by Naima Simone
“Language,” Ivy whispered, then laughed.
Nessa joined her, the sound light, if more than a little watery. Unable to help herself, Nessa glanced at Wolf, who leaned against the window, watching them, a small smile curving his sensual lips. Catching her eyes on him, he nodded.
“I need to apologize, too, for not telling you the truth, Ivy,” Nessa continued. “The mail from the attorney? It was from...Dad.” God, it felt so odd calling Isaac that when she’d been referring to him by his first name for the last eight months. “He’d left me a letter containing some information about my biological father. I should’ve trusted you with the truth, but I was scared of losing you, too, so I convinced myself I was protecting you and didn’t tell you. I’m sorry about that. I should’ve been honest with you.”
Ivy hugged her again, pressing her cheek to Nessa’s stomach. “It’s okay. And I don’t care who your real father is. You’re my sister.”
“You’re mine, too. Always.”
“I knew I wasn’t wrong about why Dad sent us here. Family. Not just so we could both find our fathers, but so we could find us. You and me. Sisters forever.”
“See? A know-it-all.” Eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears, Nessa gave her another squeeze and dropped a kiss on top of Ivy’s head. Then she pulled Ivy down beside her on the window seat. “Let’s keep looking through this album and see what we can find.”
She flipped through several more pages, all with more pictures of her mom, some with the man and some without. When they came to the second-to-last picture, Wolf’s hand shot out over her shoulder, pinching the corner of the page and preventing her from turning it.
“Wait. I know this place,” he said, voice a little strained.
She studied the image. Her mom and the same guy again, their arms around each other. It was the first picture where he either wasn’t looking down at her mom or wasn’t wearing sunglasses but smiled fully into the camera. She immediately noticed his striking light brown eyes. The couple stood in front of a stone wall that boasted a mantel and large windows. It appeared vaguely familiar.
“Why does it feel like I’ve seen this place before?” she murmured.
“Because you have.” Wolf tapped the stone wall in the background. “The Summerses’ place. Or what used to be the Summerses’ place but is now Little Bird Ski Lodge. It’s the same house that was in Eva’s picture. Your mother was there with him... And oh my God, it can’t be,” he breathed.
“What?” Nessa twisted around to stare up at him, heart thudding against her rib cage. That same sense of the world shifting under her feet when she’d been about to open the box returned. “Wolf, what is it?”
“All this time, in these photos, he seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him. But now I can. I know that face.” He lifted his attention from the photo to her. “I know who Paul Summers is.”
* * *
“THIS PLACE IS GORGEOUS.” Nessa surveyed the foyer of Little Bird Ski Lodge with more than a little awe. Like a hell of a lot.
And why was she whispering like the place was a church?
Probably because she felt like she’d stepped into one. With its vaulted, beamed ceilings, walls of glass and mounted sconces, it didn’t seem far off. And though it was Saturday morning and people gathered in small groups near the two roaring fires or in the sitting areas, the chatter was low, almost respectful. Little Bird Ski Lodge wasn’t a party hot spot for winter-break partiers on the make. No, it was an elegant resort for those looking to relax and ski.
“Easy, Nessa.” Wolf settled a hand on her lower back, and though she wore her coat, the weight of it burned through the layers to the skin beneath.
She should’ve moved away from it. After all, she was weaning herself away from becoming dependent on it. Regardless of what happened here at this lodge, she was leaving for Boston in a little over a week.
And even though part of her didn’t believe Wolf had instigated that kiss, the sight of it had devastated her. Left her the equivalent of an emotionally demolished building. It’d showed her that in spite of her resolve to not become attached, to keep her heart out of it, she’d screwed up. She’d become entangled, and the longer she remained in Rose Bend, the longer she remained around him, the tighter, the more suffocating, those strings would become.
So yes, she should’ve moved away from that hand. From him.
But she didn’t.
Because, call her weak, but it wasn’t every day a person potentially came face-to-face with their long-lost father. So she could be forgiven for leaning on his strength one more time before she cut herself off cold turkey.
A small hand slid over hers, slim fingers enclosing hers. Nessa glanced down at Ivy, and her sister gave her an encouraging smile. Ivy had refused to be left behind at the inn, insisting she be by Nessa’s side for whatever she found out.
In spite of the anxiety whirling inside her like a storm, gratefulness for this unexpected turn—this blessing—glowed within her like a warm, welcoming light in the midst of this chaos. When she’d driven across that covered bridge weeks ago, heading into Rose Bend, she’d never imagined she’d be here. And not in a ski lodge about to possibly meet her biological father. Well, yes, that, too. But here. In this lovely, special place of sisterhood with Ivy. Even if she never found her father, finding this with Ivy would be worth the trip.
“Let’s go see if Garrett is available,” Wolf said, guiding them toward the front desk, which ironically, sat at the back of the room.
Nerves strangling her vocal cords, Nessa nodded and followed.
When they neared the desk, the young man behind it smiled at their trio. It warmed with recognition as his gaze landed on Wolf. “Hey, Wolf. Good morning. You’re checking in?”
“Morning, Laurence,” he greeted. “No, I wanted to see if Garrett Adams was available. Cole sent me to speak with him about a few details regarding the Noel Dance. It shouldn’t take up too much of his time.”
“Uh, okay. Let me check.” The young man picked up the phone, and a few moments later, replaced the receiver. “He said sure, go on back to his office. You know where it is?”
“I do. Thanks.”
With a nod, Wolf led Nessa and Ivy away from the desk and down a hall that branched off the lobby. Though it had obviously been heavily renovated to make the home a commercial building, she could still easily envision it as it had been. The corridor they walked down, with its pretty, cream wallpaper, might have once led to bedrooms or even a den. The graceful sideboard and the polished mirror above it could’ve been leftover pieces from that time.
What if her mother had slept behind one of these closed doors? What if she’d relaxed or watched TV there?
Sorrow injected its presence on top of her nervousness, and she had to find a way to distract herself before she aborted the mission and bolted for the door.
“I hope this Garrett Adams doesn’t think we’re nuts for approaching him like this,” she said.
“It’s a possibility,” Wolf conceded, and she shot him a glare. “But I doubt it. His face when he saw you the other night at The Glen? At first, I couldn’t pinpoint it, but now I can. Like he’d seen a ghost. I’m certain he recognized you. And after seeing your mother’s pictures, I’m sure it’s because you look like her.”
They paused in front of the last door at the end of the hall, and with a perfunctory knock on the panel, Wolf twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
Nessa’s heart raced a hundred-yard dash for the back of her throat, and she stumbled to a halt right at the threshold. Her feet suddenly refused to work, her knees the consistency of Jell-O.
I can’t. I can’t do this.
“Nessie, you got this,” Wolf murmured, pinching her chin and tilting her head up to meet his eyes. His big body blocked out everything behind him, so all she saw was him, his beautiful eyes and his belief in her.<
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It tore her heart in half to look into his face, to see her heartbreak written all over the sharp angles, the soft and hard curve of his mouth. And yet, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“We got this,” Ivy corrected, squeezing the hand she hadn’t let go of the entire time. “Together.”
Borrowing strength from both of them, Nessa again nodded, briefly closing her eyes. When she lifted her lashes, she whispered, “I’m ready.”
Wolf didn’t move for a long moment, continuing to peer at her with the scrutiny of a surgery scalpel. But whatever he glimpsed must’ve convinced him, because he stepped aside, and with a palm pressed to the middle of her shoulder blades, moved forward.
And she caught her first look of Garrett Adams, aka Paul Summers.
Because there was no mistaking that Garrett Adams, owner of Little Bird Ski Lodge, was the man from the photograph with her mother.
Yes, he was older, gray sprinkled his hair and a neatly cropped beard surrounded his jaw and mouth. Lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes and deepened the grooves under his striking cheekbones. But the facial structure remained the same. The strong brow and jaw? The same. The tall, lean but powerful build? The same. And the stunning light brown eyes? The same.
All moisture in her mouth dried up, and try as she might, she couldn’t swallow. Could barely breathe. Sweat prickled her underarms, her palms and dotted her forehead. Gooseflesh executed a break along her spine and her arms. And not because of maybes or suspicions.
Because of how he looked at her.
Slowly, Garrett Adams rose from behind her desk.
Shock widened his eyes and bled the color from his face, leaving him pale. Even from the distance of his office, she noted the fine tremble that shook his frame.
He knew her.
Or the woman who’d borne her.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice hoarse, the sorrow, the hope in it, almost painful to her ears.
“Nessa Hunt,” she said, her tone just as low, just as serrated. “But I think you knew my mother. Evelyn Reed.”
“Evelyn.”
That hope Nessa had detected in his voice leaped to his gaze, and he even glanced behind her as if her mother would walk through the office door. Oh God, if only she would.
“I’m sorry, but she died earlier this year. Cancer.” Even eight months later, still saying those words caused her to bleed inside. And as this man flinched, and seemed to bow in on himself, his fists bracing on the desktop, that wound ripped open a little more. She waited a couple of minutes, trying to grant him time to absorb that news before hitting him with another punch. “I hate to tell you this right on the heels of that, but I don’t know another way of doing it. I—I think you’re my father.”
Garrett jolted as if struck by a bolt of electricity. His face, still pale, and seemingly even more lined than when they’d entered his office, hardened and went blank. Except for his eyes. They burned like golden fire.
“Tell me everything,” he quietly demanded.
So she did.
Starting with her mother’s deathbed confession, Isaac’s death, her and Ivy’s trip to Rose Bend and the letter from Isaac she received with information about Paul Summers. She talked about Eva Wright’s hunt for information with the Summers family, and finally receiving the box of Evelyn’s belongings that included the photo album with pictures of him and her mother that led them here.
By the time she finished talking, she, Wolf and Ivy had settled on the couch in the office’s sitting area and Garrett stood at the floor-to-ceiling window next to it, staring out the glass at the view beyond.
A silence descended on the room, and for long moments, he didn’t speak, but his tense shoulders and rigid, unmoving frame shouted.
“Your mom and I met in New York City the summer of my junior year at Columbia University. She was visiting the city for a weekend from Boston, where she was attending Boston University. If you’d have asked me before she entered that bar on that Friday night if I believed in love at first sight, I would’ve said an emphatic no. But I hadn’t met your mother yet. We were inseparable from the moment I approached her and said hello. She was...” He gave a gruff but humorous chuckle. “Well, you know how your mother was. Funny, brilliant, charismatic, beautiful. And when Monday morning arrived, I begged her not to return to Boston.”
He sighed, and the sound bore a lifetime of memories, grief and yet, joy. Nessa understood that spectrum of emotion only too well.
“She had a waitressing job to go back to at a restaurant, but somehow I convinced her to give it up and spend the summer with me. I had just ended a two-year relationship with Cara Summers. It was on amicable terms, though, and Cara agreed to still let me stay at her family’s summer home in Rose Bend, Massachusetts. We’d planned to go together, but with the breakup, she was going to summer in Paris before we both entered our senior year of college and then the ‘real world.’ So, I asked your mother to spend the summer with me there. It took some doing, but she agreed. And that was huge for her, to do something as spontaneous as quit her job and vacation for months with a guy she barely knew. But she did it. Because she’d fallen in love with me, too.”
Garrett turned away from the window and strode over to the sitting area, sinking down to the chair. He propped his elbows on his thighs, his clasped hands dangling between. Nessa stared at him, enraptured by his story. By the flashes of emotion that whispered across his stoic face. By the glimpses into a past her mother had kept completely hidden from her.
“When we arrived in Rose Bend, I told everyone my name was Paul Summers so they would assume I was a member of the family. Paul is my middle name, and therefore easy to remember. It was also the name most of my friends and family called me by since my father was Garrett, Sr.... It was the name I gave your mother. I told Evelyn the home belonged to a friend, but I didn’t tell her exactly who—didn’t think she would like that we were staying in the family home of my ex-girlfriend. So I lied. For two and half magical months, we lived together. Explored the town, the surrounding mountains and country together. Loved together. She was my everything, and we planned how we could stay together. Since it was my senior year, and she was in her freshman year, she would transfer to a college in New York, I’d find an apartment for us and we’d live together there in the city. Yes, we’d struggle for a little while until I graduated and found a good job, but none of that would matter because we’d have each other.” He laughed, and it was harder, sharper. “We were young, naive.”
Garrett fell silent, and nothing but the crackle of the fire in the office fireplace and their breaths punctuated the room. Well, not her breath. Because she held hers. Because she could guess what came next. The ending of this fairy tale he’d spun.
“One day in August, near the end of vacation, I went downtown for...something. I can’t even remember now. It seems I should remember every detail about the day that changed my life so irrevocably. But the sharpest memory is when I returned to the house, Evelyn was gone. But Cara stood there, waiting for me.” His mouth twisted into an ugly parody of a smile. “My ex had surprised me with an impromptu visit because she’d missed me while in Paris. When she’d arrived at the house and found Evelyn there, she’d told your mother it was her house, we were still together and I was using her while Cara was out of the country. Evelyn left, without even waiting to hear my side of the story. I looked for her. But she’d withdrawn from Boston University and disappeared. And later on, when I was able to scrape the money together to hire a private investigator, he couldn’t locate an Evelyn Reed. But I guess that’s because she’d become Evelyn Hunt by then.”
He smiled, but like his laughter, it carried no humor. His gaze roamed Nessa’s face, as if searching for himself in her. She didn’t take offense, because she did the same. And found it. While she had her mother’s eye color and bone structure, the shape of her mouth, nose and eyes we
re his. She had a feeling, maybe she’d inherited his “sunny” disposition, too.
“I had no idea she was pregnant,” Garrett rasped. “No idea. If I had, I would’ve never stopped looking until I found you. Found both of you. As it is, I never forgot your mother. Sometimes, I wish I could’ve. I graduated, started my own wealth management business, moved on. And yet, when this place came up for sale, I bought it because it was where Evelyn and I spent the happiest moments of my life. I even named the lodge after her. Evelyn means little bird in French. I never could explain to myself why I did it, other than masochism. Other than falling in love at first sight all those years ago, I’ve never been a man given to sentiment. But now, with you sitting here, maybe I finally understand why. You were meant to find me. We were meant to find each other.”
“You don’t even know me,” Nessa whispered. “How can you just accept at face value that I’m your daughter?”
He chuckled, and it sounded rusty, as if he didn’t do it too often. “Besides you looking just like her? If I had any doubts, that skepticism right there would’ve erased the last of them.” He shook his head. “We can get a DNA test done, if you’d like. I’m sure my lawyers will insist on it. But I don’t need it. I know. Here.” He thumped his chest with a fist. “You’re mine. Mine and Evelyn’s. It always struck me as inconceivable how something so powerful as my love for your mother could just...end. But now, I know it didn’t. You’re proof of that, Nessa. I’d love a chance to get to know you. As a daughter. And if that’s too much too soon, as a friend.”
