When Mom Meets Dad

by Smith, Karen Rose

  The image startled her. She hadn't thought about kissing a man in over a year--since Brian had decided to reconcile with his ex-wife. She'd not only lost Brian but his son, too. At the time she'd thought her heart would break. But she'd buried herself in her work until she'd realized she no longer had a life outside of her work. Not eating, not sleeping, working twenty hours a day was a one-way road to disaster. Thank goodness she'd recognized her destructive direction in time.

  "I don't know what you have in mind," she said, "but the chili and enchiladas are good at that stand over there."

  Nathan perused the truck/restaurant set-up near an island with palm trees and benches. "I haven't had an enchilada in..." He shrugged. "Too long."

  They walked side by side for a few moments, Nathan slowing his stride to Gillian's. The breeze ruffled his hair, making him look less formal and imposing. She thought he'd start making his case for her help, but he didn't.

  His arm brushed hers, his suitcoat rough against her skin. "Have you always done manicures for a living?"

  She registered the texture of the material, the strength of his arm, and her heart jumped at the contact. Managing a smile, she responded, "Would you believe I have a degree in business?"

  "Neither seems appropriate for a psychic."

  Her smile faded. "And what does? Theater arts?"

  He stopped and faced her. "Okay. I stuck my foot in it. I didn't mean to insult you. But all this is strange to me. I'm a logical man. I make decisions and judgments from facts. I've always thought psychics were frauds. But my private investigator told me about crimes you've solved and people you've found. Even if I don't believe in it or understand it, what you do works."

  "I don't understand it, either," she said quietly.

  Nathan had been fascinated by the woman since he'd set his eyes on her. Looking at her now, her soft, long hair, those wonderful brown eyes, her slender curves wrapped in a pink cullotte dress with a white collar and lapels, his muscles tightened and he felt pangs of arousal.

  Crazy. That usually didn't happen simply from looking.

  Her soft voice, her calm wonder, urged him to step closer, to find out more about her. "Tell me about it. Were you born with this ability?"

  She shook her head and pointed to the supper truck. They began walking again. "I don't think I was born with it. If I was, I didn't know it until I was ten. I was sitting on a dock fishing and a storm came up. The thunder and lightning hit fast. The next thing I knew I was lying flat on the dock, the rain pouring down on me. My head hurt and I was shaking all over. Mom found me that way, took me home, and put me to bed. We thought that was the end of it."

  His P.I. had told Nathan that Gillian was from Indiana and had lived there all her life. She traveled often but had never moved from the town where she'd grown up. L.A. must be quite a change for her. "When did you realize something was different?"

  "A few days later. Aunt Flora came to visit. When she hugged me, I saw this picture of her sitting at her kitchen table crying. I didn't understand it. Later, I overheard my aunt and my mother talking. My cousin had dropped out of high school and my aunt was terribly upset."

  "And there was no way you could have known that."

  "No."

  "Did you tell your mom?"

  "No. I was afraid of the pictures when they came and uncomfortable with the feelings. I kept it a secret until I was sixteen."

  They reached the vending stand. Gillian ordered chili and cornbread while Nathan asked for an enchilada. She opened her purse, but he closed his hand over hers. Her skin was soft and warm and a jolt of desire more powerful than before stabbed him. "I've got it," he said, unable to keep the husky rasp from his voice.

  Her gaze met his. The sparks of gold in the brown told him his touch affected her as much as hers affected him. She pulled away, and he let go.

  Gillian busied herself pulling napkins from the holder while Nathan paid for and carried their plates to a bench. Picking up their sodas, she joined him. She'd no sooner settled on the bench with her soda by her shoe and the cup of chili with a wedge of cornbread perched on the edge in her hand when the schnauzer she'd seen earlier ran over to her and jumped up and down, finally landing with her paws on Gillian's knees.

  Gillian laughed and held her dish a little higher, out of the dog's reach. "You might want supper, but I'm not sure you should have this."

  One of the roller-bladers came skating over, his helmet under his arm, a leash dangling from his hand. "Sorry if she's botherin' you. She begs from everybody."

  The boy was about twelve. His spiked brown hair was matted down from his helmet, his snapping brown eyes sparkled with amusement. Gillian asked him, "Can she have a bite?"

  He grinned. "If you wanna give it to her."

  Gillian tried to tear off a piece of the cornbread, but it slid into the chili. Nathan grabbed the dish and held it for her. Smiling her thanks, she took the small bite from the wedge and let the dog lick it from her hand. The schnauzer gulped it down and looked up at her for more. Laughing again, Gillian scratched the pet behind her ears. "I should have known that little bit wouldn't be enough."

  As she touched the dog and rubbed her rough coat, Gillian felt her gaze pulled to the teenager again. He and the dog were connected by a strong bond of affection. A surge of energy made her fingers tingle and she automatically closed her eyes for a moment. A clear picture of a dark-haired woman on a porch came into focus. The woman was worried. Gillian had the distinct impression she was the boy's mother.

  Opening her eyes, Gillian cast a wary look at Nathan. He was watching her closely. Should she say something to the boy about his mother? If she did, Nathan would know what had happened. Why had this vision come now? Since she'd left Indiana, she'd felt normal--no pictures, no knowledge she shouldn't have.

  Gillian looked at the boy, knowing she couldn't let the woman in her mind's eye suffer unnecessarily. "I think your dog wants a full-course meal."

  "What time is it?" he asked with a nod at Gillian's watch.

  "Five-thirty."

  "Geez. I was supposed to be home an hour ago. Mom's gonna be..." He stopped with a shrug as if a boy his age shouldn't worry about adult authority. Snapping the leash onto the dog's collar, he gave it a gentle tug. "C'mon, Peanut. We'll get us both some supper." He smiled at Gillian and skated over to his friends, who sat on the curb sipping sodas.

  Nathan handed Gillian her plate. "What happened?"

  "You saw what happened. I gave the dog a snack."

  "When you touched the dog, you closed your eyes."

  The man was too observant. "The boy's mother was worried about him."

  "You felt that?"

  "I saw that. She was standing on the porch waiting for him."

  "You got that from petting the dog?" Nathan asked, astonished.

  She'd faced expressions like his many times in the past. "Mr. Bradley..."

  "Nathan," he reminded her.

  Calling him by his first name seemed too familiar. She already knew she could be attracted to him. "This 'talent' I have isn't something I can turn off and on like a light switch. It's more unpredictable than the weather or earthquakes."

  "You made him realize she was worried without saying it, without telling him you knew."

  "That was easiest."

  Nathan finished his enchilada and took a swig of soda before he spoke again. "My ex-wife took my daughters out of the country six months ago. I can't find them. My P.I. can't find them. Will you take my case?"

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  Excerpt from CASSIDY'S COWBOY

  Chapter One

  "Did you ever think about looking for our dad?" Cassidy Sullivan snipped roses from the bush along the side of the house and handed them to her twin siste
r, Lucy, to put in the basket that swung from her arm.

  Complete silence met Cassie's question as she turned to see if her sister had heard her. She'd said it in a low voice, a thought that had been reverberating in her own head since Lucy had found her six months ago.

  Early summer in Wyoming was an awakening time for the wildflowers, the honeysuckle and the roses. She loved Twin Pines Ranch, an inheritance from the mentor who'd saved her from taking the wrong life road. But she loved her new-found sister even more, although she was still keeping a secret from her, a secret she'd soon have to reveal. Lucy was as perceptive as her new husband, Zack, and he'd figured it out the first time he'd met Cassie.

  "How would we ever do that?" Lucy finally responded. "We knew very little about our mother, let alone our father."

  Cassie knew at times Lucy might still feel hurt that their mother had given her up for adoption, yet kept Cassie until the day she'd died. At twenty-six they both had their own lives now, but their childhoods still had power over them.

  Cassie clipped a few magenta rose stems, careful of the thorns, then said, "Let's go into the house. I want to show you something."

  The large ranch house on Twin Pines Ranch was three stories, covered with Wedgwood blue siding and accented by a wraparound apron veranda. Caned rocking chairs waited there for visitors over the summer. There were three bedrooms on the second floor, and the attic, used for storage, was hot and musty.

  As the women ran up the steps to the front porch, Lucy asked, "Do you think the men will be out all morning mending fence?"

  "Do you miss Zack already?" Cassie teased, knowing Zack and her twin were very much newlyweds and not apart any more than they had to be.

  "Sure, I miss him," Lucy said with a bit of a shy smile. "Life's a little crazy right now with living in town so he can start his practice, and going out to Mom and Dad's as much as we can to check out the site where the house is being built. It's going to be so great, being able to be alone with Zack and being on the ranch."

  "From what he said, he feels the same way. So he's joining an established physician's practice in Long Brush?"

  "Yes. It will be easier this way on everyone. The docs can cover for each other on weekends. That's how we came this weekend. Dr. Brewster is covering for him."

  "It sounds as if you've combined the best of both worlds. Zack certainly seems happy. I think he's finally dropped the weight of everything that happened to him back in California. And is Marty staying with the program?" Lucy's adopted brother Marty had become an alcoholic. Largely through Zack's efforts, he'd gone through rehab.

  "Seems to be. Our church has AA meetings once a week and he attends those. Other times he'll call his sponsor or he'll drive to Long Brush to another meeting. He understands the one day at a time philosophy and he's trying to make amends."

  Cassie understood how a problem could turn into a lifelong battle. "When you take a wrong turn, or you go off the wrong road, I think you do the most damage to yourself, at least if you're single. I know I did. Once you get over the humiliation and you can find a little confidence again, that helps everything else."

  "Maybe you and Marty should talk."

  "We did at Christmas."

  Cassie didn't understand a lot about marriage and families. Shifted from one foster home to the next from the time she was five, she hadn't known stability until Tina Christopher had taken her in when she was seventeen. Tina had been a widow then, so Cassie had never seen what a good marriage was supposed to be.

  "How's Zack handling being part of a large family?"

  "He grumps once in a while because he thinks he knows best, but eventually he comes around to see what any of us really need, whether that's a pat on the head or a swift kick."

  Cassie laughed. "I can see Zack doing both. He's so great with the horses. I wish I could use him to train the new hand I've hired. Clem tries too hard, wants to be too aggressive. He definitely doesn't understand patience like Zack does."

  "How old is he?"

  "Just out of high school with nowhere else to go. So I told him I'd give him a chance."

  "Are you a sucker for a sad story?"

  "Heck, I can be a sucker for any story. Though I don't cry my eyes out like you do watching one of those card commercials on TV."

  This time Lucy laughed.

  They entered the living room, then went straight to the kitchen. Cassie had readied two Waterford vases. "Tina loved having these vases full of flowers this time of year. I miss her most then. I keep them filled with flowers all summer."

  "That's a way to remember her well."

  Cassie hesitated, then went on. "I still haven't found a way to do that with our mom. After she died, I tried to forget, not remember, because it hurt too much.

  "And now?" Lucy asked with so much compassion Cassie wanted to hug her.

  "Now—"

  Lucy set the wicker basket on the counter and Cassie said, "We can arrange these later. Come on, let's go up to my room."

  At the top of the stairs, the first door on the left was Cassie's. It wasn't much bigger than the others, but it did have a private bath. It had been Tina's room, and Cassie hadn't changed much here since her mentor had died, though she had redecorated in the past five years—the guest bedrooms, the living room, new wallpaper in the kitchen. She'd changed those rooms because memories of her life with Tina were alive there...and they hurt. The changes reminded her to think ahead rather than back. But in this room, she remembered Tina. She even still had a few of her clothes hanging in the closet. Silly, maybe, but she liked to take a whiff of Tina's riding coat. She liked to see those tall boots standing in the corner. It made her feel closer.

  Cassie went to the dresser and pulled out the top drawer. Lucy crossed to her and they stared at each other in the mirror. They were identical twins in most ways. Zack had pointed out a few differences. Cassie's hair was darker brown and Lucy had a dimple on the right side of her cheek when she smiled. But they really were mirror images.

  After Cassie opened the second drawer in the cherry wood dresser, she reached deep inside to the back and pulled out a suede pouch. It was easy to see it was old. The suede was worn around the edges and the leather ties were scraped from drawing the pouch closed. She held it in her hand as if it were her most precious possession. And maybe it was.

  "My mom and I didn't have much, and I don't remember a lot. But I do remember many nights we split a dinner she brought home from the restaurant where she waitressed. I think I told you we lived in a one-room apartment. She slept on the sofa and I slept on pillows on the floor."

  Her voice caught as some of the faded memories took on a little more color again. After a moment, she went on. "Even when I was five, I knew we didn't have anything valuable, anything worth keeping, except—" She looked down at the pouch. "For this. Whenever we'd leave the apartment, Mom stuffed it in a sock and then pushed that sock into a cookie jar. But while we were there she'd take it out and lay it on top of the orange crate where she kept a couple of books. Sometimes she'd just pick it up and hold it and stare at it in such a way that made me not want to ask any questions."

  Cassie opened the pouch and slid a gold pocket watch into her palm. "One day I did ask her what it was, and she told me it was a watch and it had belonged to somebody very special. That's all she'd ever say. The night she was killed, she went out and a neighbor came over to stay with me. We were watching TV when the police came to the door. I heard everything. I don't think I understood everything. They said my mom was dead. It was dark and she walked across the middle of the street and a car hit her. He told the neighbor somebody would be coming for me. Flo told me to get my favorite toy because I'd need it...that I wouldn't be coming back. So I got my stuffed horse, and when everyone else was talking, I went to the cookie jar and pulled out the sock. The horse had a tear in the middle, so I just stuffed the sock in his stomach. No matter where I went or who had me, I protected that horse. When I got a little older I sewed him up. But I've alway
s wondered about this." She handed the watch to Lucy.

  A few times since Cassie had met Lucy, they'd look at each other and known what the other was thinking. That was definitely true of this moment.

  But Cassie needed to put it into words. "You found me with only a picture, a birth date and a last name."

  "Gillian found you."

  "Yes, I know. She finds missing persons and she's obviously very good. Before you found me, before you told me how Gillian did it, I never would have believed in a—a psychic. But I thought maybe since she uses objects to pick up sensations, that maybe, just maybe, she'd see something that would help us know who this belonged to. Maybe it wasn't our father. Maybe it was a grandfather. Maybe it was another special man our mom had met. I don't know. And I don't know if it's worth bothering Gillian about, or if she'd have time to do this for us. But ever since you found me, I've been thinking about it and I knew I had to ask you what you thought."

  Lucy closed the watch and ran her thumb over the top of the scroll engraving in the gold. "We need to think about it."

  Cassie felt a little deflated. After all, this was the reason she hadn't brought it up before. Maybe Lucy would want no part of finding out who their dad had been—a dad who had left them or maybe just another man who had been in and out of their mother's life.

  But then Lucy went on. "I waited a while before I decided to try to find you. I found out a little bit of information, couldn't go any farther, and that's when Zack recommended Gillian. But before I decided to go ahead with finding you, my biggest fear was that you wouldn't want to see me, that you wouldn't want to have any part of me. And I think that's even more true and more of a fear when trying to find a parent. If this did belong to our father, what did our mother mean to him? Did he mean more to her than she meant to him? Would he have a family now? And if he has a family, would they want us to be part of it? Would he want us to be part of it? Do you see what I mean?"