by Mary Brady
“I guess I’m not very good at this.” He grinned at both of them and flipped through the book.
“Bunny Flies Alone, copyright 2002 by Marybelle...”
Brianna giggled this time and got up again and took the book, opened it to the first page of the first chapter and handed it back to him.
“Really? You skip all this stuff?” he asked as though the idea seemed shady.
“It’s yucky stuff.”
“Got it. Skip all the yucky stuff.” He held the book up in salute. “Chapter One. Bunny couldn’t believe she was going to get to fly Andy McFarland’s airplane over the North Pole.”
Brianna folded her arms over her chest in satisfaction. Delainey allowed herself to feel contentment and leaned back against the far armrest. Hunter’s deep voice made the story rich and different than when she read it. He seemed to enjoy the antics of the ten-year-old girl in the book and the six-year-old at his side. By the time he read, “The end,” Brianna’s eyelids had started to droop.
“Time for bed, my little bunny.”
“I’m not a bunny,” she said in a sleepy voice, and when Delainey picked her up, she draped herself on her mother’s shoulder.
* * *
HUNTER WATCHED THE two of them disappear into a bedroom down the short hallway. Reading to Brianna was the first time he’d had any inkling of what it might be like to be a father. The child looked up at him as he read with wonder and awe on her face. She’d obviously heard the story many times before, but it didn’t seem to dampen her enthusiasm.
The thing that tugged his heart the most—he hadn’t seen a shred of Morrison in the child’s face or any resemblance to his mother’s side of the family. That should have made him happy, but it didn’t.
He retrieved his coat and put it on. He shouldn’t have come here. Delainey was right. He should not insinuate himself into this little girl’s life. Not when he was going soon and they were staying.
He had one hand on the doorknob.
“Don’t you even think about it.” He turned to see her smiling at him. She walked up, unzipped his jacket, took it off and hung it back in the closet. “You came here for a reason and I don’t think it was story hour.”
“She’s an incredible person, isn’t she?” he asked when they were sitting on the couch again.
“I have loved her since the first moment I knew she was alive. Well, maybe the first moment, I was in shock, but when I understood the miracle, when the people around me helped me to see the miracle, I was lost to her.”
“It’s not hard to see who rules here.”
“Someday you, if you are one of us lucky ones, you too will be ruled.”
“I just came over to make sure everything was okay with the two of you.”
She moved over very close to him and put a hand on his chest. “Hunter, you’re leaving.”
He looked into the bottomless gray of her eyes. “As soon as I can find someone to come here to work with Harriet until you can take over.”
She opened her mouth but closed it again. He could see the pain in her eyes. He considered for the hundredth time how much grief he could cause her and have her still be his friend.
That remarkable little girl had an incredible mother. He put his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.
* * *
TUESDAY MORNING DELAINEY woke up with Brianna beside her in bed. It was her own fault. She had let Brianna go to sleep in her bed when Hunter had left last night.
Everyone in the office rejoiced at the news Stevie Anning was recovering from the drugs his uncle had given him. Hunter had given the okay for Morrison and Morrison to help the aunt to get temporary custody and, if the county saw fit, to get permanent custody.
Hunter was in his office when she went upstairs. He smiled and waved to her. Goodbye. Have a nice life. I might not be here tomorrow. At least, that was what he seemed to be saying.
Just to torture her pitiful old heart, she stopped in the doorway.
He put aside what he was working on and smiled at her.
A box of candy was on his desk, and since it was Carol’s favorite, Delainey didn’t doubt who it was from.
“I see your fan club is bringing gifts now.”
“I’m beginning to see why people become movie stars. It’s the adoring fans.” He ran a hand through his hair and tossed his head.
She laughed. “Don’t get carried away. Chicago isn’t going to treat you so well.”
He offered her a piece. She took one and walked away.
When she got to her office, she regretted going into his. Why she thought it was such a good thing to torment herself, she had no idea.
Every time she thought of Hunter being across the hall, she grew frustrated. Every time she thought of him not being across the hall, her heart wrenched and she wondered how long before it broke in two.
And every second was a little worse because as the days passed, the time for him to leave grew closer.
Today was the worst. Hours went by and she got almost no work done.
Every minute, she wanted to get up and go over there and tell him he was forbidden to leave. Every minute, she told herself it was not the right thing to do.
Finally, she rose from her desk to stand in her doorway and watch Hunter busy at the desk in Shamus’s office.
Soon he wouldn’t be there. That big empty place in her life would come back, and there would be so much more to miss. Hunter had grown. She’d always known he had courage and determination, but to see him fight to help a child in trouble pointed out how much he was willing to risk for another. That he handled people with such finesse, with the right amount of authority and kindness, added another dimension to him.
None of this really surprised her.
What amazed her was she couldn’t control the fear she was making a terrible mistake by letting him go.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE FOLLOWING MORNING when Delainey came into the office, there was a crowd of unlikely clientele standing in a clump in the middle of the lobby of Morrison and Morrison. Three men and two women in their eighties and nineties. The men were dressed as if they were about to step onto a fishing boat and the women were in jeans and sweatshirts with heavy jackets and well-worn leather boots.
Delainey recognized them as part of the morning coffee clubbers from Pirate’s Roost. A half dozen tables in the back section of the restaurant were filled with card players most mornings until about eleven o’clock, when the restaurant started filling with the lunch crowd. One of the oldest, Thelma Rittenhaus, had passed away last week. She was ninety-seven.
“What do they want?” Delainey asked as she stood next to the receptionist’s desk. Patty was wearing a pink ruffled blouse under a knitted gray vest. “Love that blouse and sweater, by the way.”
Patty simpered a bit and then said, “They want a package Thelma left for them.”
“Do we have it?” Delainey asked quietly as the crowd began focusing on her.
“They say Shamus has it.”
“What did Hunter say?”
“He’s not here. He’s doing something for Shamus.”
Of course he was. “And why are they still here?” She motioned to the crowd.
“They’re waiting to see if you know about the package.”
Delainey dropped her chin. “Of course they are.”
Then she turned to the group. “Good morning, folks.”
“Miss Talbot, how are you today?” asked one of the women, Sarah O’Brien, a widow who lived out near Shamus and Connie. Her grandson ran one of the small grocery stores in town and was now doing business as an LLC.
“I’m good, Mrs. O’Brien. I’m going to have you all come into the conference room where we can talk.”
Sarah signal
ed to the rest and they followed. When everyone had taken a seat, Patty came in with coffee cups and the pot of coffee. Shirley followed with the fixings and the box of donuts she had brought for the office staff.
“Enjoy, folks,” Shirley said as she gave them all a big smile.
The folks at the table grinned at Shirley and Patty and helped themselves to coffee and treats.
“Shamus is supposed to be here,” Camden Flynn, gnarly looking, the longtime boat captain, said.
Only half the people who came to see Shamus ever had appointments. She was not surprised this group did not.
“I’m afraid he took Mrs. Murphy to Portland.”
“Is Harriet here?” Another of the town’s four Shamuses, Shamus Willis, asked.
“Harriet is on an extended trip.”
“She went on that cruise, Shamus.” Sarah turned from Shamus and faced Delainey. “Shouldn’t she be back by now?”
“She decided to take her granddaughter to Europe for a few weeks.”
“Bully for her,” Camden Flynn muttered as he sipped his coffee.
“Sheesh, Cam, relax,” Evelyn Miller reprimanded. Evelyn was still a tall woman, with erect posture and a headful of steel-gray hair. She was the variety-store owner, Gregory Miller’s great-aunt. The threads of Bailey’s Cove intertwined closely but with enough infusion of new blood to always make things interesting.
“Well, who’s in charge?” Sarah O’Brien asked as she slipped her coat off and pushed it into the chair to prop up her back.
“Hunter Morrison is here. He’s—”
“We know who he is, Miss Talbot,” Camden Flynn interrupted. “He’s a descendent of Harold Morrison. ’Bout time there was a Morrison here again.”
Sorry, Camden, Delainey thought. It won’t be for long. “But he’s not here right now.”
“How much do you know about the founders of Morrison and Morrison?” Shamus Willis asked.
“Shhh, Shamus,” Evelyn said. “She doesn’t need to hear any of that gossip.”
Delainey leaned forward on her elbows. “In fact, I’d love to hear what went on back at the beginning of Morrison and Morrison. Perhaps if we talk for a while, the current Mr. Morrison will show up and you can ask him your questions.”
“All right,” started Evelyn. “If you’re sure.” When Delainey nodded, she continued. “Well, you know how one of the brothers is so dark and the other is so light. Well, they...well, um...”
She looked over her shoulder at the two men staring down at her from their portraits.
Sarah reached over and patted Evelyn’s hand. “They don’t care so much about such things these days. Got nuclear war and terrorists to worry about. What Evelyn is trying to say is everyone always suspected they had different fathers.”
“What’s worse,” Evelyn said, apparently finding her voice, “is one of Harold’s— He’s the light-haired one. Well, one of his children is dark-haired and dark-eyed. There was a big scandal when the child was born.”
Shamus cackled. “Mama Willis— That would be me mother to you, young lady, if ya can believe such an old codger as meself actually had a mother. She an’ her friends were all atwitter ’bout how Mrs. Morrison and the other Mr. Morrison, who was her sister’s husband, must have been mixin’ it up and got caught. Everybody denied it, o’ course, but there was quite the stir. Mama Willis said she asked her about it—”
“Aw, you got bats in yer belfry. According to you, Mama Willis was best friends with everyone in town,” one of the other men put in.
“But that woman is this Mr. Hunter Morrison’s great-grandmother. A dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty, she was. Her hair fell in long soft curls almost to her waist,” Evelyn added.
Evelyn Miller’s words shot straight to Delainey’s heart. Hunter’s great-grandmother was so like Brianna in color. Brianna’s hair fell in soft curls, not to her waist, but they could if her mother didn’t get tired of the tangles and cut it off on a regular basis.
“Miss Talbot, are you all right?”
Delainey looked around the group and smiled. “I think I’ll go see if Mr. Morrison is here yet.”
Slowly she pushed back her chair and fled the room at a nice slow, sane pace. Once she’d closed the door softly, she leaned against it for a moment to get her breath and then she hurried up the back stairs to Hunter’s office.
He wasn’t there, but she sat on his desk to contemplate what she had just heard.
The “if” in “if Hunter was Brianna’s father” kept growing more and more likely, but he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to interfere in their lives. He didn’t want to be more than a marginal part.
She put her head in her hands. There was no way in the world she’d ever get over Hunter. Her mother and father would have to settle for one grandchild from her because after Hunter there would be no compromise.
She was going to be a happy single person. She was going to be a happy single person. She was—
“If all desk ornaments looked like you, men all over the world would be looking for desk jobs.”
Delainey gripped her head harder as she heard Hunter’s comment. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t get herself to uncurl and look at him.
She heard him close his door. The smell of his cologne enveloped her as he sat on the desk beside her. When he rubbed his hand up and down her back, she relaxed and leaned over into him without saying anything.
“The last thing I believe about you, Delainey, is that you will go quietly. So what’s up?”
She straightened. “There’s a bunch of the town’s oldest in the conference room who want to see Shamus. I told them you were all they were going to get.”
“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”
“They told me something.”
“What did they tell you?”
Delainey savored the feeling of his strong body against hers. She would crave these things when he was gone, craved them now. Mostly she would miss his friendship.
“They wanted to see Shamus and it has to do with something he was holding for Thelma Rittenhaus.”
“He told me to expect them. Thelma was the holder of the secrets of the group of folks that call themselves the Goldens.”
“You mean they do exist?”
He looked at her in question.
“There is supposed to be a group of town elders who have some very old and mysterious information about Bailey’s Cove. It is even rumored they have information about the treasure Liam Bailey buried here and never got a chance to put in his vault.”
“Pirate’s treasure. We don’t have a lot of that in Chicago.”
She remembered the we he had once used about Bailey’s Cove. Now he used it in association with Chicago. He was so gone from her life.
“Sorry to use your desk as a refuge.” She got up and faced him. “Any prospects on a replacement for you?”
He cocked his head to the side. “A few.” He was really asking, What’s on your mind?
On her mind was the same old thing. The things she had been thinking since he kissed her on the cheek the day he arrived in town. Stay with me. Love me forever.
“Delainey, I want to ask something of you.”
“All right. You can ask me anything.”
“I want to adopt Brianna. I want to be her father.”
She stood stunned. “Why would you ask for such a thing?” Hunter as Brianna’s father. She had no idea what that meant, except he’d be in their lives forever. At first she felt a kind of circumspect elation, but the dark dread clogged her ability to think, to understand what the consequences might be. “What do you want?”
“She should have been my daughter even if she’s not. I want you and her in my life. I know I can’t take you to Chicago, but I’d like to have an anchor in the world, some
thing I can depend on, something I can fall back on. And this way she could have all the benefits and protection of being my daughter.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I didn’t want to spring it on you, but there seemed to be no easy way to ask.”
She could see the pain and longing in his eyes. He wanted to be a part of something real. She and Brianna and their small-town life was as real as it got. “I’ll have to give this some serious thought, but please don’t start banking on it.”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go down and tell the crowd in the conference room you’ll speak with them.”
* * *
HUNTER PUT A hand on his pocket where the adoption papers were. He couldn’t define why he wanted to be a part of some child’s life by another man. Why he wanted to insinuate himself into the lives of people who were doing completely fine before he showed up and would probably be fine after he left. But he knew he needed to be.
Facing going back to the coldness of the Chicago office left him feeling isolated and questioning what his life really meant, if it had meaning at all.
He straightened his tie. He’d better face what Delainey called “the crowd.”
When he opened the door to the conference room, they all faced him, hopeful expressions on their faces. The men stood and the women stayed seated but leaned so they could see him. He knew all to be over the age of eighty-five.
“Mrs. Miller.” He promptly shook her hand.
“Mrs. O’Brien.” He did the same.
“Mr. Willis. Mr. Flynn. Mr. Miller.” He greeted each and shook each hand in descending order of age, he hoped.
“I am so sorry you lost your friend Mrs. Thelma Rittenhaus.”
They all nodded in acceptance of his sympathy, and a couple mumbled something.
“Shamus told me there are six of you,” Hunter said to let them know he did know about them.
“Alfred Hammond could not be here today,” Mrs. O’Brien said of the owner of the strip mall across the street from Morrison and Morrison. She smiled when she spoke to indicate he’d succeeded in showing proper respect to the living and the dead.
