by Mimi Barbour
“Cool!” She took his hand and yarded on it to bring him down to her height. Like her mother’s, her stature was pint-sized.
He hunkered down in front of her, and she stared at him straight on. “My mum likes you a lot.”
“She does?” He grinned, devilishly.
She returned his smile with a bit of the devil in her own grin visible.
“Uh-huh! She has a book just of you, with pictures and write-ups. I’ve seen it.”
“You have?”
“Yep! She hides it, but one day I found it on the desk, and I peeked. Then I waited for you to come and find her. I’m so glad you finally did.”
“You are, are you?”
“Uh-huh! I knew you’d make her happy, but I never knew that you might bring me the one thing I’ve wanted forever. The one thing I’ve begged for and never got.”
“A puppy! Right?”
“Nope!’ Blonde curls bounced as she shook from side to side. Her eyes narrowed, and then she stared at him strangely. “A daddy.”
A bullet right in the middle of his forehead couldn’t have blasted him more than those words. He’d be her father. This precious, beautiful little girl would call to her daddy, and he would be the one to answer. He looked directly at her while she watched him like a hawk.
Not too stupid, this child. She was waiting to see his reaction, and she hadn’t long to wait. She’d seen the shock her words had produced.
Instinctively, she pulled back. The damage had begun. It showed in the slump of her shoulders and in the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Sadness appeared in the greeny-brown mirrors of a heart not yet protected by adult cynicism and caution.
“Sweetheart—” The yearning he’d seen scrawled across her face couldn’t be confused with anything else. She swiped at the wetness and bit down on her bottom lip, then kept it trapped between her teeth. As though he were a magnetic force drawing her, she leaned towards him.
“You don’t want a little girl?”
He gathered her into his arms, cradling her, rocking them both side to side. “Amy, I never thought I’d ever be lucky enough to have a little girl.” He kissed her forehead. “And if you were that girl, nothing in the whole wide world—no, let’s make it the whole entire universe—would make me happier. Nothing!”
****
“Amy, where’s Troy—I mean, Mr. Brennan?” Reappearing after a short time, Dani found her daughter with a beatific look on her face as she hugged a wiggling pup trying to escape. His cries increased until small arms opened, allowing the agitated animal to run to the woman who reached down to lift and cradle him.
“He’s gone.”
Shock ripped through Dani’s throat and emerged in her words. “He’s what? Gone? Where has he gone?”
“He didn’t say. He gave me Buddy. Then he took his suitcases from behind the bushes, and he waved, and said goodbye.”
“Suitcases? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Nope!” Amy, attention totally focused on the pink tongue licking at her reaching hands, didn’t look into her mother’s face, didn’t see the disbelief or the tears.
Dani’s chest tightened, and her hands, releasing the pup into her daughter’s waiting arms, flew up to cover her mouth. Her mind screamed, but only one small word reverberated as it escaped.
“No-o!”
Chapter Forty
The next day, Troy arrived at the appropriate address a little earlier than the allotted time. He’d paced his room, then put in a few more miles around the vicarage garden. His final destination, scribbled on the paper he’d carried for a week, drew him. The large older home had a wall of trailing ivy and advertised a doctor’s office on a small tasteful sign hanging from a wooden frame: Robert Andrews PsyD, Doctor of Psychology, Office at the Rear. The notice, spelled out in gold letters, was easy to read.
Where had he heard that name before? It sounded familiar. A good reporter retained that kind of information, but today things weren’t working all that well. Troy scanned his memory bank. Nope, wouldn’t come to him. Not surprising! On the little sleep he’d had the last few days, recalling his own name was something of an accomplishment.
The devil’s face doorknocker spurred him on. What the hell! So he arrived before anyone else. So what. He lifted and banged the quaint appliance a couple of times and waited.
As soon as the man’s face appeared, Troy remembered where he’d seen the fellow before. The door opened and a hand extended, along with a knowing smile. The dapper gentleman, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and red tie, wore the same spectacles as on the day he’d visited the inn.
“Couldn’t wait, huh? I’m glad to see you again. Come in, please.” Dr. Andrews’ welcoming smile beckoned Troy across the threshold and into the large foyer. They shook hands again while eyeing each other closely.
A newel post, dark like mahogany, decorated the staircase leading upwards. An overgrown fern spilled from an antique wooden holder next to a full umbrella stand. An atmosphere of wealth and hominess was apparent.
“Hi, again. Guess you were checking up on me the other day?”
“Do you blame me?”
“When it comes to Dani and Amy’s future, not at all.”
“If it’s any consolation, as soon as we shook hands I knew my fears to be unjustified.”
“Oh?” Troy’s baffled expression established interest. “I know you’re a psychologist, and it’s a requirement to be able to profile someone’s personality, but how could you tell from so few words and a handshake?”
The doctor nonchalantly leaned back against the wall behind him. “Not the handshake, other than that you gripped firmly and made eye contact. And not the words, either, since we didn’t speak at length—it was your whole manner. Before I came into the inn, I’d seen you in the window organizing your belongings as if you were in a hurry. You didn’t know me at all, but you took the time to try and help me. You were kind. I liked you instantly. Whether you’re good enough for my girls remains to be seen. I’ll be watching closely.”
“You’re willing to give me the benefit of the doubt?”
“Actually, no. I just have a lot of faith in my niece. Dani has always been a wonderful judge of character, and she’s told me that she learnt a lot of those skills from a very intimate friend of hers about ten years ago.”
Troy melted. The pride he felt for his young roommate intensified. “Her pregnancy—did she suffer many cruel remarks from thoughtless fools?” This question had needled him and had to be asked.
“She did, yes. But she took every smirk and sneer and turned the hurt into a reason to show everyone what she was made of. Once her mother came around and supported Dani, the village backed off. Funny thing, though. At times I had the feeling Dani existed more in her head than in the world around her, at least for the first while. I’d say it became her greatest protection. Once Amy arrived, everything else slipped into place.”
“Was Amy’s dad ever in the picture?”
“Only until his death in a car accident when Amy still wore diapers. But then, that’s a story for Dani to share.”
“Ahem!” The first throat clearing hadn’t registered, but the last blasted through the room, and put paid to further intimate conversation between the two men.
Dr. Andrews turned in the direction of the sound and, sighing resignedly, he extended his hand towards the stout woman in a flowery red dress as she hovered near the doorway of the large open parlour. “Mrs. Dorn, I’d like to introduce you to Dani’s young man, Troy Brennan.”
The woman swayed into the room, a born performer, and coquettishly placed her hand into the larger one waiting. Her whole demeanour entranced Troy as memories of Dani’s stories about this woman flooded into his mind. Dani loved and trusted Mrs. Dorn, and her eccentricities.
His warmth engulfed her as he squeezed her fat little hand gently. “Hello, there. I’ve heard so much about you, Mrs. Dorn. Dani
spoke of you with great affection.” The smile he worked up just for her melted any resistance she might have felt towards him coming into their lives and disrupting the rhythm of their days.
“You’re a bit of all right yerself, dearie.” Her flirty smile had the doctor’s eyes rolling. “Dani’s talked about you so often. I’m that pleased to finally meet you.”
The sound of a beeping horn caught everyone’s attention. The doctor peeked out the ornamental window next to the door and recognized the vehicle being parked.
“It’s Marion and Henry, Dani’s mother and father. Did you want to meet them now, or wait for Dani to make the introductions?”
A firm look replaced the warm smile he’d held in place for Mrs. Dorn. Troy answered, “I’d like to meet her mother now. We might have some air clearing to do, and I’d prefer it finished before Dani and Amy arrive.”
Approvingly the doctor nodded. “Good thinking.” He moved to the door and waited to open it, while Mrs. Dorn patted the younger man’s arm and winked conspiratorially.
“I’ll wager she’s met her match ‘ere. Don’t take no guff, me lad. Come find me in the kitchen when you’ve had enough, and I’ll slip ya one of your favourite pints Dani brought over for you a few days back.” Another pat and she bustled out of the room as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.
Swinging the door wide, Dr. Andrews greeted the distinguished older couple with a hug and a handshake. Dani’s mother stopped short upon spying Troy casually propped against the stairwell. His pleasant smile, polite but in no way toadying, was returned by Henry, who stepped forward and introduced himself.
“You must be Dani’s American friend. I’m her father, Henry Howard, and this is my wife, Marion. It’s a pleasure.” His hand extended and gripped Troy’s. Eyes the exact mix of greens and browns as his daughter’s beamed.
“Troy Brennan,” he replied, and added, “likewise.” He straightened as he shook hands, letting the older man peruse and decide. In a very few seconds, he returned the satisfied smile offered to him from a contented father. An added squeeze and an extra shake sealed their unspoken acknowledgement.
He turned to find Dani’s mother warily watching the performance in front of her. Her face, pale but staunch, showed no welcome whatsoever. Troy waited. One, two, three… She took her time studying him. He did the same. Tension built, but neither one looked away. An arm lifted, went around the woman’s shoulders, and squeezed. Her brother lent his moral support without words. She smiled his way, and that was all it took.
Her face lit up in exactly the same way as her daughter’s and granddaughter’s. Troy was entranced, a goner. The special smile he’d used to enchant Amy and Dani was now employed to work the same magic with the mother.
“Mrs. Howard, I’m Dani’s future. I hope we can be friends.” He held out his hand, his charisma encasing her in his circle of warmth.
She slowly faced his way, her reluctance obvious. Her smile started to slide away but stopped before it completely disappeared. For an instant, portraying the uncertainty of a child, she bit her bottom lip. Then she placed her trembling fingers upon his. This was no handshake. She just held onto him, and that gorgeous smile again lit up her countenance.
“Hello, Troy. I should have recognized you the other day from a photograph Dani had of you in her office. She’s been waiting for you a very long time.” Her soft voice oozed over him like warm honey.
Sighs of relief echoed throughout the room.
Chapter Forty-One
The day she’d yearned for had finally arrived. It was her birthday. Dani got out of bed and, in her pink see-through baby-dolls, walked over to her mirror—and gasped.
Swollen eyes and an aching stomach were her reward for the crying jag she’d surrendered to the night before. Cold, trembling arms wrapped themselves around her upset tummy, where nerves played hell with her tense muscles. For ten long, hellish years she’d scratched days off calendars, planned and re-planned for this day. Now all she wanted to do was go back and hide in her bed.
A long sigh groaned through her without warning. She thought about everyone attending her party. They knew her well enough to notice her evident unhappiness. For their sakes, she needed to hide her sorrow, work on her appearance and pretend. After all, she was a grown woman, a world-famous author and mother to a wonderful little girl. Too bad she wasn’t an actress.
Grabbing her hair and twisting it into a knot at her neck, she slowly trudged to the shower. As she passed her messy bed, where creamy rose-decorated sheets and quilts lay tangled, she stopped to peer at the enlarged photograph of Troy. Until recently, it had hung in her office. Taken in the jungles of Cambodia—war clearly evident in the background showing tanks and machine guns—Troy, the soldier, hunched down. She reached out and gently touched the face of the man she loved. It was her favourite of all the pictures she’d kept of him over the years. He’d grinned directly into the camera in much the way she remembered him smiling at her years before in a clothing store mirror—cheeky, eyes lit with humour.
Minutes later, water cascaded over her weary body. She’d put her life on hold for the man she’d just lost. The only way to combat her heartache was to have an itinerary for her future. An agenda to get on with her life.
For as long as she could remember, everything she chose revolved around Troy and her desperation to be with him again. Trying to turn herself into a woman he’d be proud of, she’d taken self-protection classes, kept up on current affairs, read all the classics and poetry she knew he favoured, even learned to cook the dishes he’d ordered while they were together.
She’d wanted to be a person he would like as well as love. Visualizing their life together, she knew how important it was in a relationship to have similar interests, friendship, and—God help her—trust. But during the endless hours of the night she’d come to realize she had withheld the one element he would consider most important. Her forehead leaned on the glass, her head too heavy to hold upright. Tears blended with the flowing water, but nothing could dislodge the lump in her throat or the blinding pain radiating from the back of her neck to the top of her head.
Why the hell hadn’t she come right out and told him who she was at the beginning instead of playing her silly-bugger games? In retrospect, she knew his heart was huge; he would have understood. Then they wouldn’t have wasted these last days. Instead, he’d left her and was now in Chicago.
She’d blown it. Her relentless but juvenile need for him to choose Ellie, the woman, over Dani, the girl he loved, had started the problem. That and, even more important, her stupid lack of self-confidence.
She studied her thought processes over the last few days and realized her immaturity had taken over; her lack of experience had marred her ability to think clearly. Hell, she could write this kind of conflict in a plot, but who in real life would believe anyone her age could be this dense?
Heart-sore and towel-clad, she lackadaisically moved around her room, dreading the irony of the next few hours. She relived those moments when he’d left her to go and visit with Amy—she’d been in heaven, happier than she’d ever felt in her life. Their lovemaking had been exciting, tender, and beautiful. Her breath caught as a jumble of reminiscences overruled her self-control. With her arms again wrapped around her middle, she lowered her weak body onto a chair and rocked.
Amy had said he brought his suitcase and left it outside the door. In her misery, she’d revisited that one incongruous point many times. He’d planned to leave town before he even saw her. Dani’s shaky hand knuckled her eyes and then covered them completely. She wanted to shut off her thoughts, but the internal lever wouldn’t move from rewind.
He must’ve decided that he’d betrayed Dani that night after we left the restaurant, because of his attraction to me, and for him that would be unforgivable. Then today, their lovemaking would have made his feelings of treachery even worse. No doubt there will be a letter awaiting me at the address I gave him. I have to face it. In his mind, his o
nly honourable option would be to leave. The thought of his confusion and suffering made her tears start once again.
My fault.
Like a refrain from a song, those words popped into her head—again and again. Blasted hell! Why hadn’t she confessed? Why carry things to such lengths?
Because she hadn’t trusted. She’d wanted proof, and she’d gotten it. There was no longer any doubt about Ellie’s allure. Her heart hurt so much.
My fault.
The towel fell to the floor as she stood, moved to her dresser, and slathered on body lotion. Then, naked, she walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the most beautiful dress she’d ever owned. It had taken her over a year to find the perfect one, because today was to have been the most important day in her life. Scrunched in her hands and cradled close to her heart, the turquoise chiffon material drifted and billowed in a shimmering pool of lavish beauty.
How was she to get through this day? Uncle Robert, Mrs. Dorn, even her parents, all had gone to so much trouble to make this year special. She couldn’t stay home.
Not wanting to add the title of coward to that of fool, she squared her shoulders, slid into matching panties and bra, then the dress, and settled on the low seat to lean toward the mirror of her vanity table. She’d need all the creams, powders, and acting prowess she could amass today, just to appear to be someone she didn’t hate.
****
A few hours later, Dani, head held high and tears choked back, walked with Amy to where torment lurked, waiting. The anguish of knowing this would be the worst instead of the best day of her life had to be lived through, and then it would be put behind her once and for all.
Amy, dressed to match her mother in a lovely white satin number trimmed in the same turquoise chiffon as Dani’s outfit, skipped alongside. Her quaint shoes, dyed to match the sash, were flat-heeled, not high like her mother’s, and were displayed with each running hop. Small fingers, wrapped around Dani’s, tugged her forward while the child’s nattering covered what would otherwise have been a conspicuous silence.
