We're hoping to put a stop to it before it goes to trial. But if we can't, I'm going to need you to stand up for me in court."
"You know you can count on me for whatever you need."
Haven felt tears well up in her eyes. "I know, Josie. Thanks. I just wanted you to be prepared."
She drew a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. With an effort of will, she plastered a smile on her face. "So," she said brightly, pushing her problems to the back of her mind, "how are things working out with Jackson?"
* * *
Brady stretched himself out on the ground and watched while Pete planted a rosebush. Rivulets of sweat coursed down the middle of his back, plastering his shirt to his skin. Leaning back on his elbows, he tilted his face to the sun, and wondered if he would ever tire of the feel of it.
Three and a half weeks had passed since he'd talked Haven into making their marriage a real one. Three and a half weeks during which he'd made love to her endlessly almost every night, and still he couldn't get enough of her, any more than he could get enough of the sun. The need to touch her was like an addiction. It was a fever in his blood, hot and burning. A fever she seemed to share, because whenever he took her into his arms, she sought his touch as eagerly as he did hers.
Then why was he feeling so frustrated? he wondered. Why did he feel so hollow and empty inside? Why did he feel more alone now than he had when he'd been held captive in a solitary cell?
Because even though she gave her body freely to him at night, when they weren't in bed, he could feel a part of her pulling away from him. There was a distance between them, an invisible wall she'd erected. A wall that existed because she didn't love him. And he didn't have the faintest clue how to go about tearing it down.
"How do you court a woman?" he asked.
Pete sat back on his heels. Surveying his handiwork, he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "Haven's the woman you want to court, I take it?"
"Of course Haven's the woman I want to court." Brady didn't bother to hide his impatience. He'd been so careful with his emotions over the past three and a half weeks, it was a relief to give free rein to his feelings. "Who else would I be talking about?"
"Just checking."
"Well, now you know. So, what do I do?"
"Why do you want to court her? You're already married." Ask Pete a question, Brady thought, and all you got was commentary. He should have known better. Unfortunately, he ha
d no one else to go to.
"And I want to stay married. Now, are you going to tell me or not?"
"You really don't know how? The Casanova of Allegheny County, the man who's had women drooling over him since his voice changed, doesn't know how to court a woman?"
"I never needed to before."
A rueful smile curved Pete's mouth. "The sad thing is, I believe you. And I should hate you for it."
"I'm still waiting for an answer."
"Okay, okay. Don't get your pants in an uproar." Pete fingered his chin, leaving a smudge of dirt behind. "Let's see. How do you woo a woman? The possibilities are endless."
"Pete," Brady warned.
"Flowers are always good," Pete said. "Forget candy, though. Most women are so figure-conscious, they get highly insulted if you bring them chocolate. Unless it's PMS time, in which case you buy the five-pound box."
"Okay, I got you so far. Bring flowers. Forget chocolate. What else?"
"You could try an expensive restaurant. You know, candlelight, soft music, good wine. Follow that up with a romantic movie and she's yours. Of course, with your bucks you could really do it up big. Rent a yacht, the penthouse suite of the most expensive hotel… You get my drift."
"Sounds easy enough."
Pete reached out with his massive hands to pat down the dirt around the plant. "Nothing, where women are concerned, is easy."
"I'm learning that."
"Of course, what I really recommend doesn't cost a penny. But it's the hardest damn thing to do."
"What's that?"
Pete's gaze was sober when it met his. "Be totally honest. Share your feelings. Tell her you love her. Tell her how she makes you feel."
Much as he longed to, he couldn't do that. Not yet anyway. Not until he was certain his feelings would be reciprocated. He just wasn't that brave.
"I'll take it under advisement."
* * *
After he left Pete, Brady spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about his future. His and Haven's and Anna's. When he heard Haven's car pull into the driveway shortly after six, he walked to the front door.
"Hi, Unca Bwady," Anna greeted him when he held the door open for her.
"Hi, squirt. Sesame Street is ready for you in the den. All you have to do is punch the play button."
Major Dad Page 19
