by Debra Kayn
She walked over and joined her daughter, smiling at the sight of a deer in the backyard. Wonderful memories flooded her. Sight of the wildlife was the best housewarming gift she could receive.
"What is it?" asked Callie.
She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "That's a deer. It lives in the woods. If you're lucky—and you, sweet girl, are very lucky, you'll see her again."
"I will?" Callie's eyes widened.
"I'm positive." She blinked the wetness out of her vision, remembering her desire to see the deer when she was younger.
And, how Race had indulged her wishes and sent her pictures of the deer when she was living at St. Mary's, during the loneliest parts of her life.
"Okay, let's go see if Pete's ready to get our beds out of storage and help us set them up." She grabbed Callie's hand. "Does that sound like a good plan? Maybe we can buy him and Tara a pizza tonight after everything is setup. What do you think?"
"Yes!" Callie skipped beside her as she walked through the house one more time and went outside. "Mommy?"
"What?"
"I love this house. Can I mess it up, or is it a rental?" Callie held on to Katie's hand and jumped.
"I'm glad, and yes, you can throw all your toys on the floor, in your room, as long as you pick them up afterward." She walked to the car and helped Katie into the backseat, into her car seat, and then climbed into the driver's seat.
She couldn't help feeling excited.
Going from a small, two-bedroom duplex in Newport to a six-bedroom, five thousand square foot house in Astoria on a full acre with the amenities of a gated community would be a change for Callie. A good change.
She drove around the circle driveway and stopped at the street for an oncoming car. A silver Mercedes drove in front of her, and she got a glimpse of a profile in the driver's seat that left her lightheaded.
Race.
He hadn't even looked in her direction. Her heart pounded, leaving her shaken.
Just one glimpse of him, and she couldn't tell if he looked different, the same, or how he felt. All the questions that plagued her every single day since she'd left him.
Was he okay?
Had he found someone to love?
Were his days and nights filled with sadness and pain?
Had he ever thought about her and wished to do their last night together over again?
Five years seemed like a lifetime not to have him in her life. She'd gone on because she had someone else more important than herself to love. What helped him to go forward?
He drove a new car. The one she remembered had been black.
She knew he still lived on the next street up the hill because she'd scoured the internet looking for any information on him throughout the years of being apart. He still counseled patients in the cottage behind his house.
Had she been easily replaced?
"Mommy? Can we stop and get a toy meal? I'm hungry," said Callie from the backseat.
Her head pounded. She also needed to eat. It wouldn't do her or Callie any good if she let the stress of being back in Astoria wear her down.
"Sure, I'll buy us both lunch. Then, we'll call Pete and have him meet us at the storage unit." She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to steady her emotions.
"Can Darla come?"
"Oh, I don't think so, but maybe Pete's wife will come with him. She's super nice."
"Can I show her my new room?" asked Callie.
"Absolutely." She looked both ways and pulled out onto the street.
She could do this. It was one step forward with many more to go.
Her daughter deserved everything she hadn't received growing up. She knew that in her heart, and she was strong enough to make it possible.
"Look!" shouted Callie.
Katie scanned the street. "What is it?"
"Over there. A bridge."
Her chest squeezed. "We never have to go on that one, honey."
"But I want to go. It's so tall. It looks broken. Did it fall in the water?" Callie flapped her arms in the back. "Can cars swim?"
"No." Her jaw ached. "Cars don't swim."
She'd refrained from telling Callie the dangers of the sandbar. She'd refrained from telling Callie a lot of things she deserved to know. That's why she was here.
It was time to fix the mistakes she'd made. Both for her, and Callie.
Chapter 32
Race walked into the cottage. The cool air from the air conditioning already pumping through the ducting. It was going to be a surprisingly warm day for June.
He connected to his answering service and put the phone on speaker as he took his seat behind his desk.
Once the call connected, he said, "Hello, Nicole. What do you have for me today?"
"Only one call, Dr. Conner, and unfortunately, I only have the first name of the child. Her mother got off the phone before I could ask her name."
"I no longer see children." He put down the pen in his hand. "Did you give her a referral to Dr. Lanksi over in Seaside?"
"She was quite adamant about seeing you and mentioned coming to you at ten o'clock this morning. She hung up before I could send her Dr. Lanski's way. I'm sorry—"
"You did what you could." He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already nine-thirty. "Go ahead and keep answering my calls today. I'll be in tomorrow at eleven. Forward any emergencies to my number. I'm on call tonight."
"Very good, Dr. Connor."
"Oh, and Nicole?" He picked up the pen again. "What was the child's name?"
"Callie."
"Age?" he asked.
"Four."
"Thank you." He disconnected the call, puffing out his cheeks.
While he'd dealt with a lot of adolescents at the beginning of his career, he'd never counseled someone that young. Most had been teenagers, struggling through peer pressure, divorce, and the awkwardness of boy/girl relationships for the first time.
He walked out to the front door of the cottage and turned the sign, welcoming everyone to come inside. If the mother showed up, he'd refer her to Dr. Laski, and then close the cottage for the rest of the day.
He wasn't expecting the mother and child to show up. The practice received a lot of dead-end calls. At least a quarter of them never showed for their appointment when they were new patients. Often, it took a few weeks, if not months, for people, especially males, to find the courage to seek help. He wouldn't be surprised if the mother decided to take her child to a family doctor instead and exhaust all avenues before seeking specialty care.
Rolling up his sleeves, hoping his day was free, he looked on his schedule and set out the folders for tomorrow's appointments.
At five to ten, he locked the files in his side drawer, prepared to head out when the sound of the front door opening stopped him.
"Mommy? Whose house is this? Do they have kids?" A young girl, obviously not used to whispering, continued, "Where are the toys?"
He couldn't hear the mother's reply and stood from the desk, going in the other room to guide the concerned parent to someone else for help with her daughter.
In the sitting room, the mother was bent over the child, showing her the books lining the cases on the wall. Her back toward him, he cleared his throat to get her attention.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
The woman straightened, grabbed her daughter's hand, and slowly turned. His heart clenched, and he stopped breathing.
The short, blonde hair and more mature appearance couldn't hide her identity. His pulse stormed through his veins. He looked her over from head to toe and back up again, needing to know she was okay.
Her straight shoulders almost hid the way her chin trembled, but he could feel how the sight of him affected her as much as seeing her standing in the cottage had shocked him.
They both tried to see everything about each other in a few seconds, and it was impossible. There was so much he wanted to know.
"Katie," he whispered, his throat closing.<
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"Race," she whispered back, stepping forward.
He remained where he was, not trusting his legs to hold him if he moved. The need to touch her, talk to her, convince himself that she was really here gut-punched him. Almost five years ago, she'd left. And, yet, it seemed like yesterday at the moment.
"Mommy?" said the child at her side.
His gaze lowered to a spitting image of Katie when she was younger. The child's blonde hair braided on both sides of her head. The slim arms and legs peeking out from a white dress with purple flowers across the chest. Blue eyes stared up at him curiously, and it was like looking in Katie's eyes, except the mistrust wasn't evident.
The realization of what was happening came instantly. She'd had a child since she'd left him.
She'd loved another man.
Started a new life.
His heart ripped to shreds, he wanted to be happy for her. Wasn't that his goal all those years of helping her cope with the tragedies of her past?
He clenched and unclenched his hands. All he could feel was the hurt of losing her all over again.
"I called." Katie rubbed her lips together and looked at her daughter before meeting his eyes again. "My daughter needs you."
He shook his head. She asked too much.
"I can, uh,..." He inhaled swiftly, rubbing his hand down his lower face. "Give you a referral."
"No, nobody else. Just you. It has to be you." Katie reached out and grabbed his arm. "Please. I know it's a lot to ask, but I need to talk to you."
He dipped his chin and stepped back. She dropped her hand from him.
Leading her into his office, he took the chair behind his desk, needing to sit down.
Katie took the chair across from him, reached into the bag she carried, and handed her daughter a book, whispering, "Callie, can you sit over on the sofa? Here are new paper dolls for you to do while I have a visit?"
Callie took the book and skipped over and sat in the back of the room without any hesitation. Lightheaded, he steepled his fingers under his chin. He couldn't get over the new Katie, a mother, clearly succeeding in finding her happiness.
Katie faced him, clasping her hands together on her lap. The movement reminiscent of her at twelve years old, trying not to mess up in front of her mother.
"I'd like you to counsel Callie," she said softly, obviously trying to keep the conversation away from her daughter.
"I don't—"
"I know you concentrate on adults now, but I'll pay you." She glanced behind her and then leaned forward, grabbing the edge of his desk.
She might as well have thrown herself in his arms.
"Please," she whispered.
The ramifications of her asking anything from him piqued his curiosity after everything they'd been through together. That she would trust him to help her child, knowing how personal and close he had become to her during the years he'd actively been in her life, as a psychologist, a guardian, a lover.
"You must know what it's doing to me to see you." He pressed his lips together and looked over Katie's shoulder to the corner of the room. "I would do anything for you, but asking me to..." He brought his gaze back to Katie and looked into her eyes. "I can't."
"You must."
The desperation in her eyes wrapped around him. He could never deny her. "Why me?"
She stood as if to protect her child. "Because she's your daughter."
"My...?" He looked at the child.
The blonde hair, upturned nose, blue eyes, all he could see was Katie in the child. But, Katie never had the patience, the calmness, to sit contently by herself. He exhaled loudly, having held his breath. Nicole from answering service had mentioned the child was four years old. Katie left five years ago.
It took nine months to have a baby.
He snapped his gaze back to Katie. He floundered over all the questions. Before he could speak them, another one attacked, and he was left speechless.
For the first time, he found himself angry at Katie and her choices.
He had a child.
A daughter.
Holding in his temper, he stared at the child. Callie.
He looked at Katie. Their day on the beach, he'd taken her virginity. She came to his bed that night, knowing she was going to leave him. Not a phone call, email, nothing to tell him they'd made a child out of their love.
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
He'd heard life stories that haunted his dreams, witnessed total breakdowns and breakthroughs that were unbelievable unless he'd seen it firsthand. Clearing his throat, trying to grasp on to the professional he was. The sight of Katie and his daughter kicked his feet out from under him.
He crossed his arms, trying to calm the emotions slapping him. "Does she know?"
Katie shook her head. "She's asked where and why, but I haven't...I couldn't tell her about you."
Why the hell not? He braced his elbow on the desk and cupped his jaw to refrain from voicing his anger. After several minutes, unable to sit still, he rounded the desk, needing to see his daughter better.
Scared of frightening her, he kept his distance and studied the child. She was beautiful and calm. In a tiny voice, she talked to the paper dolls in her hand as a happy child would do.
Without looking at Katie, he said, "Why now?"
Katie hesitated. He turned to her. His body vibrated in frustration.
"Damnit, you owe me an explanation." His heart pounded. "Why did you keep her from me?"
"Because you made it perfectly clear, I could never have you, and she was the only part of you I could have," whispered Katie. "But I don't want her growing up the way I had to. I want her to have two parents that love her unconditionally and will be in her life. I won't stand between you and her. She wants to know her dad, and if you could see her a couple of times a week, talk to her, help her understand the changes. I don't want my choices to scar her."
"You want me to tell her?"
Sadness came over her expression. "I trust you not to mess up. I don't want any doubts in her head that she is loved, and she is, Race. I love her with all my heart. She's everything to me."
He walked away from her, braced against the filing cabinet, and tried to slow his thoughts. He had a daughter. An opportunity to know Callie.
There was no question about what he'd do.
"Pick the days and time, and let my answering service know." He kept his back turned.
"I-I will. Thank you." Katie spoke quietly to Callie
He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to turn around and ask her to stay. To talk. To find out everything he wanted to know. To get to know Katie again. To get to know his daughter.
The front door closed.
He swept his arm across the cabinet, sending the items on top clattering to the floor. His heart ripped wide open, he cried for the first time since the day she'd left him.
Chapter 33
Callie sat with her feet in the chair in front of Race's desk, looking smaller than any child he'd ever seen. Her upturned bare knees hid half her face.
Instantly, Race hated having her in the cottage, in his office. It was no place for a child her age. She barely had the maturity to sit still, never mind the ability to hold a meaningful conversation.
She certainly wouldn't want to hear a stranger, a man, talk. He was probably scaring her to death.
"Do you like to run in the grass?" he asked.
Callie nodded.
He stood. "Let's go outside in the yard. I bet we can find something interesting to look at."
Walking around the desk, he stopped to wait for her to follow him, and she scrambled off the chair and slipped her hand in his as if she trusted all adults.
Awed by how tiny her little fingers were in his palm, he took her outside. She ran forward and stopped at the sprinkler head.
She fell to her knees in the grass. "What's that?"
"A sprinkler. When I turn the water on, it pops up and waters the lawn." Struck with how to ent
ertain her, he looked around. "There are more in the yard. I'm not sure how many. I wonder if we could count them."
"I can only count to twelve, and then I forget." Her little eyebrows lowered, and that little frown, that little sign of frustration gave him a glimpse of himself.
He rubbed the wrinkle between his brows. "I could help."
"We do it together." Callie ran ahead of him to look for more.
He followed her, marveling at the coordination in such skinny limbs. She only came up to his thigh, yet moved like a graceful cat.
"Found another one." Callie dropped to her knees. "That's two."
"Good job." Watering his yard would never be the same for him.
Callie ran over by the hedges and stopped. He caught up with her. "I think we'll find more in the grass."
She moved the foliage in front of her. "Water."
He bent over and at her height, found she could look directly at the pool on the other side of the privacy hedge. When Katie had told him Callie was his daughter, he hadn't thought of the dangers of having a pool in his backyard. He'd need to put a fence around the area. Hell, he'd fill it in with dirt.
Callie sat down and pulled off her shoe. He squatted beside her, unfamiliar with children as young as his daughter.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I..." She grunted, getting the other shoe off. "Go swimming."
"Whoa...hold on." He scratched his jaw. "I don't think your mom wanted you to go into the pool. You're only here for an hour."
She scrambled to her bare feet. "I'm going to ask her."
"She's not here."
Callie's lower lip came out, and her chin trembled. He took in the way her gaze darted around as if not believing him. Katie told him she would wait in her car. He could walk Callie around the house and let her talk to her mom, but his daughter needed to understand that the hour they were together would be only for them.
Besides, at four years old, his daughter probably couldn't swim. He couldn't imagine Katie, with her fear of the sandbar, letting her daughter near a pool until she was much older. Even when Katie was a teenager, she preferred to sit out by the pool or lounge in the water rather than swim.
"How about we ask your mom when she comes to pick you up if you can go swimming next time you visit?" He walked over and held out his hand.