Wondering what all this had to do with her, Claire waited. She doubted very much that the Bridgemonts had “talked things over.” More likely Pauline Bridgemont had informed her husband of her decision and he’d automatically agreed.
She couldn’t help feeling apprehensive, though. It was obvious that Harrie wasn’t happy here. It was equally obvious that Turner was in no position to take care of her, until he’d recovered from his losses from the fire. Whatever the Bridgemonts had planned for Harrie’s future, Claire hoped with all her heart the little girl would be happy.
“Now, on the face of it,” Mrs. Bridgemont said, “this is none of my business. But since it ultimately concerns Harrie, I feel I am entitled to an answer, so I hope you will forgive the impertinence.”
Claire tensed, sensing she was about to hear something she wouldn’t like.
“I want to know if you and Turner are planning to get married,” Mrs. Bridgemont said, looking just a little uncomfortable.
For a moment there was silence in the elegant room, then Claire found her voice. “I beg your pardon?”
The other woman shifted a little in her chair. “I’m sorry, Claire, I know it’s none of my business, but you see it would make things so much more satisfactory if Turner had a wife—”
“Mrs. Bridgemont.” Claire swallowed, trying to control her temper. “I have never had plans to marry Turner Mitchell. Or anyone else for that matter. And you were right. It’s none of your business.”
Mrs. Bridgemont had the grace to look ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry, my dear, I don’t mean to upset you, but when Harrie told me that Turner wanted to marry you, I naturally thought—”
She broke off and peered anxiously at Claire’s face. “Is something wrong?”
Claire shook her head. “I’m sure that was just wishful thinking on Harrie’s part,” she said faintly.
“Oh, no, dear, I don’t think so.” Mrs. Bridgemont took an agonizingly long time to sip her tea. “No, I distinctly remember Harrie telling me that she asked her father if he would ask you to marry him, and he told her he intended to do just that.”
She put down her cup and studied Claire’s warm face. “I take it he didn’t get around to it.”
“No,” Claire said huskily, “he didn’t.”
Mrs. Bridgemont nodded. “That’s too bad. I can’t think why he would change his mind. Oh, well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. But I might as well tell you the rest of it, as long as you are here.”
She leaned back, her hands folded across her chest. “It became painfully obvious to me when Harrie ran away that morning that she is not happy living without her father. When I think how very close she came to losing her life—” her shoulders shuddered “—I could just die. I’m afraid I didn’t realize the depth of the devotion that child has for that man. And, I must say, the love Turner has for Harrie...I simply didn’t understand that until now.”
She let out a trembling sigh that Claire felt was quite genuine. “Roger and I think the best way to handle this is to set Turner up in business with a generous loan. With interest, of course—knowing Turner, he wouldn’t accept it any other way—but it will be well below anything he could get anywhere else. The terms would also be flexible.”
“That’s a very generous offer, Mrs. Bridgemont,” Claire said carefully. “I’m sure Turner will be very grateful.” She hesitated, then decided to plunge ahead. “But what kind of restrictions would you put on him? Turner has very definite ideas about living in the city.”
“Yes, I know. But I’ve spoken to him, and he’s willing to compromise, which is why we’ve decided to go ahead with the loan. He doesn’t know about it yet, but nevertheless, he has indicated he would be willing to move closer to town and allow Harrie to visit if we would agree to drop the custody case.”
She shrugged and reached for her cup again. “A wise move, actually. He wouldn’t have had a hope of winning if the case had gone to court, and he knows that. In return, we have agreed to abide by the rules he’s set down for Harrie and have promised not to interfere in his methods of raising our grandchild. It was quite an amicable agreement, all things considered.”
She looked at Claire sadly. “I would have felt a lot more settled in my mind if I’d known you and he were planning to marry. A child Harrie’s age needs a mother, and she obviously adores you. But I’ll have to accept the fact that Turner is willing to do his best to take care of his daughter’s interests. And I sincerely believe that Harrie will be happier with him. And that’s all I really wanted for the child. What is best for her welfare and happiness.”
Claire found herself smiling. “I know, Mrs. Bridgemont. I believe you are doing the right thing.”
As if shaking off the uncharacteristic attitude, Mrs. Bridgemont straightened her shoulders. “Oh, I know it’s the right thing, my dear. Otherwise I should never have considered it. The lawyer will be contacting Turner tomorrow to give him the details of our offer. I’m quite sure Turner will accept, for Harrie’s sake.”
“Yes, I do believe he will.” Claire put down her cup and stood. “Thank you, Mrs. Bridgemont. Thank you for confiding in me. I know Harrie will be very happy about all of this.”
“Yes, well, I know you are concerned about the child, as I am. I haven’t told her yet. I wanted to be sure all the details were in place before I said anything.” She creased her brow. “You won’t say anything to her?”
Claire shook her head. “No, of course I won’t, but I would like to go in and say good-night.”
“Of course, dear. Take as long as you want.”
Smiling, Claire left the room and went in search of Harrie. She found her sitting up in bed, her back propped up by a pale-pink cushion edged in lace. “You came,” she said, breaking out in a huge grin.
“Yep, I came.” Claire patted the new bear’s head and sat down on the edge of the bed. “So what’s her name?” she asked as Harrie scooted higher up the cushion.
“Melissa.” For a moment a trace of sadness marred Harrie’s smile. “I wanted to remember the old Melissa, so I named this one to remind me.”
“That’s nice,” Claire said softly.
“Have you seen my daddy?”
The question tugged at her heart, but Claire held a serene expression as she shook her head. “I guess he’s pretty busy right now, cleaning up after the fire.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Harrie reached for Melissa and buried her chin in the fur. “I miss him,” she said, her voice muffled by the bear.
“I know, honey.” Claire stroked the blond head. “But you’ll get to see him soon, I’m sure.”
“Will you go and visit him?” Harrie’s blue eyes regarded Claire anxiously. “I bet he’s awful lonely out there all by himself.”
Claire sat and looked at the little girl’s face, hearing again Mrs. Bridgemont’s words. “She asked her father if he would ask you to marry him, and he said he intended to do just that.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. Excitement stirred low in her belly as she thought about it. She owed it to him. She owed it to herself. Whatever the outcome, she would at least know she had told him the truth.
“Yes,” she said louder, and hugged Harrie so hard that she squealed. “I’ll go and visit your father. I’ll go tomorrow.”
Chapter 12
The recent showers had passed on east of the mountains when Claire once more drove out to Coopers Landing. Looking out of her window, she could see the sun sparkling on the water and the vegetation on the other side of the river, fresh and green after the rain.
From the other window she saw a different story. Hundreds of acres of lush forest land had been all but destroyed by the fire. Ugly black hills were dotted with stark, black poles sticking up here and there, pitiful reminders of the majestic firs they once were.
It broke her heart to think of the animals that must have died in the blaze. And of the lives of at least two people who would never be the same again.
Her heart began thumping long
before she reached the row of shops. The boats that had been tied up at the Landing had gone, and at first glance it seemed as if the place was deserted. Then she saw Turner’s car parked at the end of the road, and her pulse leapt. At least he was still there.
She pulled up alongside his car and cut the engine. The silence was eerie when she stepped out and closed the door. No branches rustling in the wind. No jays screeching, no squirrels chattering. Only the water lapping at the bank as it flowed swiftly downstream.
She looked up and saw a hawk gliding above the water, its mate circling a few feet above it. They would have to hunt harder and longer now to find their prey.
In spite of the warm sun on her back she shivered, then lowered her gaze back to the shops. Shock trembled through her when she saw Turner standing there watching her, his expression blank and uncompromising.
Pasting a smile on her face, she walked slowly toward him, conscious of the reason she’d come and wondering why on earth she’d thought it would be a simple thing to do.
He wore jeans and a white T-shirt, and looked almost formidably male. His cool blue gaze seemed to cut right through her as she approached him.
“I heard the car,” he said, his voice sounding curt. “I wondered who would want to come to a ghost town.”
She felt a cold chill as she looked along the row of shops. “Has everyone left?”
“Everyone but me. I’d have left, as well, except I’m living here until I get can get things straightened out. I’m just waiting for the insurance money, then I’m gone, too.”
“I’m sorry, Turner,” she said softly. “I know how very much the shop meant to you.”
He shrugged. “That’s life.” His gaze sharpened, as if something had just occurred to him. “Why did you come here, anyway? There’s not anything wrong with Harrie, is there?”
“No.” She glanced around, then added hesitantly, “Is there somewhere we could sit down? I want to talk to you about something.”
He looked at her in silence for so long he confused her, and she shifted her gaze to the river. Then he said gruffly, “Come back in the shop. I’ve still got a couple of chairs to my name, if nothing else.”
She followed him inside, and her heart ached for him. She could understand how he felt. The Bait Shop had been his independence. “And after that I won’t owe anyone a cent.”
She wondered if the lawyer had contacted him yet about the Bridgemonts’ loan. Yesterday she’d been sure he would accept. Now, looking at his grim profile, she didn’t feel quite so certain about that.
She sat down on the chair he offered her and crossed her knees. She’d taken care with her outfit. Tailored linen slacks and a cream blouse, and she’d added dressy sandals. She saw his gaze flick over her, then back to her face. She could tell nothing from his expression.
“So what is so important that you came all the way out here to talk about it?”
He’d said it as if she were visiting the slums, and she winced. Not knowing how to begin, she chose another subject. “I saw Harrie yesterday.”
For the first time she discerned interest in his eyes. “How is she?”
“She seems fine. Missing you, of course, but she seems fairly settled.” She saw no reason to worry him with her concerns about his daughter. Once he agreed to the loan, it should be no time at all before the two of them were together again.
He nodded. Once more his gaze settled on her face. “I take it that’s not the reason you came out here.”
She gazed down at her hands, feeling the thump of her heart against her ribs. “No, it’s not. There’s...something else I wanted you to know.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
She wasn’t looking at him, so she couldn’t gauge his expression. But she’d heard the sudden tension in his voice. “I wanted to explain,” she said quietly, “why I told you we shouldn’t be alone together again.”
The pause that followed made her nervous.
“Oh, I think you made yourself pretty clear on that score,” he said finally.
The indifference in his voice filled her with pain.
“No,” she said, striving to keep her voice steady, “you assumed the reason. I let you go on assuming it, because it was easier than telling you the truth.”
“And what is the truth, then?”
God, she thought. How could she have felt this was going to be easy? It was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. The second hardest. The first had been when she’d let him go.
She swallowed, then licked her dry lips. “I told you that my mother was dead and that my father had remarried.”
“Yes.”
She could hear the wariness in his voice now, but at least he was listening. Reassured by that, she continued. “What I didn’t tell you was that my father remarried long before my mother died. He left us when I was about Harrie’s age.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded, concentrating now on what she wanted to tell him. “My mother almost died having me. She could never have any more children after that. The night my father left, I heard them shouting. I heard him say...” She stopped, closing her eyes. She could still hear her father’s voice, raw with anger, bitter with pain.
“Go on,” Turner said softly.
“I didn’t understand it all, of course. Not then, anyway. He was complaining. I guess my mother hadn’t...slept with him in years. I heard him say...” She swallowed, but her voice wavered, anyway. “‘Damn it, you don’t want sex. You can’t even have any more kids. Why would I want only half a woman?’”
She took deep breaths, trying desperately for control.
“I don’t understand,” Turner said after a moment. “You and I...we...you didn’t have any problem—”
She looked up then, full in his face. Tears blurred her vision and she blinked them away. “I can’t have children, Turner. I knew you wanted more kids more than anything else. I can’t give them to you.”
He appeared stunned, and she dropped her gaze back to her hands, which she gripped in her lap.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” he said at last.
She shook her head, still fighting for control. “Ever since I heard my father say that to my mother, I figured no man would want to look at me if he knew I was only half a woman. I couldn’t bear to tell you and watch you pretend it didn’t matter.”
Once more the silence went on, until Turner broke it. “Oh, God,” he said softly. He got up with an abrupt movement, shoving his chair back.
She heard him walk over to the doorway, and when she trusted herself to look up, he had his back to her and stood gazing out at the river.
“You didn’t trust me to understand,” he said flatly. “So you let me go on thinking you were turning me down because I wasn’t good enough for you.”
The pain was almost too much to bear. Slowly she stood, wishing she didn’t have to pass him to get out of there. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“So am I.”
It took every ounce of strength she had, but she pulled herself together. Lifting her chin, she drew in her breath. “I’ll get out of your way now. I just wanted to set things straight between us.”
He nodded and moved out of her way to allow her to pass. “Thanks for telling me the truth. Take care,” he said as she walked steadily by him and out into the warm air.
“You, too.” She couldn’t bear to look at him. Instead she headed for the car and climbed in, holding her breath all the way. It wasn’t until she was out on the highway once more that she allowed herself to cry. And then she had to pull off the road to do it.
When she finally got herself under control again, she gave herself a pep talk. She had told him the truth, and now he knew. He hadn’t reacted quite as she’d expected, but then, she wasn’t sure how she’d expected him to react.
Pity? No, there was no pity in his voice when he’d spoken. Disappointment? Not that, either. In fact, he had sounded more hurt than anything. And angry. Not what she
’d expected at all.
When the next few days went by and she heard nothing from him, she decided that she’d been right. He wanted kids; she couldn’t give them to him. And it mattered to him too much for him to give that up.
She threw herself into the last-minute preparations for the opening of her business. She worked hard, long hours at a time, trying to tire herself out so that she could sleep. She refused to let her mind dwell on Turner, because every time she thought about him or Harrie, the pain almost destroyed her.
There were moments when she couldn’t shut him out. She wondered if he’d accepted the loan and where he would set up his new business. It would be difficult to find a location like the Landing. Especially since he’d promised the Bridgemonts to relocate closer to town.
She wondered if Harrie missed her and if she would hear from her again. Half of her hoped she would; the other half prayed she wouldn’t. It would be too painful. Especially if Turner found someone else.
It was that thought that was almost her undoing. That afternoon she seriously considered going back to her job in Washington, D.C. Far away from all the memories. Away from the chance of bumping into Turner or of seeing him with someone new.
She sat on her couch with a cup of coffee, wrestling with the idea. She had put so much into this move. The apartment, all the work that had gone into establishing a clientele, not to mention the apartment she had given up on the East Coast and all her ties with the job there.
She sat moodily gazing into the coffee cup, when the phone rang, shattering her thoughts. She reached for the receiver, trying to clear her mind enough to concentrate. “Spencer’s Services.”
“Hello, Claire.”
His deep voice seemed to flow from her ear to every part of her body. Shock held her speechless for a long moment.
“Hello? You there?”
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, suddenly afraid he’d hang up. “Is something wrong?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Am I interrupting something?”
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