Major Dad

by Shelley Cooper

  As he followed the older woman out of the room, he glanced back over his shoulder. Asa Adams had resumed his seat and was once again lost in his journal. Brady knew the man had forgotten his presence.

  "Here it is," Doris said when they reached the end of a narrow hallway.

  The room was monastic, with just a single bed jutting out from one wall and a small desk and dresser. Where, he wondered, were the dolls? The toys? The posters? Anything to show that a young girl had once resided here?

  His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Doris said, "We don't put much stock in playthings. Intellectual pursuits are much more stimulating to the growing mind."

  Brady wondered if a two-year-old would see it that way. No wonder Haven surrounded herself with frills and bright colors. Her childhood must have been unbearably drab and lonely.

  Had Doris Adams ever cuddled her only child in her arms and cooed to her? Or had she, instead, used flash cards with mathematical formulas as tools of bonding? And what about Asa Adams? Had he ever scooped Haven into his arms after she scraped a knee or fell off her bike, and kissed her hurt away? Brady found it impossible to picture. If ever there were two people in the world who had no business procreating, it was the two human icicles who called themselves Haven's parents.

  Sudden rage filled him, and he had to clench his hands tightly by his sides to keep from putting a fist through the wall. How could they treat her that way? And who, ultimately, had been more cruel? His parents by walking out on him, or Haven's parents for sticking around and raising her?

  "I've seen enough, thank you," he said abruptly. "I really have to be going now."

  As he'd expected, Doris Adams didn't protest.

  While he followed her through the house, Brady couldn't help marveling at the warm, loving woman who was his wife. Given her background, it was truly a miracle she could love at all.

  "Is she still running that day care center of hers and taking care of that little girl?" Doris asked when they reached the front door.

  That little girl had a name, Brady wanted to say. "Yes."

  The older woman shook her head with disapproval. It was the first emotion Brady had seen from her.

  "What a waste. She could have been the next Marie Curie, you know. She's that brilliant. Instead, she's throwing her life away on that child. I told her, after the accident, when the doctor said there'd be no children, that it was the best thing that could have happened to her. Why she couldn't be happy about it is beyond me."

  Brady felt like his gut was being ripped out. "The accident?" he asked hoarsely.

  "Didn't she tell you? When she was sixteen, she was in a car accident. There was internal damage."

  Yes, she'd told him. She'd just left out a few, rather significant details. "And that was when she found out she couldn't have children?"

  Doris nodded.

  It wasn't that she'd lied to him, although that hurt like hell. It was what the lie meant that tore his heart to shreds. Her agreement to make their marriage a real one had only been for Anna's sake, nothing else. Feelings for him had never entered the picture.

  Brady sat in the car for a long time, watching the sun go down. Then, with one sudden move, he pounded his fist against the steering wheel.

  "Damn you, Haven!" he shouted. "Damn you for making me care."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  « ^

  Haven was frantic by the time the grandfather clock chimed midnight. Where was Brady? He'd said his flight would arrive that evening. Although he hadn't given her a time, surely he should have been home by now.

  Adrenaline surged through her veins, making her heart beat at roughly the speed of a hummingbird's wings. As she roamed from room to room, kittens scrambling to stay out of the path of her restless feet, her chest felt tight and her hands trembled when she ran her fingers through her hair. Every minute or so, she paused to peer out a window. No matter how many times she checked, her driveway remained resolutely empty.

  She couldn't eat. She couldn't read. She couldn't sit still long enough to watch television or listen to the stereo. All she could do was pace and worry. She now knew exactly how many steps it took to get around her house. If she ever went blind, she'd have no problem finding her way.

  Repeated calls to the airport had assured her that all flights from New York City had arrived on time, and that there were no air disasters to report. Likewise, the local hospitals had admitted no one named Brady Ross, nor did they have any John Does matching his description. Haven had stopped short of calling the morgue; her mind refused to entertain that possibility. She'd toyed with, then discarded, the idea of calling the Lorings to see if they had heard from him. Why worry them needlessly? As it was, she was already worrying enough for ten people.

  The logical conclusion, she told herself, was that he'd decided to stay in New York another night. But surely, if that was the case, he would have picked up the telephone and let her know. Of course, he wouldn't be able to do that if he'd been beaten and mugged and his broken body was lying in some deserted alley.

  When she heard the sound of his car pulling into the driveway shortly after one, relief left her limp and she had to sit down to collect herself. He was okay. All her worry had been for nothing.

  The anger that flooded through her took her by surprise. He was okay. All her worry had been for nothing. She decided that when she saw him, he'd better at least have the decency to have a scratch on him, or to be suffering from temporary amnesia.

  The front door swung inward, and her anger left her as quickly as it had come. Brady was home. She had a sudden need to feel his arms around her, and prepared to launch herself at him the minute he came into view. One look at his face, stony and expressionless, and she stopped cold in her tracks. She imagined she saw ice chips in his eyes. The old Brady was back. With a vengeance.

  After drawing a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Haven spoke in a voice that gave no hint of her inner agitation. "How was your trip?"

  "Fine." The word was clipped, emotionless.

  He stood in the doorway, staring about him as if he'd never seem the place before. Maybe he had received a bump on the head. He certainly didn't look himself.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Just tired." He thrust his fingers through hair that looked as if it had seem that motion a dozen times already. "It's been a long day."

  "Can I get you something to eat?"

  "I'm not hungry."

  He made no move to come any farther inside. Feeling awkward and ill at ease, Haven searched for something to say.

  "Syd called yesterday. The Zieglars have dropped their petition."

  "That must make you happy."

  Compared with Brady's, a robot's voice carried more emotion. The one thing Haven was certain of was his love for Anna. For him to show no reaction to her news meant that something was wrong. Very wrong. Her anxiety built.

  "What aren't you telling me, Brady? Why are you acting this way? Did something happen on your trip?"

  His eyes narrowed. Tension emanated from beneath his skin in a tangible wave. Haven felt a sharp, answering coil of uneasiness unfold in her stomach.

  "I went to see your parents tonight."

  Oh, no. No wonder he was behaving so strangely. Five minutes alone with her parents could suck the life out of anyone.

  "You told them about us?"

  He nodded.

  "How'd they take it?"

  The cynical smile she'd thought gone forever curved his mouth. "How do you think they took it?"

  Her laugh was short and without humor. "Knowing them, they didn't blink."

  "I've never met two more unfeeling people in my life," he said harshly. "And that includes the Zieglars."

  "I'm sorry, Brady. If I'd known what you had in mind, I would have warned you about them."

  The coldness left his eyes, and they blazed at her with accusation. "Your mother told me about your accident. Odd, how her account differed from yours."
>
  A cold finger touched Haven's spine, and her breath caught in her throat. "So you know…"

  "That you can't have children," he supplied. "Yes, I know." He gave a bitter laugh, and his face told her that what she'd dreaded most had come to pass. Their marriage was over.

  "Were you ever going to tell me?"

  She didn't try to evade his gaze. "Yes."

  "When?"

  "Tonight."

  His jaw tightened. "Now that the Zieglars have dropped their petition, you mean."

  She couldn't deny it. Simplistic though it was, it was still the truth. If she'd thought for a minute she'd have a chance of reaching him, she would have tried to explain. But the look in his eyes told her he wasn't interested in explanations.

  "Yes."

  His Adam's apple traveled the length of his throat and down again. His glance slid past her to a point at the end of the hallway. "That's what I thought."

  Tentatively, she reached out a hand, then drew it back. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

  His gaze came back to her. Once again his eyes were cold and remote. Lifeless. "Can you think of one reason I should stay?"

  Only that she was hopelessly in love with him. A love he didn't return. Add to that the fact she couldn't give him the children he wanted and, no, she couldn't think of one good reason for him to stick around. Oh, she supposed she could use Anna to guilt him into staying. But it was no longer enough just to have him with her. Haven didn't want Brady to stay, unless his love was part of the bargain.

  Her insides clenched painfully, and she wanted to cry out at the unfairness of it. Pride kept her chin thrust forward and her eyes dry.

  "No," she said, "I can't."

  "I can't, either."

  For a brief second, she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain that knifed through her. When she opened them, she asked, "What about Anna?"

  "What about her?"

  She wished he wouldn't look at her as if he could see right through her. "Are you just going to walk out on her without so much as a goodbye?"

  "Of course not." He paused. "I know I have no right, but I'd like to continue seeing her. I'd like to do things with her, take her places. That is, if you'll allow it."

  Haven's throat tightened. "You know you don't have to ask."

  "Thank you. I'll go gather my things now."

  He brushed past her and began climbing the stairs. At the top, he stopped and turned. "About the kittens. I'd like Anna to keep them, if that's okay with you."

  She couldn't speak past the lump in her throat, so she nodded.

  "I won't be long," he said.

  After he disappeared down the hallway, Haven moved into the living room. Glory Be rubbed against her ankle, and she absently reached down and scooped up the kitten. Holding the purring animal close, she parted a curtain and stared out into the darkness. Though the night was warm, she couldn't stop shivering.

  When she heard Brady's footsteps on the stairs, she let the curtain fall back into place. Purposely, she kept her back to him, so he wouldn't be able to see her face. She didn't have the emotional energy to hide her feelings from him any longer.

  "Thank you for all your help with Anna," she said. Her voice sounded brittle, instead of calm, as she'd intended. "I really do appreciate everything you've done."

  "Haven…"

  His hesitation made her wonder if he'd managed to pick up on her misery. So help her, if he offered her his pity, she would scream.

  "Go," she said thickly, waving a hand. She was perilously close to losing all control. When he didn't move, her voice rose. "Just go, will you?"

  There was a long, taut silence, and then she heard the quiet sound of the front door latching. A moment later his car engine roared to life. With a strangled sound of despair, Haven sank to the floor. Heedless of the kittens frolicking on her lap, she buried her head in her hands and wept.

  * * *

  Work became Haven's solace and salvation. Work and Anna. Though she did everything she could to immerse herself in the two, the thrumming pain inside her that pulsed in time with the beating of her heart never subsided. She wondered if it ever would.

  On the morning marking the seventh day since the end of her marriage, someone opened her office door without knocking first. Looking up from her paperwork, Haven watched while Josephine carefully closed the door behind her before pressing her back to it. In one hand, the older woman held a hammer. Nails protruded from the closed fist of the other.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Child, I've had enough of your silences and your long faces. I've been waiting for you to come to me, but obviously I'll grow old before that happens. So, I've come to you. Either you tell me what's wrong, or I nail this door shut and throw the hammer out the window. Either way, we're not getting out of here until you talk. Understood?"

  One glance at the determined look on Josephine's face told her the woman meant business. Haven felt her throat constrict. The tears that never seemed far away since Brady's departure gathered in the corners of her eyes. Suddenly, she found herself wanting to talk. It was time anyway. She couldn't hide this from the world forever.

  Slowly, haltingly, she began her story. From the beginning, when Brady had unexpectedly arrived at her office and rocked her world with his shocking announcement, to the end, when he'd discovered her infertility and decided their marriage was over, she held nothing back. Nothing, that is, except her true feelings for her soon-to-be former husband. Her love for Brady was too new, too precious, too painful to share with anyone.

  When she finished, a long sighing breath left her throat. She felt like a huge weight had just been lifted from her chest. The dumbfounded look in Josephine's eyes, plus the woman's silence, told Haven her former nanny was still struggling to process everything she'd just heard.

  "You know, child," Josephine finally said, "I ought to turn you over my knee and wail the living daylights out of you."

  The mental image made Haven smile. "But you won't."

  "I wouldn't be too sure of that."

  "You won't," Haven repeated. "You never paddled me when I was little. I don't think you're about to start now."

  "My mistake." Josephine shook her head in patent disbelief. "How could you pull such a stupid, irresponsible stunt?"

  It was a question Haven had asked herself a thousand times since Brady left. "It was for Anna. We did it for Anna."

  Hammer, nails and all, Josephine settled her hands on her hips. "I'm gonna kill that man."

  Haven started in surprise. "Brady? Why? He hasn't done anything to you."

  The light in Josephine's eyes turned fierce. "Oh, yes, he has, child. Whatever he does to you, he does to me. I warned him, but did he listen? No, he went ahead and made you love him. And he doesn't have the sense God gave a flea to love you back."

  Haven should have known she couldn't hide her feelings from this woman. "I'm that transparent?"

  "You forget, child. I changed your diapers. There's not much you can hide from me." Josephine paused, seemingly recalling that Haven had hidden something quite important from her. "Not for long, anyway," she amended.

  "I'm sorry, Josie. But we had our reasons for not telling anyone. I still think they were good ones. Forgive me?"

  Josephine laid the hammer and nails on a bookcase and sat down in the chair in front of Haven's desk. "Of course I do, child. How's Anna taking it?"

  Haven bit her lip. "Amazingly well, considering we entered into this marriage without taking into account the impact our actions would have on her."

  She still couldn't believe she'd been so shortsighted. "We were so convinced we were doing the right thing. And it couldn't have been more wrong. Anyway, as you might guess, Anna's disappointed that Brady's no longer living with us. Hopefully, this won't leave a permanent scar. Brady calls her every day. Three nights this week, he took her out for a treat."

  And each time he'd picked Anna up, he'd treated Haven like a stranger. That was almost more painful than his lea
ving her.

  "So you're going to let him continue seeing Anna?"

  Haven nodded. "He's the closest thing to a father she'll ever have. She loves him, and he loves her." The ache in Haven's heart grew stronger.

  "What about you, child? Are you okay?"

  No, she was far from okay. But before she could answer, the phone rang.

  "The divorce hearing is set for six weeks from next Tuesday," Syd said when she brought the receiver to her ear.

  She drew a ragged breath and prayed her voice wouldn't crack. "What time?"

  Pretending her heart wasn't breaking all over again, she wrote the information on her calendar.

  "I found out why the Zieglars dropped their petition," Syd told her. "You'll never believe it. Brady paid them off."

  Haven nearly dropped the receiver. "He what?"

  "He paid them to drop the petition. And he made them sign an agreement stating they'd leave you and Anna alone from now until eternity. Which reminds me. Have you read today's paper?"

  "No." What, she wondered, did the newspaper have to do with Brady's paying the Zieglars off?

  "When you get the chance, turn to page four. There's an article there that might interest you."

  A minute later, still in a daze, Haven hung up the phone. "I can't believe it."

  "Believe what?" Josephine asked.

  "Brady paid the Zieglars off. That's why they dropped the custody suit."

  For a long minute, the older woman said nothing. Then she pierced Haven with her forthright gaze.

  "A man who does that, child, has a lot of love to give." She spoke the words slowly, in a tone that hinted at an underlying message.

  "You're trying to tell me something."

  "Do I have to spell it out?"

  Haven knew exactly what Josephine was not so subtly hinting. Because, Lord help her, she'd hoped the same thing, too. How seductive it would be to believe that if a man like Brady could love a child the way he did Anna, then maybe there might be a chance he could learn to love her, too. Yes, the fantasy was indeed seductive. Too seductive. She'd be a fool to fall for it.

  Haven swallowed hard. "No, Josie, you don't have to spell it out. Brady has a lot of love to give to the right woman. I just don't happen to be that woman."