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The Daddy Dilemma
Karen Rose Smith
Could she have found her little boy? Six years ago, Sara Hobart helped a childless couple create their own miracle. Now she needed one of her own. All her instincts were telling her she was Kyle Barclay’s birth mother. Only one thing stood in the way of her answers: Kyle’s widowed father.Ever since his wife had died, Nathan had tried to be the best parent he could to five-year-old Kyle. Then this gorgeous, sensual stranger showed up. Legally, Sara had no claim on his son. But could he keep her from the little boy who already adored her? That went double for Nathan, who was suddenly yearning to go from single dad to devoted family man…
“I have to protect Kyle.”
Nathan ran a hand across his forehead.
“What are you protecting him from? If I am Kyle’s mother, I’m going to want to spend more time with him. I want him to know who I am. How will you handle that? Will you try to shut me out of his life or include me in it?”
The more he studied Sara’s features, the more Nathan saw Kyle’s. “I don’t have the answer, Sara, not now, not yet. There’s no point jumping ahead of ourselves.”
“I’d like to know where my life is going and what I can expect next.”
He recognised that desire. “There’s no way to plan for the unexpected and you know it.”
He saw the uncertainty of the situation was shaking her world. There was nothing he could do about that.
He just hoped it didn’t shake his, too.
KAREN ROSE SMITH
Award-winning and bestselling author Karen Rose Smith has seen over sixty novels published since 1991. Living in Pennsylvania with her husband – who was her college sweetheart – and their two cats, she has been writing full-time since the start of her career. Lately, in addition to writing, she has been crafting jewellery with her husband. She finds designing necklaces and bracelets relaxing enough to let her mind weave plots while she’s beading! Readers can receive updates on Karen’s latest releases and write to her through her website at www.karenrosesmith.com or at PO Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331, USA.
Dear Reader,
When I develop a hero, I create the type of man I would choose as a life partner. My three heroes in this series – the Barclay brothers – have many qualities in common. They feel deeply, although they don’t always show it. They will not hesitate to go out of their way to protect the people they love. They long to be fathers so they can share their view of the world as well as the love their family has given them.
But Nathan, Sam and Ben Barclay also have individual personalities. Once a financial analyst, now an innkeeper, Nathan takes life and fatherhood seriously. A veterinarian, Sam loves animals as well as kids and uses his sense of humour to make a point. Ben, a district attorney, although cynical at times, wants good to prevail.
Which hero do you prefer? After you read the series, I’d like to know.
Readers can e-mail me through my website at www.karenrosesmith.com or write to me at PO Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331, USA.
I hope you enjoy reading my mini-series as much as I enjoyed writing it.
All my best,
Karen Rose Smith
The Daddy Dilemma
KAREN ROSE SMITH
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my aunt Rose Marie, who has made
Minnesota her home. Love, Karen.
Prologue
She was going to save her mother’s life.
As Sara Hobart lay on the surgical center gurney, she knew she’d done the right thing. She’d had no choice.
Her friend Joanne, who worked at the fertility clinic, sat by her bed, her black ringlets tumbling around her face as she declared vehemently, “No one should be denied treatment because they can’t afford to pay. With the ten thousand for donating your eggs, you’ll have enough to give the hospital to go through with your mother’s transplant. Right?”
“Along with the fund-raising money, we’ll have enough. We can tell her doctor to begin treatment. Thank you so much for helping me. For being here today. I never thought I’d do anything like this—” Emotion tightened Sara’s throat. Her mom deserved every chance to prolong her life, and Sara would do anything in her power to make it happen.
Joanne patted Sara’s hand. “You’re not only helping your mom, you’re giving a childless couple a chance to conceive. Your eggs are going to a worthy recipient.”
Of course her friend couldn’t divulge the names of the people she’d be helping. The couple’s criteria had been simple: eggs from a healthy woman, twenty-eight or younger, with a 1300+ SAT score. A law student, Sara had fit the bill. When Joanne had given her the idea, it had been a godsend.
“The couple you’re donating to already had two in vitro attempts that failed,” Joanne further explained.
Sara never would have considered going through this procedure if her mother hadn’t gotten ill. But bone marrow transplant treatment was considered experimental with her mom’s rare blood disorder, and was more expensive than they had ever realized. Although Sara had written appeal letter after appeal letter, the insurance company had denied coverage. Because her mother didn’t have time to wait any longer, Sara had decided the only thing to do was to raise the money herself. Joanne as well as other friends had helped with the fund-raisers in their small town ten miles outside of Minneapolis, but they’d come up thousands short, even for the down payment.
When Sara had been accepted as a donor by the clinic, she’d told her mom, and they’d both cried tears of relief…and of hope. Sara couldn’t imagine a world without her mother in it. She’d never had a father, never had uncles or aunts or cousins. She and her mom only had each other, and were best friends. But Joanne was a very good friend, too. In fact, she was taking the afternoon off to drive her to her apartment.
Sara pushed her blond hair from her temple, ready to take the next step to make her mom well. “When I get home, I can make the call to the financial services director at Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital. Mom can start treatment as soon as they can fit her in.”
Although Sarah was hopeful, fear still gripped her…the same fear that had gnawed at her ever since her mother received her diagnosis. Would the transplant work?
Underneath worry for her mom, Sara thought about the procedure she’d just experienced. She had lots of eggs. Giving away a few wouldn’t affect her life at all. In spite of her career, she did want children some day. After she became a partner in a law firm, she would consider it.
Some day.
Would her mother see someday with her?
Sarah could only pray she would.
Chapter One
Six Years Later
Sara opened the heavy oak door into Pine Grove Lodge, anxiety tightening her chest, her heart pounding hard. She wasn’t sure she should be here, but she had to find out if Nathan Barclay’s son was her son. He might not be. Her eggs might not have been instrumental in giving the Barclays a child. But the dates lined up—her donation and Kyle’s birth. She had to know for sure. Her accident and hysterectomy in June had devastated her…until during her recuperation, Joanne, who’d left the fertility clinic a few years ago to take a more lucrative position elsewhere, had revealed Nathan Barclay’s name.
Moving into the great room, Sara found no one standing at the long mahogany counter.
A door opened at the rear of the room and a tall, broad-shouldered man carrying an armful of logs came in and kicked the door shut with one booted foot. As he passed the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace and caught sight of her, he smiled. But it was a forced smile that didn’t light up his eyes, which were the same color as the gray November sky outside.
Sara recognized Nathan Barclay from the photograph she’d found in an article about him and his dad restoring this resort in their hometown of Rapid Creek, Minnesota. Still reeling from her mom’s death from cancer a year ago, as well as the accident that had taken away Sara’s ability to have children, she’d looked him up on the Internet, and she’d found more than she’d ever imagined. Most important, she’d learned he was a widower and had a son who was five.
She hadn’t made an impulsive decision that could affect several lives. After her recuperation, she’d returned to her law firm, working seventy to eighty hours a week. But after two months, she’d decided to use vacation time, and had packed a suitcase, grabbed her laptop and headed to the Wisconsin Dells to think. Two days into her getaway, she’d found herself driving to Rapid Creek, searching for answers.
Now here she was, practically shaking in her sneakers.
“If you’re looking for a room, I’m sorry, but we don’t have any vacancies. This time of year we’re usually full.” Nathan Barclay’s deep voice resonated through Sara, making her anxiety grab a stronger hold.
Straightening her shoulders and taking a breath, she waited only a heartbeat before replying, “I’m not looking for a room.”
At her words his dark brows quirked up. Turning away from her, he lowered the armful of logs onto the hearth. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst from her chest.
Finally, he brushed off his hands and crossed to her. Only two feet away, she noticed strands of gray at the temples of his dark brown hair, lines above his brows and around his eyes and mouth.
“If you don’t need a room for the night, how can I help you?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“Mr. Barclay, I’m Sara Hobart.”
He showed no recognition of her name.
State the facts. Make him understand.
“Almost six years ago, on January 23, I donated eggs at the Brighton Fertility Clinic in Minneapolis. I found out your wife benefited from that donation. I’m wondering…I believe…”
His firm jaw set. His stance became defensive.
Forgetting her training as a lawyer, and too personally involved to weigh her words, she plunged in and asked, “Did your wife conceive from that in vitro procedure?”
The man before her was on his guard. His eyes were dark with stormy outrage. “How could you possibly have gotten my name? That information is confidential.”
“Mr. Barclay, I don’t mean you or Kyle any harm—”
“How do you know my son’s name?” Barclay’s voice was rough and he was looking at her as if he should call the police.
More determined than ever to find out if she was Kyle’s mother, if she had a legitimate claim, she stretched out her hand in a pleading gesture. “I’m a lawyer. I have easy access to databases. If you’d let me start at the beginning—”
“I don’t want you to start anywhere. I want you to leave. If it’s true you donated eggs at Brighton, then you also signed a release form relinquishing any rights. So if you think I’m going to pay you another cent, you’re sadly mistaken.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want money. I…I was in an automobile accident and had to have a hysterectomy. I looked you up on the Internet and found out you’re a widower. When I searched public records, I discovered your wife died in childbirth and so did Kyle’s twin brother.”
“You had no right to invade my privacy!”
“I can’t have children, Mr. Barclay. I’d like to meet Kyle. That’s all.” Her voice shook on the last word.
After a long, silent pause and a penetrating search of her eyes, he said firmly, “I’m not going to let a stranger just waltz into our home.”
Trying to keep her composure, reminding herself calm reason could possibly make a dent in Nathan Barclay’s armor, she took a folded sheet of paper from her coat pocket and handed it to him. “Here are my credentials and a brief background. I’ve also provided references. My friends and neighbors don’t know why I’m here, but they can tell you anything you need to know about me.”
He took the sheet of paper and glanced at it, then asked in a low voice, “What do you really want?”
“I want to meet Kyle. Afterward, I’ll return to Minneapolis.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I give you my word. I know I have no rights here. I just want to meet him.” Because if she did, she’d know, wouldn’t she? Wouldn’t instinct tell her if Kyle was hers?
His gaze raked over her shoulder-length blond hair, her jeans, sneakers and rose, cable-knit sweater under her suede jacket. She knew he was trying to assess whether or not she was a danger to him. But his gaze passing over her made her feel self-conscious and…warm.
“Miss Hobart, your word means nothing to me. You said you’re a lawyer. If you are, you know the document you signed was valid.”
Yes, it was. She didn’t need a custody lawyer to tell her that. She motioned to the paper she’d given him. “I’ve written the name of the bed-and-breakfast where I’m staying on the back of my references. I’ll be there until Friday.”
Silence echoed from floor to ceiling in the large room. Finally, he asked, “And after Friday?”
“I’ll be returning to Minneapolis.” When his stone-cold expression gave away none of his thoughts, she added, “Please put yourself in my shoes, Mr. Barclay. Since my accident, my life has been in turmoil. Actually, it’s come to a standstill. I need to meet Kyle to move on.”
After he folded the sheet of paper she’d given him, he shoved it into the pocket of his Western-cut shirt. “I think you should go.”
Sara could see that nothing else she said would move him or change his mind. After a last look into his eyes, dark gray now with the turbulence she’d obviously caused, she gave a slight nod and retraced her steps to the front door. As she left Pine Grove Lodge, she hoped Nathan Barclay would try to put himself in her shoes and call her before Friday.
If he didn’t, she might never meet Kyle and learn whether or not he was her son.
“What did Ben say?” Galen Barclay looked worried as Nathan hung up the phone.
“I have to check on Kyle.” Nathan was still reeling from his encounter with Sara Hobart that afternoon. Calling his brother Ben, who was an assistant district attorney in Albuquerque, had seemed to be a good idea. But Ben’s experience with women had left his brother cynical.
“Kyle will be fine for a few minutes,” his father insisted. “He’s playing with his fire trucks in his room.”
Ever since his son had been born early, at twenty-six weeks, Nathan had been protective of him. When he’d developed asthma, Nathan hadn’t wanted him out of his sight. At his father’s urging he’d relaxed a bit with all of his coddling, but he still kept a close eye on Kyle.
“So what was Ben’s advice?” his dad asked again.
“He told me not to worry. He assured me that if Sara Hobart signed a release form when she donated her eggs—he believes the word donated doesn’t apply, since she received $10,000 in exchange for them—she doesn’t have a parental leg to stand on. He thinks she’s simply a gold digger, and I tend to agree.” Though that’s what Nathan’s head told him, he remembered the pain in the woman’s eyes when she’d spoken of having a hysterectomy.
“You said she’s a lawyer.”
“Yes. I called one of her references, a neighbor. I also checked the roster of attorneys at the firm listed on her credentials. Apparently she is a lawyer in Charles Frank’s firm. When I searched the Internet, there was an account of her accident this summer. A man in his forties who’d taken cold medication fell asleep while he was driving, crossed the highway and hit her head on. From the sound of it, she’s lucky she wasn’t killed. Everything she told me seems to be true.”
After a reflective silence, his dad commented, “If she’s a lawyer in Charles Frank’s law firm—it’s the biggest and best in Minneapolis—I doubt she’s looking for a handout. You know Ben. He believes women are out for whatever they can get. This Hobart woman could be on the level. What if she is the one who enabled you and Colleen to have a child? What if she is Kyle’s mother?”
Nathan’s heart rejected that idea instantaneously. Colleen was Kyle’s mother. Nathan had pictures of his deceased wife all over the house. He wanted Kyle to know her in some small way. He knew what it was like to grow up without a mother. His own had left him and his two brothers to pursue her career and live a life better than the one she’d found in Rapid Creek. She hadn’t looked back. Unlike his own attempt to give Kyle a sense of Colleen, his dad had tried to wipe his wife’s memory from all of their lives. After she’d left, Galen had never spoken of her again. Not until Nathan had asked questions when he’d graduated from high school.
“Son, Colleen is gone.” His dad was always blunt when he wanted to make a point. “She isn’t here to put her arms around Kyle when he needs a hug. He can’t hear her voice in the middle of the night when he’s scared.”
Nathan’s anger rose quickly, the same anger that had shaken its fist at fate when that force had taken Colleen and Kyle’s twin, Mark, away from him. “I give him hugs. I sit with him when he has bad dreams.”
“But are you enough? Am I enough? Is Val enough? None of us can take the place of a mother.”
Nathan and Galen both depended on Val Lindstrom, the housekeeper Nathan had hired to look after Kyle when he was busy at the lodge or guiding tourists who stayed there. “Ben, Sam and I grew up just fine with only you to take care of us,” Nathan said.
“Maybe you did and maybe you didn’t. I don’t think Ben will ever trust a woman enough to settle down with her. And that stems back to your mother deserting us. And Sam… Maybe he chose poorly because I never taught him how to choose wisely.”
Since his dad rarely brought up the subject of their mother’s desertion, Nathan decided to take advantage of this opportunity. “Why didn’t you ever remarry?”
“Because not many women could take on three boys and like it. I never met anyone willing to try.” Galen picked up the paper on the counter that Sara Hobart had given to Nathan. “What harm would come from inviting this Hobart woman to meet Kyle? I’m sure he gets tired of just seeing you, me and Val.”
“What harm?” Nathan couldn’t believe his dad wouldn’t acknowledge the obvious. “If she sees him, she might want to spend more time with him. What if she stays in Rapid Creek?”
Waving that idea away with a flick of his hand, Galen responded, “She has a first-class job in Minneapolis. She didn’t go to school all those years just to give it up.”
Something else troubled Nathan even more. “What if Kyle likes her?”
“And what if he doesn’t?” his dad protested. “What if they don’t get along at all? What if his asthma scares her?”
Even if he entertained that possibility, Nathan was unsettled by the idea of inviting Sara Hobart into his home. “I think we’d be taking a big gamble letting her meet him.”
“Aren’t you taking a bigger gamble never telling Kyle the truth?”
“He’s not old enough to understand.”
Galen’s eyes were a steady gray, showing the wisdom of his sixty-four years. “When will he be old enough? When he’s twelve? When he’s sixteen?”
“Dad—”
“You can’t ignore the truth, even though you’ve tried. You’ve convinced yourself you and Colleen were the only two people involved.”
Yes, he had. Ever since Colleen had been implanted with the embryos, they’d dismissed the donor. She’d been a means for Colleen to get pregnant, and that was all.
But now that donor had a face—a very pretty face…and green eyes identical to Kyle’s. “I’m not sure we should let her into our lives.”
“She’s already in your life if she’s Kyle’s mother.”
That was a very big if.
Sara Hobart had given her word she’d go back to Minneapolis after she met Kyle. Could Nathan believe her?
When Sara stepped into Nathan Barclay’s log home, she felt like an interloper. But it didn’t matter how she felt. Only meeting Kyle mattered.
Nathan stood in the living room amid comfortable green-and-brown-plaid corduroy furniture. His jaw was set in an uncompromising line, as if he was sorry he’d invited her here.
As her gaze locked with his, a tingle of awareness ran through her. She ignored it. “I was grateful you called. I honestly thought you wouldn’t. What changed your mind?”
“You checked me out. I checked on you. Everything you told me was true.”
“You didn’t expect it to be?”
He shook his head. “There are lots of crazy people in the world, Miss Hobart.”
“It’s Sara.” For some reason she believed that if he used her given name, there would at least be a tenuous thread of communication between them.
He didn’t use her name and his tone was severe. “Before I call Kyle from his room, there’s something you need to know. He has asthma.”
Instantly concerned, Sara asked, “Is it serious? I don’t know much about the condition.”
“It can be life threatening.” As she absorbed that, he went on. “I’m not being dramatic. When he had his first attack, he was three. I’d painted two of the bedrooms in the lodge and had him there with me. He started having trouble breathing, then he began to wheeze. I didn’t know what was happening, but thank goodness I brought him downstairs while Dad called emergency services.”
Although Nathan’s face was stoic, Sara could imagine the fear and panic that must have shaken him. “Is Kyle on medication?”
“Yes. And he uses inhalers.”
“Are there particular things that cause an attack?” She should know what they were. A little voice asked, Why, if this is the only time you’re going to see Kyle? She pushed that question away.
“Strong smells like cleaning solutions or scented candles. Extreme cold. Too much dust.” Nathan took a few steps closer. “And emotional upset. I don’t want him upset. I told him a friend was coming to visit, that’s all.”
She had to look up a good six inches to meet Nathan’s eyes. They were almost threatening, and the message was clear. If she did anything to upset Kyle, he’d toss her out.
Still, amazingly, she didn’t feel intimidated, because she understood. As a parent, she’d want to protect her child that fiercely, too. “I understand.”
The November weather was becoming colder. She’d worn jeans and a sweater again, topped by her suede jacket. She unbuttoned it, hoping Kyle’s dad would let her stay more than five minutes.
As she slid out of one sleeve, Nathan was beside her. “I’ll hang this in the closet.”
Relieved, she smiled at him and motioned to a bakery bag she’d set on the arm of the sofa with her purse. “I brought chocolate chip cookies. Does Kyle have any dietary restrictions?”
“No. No food allergies, thank goodness. And he does love chocolate. It was thoughtful of you to bring them.”
Nathan was acting superbly polite. She wished he’d just be himself and say what he was thinking. “It’s not a bribe,” she assured him. “Chocolate and little boys just seem to go together.”
When he didn’t respond, she tried again. “You told Kyle I was a friend. He’ll know that’s not true if he senses your hostility.”
“I’m not hostile.”
She wasn’t going to argue with him. “Can we pretend to be friendly for Kyle’s sake?”
Nathan blew out a long sigh. “Look, Miss—”
“Sara,” she reminded him.
“All right. Sara. I’m not pleased about you being here. I just want this over with. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”
“Kyle will pick up whatever you feel.”
“Maybe. On the other hand, if I’m not feeling anything, he won’t pick up anything. While you spend time with him, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“You’re going to let me sink or swim on my own?” She meant the comment to lighten the tension a bit. But it didn’t, and she murmured, “You’re hoping I sink.” So much for being friends. “Okay, Mr. Barclay. How much time are you going to give me?”
“Let’s just see how it goes.”
She supposed that meant if she and Kyle got along well, he’d give her a little more time. But whether that was fifteen minutes or an hour, she knew he wouldn’t say. She was a planner, an organizer. But today she was going to have to go with the flow whether she liked it or not.
However, going with the flow required a certain amount of trust. She didn’t have much trust anymore—certainly not in men. In her experience men walked away when life didn’t go the way they planned.
How she wished her mother was still alive. She could give her guidance. But her mom was gone and Sara had no family. “Can I meet Kyle now?”
Carrying her jacket to the closet just inside the door, Nathan hung it up. Then, after a long look at her, he called, “Kyle. Come on out here a minute, will you? There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Sara’s heart raced so fast she couldn’t count the beats.
When the five-year-old appeared, tears brimmed in her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. She couldn’t be overcome by emotion. A child wouldn’t understand that, and she didn’t want to scare him. She just wanted to talk with him and be with him.
She didn’t need a DNA test to know right away that he was her son. She could see the evidence in his green eyes, so like hers…and in the tilt of his smile, so like her mother’s.
As he ran up to his dad and stood expectantly waiting for an introduction, while glancing surreptitiously at her, she noted he had Nathan’s dark brown hair and a very defined little chin. He’d probably be as stubborn as his father someday.
“Sara,” Nathan said, as if he’d been using her first name for years, “this is my son, Kyle. Kyle, this is that friend I told you about. Her name is Sara.”
Not knowing exactly how to proceed, she approached him slowly. “Hi there, Kyle.”
As a lawyer, Sara negotiated and dealt with adults on a daily basis. She suspected kids didn’t like to be crowded any more than grown-ups, so she kept some distance between them.
Motioning to the two fire trucks she’d spotted by the bookshelves, she decided to jump in with both feet. After all, her time here could be extremely limited. “I noticed your aerial truck and pumper. Were you rescuing people from those tall buildings?” She’d taken a guess that the bookshelves were high-rises.
Kyle, who was almost standing behind his dad’s hip, took a step closer to her. “Those are apartment buildings,” he said with some excitement. “How did you know?”
Sara crouched down to his level and looked him straight in the eye. “When I was a little girl, I had a nurse doll. I used our television stand as the hospital. Each shelf was a different floor.”
Grinning widely now, Kyle let go of his dad’s pant leg and stood even closer. “Do you want to play with me? We could rescue everybody and put the fire out.”
Before she said yes, she glanced at Nathan. He was the one making decisions, and she couldn’t take a wrong step.
He gave a tight nod.
She wished she could take Kyle into her arms and give him a hug, but she knew it was too soon for that. Also, if she did, she had a feeling Nathan might panic and pull Kyle away.
Instead, she said calmly, “I’d love to play with you.”
Kyle ran to the bookshelves and dropped down onto the floor, cross-legged. “You can drive the pumper truck. I like to drive the aerial. But I’ll let you climb up, too.”
In spite of herself, she laughed. “That’s good…because I don’t think I can get to the top shelf without using the ladder.”
Like any five-year-old involved in his own world, Kyle didn’t ask who she was, where she was from or why she was there. All he cared about was the fact she was playing with him.
They’d been rescuing pretend inhabitants in the bookshelf apartments for about a half hour when Nathan called from the kitchen. “Time for milk and cookies. Come in here to eat them, though. I wouldn’t want the crumbs to clog up your fire hoses.”
Apparently the man had a sense of humor when he interacted with his son, Sara thought.
Kyle called back, “In a minute, Dad.”
Suddenly Nathan appeared, only a few feet away. “I’ll set the timer.” He winked at Sara. “His minutes can get awfully long sometimes.”
Gazing up at Nathan—noticing again his muscular body; his angular face, which was interesting rather than purely handsome; the slight smile that was all for his son—Sara felt a tummy-twirling sensation. When she considered the situation, her joy at simply being here with Kyle, she dismissed it as excitement. However, when she was sitting in the rustic kitchen with its hurricane lamp chandelier above the round pine table, Nathan looming like a guardian angel between her and Kyle, she wasn’t so sure. Although all of her attention was focused on the five-year-old, when she reached for a napkin in the center of the table and Nathan did so at the same time, their fingers brushed and heat zipped up her arm.
He jerked away and so did she. But the sensation remained.
A little later, when she leaned forward to ask Kyle his favorite flavor of ice cream, her leg grazed Nathan’s. She shifted away, but apparently not soon enough. Warmth spread through her body so rapidly she thought the temperature in the house had gone up ten degrees.
Knowing Nathan would soon cut off her time with Kyle, she finished her cookie and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “Are you in kindergarten this year?”
Crumbs on his upper lip, Kyle shook his head. “Nope. Dad says next year will be soon enough. I’m gonna be homeschooled.”
She looked to Nathan for an explanation.
“I thought I’d hire a tutor. With Kyle’s asthma it might be best to keep him at home.”
“Just for kindergarten?”
Nathan shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
She couldn’t keep the words from escaping. “Interaction with other kids is important.”
“So is his health.”
Biting her tongue, Sara reached for her glass of milk. She had no say in what Nathan did. No say at all. But she knew in her heart that protecting Kyle too much could be as serious a problem as not protecting him enough.
Lifting the cuff of his shirt, Nathan checked his watch. “Sara has a little bit of time before she leaves. Why don’t you show her your room?”
“I’d love to see your room. Maybe I could read you a story. Do you like books?”
“I like Dr. Seuss and Clifford. I even have my own Clifford. Come on, I’ll show you.” Quicker than lightning, Kyle scrambled off his chair and left the kitchen for a hall that must lead to the bedrooms.
Nathan pushed his chair back, stood, picked up the empty cookie dish and took it to the sink. The kitchen decor was light green and tan. The window above the sink was curtainless and void of a blind, giving an unobstructed view of the backyard. Sara had passed sliding glass doors that led out to a deck before she’d sat at the table. The wide, expansive lawn dotted with maples, sycamores and firs was inviting—for a young boy to practice pitching a baseball, or for a quiet walk to soak in the peace of nature. The sky was robin-egg blue today and cloudless. The tall firs reached up to it and were a dozen different shades of green. This was a beautiful place to raise a child. She just hoped Nathan wouldn’t isolate Kyle in order to keep him safe.
“Thanks for suggesting he show me his room.”
“I thought you’d like to see it.”
“So I can take a mental picture of where he sleeps home with me?”
“Something like that.”
When Nathan turned toward her, their gazes met, and she almost felt as if the kitchen tilted a little. That was ridiculous. She was just hyperstimulated from meeting Kyle, from holding her own with Nathan, from wanting to remember every minute so she could treasure each one in her heart always.
“Sara, come on!” Kyle’s voice was enthusiastically shrill. “I want to show you my arrowheads.”
Breaking eye contact with Nathan, quickly gaining her equilibrium again, she hurried down the hall to Kyle’s room, knowing her time with him was limited.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, Nathan impatiently checked his watch. He’d expected Kyle to be bored with Sara, or Sara to be bored with Kyle. He’d peeked into the room twice. The first time they were playing Candy Land. Sara had been seated cross-legged on Kyle’s bed, while Kyle knelt on the floor beside it, all rapt attention as they moved their board markers according to the colors on the cards they chose. The second time he’d checked on them, he’d been surprised to see Sara on the floor. Apparently Kyle had gone through his toy chest, showing her this and that. She’d fitted his monkey puppet onto her hand and was talking in a high voice, making his son laugh.
They were getting along too well. She was bonding with Kyle. If Nathan didn’t put a stop to this now, she’d want to come back. He couldn’t allow that.
This time when Nathan appeared in the doorway, she was sitting on the bed again, reading Kyle a story. Her melodic voice lifted and fell, and Nathan felt almost as mesmerized as his son.
That was ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as the awareness he felt every time Sara got within two feet of him. He was on pins and needles, wishing her out of his house. That was all.
The story Sara was reading Kyle wasn’t one of his usual favorites. It was The Velveteen Rabbit. Nathan had always considered the book too advanced for his son, but now he could see Kyle was enraptured by it—a story about a bunny loved so much it became real. Had Nathan also not pulled out that book to read at night because it would encourage his son to believe in the impossible?
The book finished, Sara closed it and saw him standing in the doorway. An expression so sad came over her face that Nathan actually felt sorry for her. Then he steeled himself against the emotion…against the compassion that would ruin what he’d built for himself and Kyle.
Colleen’s pictures sat on Kyle’s nightstand. What would she think about all this?
He pushed away that fanciful thought. “It’s time for Sara to go now.”
“Aw, Dad. Does she haf to?”
Although Sara looked as if she wanted to protest, too, she sat up straight. “I do have to go, Kyle. But it was a real treat visiting with you.”
“Can you come back?”
Nathan rubbed his forehead. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. “She’s returning to Minneapolis tomorrow, Kyle. That’s where she lives.”
Sara slid her legs over the side of the bed and for a moment didn’t move. Nathan wondered if she was fighting tears. He hoped not because he wouldn’t know how to deal with those.
When she stood, she faced Kyle again. “My life is in Minneapolis. Coming up here was like a dream I had once. Thank you for making it come true.”
Unexpectedly, Kyle raced around to her side of the bed and gave her a hug. “I want you to come back.”
She hugged him for a very long time, then finally let him go. “I wish I could. But sometimes we can’t have what we want.”
“While I walk Sara out, why don’t you draw a picture of everything you did so you can give it to Gramps?”
“I want to mail it to Sara.”
Nathan relented so the argument wouldn’t continue. “All right, you can do that. Go ahead and get started.”
Kyle gave Sara an unhappy little wave, then went over to the small table and chairs where coloring books, art paper and crayons were stacked. As he sat, he looked over his shoulder.
Nathan put his hand at the small of Sara’s back and guided her out of the room. Was she trembling? Could leaving Kyle affect her this much? They didn’t even know for sure if Kyle was her son. From what he understood, mix-ups happened in fertility clinics.
She stood silent as he pulled her jacket from the closet and handed it to her. She took it and he saw her eyes were shiny. Yet her voice was steady when she said, “Thank you for letting me meet him. I wish…” She shook her head. “You know what I wish.”
“He might not even be your son.”
“He’s my son. He has my eyes.”
Nathan couldn’t dispute that because he saw it, too.
She crossed to the door and put her hand on the knob. “I gave you my word I’d go back to Minneapolis, and that’s what I’m going to do. But if you ever change your mind about Kyle needing a mother, and if you want to find out for sure if I am or not, that’s where I’ll be.”
As Sara left, Nathan watched her through the window. She practically ran down the walk.
She said she’d keep her word. But as he listened to her start her car, as he watched her drive away, he felt a lead weight in his chest.
If she didn’t keep her word, what was he going to do?
Chapter Two
As Nathan ushered Kyle into the children’s clothing store, he hoped Thanksgiving would return his son to his normal happy, active self. He’d been unusually quiet since Sara Hobart’s visit.
“Boys jeans are over there.” Nathan pointed to a table in the rear of the store. With winter coming on, he had realized his son had outgrown everything, from his jeans to his cold weather gear. Heavier snow was predicted for next week, over the holiday.
Kyle headed toward the back of the store with no enthusiasm at all.
Nathan knew his son hated trying on clothes. Like father, like son.
But he realized there was more to the boy’s mood than an aversion to shopping for clothes. For the past week, Kyle had smiled less and seemed much too pensive. Why? Because he’d liked Sara and wanted her to visit again? Because he missed that kind of nurturing female presence in his life? Nathan had let Kyle mail her the drawings he’d made. Since then Kyle had watched the mail, as if he’d expected something from her in return. Nothing had arrived. Nathan guessed Sara believed he preferred she remain silent.
Over the weekend Nathan had arranged a play day with Bill Norris, a divorced dad with a six-year-old son, who attended the same church they did. Kyle had seemed to enjoy the company Saturday afternoon. Afterward, however, he’d become introspective again. Nathan had asked Kyle if something was wrong. So had his dad, as well as Val. But Kyle had just shrugged and clammed up.
As they stopped in front of the table stacked with jeans now, Nathan laid out three pairs in Kyle’s size for his son to examine. “Uncle Ben said he’s bringing you a surprise when he comes next Wednesday.”
“Do you know what it is?” Kyle asked, looking interested.
“Nope. I have no idea.”
“Is he staying lots of days?”
“Two or three.”
“That’s okay,” Kyle replied with a grin.
Nathan was relieved to see that happy spark back in his son’s eyes. He pointed to the jeans one size up from the short ones Kyle wore now. “Why don’t you pick the pair you like the best. I’ll check out the coats.”
The boys coat rack was a few steps away. Nathan watched Kyle lift a pair of denims, flip them over and wiggle his little fingers into the back pocket.
Engrossed in trying to whittle down the selection of coats to two or three for Kyle to try on, Nathan wasn’t sure he heard a low voice calling “Dad.” But he turned anyway.
When he saw his son gasping for air, he dropped the coats and hurried to him. Fear shone in Kyle’s eyes, and his breathing was labored.
“Hold on.” Nathan tried to keep the panic from his voice as he reached for the inhaler in his pocket. Kyle hadn’t suffered a serious asthma attack in over a year. That day he’d been outside playing too long, and the fall grasses had set him off.
Trying to stay calm, Nathan shook the inhaler, then held it to his son’s lips. Twice Kyle sucked in the puffs of medication.
A store clerk was at Nathan’s side, asking if she could help. The scent of her perfume was strong. He ignored her, all of his attention riveted on his son.
Holding the inhaler himself now, Kyle shook his head to signal the medicine wasn’t helping. “I can’t breathe,” he rasped.
Although he realized he had to give the medication a few minutes to work, Nathan still scooped Kyle up into his arms. His boy’s face was gray and he was struggling to draw in air. Waiting wasn’t an option.
“Should I call emergency services?” the clerk asked.
Nathan hated watching Kyle suffer. His own pulse was racing and his heart pounded in his ears. He had to keep a clear head. If the woman called the paramedics, they would take at least five minutes to get here.
“Call the E.R. and tell them I’m coming—asthmatic child in crisis.” Then he raced out of the store, running faster than he ever had run even when he’d sprinted in a track meet. He could be at the hospital in less than five minutes. Even one minute could be crucial now.
That minute could save his son’s life.
As the automated doors opened for Nathan, he ran into the emergency room of Rapid Creek Community Hospital, yelling for a doctor. Although the hospital was small, it was well-equipped, with a dedicated staff. The clerk’s call must have prepared them, because a doctor rushed to Nathan and showed him to a cubicle. While he administered a dose of medication, a nurse pulled the curtains around them. Kyle’s lips had turned blue and his little face was ashen. Nathan prayed like he’d never prayed before.
As the doctor, whose name tag read Dr. Marshall, began Kyle’s inhalation therapy, Nathan stayed by his son’s side, holding his hand to keep him calm. Every few moments he said, “I’m right here. You’re going to be fine.”
Kyle was breathing easier now.
Dr. Marshall, who was wearing a white coat over a blue oxford shirt and khakis, looked to be in his forties. “I paged Dr. Redding.”
Dr. Redding was the town’s pulmonary specialist. Kyle had seen him for a checkup at the end of the summer.
“This treatment will last about ten minutes. We’ll let him rest for a while, then give him another. When Dr. Redding arrives, he’ll examine him thoroughly and check his blood gases. My guess is after an attack like this, he’ll want to keep him overnight.”
Hearing every word, Kyle’s eyes widened in fear.
The doctor patted his arm. “Your dad will be able to stay if he’d like. We have a comfortable recliner he can roll next to your bed.”
Nathan squeezed Kyle’s hand. “If you have to stay, I’ll be right here with you.”
Kyle seemed to relax again at his words.
With a frown, Nathan asked, “I can’t use a cell phone in the hospital, can I?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. But if you’d like us to call someone for you, I’m sure the desk nurse would be glad to do that.”
“I don’t want to scare my father.”
“Jeannie is very good at public relations. But you will have to sign a form giving her permission to call.”
“Paperwork,” Nathan muttered.
“More and more every day,” the doctor agreed, examining Kyle again. After studying the monitor he was hooked up to, the doctor pulled back a curtain. “I’ll go get that form.”
Two hours later, Nathan was seated by Kyle’s bed in the pediatrics unit when his father appeared at the doorway with two cups of coffee and beckoned to him. This was his third cup of high octane caffeine. Nathan knew there’d be no sleep for him tonight. But there wouldn’t have been, anyway. He’d be watching Kyle. With the oxygen tube at his son’s nose and the breathing apparatus on the bedside stand, Nathan wouldn’t forget why his son was here.
There was another sleeping child, a ten-year-old boy, in a bed across the room. He’d been in an accident and had his spleen removed. His parents had decided not to stay for the night.
After making sure Kyle was still sleeping, Nathan went to the door and stepped out.
Galen handed him a cup of coffee.
Nathan took off the lid and tossed it into the nearby trash can. Then he sipped it and grimaced.
“It’s hot,” his father warned.
“It tastes like motor oil.”
“What do you expect? A latte from Javaland? I can go get you one, but I know you don’t go in for that kind of thing.”
“Instead of fetching coffee for me, you should just go home.”
“I thought we should have a talk first.”
Nathan met his dad’s steel-gray eyes. “What about? What caused this episode? I spoke to his doctor. It could have been the dyes and the smells of the fabrics in the store. It could have been the clerk’s perfume. It could have been—”
Galen raised a brow. “Before Kyle fell asleep, I asked him if he took his medicine this morning.”
“I gave him his tablet with breakfast.”
“That doesn’t mean he swallowed it. And let me tell you, son, that boy can’t lie any better than you could when you were a kid. He nodded that he took it, but he wouldn’t look at me dead-on.”
Nathan started to get angry, then reminded himself that Kyle was five years old. How could he possibly understand the gravity of his condition? “I’ll have to have another talk with him. But today’s scare should have been enough.”
After taking a couple of swallows from his cup, Galen hooked a thumb in his suspenders and gnawed on his lower lip for a couple of seconds. “There is something else that could have caused this, you know.”
“What?”
“Stress. Kids get stressed just like adults. You know it can be a factor in bringing on an asthma attack. Kyle’s been way too quiet ever since Sara Hobart visited him. He watches the mail every day as if he expects a letter from her. That’s emotional stress on the boy. Maybe you should let him know you’ve forbidden her from having any contact with him again, so he doesn’t expect anything from her. Or…maybe you should change your mind about her visiting him again.”
“You’re becoming her champion?” Nathan’s voice registered astonishment.
“Not her champion, but Kyle’s. You have to do something. Who knows what ideas Kyle’s imagination is spinning. He might think she doesn’t want to come back…doesn’t want to be friends with him.”
“I never should have let her see him in the first place.”
“You would have still known she was out there. When Kyle starts asking questions…”
“Why would he have questions? His mother died in childbirth. Period.”
“Other folks in town know about the in vitro. You can’t keep the truth hidden forever. Better Kyle knows it sooner rather than later, when he’ll resent you for keeping it from him.”
Nathan felt an icy chill crawl up his back. “And just what am I supposed to do about Sara Hobart? If I let her into Kyle’s life, she could want more than another visit.”
Holding up his hand to ward off Nathan’s objections, Galen argued, “She knows she has no legal right to Kyle. But Nathan, if he is her son, I think you’d better consider her moral right.” He lowered his voice. “There’s a good chance she’s the boy’s biological mother. What if he’d died today?”
“Pop!” Nathan could feel his face go white, his entire body tense, his whole being reject the idea.
“I know that’s not something you want to think about. And yes, she signed a piece of paper that says she has no rights to Kyle. No rights to make any decisions about him. No rights to visit him or hug him. I get that. Apparently she gets that, too, otherwise she wouldn’t have gone back to Minneapolis. But…” Galen pointed his weathered finger at Kyle. “Just look at him, son. Look at the life he has with me and you and Val. You hardly let him go anywhere or do anything. At least can’t you let someone else into his life who can love him?”
To his chagrin, Nathan could remember the happiness on Kyle’s face when he’d been playing with Sara. He could remember the connection that had taken hold in a very short time. He’d wanted to deny it. He’d told himself Sara Hobart was a novelty to Kyle, and that was the reason his son liked her. But deep down, Nathan knew there was more. That “more” was what had caused the knot in his gut…the knife of fear that stabbed him every time he thought about Sara Hobart.
Galen rubbed his hand through his gray hair. “Ever since you lost Colleen, you’ve made Kyle the center of your world. You left your life in the city so you could come up here and make a new start with him. So you could be around for him. But maybe you’re not enough. A dad can’t be a mom. A father just doesn’t know some things instinctually the way a mother does. Believe me, son, I know. Sometimes I’d dig down deep to find something to say to you or Sam or Ben and it just wasn’t there.”
“Obviously it wasn’t there for our mother, either. Obviously she not only had nothing to say, she didn’t want to say it. At least not to us. She couldn’t wait to leave us and Rapid Creek. Sara Hobart has a high-powered career in Minneapolis. She’s not going to leave that to take care of a little boy here. And I don’t want her to take care of him, because I’m going to do that.”
“Whether she’s willing to be a full-time mother really isn’t the issue,” Galen protested. “Letting her spend a little time with Kyle is.”
While Galen’s words batted against Nathan’s heart, he could hear Sara’s voice in his head. I was in an accident and had to have a hysterectomy.
His gut clenched. A coward would take the easy way out. A coward would take the safe route. A coward would forget about Sara Hobart. Forget she even existed. She had no rights, no say, no claim on his son. Yet…
Leaving his dad, Nathan walked back into Kyle’s hospital room, stood by the bed and looked down at him. His son’s eyes were closed, but he knew they were the same green as Sara’s. Shouldn’t he at least find out if she was Kyle’s mother?
A DNA test for the three of them was a huge step, one he had to think seriously about before acting on. This wasn’t the kind of decision he was impulsively going to make in the aftermath of a crisis.
Maybe tomorrow morning he’d know what to do.
Saturday afternoon, when there was a knock on Sara’s office door, she looked up, expecting to see another of the firm’s associates who was working on the weekend, as she was. Ever since her visit to Rapid Creek, she’d worked practically nonstop, billing more hours than she had before her accident. She hadn’t known what else to do to keep her mind off Kyle.
Her gaze fell to the picture of Kyle on her desk, the one she’d taken with her camera phone. It was grainy and not very good, but it was something.
“Come in,” she called, since the door didn’t open at once as she’d expected it to.
When it did open, and she saw the man standing there, her world spun a little too fast. She wasn’t dizzy, exactly, but she felt disoriented and definitely off balance. Was she seeing things?
“Can I come in?”
The deep voice was the same. The brown hair falling over his forehead was the same. The jawline Kyle had inherited was the same. Nathan Barclay stood in her office, and she was speechless.
He frowned. “I stopped by your apartment. Since it seemed deserted, I took a chance you might be working.”
Finally she managed to string a few words together. “What are you doing here?”
He came further into the office. Wearing boots, jeans and a red-and-black flannel jacket, he didn’t look as if he belonged in the city. “I could give you the short version or the longer version. Which would you prefer?” His gaze dropped to the photograph of Kyle on her desk. “Where did that come from?”
“My camera phone. I only took the one. I just wanted something…” She trailed off, thinking she shouldn’t have to explain.
Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair. “Maybe we should do this somewhere else. How late will you be working?”
She closed the folder for the lease agreement she’d been studying. “I could be finished now if this is about Kyle.”
He nodded. “It’s about Kyle.”
“Is anything wrong? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. Now. We need to go someplace we can talk in private. A restaurant wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“We can go to my place. Did you drive down from Rapid Creek?”
“No, I flew in. But I rented a car.”
“Is it in the parking garage?”
“Yes.”
On her visit to Rapid Creek she’d realized Nathan was a man of few words. At least with her. She wondered if he was like that with everyone, or only people he didn’t know well or didn’t want to know well. She got the idea his being here wasn’t entirely voluntary. “I’m parked there, too. You can follow me to my place.”
“That’s fine,” he replied, but she had the feeling that nothing was fine. Just why was he here?
Pushing a few files into her briefcase, she could feel his gaze on her. His appraisal made her self-conscious. When she lifted her jacket from a wooden captain’s chair, she dropped it.
Close by, Nathan picked it up and handed it to her. Their gazes met and she felt impacted by the intensity in his gray eyes. She was suddenly glad he would follow her and they wouldn’t be occupying the same vehicle. She needed time to compose herself and to adjust to him being here, and what that might mean.
Apparently he didn’t want to discuss whatever it was on the phone. She’d expected never to see him again. Never to see Kyle again. But now a little flare of hope almost made her giddy.
Twenty minutes later Sara was letting Nathan into her apartment, trying to remember exactly what state it was in. She hadn’t been there much lately, only to sleep. It was too lonely. Too quiet. But most of all, she was surrounded by too many things her mother had loved. At first after her mom died, keeping her antiques, using them herself, had felt comforting. But after Sara’s accident, and after seeing Kyle, the furniture had caused her heart to ache even more.
Nathan had stopped inside the doorway and was taking it all in, from the claw-foot table and double-globed Quoizel lamp, to the lacy doilies on the arms of the camel-back sofa covered in a pretty pink flowered damask, to the Victorian lace curtains at the windows.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, noticing his expression, which seemed a bit puzzled.
“This isn’t at all what I expected,” he admitted.
“I’m afraid to ask what you did expect.” Her smile was wry and she was hoping he’d relax a little bit with her. On the other hand, it might be better if he didn’t. If he relaxed she might not be able to keep her distance as well. One thing she knew about Nathan Barclay—from the pictures of his deceased wife all over his house, to his wariness about her and any claims she might have concerning Kyle—she needed to keep her distance. She’d had enough heartache in her life not to even consider giving in to a little bit of chemistry that might ripple between them.
“I expected you to live in a modern glass-and-steel condo with contemporary paintings on the walls. I never imagined lace and antiques.”
“The antiques were my mother’s. They weren’t antiques when she bought them at yard sales and thrift shops years ago. But she had a good eye and a talent with fabric that I didn’t inherit.”
“You just got rid of your furniture?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“Believe me, it was nothing I was attached to. Except for that rocker.” She pointed to a wooden rocking chair with lions carved onto the back. “That I found for myself when I was in law school. Mom taught me how to look for bargains at yard sales. It had about ten coats of paint on it. It cleaned up great, don’t you think?”
“You refinished it?”
“Sure. Lye water, steel wool, glue here and there.” She headed for her kitchen, which was small but cheery, with its yellow, polished-cotton valance over the window, and philodendron hanging in one corner. “Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee.”
A long counter separated the living room from the kitchen, with a post at each end rising to the ceiling. After taking off her jacket and hanging it over a dining room chair, she quickly poured water into the tank of the coffeepot. She measured out chocolate-flavored coffee, which was all she had, and switched the pot on.
Sneaking a glance at Nathan, she noticed him unzip his jacket and lay it over the back of the sofa. He wandered about, studying the titles on her bookshelves. A duplicate picture of Kyle sat on the coffee table. She felt…naked having his dad look around her place like this. Intuition told her he was absorbing everything he could about her. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
Producing a copper tray from a cupboard, she set two mugs of coffee on it, a carton of nonfat creamer, and sugar packets she kept for guests. Then she carried it to the coffee table and lowered herself to the sofa cushion, hoping Nathan would sit, too. He was making her jittery just being here.
But if she thought she was jittery before, when he came over and sat beside her, she knew the true meaning of the word. When she’d visited Rapid Creek, she’d attributed her reaction to him to the situation, meeting Kyle for the first time and being stirred up about all of it. Now, however, she realized the man himself disturbed her…made her suddenly feel…hot.
Pouring a liberal amount of creamer into her mug, she picked it up, took a few bolstering sips, then set it on a coaster. “So tell me why you’re here.”
She was half afraid he was going to tell her he was having a restraining order placed upon her, so that she wouldn’t come anywhere near him or Kyle. But maybe that was just the lawyer in her being paranoid.
“I came to ask you to spend Thanksgiving with us in Rapid Creek.”
Nothing he might have said could have surprised her more. “You want me to spend Thanksgiving with you and Kyle?” She had to clarify so she was sure she hadn’t misunderstood.
“This isn’t what I want,” he told her bluntly, “but I think it’s necessary. We need to have DNA testing done to find out if you’re Kyle’s mother.”
“Why is this necessary now, when it wasn’t ten days ago? In fact, you didn’t want me anywhere around. Why the about-face?”
After a few beats of silence, he replied, “Because Kyle had a serious asthma attack. He could have died.”
“Oh, my Lord.” She felt the color drain from her face as the reality of his words sunk in.
Nathan swore. “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
Although he might not want to admit it, she could see he was still upset by whatever had occurred. “Tell me what happened.”
“Kyle has never had an attack this serious before. He had the one when he was three…one last year…but nothing since. Just wheezing sometimes.” He told her about taking Kyle to the store to buy clothes, the possibility of fabric smells or perfume setting off the attack.
“You didn’t say anything about perfume when I came to visit.”
“You weren’t wearing any.”
No, she wasn’t. Because perfume bothered some of her clients, she was careful about the products she chose. But the fact that Nathan Barclay had noticed that…well, of course he would have noticed if he was protective of Kyle.
“So you don’t know for sure what caused it?”
“My father has another theory.”
“And that is?”
“Kyle has been different, more quiet, more subdued since your visit. Dad feels there was an unconscious connection between the two of you and Kyle felt the loss of that. He looked for something from you in the mail every day. Emotional stress can be a component in an asthma attack.”
“You didn’t want me to have any contact! You told me not to write…to stay out of Kyle’s life.”
“I know. Possibly I was wrong. Maybe I underestimated his need of a woman your age in his life.”
“You don’t believe we had a connection because I’m his mother and he’s my son?”
“We don’t know that. I don’t believe you two bonded because of some mystical mother-son thread. You played with Kyle…with his fire trucks. You read him stories. Why wouldn’t he like you?”
“Mr. Barclay—”
“It’s Nathan,” he said curtly. “If we’re going to be around each other, if you’re going to be under my roof, we might as well be on a first-name basis.”
“You want me to stay in your house rather than the lodge?” she asked in astonishment.
“The whole point of this is for you to spend time with Kyle, isn’t it?”
“And if I’m not his mother?”
“Then he’ll have made a new friend. You can write to him and he can write back, and we can all relax.”
Was this really so simple for him? “When are you returning to Rapid Creek?”
“Tomorrow morning. I don’t want to be away too long. The doctor changed Kyle’s medication, and he seems to be doing fine. But I don’t want to take any chances.”
She did some quick calculating, weighing pros and cons, responsibility in her job against responsibility for a boy who could be her son. “I can’t fly back with you tomorrow. But I think I’ll be able to arrange everything by Tuesday. Would that be all right?”
“Tuesday would work out well. My brother Ben is flying in Wednesday night. We can keep Kyle’s excitement to small doses.”
Sara wondered again if Nathan was trying to protect Kyle a little too much…and if that might not be the basis of the whole problem. But she couldn’t put forth that theory until she learned more about Kyle and Nathan, how they related, and more about asthma itself. On the other hand, Nathan probably wouldn’t want to hear what she thought about it. Even if she was Kyle’s biological mother, she still had no legal claim, no parental claim, because of the release form she’d signed. She had to simply try to keep everything on an even keel with Nathan and not upset the proverbial apple cart. Most important, she had to prove she could be a healthy influence in Kyle’s life. In addition, she’d like to get a handle on Nathan. Try to get to know him a little better before she landed on his turf again.
She asked, “Did you check into a motel?”
“Not yet. Why?”
“Because I have a spare bedroom. You’re welcome to sleep here tonight if you’d like. If I’m going to be spending time at your house, it only seems fair.”
His eyes locked on hers. “Are you sure you want a houseguest on such short notice?”
Trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit, she smiled. “I was a Girl Scout. I’m always prepared. I have extra towels, a new bar of soap and clean sheets on the guest room bed. Your staying will be no trouble at all.”
Yet as she noticed the intensity in his dark eyes, the beard stubble lining his jaw, the lines around his mouth and his taut, nicely shaped lips, she suddenly realized inviting him to stay the night could cause her trouble with a capital T.
Her heart sped up while she waited for his answer, and she didn’t know whether to hope he’d accept her offer or leave for a motel!
Chapter Three
As Nathan stared up at the ceiling of Sara’s spare room, with the subtle scent of lavender escaping from a dish on the dresser, he reminded himself again that staying here was the practical and convenient thing to do. After all, he’d be leaving first thing in the morning. What did it matter where he bedded down for the night?
It mattered.
When he’d accepted her invitation, she’d told him straight out that she wouldn’t bother him, that he could pretend he was staying at a hotel, that she had some work to do on her computer in her bedroom and he could make himself a sandwich, open the package of cookies on the counter, help himself to whatever he could find.
That’s what he’d done, and he’d turned in early.
Levering himself up in the double bed now, he switched on the bedside lamp. He felt so out of place here. This wasn’t a motel. The furniture wasn’t impersonal. Sara had told him this brass bed had been hers when she was a child. The blue-and-white-striped spread and coordinating curtains were obviously new. But the snow globe with the castle on the dresser, the photograph of Sara and her mother in the crystal frame on the nightstand, the faded latch-hook rug with butterflies and flowers next to the bed, were belongings Sara clearly cherished.
He realized he was trying to get to know this woman without actually getting to know her. Maybe he was just searching for signs or signals that would warn him if there were dangerous waters ahead. His eyes fell on the paperback thriller poking out of his duffel bag. But then his stomach grumbled. He might as well get something to eat and spend the next hour reading. Maybe then he could doze off.
Listening for a moment, he didn’t hear a sound in the apartment, and suspected Sara was already sound asleep.
He’d brought navy flannel sleeping shorts for his overnight stay. He hadn’t figured he’d need anything else, alone in a motel room. He could put on his jeans. Nah. He’d be in and out of the kitchen in a couple of minutes.
When he passed Sara’s room, he was relieved to see no light shone under the door. He switched on the hall light soundlessly, then went down the short corridor to the dining room. As he passed through it, he saw the hood light glowing over the stove in the kitchen. At the same moment, he realized Sara was standing at the sink, likely as startled to see him as he was to see her. She was wearing a fuchsia nightshirt with Peace embroidered across the front in sparkly letters. The sleeves went to her elbows, while the V-neck hinted at her cleavage.
He quickly pulled his gaze up to her face, but that wasn’t a whole lot better. Her blond hair was tousled. Her big green eyes were wide with surprise. Devoid of makeup, her flawless skin asked to be touched.
He stopped, not sure whether to proceed or retreat. Her gaze was glued to his bare chest for a moment, then dropped lower, to the elastic band on his shorts. His equilibrium went haywire.
Finally, her eyes meeting his, her cheeks a little flushed, she said, “I thought you’d be sleeping.”
“And I thought you’d be sleeping.”
“You need another pillow or comforter or—?”
“No, Sara. I’m just fine.” Then he said the first thing that came into his head. “My stomach was grumbling.”
Her hand fluttered toward the refrigerator. “Help yourself. There’s still plenty of sandwich fixings. I’m trying warm milk. Want some?”
He wrinkled his nose. “That idea never appealed to me.”
She laughed, and the sound awakened something in his heart, something shadowy that had been lost since Colleen had died.
“You have to add a little honey and a square of chocolate so that it becomes a magic sleeping potion,” she said.
He chuckled. “Magic is right.”
“Don’t turn up your nose if you haven’t tried it.”
There was something completely unpretentious about Sara that he couldn’t help but like. “I’ll pass for tonight.”
Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a package of ham, along with cheese, and grabbed the mustard and a head of lettuce. When he took the items to the counter, Sara passed him the loaf of bread. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra under the nightshirt. Why would she, to sleep?
Since that thought almost made him break into a sweat, he concentrated on making sandwiches. “Want one?” he asked as she stood there, silently stirring her milk.
“No, thanks. If I make a sandwich and sleep on it, I’ll be wearing a few extra pounds in the morning.”
Before he thought better of it, he muttered, “I doubt that.”
She looked surprised at his comment and her cheeks became a little pinker. Switching off the burner, she poured her milk concoction into a mug. “Do you want to eat alone or do you want company?”
Although he’d rather just take his sandwiches to his room and dive into the thriller—that was the safe thing to do—he thought a little conversation might be a good tactic before Sara actually moved into his house for a couple of days. The only problem was, that damn V-neckline distracted him.
“Company’s fine. Maybe we’ll both be able to sleep when we’re finished,” he decided.
When he took the plate of sandwiches to the table, she followed, and he had the feeling she was inspecting him as they walked. What a weird sensation that gave him. How long had it been since a woman checked him out? He supposed turnabout was fair play, but the idea was arousing. He quickly sat at the table.
After she set her mug at the place mat, she went back to the refrigerator, pulled out a carton of orange juice and snagged a glass from the cupboard.
“Thanks,” he murmured, wondering if her thoughtfulness was a part of who she was or a part she played whenever she had a guest. He wondered if she had guests often…especially men guests.
Seated around the corner from him, she crossed her legs under the table. Her toes brushed his ankle and a jolt of fire leaped up his leg.
She looked a bit embarrassed as she shifted to the far edge of her chair, putting more distance between them. “So is the article I read about you accurate?” she asked. “Were you a financial analyst once upon a time?”
“Yes, I was. I was with an investment banking firm. I was on the fast track to becoming a rich, powerful mover and shaker.”
He’d said it so tongue-in-cheek, she laughed. “You didn’t want all that?”
“Back then I wanted it…before I knew what was really important.”
Her eyes were wide again. “What did you find that was really important?”
“When I got married, I knew my marriage was important, but I think my job was still at the top of the list. I was headed up and nothing was going to stop me.”
She stirred her hot milk. “Kyle’s birth did?”
Obviously, she was tiptoeing around the death of Colleen and Kyle’s twin. Hesitating before he answered, he finally admitted, “Not Kyle’s birth. The attempts to have a child. Most couples take the whole process for granted…at least, I always did. I figured I’d get married someday, have kids, send them to college, retire and enjoy life. But Colleen and I hit a roadblock right out of the gate. She was thirty-two when we started trying to have kids, and we didn’t think there would be a problem. But after two years, she still wasn’t pregnant. We both had all kinds of testing done. At age thirty-four then, she had an elevated follicle stimulating hormone level. The specialist told us as she grew older and those levels rose, the likelihood of having genetically abnormal eggs also escalated. So we decided to try in vitro with an egg donor.”
He’d thought about this over and over…analyzed every step. “Going back over everything that happened, I wonder if we weren’t meant to be childless. The testing, the in vitro, was tough on our marriage. When Colleen stroked out during the delivery process, I felt as if we’d gone against fate or something.”
Gazing into Sara’s eyes, he saw that she understood, maybe because of the losses she’d suffered.
She reached out and touched his hand. “You can’t think that.”
The contact was like fire, and he jerked his hand away. He’d loved his wife, but here he was, talking about her and his marriage, yet feeling some sort of chemistry with this woman he didn’t even know.
He bet the chemistry would quit when he questioned her about the money she received for donating her eggs. Maybe she did it to subsidize her high-powered career.
“Why did you donate your eggs? Did you need the money for college?” He tried to keep his voice non-judgmental. She might tell him it was none of his business.
She looked down at her hands and for a moment he thought maybe she felt guilty about it. After all, she could have used the ten thousand on a new car.
But then Sarah lifted her gaze to his, and the emotion in her eyes told him something else was coming…something he never expected.
“My mom became ill. She needed a bone marrow transplant but that treatment was considered experimental with her condition. Her insurance company wouldn’t pay.”
“Ten thousand dollars wouldn’t be nearly enough for that!”
“No, it wasn’t. But our church began holding fund-raisers. It seemed everyone in town wanted to help. But even with that, we were short on the down payment. The money I received along with the rest enabled my mom to start treatment.”
He’d been wrong about Sara’s motives and so had Ben. Chances were good they’d wanted to think the worst of her. That would make the whole situation easier…easier to push her out of Kyle’s life. But the woman before him had been willing to sacrifice for her mother. And after all that, tragedy had struck again.
“Tell me about your accident,” he requested gently.
“Do you really want to know the details?”
No, he didn’t. But for some reason he felt it was essential he gathered all the facts about Sara Hobart. Maybe he could figure her out then and what she truly wanted.
“Does it bother you to talk about it?”
“No.” She amended her answer. “Yes. Just when I think I’ve put it behind me, I remember I can never have children and it’s all there again.”
“I read the account of it on the Internet,” he admitted.
“It’s so cut and dry in the newspaper, isn’t it? A driver under the influence of cold medication passed out, jumped the median strip and plowed into me.” She took a deep breath. “I’m lucky to be alive. Lucky I don’t remember the actual accident or the ambulance trip to the hospital. But I remember everything from surgery on. Most of all, when the doctor told me he had to perform a hysterectomy.”
Nathan knew how much he’d wanted to be a dad. What if he’d gone to bed one night and awakened in the morning to a stranger telling him he could never father a child. He could hardly imagine how devastated Sara must have been.
Sara rearranged herself in her chair, took a few swallows of her milk and then admitted, “When I donated my eggs in exchange for the money, I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. I know the money was supposed to compensate me for my time, the physical distress to my body and all of that, but taking it bothered me. Still, it prolonged my mom’s life for five years. I had all these extra days and hours and minutes to spend with her. I’ll never regret that.”
“I think I hear a �but,’” Nathan replied gruffly.
“My career had always been my ambition, my vocation, my life. It gave me energy and purpose even throughout mom’s illness. Because of it, we could keep up with the bills and I could give mom what she needed. I could focus on a business that had somehow gotten into trouble—either with a lawsuit against it or red tape tangles—and escape for a time before I had to face the fact again that mom was slipping away. But…after my accident and the hysterectomy, like you, I tried to find meaning in everything that had happened, and I couldn’t. My career didn’t mean what it had before. It was all just too confusing to try to figure out. And I had to know if I had a child out there.”
Although he wanted to separate himself from Sara and her interference in his life, he could understand her reasoning and her longing. Nathan ate his sandwiches in silence. Once in a while, she sipped her milk, looked over at him, then glanced away.
He had the feeling they’d shared a little bit too much personal information too soon. He never talked to anyone about Colleen, what they’d gone through, what he’d felt after she and Mark had died. Why now? Why this woman?
Because she might be Kyle’s mother.
No matter how much he wanted to eradicate that fact, he kept bumping into it.
Finished eating, he stood and took his dish and glass over to the sink. Sara did the same. Unfortunately, they reached for the handle to the dishwasher at the same time. Their fingers tangled and this time neither of them pulled away. When Nathan gazed into her eyes, he felt a churning inside of him. It was uncomfortable, unwelcome and totally unsettling. He was standing bare chested and barefoot, with only sleeping shorts between him and her cotton nightshirt. The impulse to kiss her was so strong he had to close his eyes. He took a step back, and when he opened them again, he saw she had done the same thing. She was standing in the corner, both hands around her mug.
He opened the dishwasher, dropped in his plate and glass and waited for her to put her mug in.
“I have to rinse it,” she said softly.
When he lifted the door to close it, he didn’t step away fast enough. The next second she was there at the sink beside him, his body practically touching hers. She didn’t wear perfume, yet she did use a shampoo that smelled fruity. Standing this close, looking down at her, he found his gaze going to the V between her breasts under the nightshirt. He knew he should look away. He really should. But he hadn’t gazed at a woman in an intimate way in five long years. His desire and passion and need had been frozen. Now it all woke up and practically bowled him over.
Sara was biting her lower lip, and he was fighting for…what? Control? Composure? Propriety? He swallowed, mentally pouring freezing water over his libido, and turned away from her.
“I’ll be leaving for the airport around seven,” he called over his shoulder.
“Nathan?”
He stopped, and politeness made him face her again. “What?”
“Would you like me to make breakfast?”
“No. I’ll grab a bagel at the airport. Why don’t you just stay in bed.” It was more than a suggestion; it was practically an order.
Although he didn’t think she was the type of woman who took orders, she nodded. “That would probably be best.”
As she turned on the spigot, he strode quickly to his bedroom. He had a feeling he’d finish that novel tonight, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get any sleep.
Sara was transferring file folders from her desk to her briefcase when Ted Feeney knocked on her open door Monday evening. Whenever she saw Ted, her heart still hurt a little. Not because she wanted to date him again. She’d learned what kind of man he really was. But her heart hurt because of the dreams he’d represented…the ones she’d had to bury. They hadn’t talked for weeks, not since he’d admitted a woman who couldn’t have children didn’t fit into his life plan.
So why was he here now?
She forced a smile. After all, they worked for the same firm. “Hi, Ted.”
“I heard you’re taking time off again.” He was trying for a nonchalant tone, but she heard an edge of disapproval underneath.
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