by Zoe Dawson
She scrunched up her face. “Oh, that is dangerous, then. We’re alone.”
“Yeah,” he responded, wagging his eyebrows and humming ominous music. He moved slightly and braced his arm behind her, the heel of his hand resting on the lip of the countertop. There was something about the way he did it that revealed a very comfortable familiarity, and Jo experienced a warm rush. She would never have believed she could find so much pleasure from simply standing here with him. God, she could get used to having him in her life…permanently.
She leaned against his arm, liking the feel of his warmth against her. She glanced at the clock and sighed, reluctantly straightening up and pushing on his chest, his muscles hard beneath the damp T-shirt. “You’d better get going. We have to leave as soon as we eat, and that is coming up fast. I’ll set the table.”
He stepped back and grimaced, pulling the T-shirt over his head. He threw it toward his duffel. “I’m going. Geez, nag, nag, nag.”
There was something about the way his body moved that made her pulse erratic. “I’m a mom. We learned nagging my first year.”
He stopped, and as through drawn against his will, he turned and looked at her. Jo was rooted to the spot, and her blood pounded all of a sudden as he crossed the room. He paused in front of her, then without saying a word, he smoothed his hand along her jaw, and his fingers tunneled into her hair. An electrifying charge sizzled between them as their gazes locked, then silently he lowered his head, covering her mouth with a soft, lingering kiss. Jo’s whole body went weak, and a floating sensation dazed her as his mouth moved against hers with endless tenderness.
He hauled in a ragged breath, then murmured against her lips, “Forks go to the left.” She snorted a shaky laugh as he turned and left the kitchen. Dazed, Jo watched him until the bathroom door closed. The sound of the front door opening jolted her out of her bemusement. Oh, God, she was so into this…all this with him. She turned toward the cupboard and grabbed four plates to hide her unease. How would she ever make a decision with so many life-altering changes without wanting to give in to this amazing relationship?
The meal was delicious, and after a kiss and a hug from Ceri on her way to her bath, Jo and Dragon left the apartment and arrived at Ceri’s school.
There would be a graduation tomorrow as the kids moved on to the next year in the fall, but this was strictly for parents to interact with their child’s teacher. Miss Stacy was busy most of the evening with her conferences, but as it drew closer to their appointment, she came over to Jo and said, “You ready to discuss Ceri’s progress?”
Glancing at Dragon, her palms suddenly damp, she slid them over her jeans and nodded. “Miss Stacy, this is Ceri’s father, Ryuu Shannon.”
Miss Stacy’s eyes widened, and her brows rose. “I see. That must have caused a stir in your family situation. Ceri has been interested in her dad as long as I can remember. Little girls do need their dads. Welcome, Mr. Shannon.”
There was that line again—first Morgan and now Ceri’s teacher. Jo wasn’t one to worry about what other people thought. This wasn’t about her mistake six years ago that had led to her conception of Ceri. This was about how best to raise her and prepare her for her next year in school. She would keep that in perspective.
Miss Stacy led her and Dragon to an empty room. “Please, have a seat.” She indicated two chairs and she and Dragon sat down. Miss Stacy also sat and reached for a file next to her chair. “I’m not going to mince words here. Ceri is brilliant. Her math skills are firmly in the gifted and talented range. But it doesn’t stop there. Literature, geography, you name it, she excels at it. In math alone, she’s doing fifth-grade work. I think you may want to have her tested, then decide your best course of action.”
She opened the file folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This is her module on math. In fifth grade, math students are taught to find factors of numbers, including the rules of divisibility and to determine the greatest common factor or at least common multiple of two numbers up to one hundred or more. The curriculum they need to grasp is using problem-solving strategies to determine operations needed to solve one- and two-step problems involving addition, subtraction, and multiplication of fractions; explain and demonstrate multiplication of decimals to hundredths; and solve real-world problems using strategies to determine operations needed.” She closed the folder and took in Jo’s probably stricken look with a sympathetic look of her own. Jo had been feeling completely worried about Ceri, and she had been feeling isolated and alone in dealing with that anxiety. “Ceri is proficient in all these requirements. She’s reading at a higher level and comprehending also at a higher level.” She leaned forward and smiled. “Of course, that is all great news, but it has implications for her in our school.”
“What implications?”
“I, as a Montessori teacher, am skilled at dealing with all levels of students in my classes—”
“But Ceri’s intelligence isn’t an academic issue,” Dragon said. “She poses a social problem.”
“That is partly correct, Mr. Shannon.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts and the best way to word them. “Ceri will outlearn all the children in our classroom. Most likely in the school. I have no doubt about this. She’s only accelerated since she was four. It’s taking a toll on her. She often feels different or embarrassed, especially when adults and other children don’t know how to respond to her high energy, persistent questions, and strong emotions. There is a common perception that gifted children have it easy and there is often little tolerance or jealousy against them that can cause plenty of anxiety.”
“So what you’re saying is Ceri would be better off with other children who are as advanced as she is,” Dragon said. “For her emotional and social well-being.”
“Yes. It’s not going to be easy to raise her. I’ve seen your anxiety and concern over the past two years, Ms. Moretti. It’s often not only a concern with the child, but in your interactions with her classmates’ parents. They will roll their eyes if you tell them you can’t get enough reading material to satisfy her when some of them might have children who are reluctant or slow in reading. It’s a different side of the coin.”
“What are your recommendations?” Jo asked.
“Enroll her in a kindergarten program that matches her with other gifted and talented children. She’ll be understood and so will you.”
Later on, after they got back to the apartment, Jo released a heavy breath.
Dragon immediately slipped his arms around her. “She’s a very good teacher and counselor as well. Ceri would learn a lot from her.”
Jo nodded. “I have to admit that I’ve been at loss in dealing with the other parents, and really, people in general when I talk about Ceri and her ‘difficulties.’ They don’t get it.”
He stared at her for a moment, then looked away, his jaw rigid. “Right. They think it’s easy to raise her because she’s smart. They don’t get it that she’s a child still and parenting isn’t easy.”
Jo frowned mostly because of his reaction. “At all,” Jo said. “She’s so intense, and I worry about that. I worry about her comprehension of the world around her. She might have the intelligence to understand everything, but not the emotional maturity to cope with it.”
Dragon nodded, his eyes so serious, and she was so thankful to be able to talk about this with someone who really understood. “I know that’s often a concern, and let me put some of your fears to rest. First off, you have control of what she sees and hears for the most part. You can’t shield her from everything, and you shouldn’t. That wouldn’t serve her. Like when she was afraid of blowing bubbles,” he said softly, struggling to maintain his composure.
Jo was having a struggle of her own, but she sensed that Dragon was so in tune now with what he was feeling. She was so grateful for that and for him expressing those thoughts and feelings. “And secondly?”
His voice was low and firm. “Most gifted kids have a deep reservoir of coping mechani
sms, giving them something that makes all the difference.”
“What’s that?”
“Resilience.”
She eased a breath past her formidable worries. “God, you’re good.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m aware.”
She gave him a narrow look, and his smile widened. “You have a comment to make?”
Jo had the strangest sensation, almost as though she was falling from an immense height, and it took forever to reach the bottom.
“Probably would have helped if I had been here when you needed me.”
Jo reached out and took his face between her hands. “Look at me, babe,” she whispered jaggedly, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Slowly he responded to the pressure and lifted his eyes to hers, his face carved with the kind of anguish that scarred men’s souls. With infinite tenderness, she smoothed her hand along his jaw, her touch firm and comforting. “You’re here now, and it’s an immense relief to be able to talk to someone who not only understands but has a big stake in Ceri’s well-being.”
“I do understand.”
“I know you do,” she whispered roughly as he caught one of her hands and pressed it tightly against his chest. “I know you do.”
He hauled in a deep breath then met her gaze, a tormented look in his eyes as he continued, “I had no idea such a small, little thing could make me feel so many things.” He closed his eyes and twisted his head in a gesture of pain. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m very glad for my mom’s medical condition.”
“Me, too.”
Dragon kept his eyes closed, and Jo guessed he was still torn up inside. He pulled her against him, and they held each other in the dark room. His hold eventually slackened.
“Let’s go to bed. My brain hurts, and I’ll think more about Ceri when I have the clarity of mind,” Jo said.
He stared at her a minute, his eyes suddenly dark and intent, then as he exhaled sharply, a shudder coursed through him. His one-arm hug was fierce. “Do you want me to—”
“Yes, Dragon, please sleep with me.”
They each took a turn in the bathroom, and when he came out, he had on nothing but his jeans. He came to the edge of the bed and stripped them off. She marveled for a moment at his naked body, then he slipped in beside her. She wrapped her arms around him, and he trailed his mouth across her ear and down her neck, his breathing suddenly erratic. Her own pulse was thick and heavy. She whispered his name and moved restlessly in his arms, and on a deep, slow kiss, the darkness closed in around them. And she couldn’t think one rational thought.
Hours later she jerked awake, and everything that she hadn’t wanted to deal with in her waking hours slammed into her with the power fueled by her anxiety over Ceri.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t uproot her daughter from New York. This was where she was stable, where she felt safe. She didn’t care what Miss Stacy said. Ceri would be better off in the school she knew and trusted. They would have to adapt. She realized that she was going to need an enormous amount of money. Her expansion made perfect sense. If she sold the business and moved, she couldn’t be guaranteed the kind of income she made here.
Dragon was in the military, and there were concessions for health care, but he sadly couldn’t match the kind of support she could give Ceri.
The first time Jo realized she was different from other kids and that she was lacking was when she realized she didn’t have a father. No male presence in her life, just her mom. She was heartbroken when she found out he’d left and that meant he hadn’t wanted anything to do with her.
Her anguish had passed. She’d learned to live with the absence of her dad. She bit her lip and glanced over at Dragon. Ceri would learn the same lesson. Not in the same way, but she would only know him at a distance now that she’d decided not to move. It would be almost impossible to have any type of relationship if she was constantly working and he was mostly deployed.
But now it was Dragon she focused on. She’d be robbing him of daily contact with his daughter and herself of waking up with him, living and loving with him. But she couldn’t see a way around it. Giving Ceri what she needed dictated this decision to hurt him so terribly bad, and she would hurt him. She closed her eyes, tears thick in the back of her throat.
She’d be a fool to think it could work out.
This fairytale had no happy ending.
16
When Dragon woke up, he saw that the bed was empty, and he looked over toward the window when he heard the rustle of cloth. Jo was standing there, staring. His gut did a nosedive. Staring out at nothing wasn’t a good sign. He pushed the covers back and walked up behind her.
She jumped like he’d prodded her. “Babe? Are you all right?” He caught her under the chin, forcing her to look at him. He winced when he saw her face, then caught her by the neck and pulled her into his embrace. She was trembling, and he felt the wet slide of her tears against his neck. He fought the disappointment—hell, no—the heartache, ripping apart his chest. He already knew what was keeping her up.
He slowly rubbed his hand up and down her back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
It was farthest from the truth, and nothing about leaving her and Ceri when he went back to San Diego alone could have been more devastating, more wrenching. He understood what emotional trauma she was experiencing, because his whole existence was part of it. She shivered and pressed against him, her arms caught against his chest.
“We need to talk about it.” Her jaw was rigid to keep from releasing the unshed tears pooling in her eyes as she shook her head. He rubbed his cheek against hers and snuggled her closer. “Back to bed, then?”
She shook her head again, and he smoothed his hand up and down her back, but he didn’t say anything more; he just held her. Her warmth and physical closeness made the thought of letting her go and being an absent dad caused his heart to ache like it had never ached before.
Jo clung to him, her eyes tightly closed, and her jaw still clenched. Bereft, he just stood there and held her. “How about some tea?”
“Yeah,” she said, swallowing hard, “tea makes everything better. Be careful letting that genie out of the bottle. Three wishes, and none of them can be wishing for more tea.”
“You mock, babe, but tea has a philosophy in Japan, evolved from Zen Buddhism. Zen is the Japanese counterpart of the Chinese word chan, which is a translation of the Sanskrit word Dhyana, meaning the meditation that leads to deep spiritual insight. Both tea and Zen emphasize a way of training the body and mind in awareness that has the potential to become a rigorous spiritual discipline. My mom gave me a whole book of essays on tea.”
“Sensei? Is that you?”
At least he got a smile out of her as she turned her head to his shoulder.
“I was trying to impress you with my Samurai charm.”
“Thank you for that.” She lifted her head and met his gaze, looking vulnerable and so damn sad. She pulled out of his hold and walked toward the door. She turned back to him. “If I’m getting spiritual, you are too. I think we’re going to need some fortification.”
In the kitchen, she filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Leaning back against the counter, she folded her arms. “Your mom mentioned a tea ceremony. It intrigued Ceri. I was so grateful to have her here, knowing the answers to your Japanese culture. I think it’s important that she learn about it.” She bit her lip, letting out a shuddering breath.
He fought the tight feeling in his chest, knowing that Jo needed to be busy. As soon as the kettle whistled, she took it off the burner and turned off the stovetop.
She fixed a pot of tea and got two mugs out of the cupboard, then carried the pot and the mugs to the table. Dragon leaned against the stove, watching her, his arms folded across his bare chest.
“Come sit down. That intent look in your eyes feels like you’re disassembling me piece by piece. It’s unnerving.”
She set the teapot on a place mat and put
the cups down beside it.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re up in the middle of the night crying?”
She shot him a quick glance, then began filling the mugs. “I was never easy with men.” She gave him a self-deprecating smile. “I know. That’s surprising. Then this gorgeous dark-haired boy with a killer grin and sexy eyes happened along with his tattoos and black leather. Right from the beginning he made me feel beautiful and smart and courageous and daring. I wanted his respect, his approval. It had been easy to be reckless with him, to take chances, because he made it so obvious that my daring turned him on. It was the first time anyone had felt that way about me. I fell for that guy. But then I had to live with the consequences of my actions, and I couldn’t find him to tell him he was a father. Maybe that was our fate, Dragon. To come together to make this beautiful girl.”
“She is beautiful, Jo.”
She looked at him, more tears in her eyes, her words making him want to fold down onto the floor and beg her to reconsider. She nodded her head and looked away.
He pulled out a chair at the end of the table and sat down. Bracing his elbows on the tabletop, he dropped his hands to the top, open and loose. He continued to watch her. Her hand not quite steady, she set a steaming cup of tea in front of him, then sat down and cupped her hands around the warm, pretty mug.
He watched her a moment, sorrow digging deep.
“You’re not moving to San Diego. Your answer is no.”
She had her mug halfway to her mouth, and she abruptly set it down, tea slopping over the edge. She stared at him as his heart lurched in his chest. She held his gaze for a moment, then abruptly looked at her hands.
“How did you know?”
He gave her a humorless smile. “I’m a master at reading body language, Jo. It keeps me alive.”
She frowned at him trying to find solid ground after he’d pulled the rug from under her. “I’m not sure how you’re making me feel so exposed, guilty, so underhanded.”
