He grinned at the quick flare of temper. “You must be out of sorts if you can’t take a joke.”
“I lost my sense of humor when I found you in my dressing room.”
He laughed at her disgruntled expression. “Careful, darlin’, or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
“Not with your thick hide,” she muttered under her breath as she sashayed past him.
“I heard that.”
She ignored him and gave the guard a quick hug. “Thanks for everything, Chester.”
The red-faced guard gave her a smile and Harlan Patrick a suspicious look, clearly wondering how he’d turned up in her dressing room. “Is everything okay, Laurie?”
“Everything’s fine, Chester. This is an old...” She hesitated as if she couldn’t quite decide how to describe Harlan Patrick. “Friend,” she said finally. “Mr. Adams is an old friend from Texas.”
The guard accepted the explanation readily enough and beamed at him. “Well, then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ll bet you’re proud of our Miss Laurie.”
“I am indeed,” Harlan Patrick said.
After they’d left the building, Laurie glanced up at him. “You almost sounded as if you meant that.”
“I did,” he said simply, then sighed. “Even though your career came between us, I’m glad you made it because it’s all that ever mattered to you. I’d hate to think you gave up all we had and had found nothing to replace it.”
“It didn’t replace it,” she countered. “You mattered to me, Harlan Patrick. You still do.”
“Just not enough,” he said bitterly.
“Please, it wasn’t like that. If there’d been another way...”
“You mean like me giving up White Pines.”
“No,” she retorted, then she was the one who sighed. “Yes, I suppose that was the only other alternative, at least at the beginning. Can you see now why I said it would have been impossible for us to find a solution when I got pregnant? We live in two different worlds, Harlan Patrick, literally.”
“Two different cities,” he corrected as if the distinction made a difference, knowing it didn’t.
“Whatever. You have to admit it was an impossible situation.”
“No. What I see is that our baby wasn’t important enough for you to even try.”
Her hand connected with his cheek before he even realized what she intended. “Don’t you ever say something like that, Harlan Patrick Adams. Not ever. Our baby is the most important thing in my life.”
Harlan Patrick rubbed his cheek, but he didn’t back down. “What would happen if it came to a choice between her and your music, Laurie? What then? What happens when it’s time for her to go to school? Will she lose then the same way I did? Will you shuffle her off to some boarding school?”
He let those words hang in the air as he opened the rental-car trunk and tossed her suitcase inside. He noticed that she was very subdued as she joined him. She got into the car without a word and, aside from giving him directions, she remained silent all the way to the hotel.
It was an old hotel, three stories high with a creaky elevator and a half-asleep clerk behind the desk. In the lobby Laurie paused. “Please wait until morning to see the baby,” she pleaded for the second time that night.
Harlan Patrick met her gaze evenly, then slowly shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Because you don’t trust me to be here in the morning.”
“That,” he agreed, “and because I can’t wait any longer. I want to see my daughter, Laurie. I want to hold her and discover whether she smells like talcum powder the way all the Adams babies do. I want to look into those blue eyes of hers and see if she instinctively recognizes her daddy. You owe me that.”
She gave in then without another argument and led the way to her suite on the second floor. He didn’t doubt that it was luxurious by the hotel’s standards, but the two rooms were probably half the size of what she was used to and furnished in an eclectic mix of styles that aimed for comfort, not fashion.
There was a young woman curled up on the chintz-covered couch with an open book in her lap. One look at Harlan Patrick and her mouth gaped. Her gaze snapped from him to Laurie and back again.
“Uh-oh,” she murmured as she stood up. Her worried gaze landed on Laurie again. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
Harlan Patrick grinned at the unspoken willingness to call out the security troops if need be. Laurie shook her head.
“It’s okay, Val. I can manage Mr. Adams.”
Val looked skeptical. “If you say so.” She edged toward the door with obvious reluctance. “If you need anything, anything at all...”
“I know where to find you,” Laurie replied. “Thanks. Is the baby okay?”
“Sleeping like a little angel,” Val assured her. “She had a bottle about an hour ago and drifted right off.” She cast one last worried look at him, then shrugged. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
Laurie nodded. “Good night, Val.”
When Val had gone, Harlan Patrick studied Laurie. “Are all of your employees willing to go the extra mile for you?”
“Pretty much.” A smile hovered on her lips. “Some of the guys in the band can swing a mean guitar and they do love a brawl. You might want to remember that.”
The echo of his earlier taunt hung in the air. Finally he nodded his agreement. “Duly warned.”
Now that they were actually in her room, she seemed at a loss. Clearly she wasn’t going to take him to his daughter without more prompting.
“Where is she?” he asked finally, then gestured toward what seemed likely to be the bedroom door. “In there?”
Laurie looked as if she’d like to deny it, but she finally shrugged. “Yes.” She rested a hand against his sleeve. “Please, Harlan Patrick, don’t wake her.”
“I told you I wouldn’t.” He headed for the bedroom, then stopped when he realized she wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming with me? Or don’t you want to be around when a daddy sees his baby for the first time? Can’t say I blame you. It could set off a whole streak of guilt.”
Tears welled up in her eyes at that, and he wondered if he’d pushed her too far with his sarcasm and anger. He wanted to hurt her, though, wanted her to know the kind of pain he’d been suffering from the moment he’d seen that baby’s picture on the front page of that tabloid.
He turned away from her tears and strode into the bedroom, halting at the sight of a crib that had been set up in a corner. The puffy yellow gingham comforter with its design of daisies and ducks wasn’t hotel issue. He was sure of that. Nor was the host of stuffed animals stuck around the sides like padding.
A huge lump formed in his throat as he crept closer. He felt the salty sting of tears as he caught his first glimpse of her with her diapered bottom poked in the air.
His first child, he thought, his throat choked with emotion. His.
By his calculations she was just over six months old now, a little plump and an Adams through and through. Bubbles formed at the corners of that little rosebud mouth, and her skin looked soft as satin. She was sleeping on her tummy with her still-damp thumb just a fraction of an inch from her mouth.
Words failed him. He just stood beside the crib and stared, stunned to discover that tears were welling up and overflowing. He was swamped by a feeling of protectiveness so deep, so powerful that it was all he could do not to grab her up and run with her back to White Pines where he could keep her safe always.
Instinctively he reached for her, then stopped himself as he remembered his promise not to wake her. But, oh, how he wanted to hold her, wanted to feel the weight of her in his arms, skim a knuckle over the delicate curve of her cheek. She was his precious first-born, and he didn’t even know her name.
Realizing that brought back the anger, but he held it in check. Later
there would be plenty of time for more recriminations. Right now he wanted only to drink in the sight of this tiny baby who was a part of him.
A part of him and Laurie, he reminded himself. This should have been something they shared from beginning to end. He should have been there to see her body swollen with his child. He should have been able to place his hand on her belly and feel that first miraculous stirring of life inside her. He should have been in the delivery room, holding her hand, coaching her through every stage of her labor, watching their baby enter the world.
That was the way he’d always planned it. He’d envisioned the two of them together till the day they died, surrounded by kids and, later, grandkids, maybe even great-grandkids, just the way Grandpa Harlan was, with White Pines as the center of their universe.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, with Laurie off on her own, pregnant, then having a baby in secret with no one by her side to share the joy. He wasn’t supposed to be finding out he was a daddy from a blasted newspaper, then chasing all to hell and gone to find his child.
With his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, he sensed Laurie beside him, but she hadn’t said a word. As if she understood his turmoil, though, she reached out and tentatively covered his hand with her own. Almost despite himself, he relaxed at the touch, folded his fingers around hers.
“She’s beautiful,” he said finally, his voice choked with wonder.
“She is, isn’t she?” she said with evident pride.
“What’s her name, Laurie? I don’t even know that much.”
“Amy Lynn.”
“Amy Lynn,” he repeated in a whisper, his gaze on the baby. As the name sank in, he smiled. “Just like we planned.” He faced Laurie. “You remembered that, didn’t you? You remembered we talked about naming our first baby Amy Lynn if she was a girl. Amy because it was from your favorite book, Little Women, and we both liked it, and Lynn after my sister.”
“And Cody if he was a boy, after your dad,” she said.
Harlan Patrick closed his eyes against the fresh tide of memories that washed over him. So many dreams, so many innocent plans lost, and all because he and Laurie had never learned the meaning of compromise.
“Tell me everything,” he pleaded. “From the minute you found out you were pregnant, I want to hear it all.”
She shot him a rueful look. “Including all the gory morning-sickness details?”
“Everything,” he said adamantly. “I figure I’ve got a lot to catch up on, better than a year.”
Laurie regarded him with a resigned expression. “Then we’d better go into the other room and order up coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”
Harlan Patrick didn’t care how long it took or how exhausted he was. Two pots of coffee made him jittery, but the details Laurie provided only made him want to know more. He listened and kept silent for hours on end, ignoring the sharp pangs of anger that rose up again and again as she described moments that could never be recaptured. Regrets piled up over what he’d missed through no fault of his own.
“Are there pictures?” he asked finally. “Of when you were pregnant? Of the baby when she was born?”
“Yes. Back in Nashville. There are several rolls of film from this trip that need to be developed. We just haven’t been any place long enough to take it in.”
He would have to be patient, but he would see them eventually, and then maybe some of this sense of loss, this feeling of having missed out on so much, would diminish. He wondered, though, if any scrapbook could ever take the place of real memories.
“Is she a good baby?”
“The best. She loves all the attention from the band and she doesn’t even mind all the traveling. In fact, riding on the bus seems to lull her to sleep.”
“Are you sure the bus is well ventilated?” he fretted. “Maybe there’s carbon monoxide leaking in, maybe that’s why she sleeps so well.”
Laurie shook her head at the leap his imagination had taken. “The bus is fine, Harlan Patrick. I’m not going to do anything to endanger the baby’s life.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t even be on a bus. Maybe it would be better if you flew.”
“The bus is equipped with every convenience imaginable,” she protested. “Besides, I like traveling with Val and the whole band. I get some of my best songs written while we’re on the road.”
His temper flared again. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? What about what’s best for the baby?”
Clearly undaunted by the accusation, she regarded him evenly. “That’s not fair and you know it.”
“No,” he said, just as calmly, “I don’t. I haven’t been a part of your life for a very long time, but that’s about to change.”
There was a flicker of panic in her eyes then, but her voice was steady. “Meaning...?”
“What the hell do you think it means?” he asked heatedly. “It means that as of now I’m sticking to you like glue. Forget about running. Forget about hiding.”
She winced. “I can see I was right about one thing.”
“Which is?”
“I see where Amy Lynn got her temper. She’s definitely her daddy’s girl. She already has the family stubborn streak. Most babies don’t learn to say no until they’re two. Amy Lynn may not be able to say it yet, but she sure can make her preferences known.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’m not sure it’s a legacy you ought to be proud of.”
Maybe he deserved the censure. He was stubborn. He was an Adams. It came with the genes and from his perspective, it wasn’t a bad trait to inherit. Call it stubbornness or persistence—to his way of thinking it was the same as commitment and staying power. He wasn’t about to let Laurie’s accusation throw him off course.
Facing her, he said fiercely, “I want my daughter to be a part of my life, Laurie. I want her to know she’s an Adams. I’ll fight you for that if I have to.”
He saw the tumble of fear, followed by resignation in her expression. Clearly she’d been anticipating something like this ever since he’d turned up.
“I won’t fight you,” she said quietly. “We’ll work something out. When she’s a little older, she can come to the ranch as often as you’d like.”
And have his daughter think of him as a distant stranger? There was no chance in hell he’d buy a plan like that. He scowled at Laurie.
“I mean starting now,” he said, his tone implacable.
“But she’s just a baby,” Laurie protested.
“And I’m every bit as capable of caring for her as you are. More capable, in fact. At least I have a home I stay in, instead of moving from hotel to hotel. She wouldn’t be turned over to nannies. She’d be surrounded by family, including your own mother, I might add.” He regarded her pointedly. “Best of all, she wouldn’t be getting her picture plastered all over the front of the tabloids.”
Laurie flinched at that, but came back fighting. “That picture was what brought her to your attention,” she reminded him. “Maybe you ought to send a thank-you note to the photographer.”
“You mean you haven’t already had him strung up for giving away your little secret?”
“Believe me, if I’d had any recourse at all, I would have taken it,” she said fervently. “No one wanted you to find out about Amy Lynn this way, least of all me.”
“No,” he agreed quietly. “You never wanted me to find out about her at all.”
He noticed she didn’t try to deny it. Instead, she rubbed her eyes in a gesture that was as familiar to him as the feel of her skin. Laurie’d always stayed awake past exhaustion because she never wanted to miss a thing. If he’d been in a kinder frame of mind, he’d have seen it earlier and insisted that they both get the sleep they sorely needed. He did suggest it now.
“Go to bed, Laurie. We’ll finish this conversation in the morning.”
He caught the qu
ick flash of relief in her eyes and guessed exactly what was on her mind. “You aren’t thinking of skipping out during the night, are you, darlin’?”
Color tinted her cheeks pink. “Of course not,” she denied a little too hastily. “I’ll be right here when you get back in the morning. I promise.”
He smiled at the solemn vow. He figured it wasn’t worth spit. “Of course you will be,” he said agreeably. “And I’m sure you won’t mind if I just take a precaution or two.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for starters, I’ll be sleeping right in there next to you.”
She swallowed hard at that. Color flamed in her cheeks. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t have any choice in the matter.”
“It’s a bad idea,” she insisted.
“Why? Afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”
“That is not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“It’s just wrong, that’s all.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, darlin’. You’ve had my baby. It’s a little late to get all prissy about sharing a bed with me.”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. As regally as any queen, she rose from the sofa and headed for the bedroom. She was almost at the door when Harlan Patrick realized that if he didn’t hightail it across the room, she’d have that door slammed and locked before he could blink. As it was, he barely got his foot wedged into the crack when she tried to close the door in his face.
“Nice try,” he enthused as he waltzed into the bedroom behind her.
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, have it your way. If you’ll feel better forcing your way into my bed, then so be it.”
Her phrasing rankled, but Harlan Patrick didn’t back down as she’d obviously hoped he would. He tugged off his boots, then stretched out on top of the covers.
“See, darlin’, my intentions are honorable. I’m not even shucking my jeans.”
“What a saint.”
West Texas Nights Page 5