“I’ll send Ollie out. He’ll rip you to shreds.”
“You know that won’t happen. He and I are friends.”
There was a long silence and he hoped that Ollie wasn’t getting too bad a shellacking. But the dog was a big fella. He should be able to hold up under it.
“I have a shotgun!” she shouted. “And if you aren’t gone by the time I count to ten, you’re going to be splattered up and down the block.”
“You wouldn’t shoot the father of your child.”
There was a short silence, then a rattle as the interior door was opened. The screen door stayed closed, which was just as well. Jack didn’t really want her taking another swing at him.
“All right,” she said, arms folded across her chest. “Talk.”
“This would go easier if I could come in and we sat down.”
“It would certainly go easier for you if I didn’t shoot you.”
Obviously, appealing to her softer side wasn’t going to work. But she had to have some concerns for the child. Their child. Surely, being raised by two parents was better than being raised by one. That was the tactic he needed to take with her.
“We used some harsh words the other night,” he said. “But we had some good times before that, didn’t we?”
Her posture softened and she leaned against her door.
“We get along very well with each other.” He shrugged. “At least, I thought so.”
Cassie didn’t exactly nod but her body language wasn’t negative, either. Reading a woman was harder than reading a jury.
“I’d like us to try again.”
She sighed and looked down at the floor.
“Cassie, I want you to marry me. For our child’s sake.”
Her head snapped up and it was as if somebody had dropped a hot coal down the back of her neck. Damn. What had he done now?
“Why, you big, overrated, insufferable egomaniac.”
With each word her voice was rapidly moving up into the screaming range. “Now, Cassie, just—”
“I am not marrying you!” she shouted. “I’m not marrying anybody and never will.”
The slamming of the door ended her tirade. And should have left him feeling that he’d done all he could. He hadn’t crawled or begged or pleaded, but he’d asked her to marry him. He’d done the responsible thing. Why, then, did he feel like hell?
His heart was suddenly in about a million pieces and almost screaming from the pain. It felt like the sun had been banished from his life forever. That he would never hear laughter or feel the sweetness of a smile again. That he was doomed to watching life from the outside.
He loved her.
He was in love with Cassie. If begging or pleading or crawling or doing anything at all would make her love him, he would do it. He would beg until his voice gave out, plead until the end of time, crawl until his knees wore off. But he had no hope. She had turned on him.
His bruised face would heal but his soul never would. Not unless he could find a way into Cassie’s heart.
“Holy cow,” Dan Scott said as he came into Cassie’s house. “Somebody die and I didn’t get told?”
Cassie glared at him and grabbed up her keys. She knew her living room looked either like a greenhouse or a mortuary from all the flowers Jack had been sending over the past two weeks, but it would have been nice if her father had been diplomatic for once and ignored them.
“You been robbing florists?” he asked.
Obviously he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he got an answer. “Jack sent them to me,” she said. “I should have thrown them out but that seemed so wasteful.”
She decided not to mention the fact that she had the only flower-filled plumbing-supply house in creation, that she had already dumped several loads at the two hospitals in town, or that she had about ten boxes of chocolates in her refrigerator.
“Are we going to see that house you’re interested in or not?” she asked.
He just took another look around her living room, peeking briefly into the dining room, which he could see was also filled with flowers, before following her out the front door. Cassie was striding briskly over to his car.
“You and Jack have a fight?” he asked.
One thing Cassie had to say for her sisters—they kept their mouths shut. It was her job to tell and they respected that. “Sort of,” Cassie replied. She knew she had to tell her dad about the baby soon, but wished she could put it off even more. “What’s this house like that we’re going to see?”
He gave her a look as they got in the car, but played along. “Built in the 1890s, but it’s in great condition—eight bedrooms with a fireplace in each, four baths, tile roof, on an acre of land. It was rewired about ten years ago, the kitchen was redone at the same time, and it’s got a relatively new furnace. Plus, it’s on Clements Lake.”
“Sounds good,” she said and meant it.
Her dad had been talking about starting a bed-and-breakfast for years, now. He’d let his dream slip a bit when their mother died, but she was glad to see that it hadn’t died for good.
“What will you do with the house you have now?” she asked.
He drove a ways without speaking. “Actually, Fiona and Alex want to buy it,” he said. “If that’s all right with the rest of you.”
“It’s fine with me,” she assured him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
He just shrugged and drove on. “Didn’t know if any of the rest of you would want it.”
“I’ve got a house,” she said. “And it’s just the right size for me.” Actually, it was a little big now, with its three bedrooms, but soon it would be just right.
“True.”
The silence seemed to weigh down on her and she stared out the window. Clements Woods was on the east side of the lake, but the west side was residential. The houses there were always snatched up quickly, though. It was amazing that her father might get one there.
“I put a deposit on the house,” he told her.
She had an eerie feeling that he could read her thoughts and vowed to be careful what she was thinking about. “Oh?”
“Pending a couple of inspections,” he added. “And your approval.”
“I don’t have to approve it.” She felt funny having that kind of responsibility.
“I trust your judgment. Always have.” He glanced at her as he pulled into a long drive. “Always will. No matter what.”
Cassie chose to look at the house ahead of them rather than to respond to his words. It was a huge wooden house, painted gray and white and deep red, with a wide porch and lots of gingerbread trim. Oak trees towered over it, giving it such a feeling of stability and welcome that she was ready to move in then and there.
“I like it,” she said.
“Wait until you see the inside.”
She followed him inside, through spacious room after spacious room. Apparently the owner had died at the age of ninety-five and his estate was selling the house, so no one was living in it at the moment, although it was furnished with wonderful antiques.
“I have an option to buy some of the furniture, too,” he told her.
“It certainly has charm.”
He led her into the kitchen where she got down and looked under the sink. The last kitchen sink she’d toyed with was Jack’s—a fact that made her frown.
“Want to run some water through?” she asked her dad. This was nothing like that evening at Jack’s. Nothing at all.
The pipes seemed adequate, so they moved through the bathrooms, checking those out, and then into the basement to do the same. All the while, she was conscious only of the secret hanging between them.
“The plumbing’s old,” she said. “But it seems pretty adequate. Some of the sinks could stand replacing and just about all the faucets need some upkeep, but nothing major that I saw.”
“Great.” He looked like a kid who was promised Christmas. “Want to go out by the lake?”
“Sure.”
He
led her out the door and down the sloping lawn to the lake. The shade was delicious. She kicked off her sandals and walked across the thick grass with pleasure. A group of pushy ducks was waiting for them by the time they got to the water’s edge.
“I don’t have anything for you guys,” she told them.
“Here.” Her father handed her a bag of bread crusts. “I brought it over earlier today.”
She’d thrown out only a few pieces of bread when who should come into view, but Romeo and Juliet. She sighed as she watched the majestic birds come closer. Juliet seemed to be looking straight at her. Was she like Ellen—able to sense a pregnancy long before anyone else? Cassie tossed the bread into the water, then walked over to the bench where her father was sitting.
“Jack and I broke up,” she said as she sat down. “He wanted to get married and I didn’t.”
“Maybe you needed more time.”
She looked away at the birds searching for scraps of bread. “I’m pregnant,” she told him. “He wants to get married. I don’t think pregnancy and marriage have to go together.”
“No, I guess they don’t,” he said slowly. “But it’s a lot easier on the kids if they do.”
“Not if pregnancy was the only reason for the marriage.”
“But you two got along well.”
The shadows were getting deeper as the sun was sinking. They seemed more threatening, more mocking of her insistence on being alone. “But I don’t love him,” she said.
“Ah.” The one word held a volume of meaning, none of which she wanted to delve into.
“I don’t,” she insisted. “I like him. We have fun together. But I don’t love him.”
“What is love?” he asked.
She glared at him, but suspected she was too much in the shadows for him to even know. “How the hell would I know?” she asked. “I’m about as far from an expert on the subject as you could find.”
“Then how do you know you don’t love him?”
She leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees as if the slight distance she’d gotten from her father was enough to keep her safe. “Because I do.”
“I see.”
Cassie hated it when he was so calm. “Love is something different. Something big and flashy like fireworks on the Fourth of July.” She swallowed hard when she realized they’d had fireworks on the Fourth—the private kind, in their room at night. “It’s warm and cozy like a fire on the coldest night of the year.” She bit her lip when she remembered how Jack had come over to hold her the night she’d seen Ron with his child. “It lasts forever.”
She should have felt a sense of victory, the joy of triumph. She’d found the key that proved her point, but only felt the weariness of defeat.
“So you must be happy now that Jack’s out of your life,” her father said, getting slowly to his feet.
“I am,” she snapped. “Overjoyed.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“I’m delirious with relief.”
“Uh-huh. I can tell.”
“I’m ecstatic.”
“Shouting your joy to the heavens, as it were.” His tone was definitely mocking.
“Exactly.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You sure you don’t want another beer?” Bobby asked as he brought fresh cans for his two brothers.
Jack looked at his own glass, two sips down from full, and shook his head. “No. I’m fine, thank you.”
The four of them—Cassie’s three brothers and Jack—were sitting on the deck in back of Bobby’s house, sucking on the occasional breeze that blew in from the west. It was one of those typical Midwestern, middle-of-July nights. Hot, with the humidity hanging heavy in the air, like hope at a lottery-ticket counter.
He was here because he needed help, but there was a certain protocol a guy had to follow in these situations. First you had to beat around the bush for a while. And that was what they’d been doing.
They’d discussed whether the Chicago Bears would ever have another winning season, how the Chicago Bulls would fare on their quest for a fourth NBA title, and the miserable state of professional baseball, especially the White Sox and the Cubs. From there they’d gone into Notre Dame football and Indiana University basketball. The conversation had wound down by covering each of the kids’ teams that the brothers’ boys and girls had been on so far this year. Another sip of beer, and they would be ready to talk serious business.
“Nancy says they’re really having fun at the line-dancing class,” Larry said.
“They sure are,” Adam agreed. “Rosemary says it’s the best exercise she’s had in a long time.”
Jack groaned inwardly. Now they were talking about their wives’ aerobic exercises. Looked like he’d better make a move. Another minute and they’d be lying about their golf scores.
“Boys.” Cassie’s three brothers stopped talking and looked at Jack. “I’m in deep trouble and sinking fast. Falling straight to hell, as it were.”
Sympathetic murmurs greeted his words. “What’s up?” Bobby asked.
“I’m—” Jack paused to watch the fireflies for a moment, trying to decide how much of his soul he had to bare. Somehow he couldn’t tell them he loved her—not when he hadn’t even told her. “I’m afraid Cassie’s mad at me.”
There were grunts and murmurs of sympathy.
“We had one hell of a fight.” Jack took a deep breath. “She punched me in the jaw.”
“So, what do you want us to do?” Bobby asked.
“I don’t know,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I guess I need to get Cassie off someplace by ourselves.”
They grunted to indicate their understanding.
“Somewhere where she can’t run off on me.”
This time they were dead quiet.
“I was thinking maybe I could rent a room. You know, someplace nice.” It was too dark to read their faces but he could feel them with him. “And then you guys can bring her over.”
“Say what?”
“No way.”
“She’d never go for that.”
“By the time you’d open the door, she’d be madder than a nest of wet hornets and beating on us.”
The silence again surrounded them and Jack was glad that it was night, making it hard for the brothers to see how disappointed he was. He had hoped for better but it was obviously not meant to be.
“You sure it has to be Cassie?” Adam asked.
“What?” Jack asked.
“Sam broke up with Marty a few weeks back.”
“Now there was a real jerk.”
“Took her long enough to see we were right.”
“Anyway,” Adam went on. “She’s a heck of a lot more easygoing than Cassie.”
Jack laughed, even though his heart was near to breaking. “No, it’s gotta be Cassie.”
Murmurs of disappointment mixed with understanding bubbled around the table. It was time to hit the road. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping for, but he wasn’t going to get it. He guessed he would keep on with the flowers and candy. Maybe someday she would talk to him. Eventually, maybe. Sighing, he started to push himself back from the table.
“I got it.” Bobby slapped the table and they all looked at him. “We got to get Jack and Cassie up in a balloon.”
Jack stared at Cassie’s eldest brother. Normally Bobby was a down-to-earth, commonsense guy. Unfortunately, it looked like he was also someone who could not hold his beer.
“I have to get going,” Jack said.
“Hey.” Bobby held up a large hand. “Just settle down and hear me out. Cassie’s a hot-air-balloon pilot.”
No one said anything. Either everyone feared Bobby or they pitied him. Not sure which way to go, Jack decided to just quietly lean into the flow.
“We give ol’ Rocky at Fire Dragons a call.” He leaned toward Jack. “Cassie used to work for him. Tell him to call Cassie and give her a story about how she has to take up this paying customer for him.”
No one agreed with Bobby’s scheme. But then no one disagreed, either.
“Okay?” Bobby looked from one to the other. “She gets the balloon all blown up and ready to go. Then ol’ Jack here, he makes like a jack-in-the-box and pops up out of the weeds.”
“She’s not going to take him up,” Larry said.
“The man’s a paying customer,” Bobby insisted. “She has to. It’s the law.”
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “It’s not like you have to go for a balloon ride for your health.”
“Jack’s a lawyer, he’ll work it out,” Bobby replied. “Anyway, he jumps in, the crew lets them go, and there you have it.” He turned and looked intently at Jack. “That’ll put you in a four-by-four-foot basket, about a thousand feet in the air. You take it from there.”
Jack could only stare at Bobby as objections danced in his head. A thousand feet up in the air?
“Hey, the two of you are stuck up there.”
“Right, she can’t even run to the ladies’ room.”
“What if Cassie brings the balloon right back down?” Jack asked. “She can do that, can’t she?”
“The lift-off area is surrounded by houses.”
“Once the balloon is up, it starts drifting.”
“Then she has to wait until you’re over some open space.”
Damn, it just might work.
“Of course,” Bobby said. “Cassie might hit you again.”
“And so what if she does?” Larry added. “He ain’t afraid of her.”
Jack wasn’t sure about that, but wasn’t about to admit anything. He was a man. He could take care of himself.
“Of course, she could throw him overboard.”
Whoa. His anxicty level shot up—straight up.
“Cassie’d never do that.”
“Naw. They’d take her license away if she did.”
Jack swallowed hard. He wasn’t crazy about the scheme, but it’s not like he had one of his own to propose. And it might just work. He stood. “So,” he said. “You guys’ll set this balloon thing up, right?”
They grunted their agreement.
“We’ll try for a morning run,” Bobby said.
A Father's Gift Page 23
