EXPOSED: A novella (Elkridge Series Book 5)

by Lyz Kelley

  She settled on the floor, her back braced against the cold, hard wall. She opened the envelope, pulled out the papers, and with shaky fingers unfolded them.

  On top was a letter addressed to her, followed by a copy of her father’s will, and some medical records. She scanned the packet of information. A surprise stab of pain almost doubled her in half.

  Six weeks. That was all he had left. The brain tumor diagnosis and the lab report proved it. She’d been mistaken. He really wasn’t going to live forever.

  She slowly unfolded the letter and read the first line. My dearest, Gwendolyn. Oh, daddy.

  My dearest Gwendolyn,

  I’ve lived my life with only one regret: not spending time with you, cherishing your sense of humor, your kindness, your generosity. In some ways, I didn’t want to tarnish your goodness. You grew up so fast. One minute you were fourteen and my little girl, the next an independent woman. I wanted to protect you, shield you from the world, let you be innocent for as long as possible.

  I even scheduled a trip for us, just you and I. We were going to take a trip to New York for fashion week, and then I was going to surprise you with a last-minute trip to Paris. The biggest regret I have is not making that trip. When you came home you were different. I knew then that my chance to be your father was lost. Overnight, you had transformed into a woman who didn’t need me anymore.

  But I hope you know I’ve always needed you. You are the one single light that has always burned bright. There isn’t a day that’s gone by that I didn’t think about you, wonder if you were happy.

  Be happy, Gwen. Don’t wait. Time goes by too quickly.

  Love, Dad.

  Her hands dropped to her lap as the tears ran freely down her face.

  Oh, Daddy. I’ve missed you.

  Chapter Eleven

  “That’s a happy girl, Caitlyn. You and Grandpa are doing our sit-ups.” Dale rolled into a curling position. The gurgling baby on his lap gave him the most precious smile. “Oh, yeah? You think that sit-up sucked? Let me try again.” He rolled back down to the carpeted floor and then curled up again, getting a repeat of the most glorious response.

  The sound ranked right up there with the exotic gasp of a woman’s orgasm, not that he’d heard one of those in years. He released his stomach muscles when the clicking of footsteps across the kitchen floor drew his attention.

  “Hello. Is anyone home?” the sweetest female voice called out.

  His gut knotted, not from the forty crunches he’d just completed, but from the sound of her voice.

  “Gwen. We’re over here.” Her stunning face appeared over the edge of the couch, and he had to remember to breathe.

  “I brought you a pie.” She held a brown box with an olive green ribbon wrapped around the edges.

  “From Dreamy Delights bakery, by the looks of it.”

  “I’m not a baker. Besides, Jenna’s pies are the best. Why try to compete?”

  He laid Caitlyn on the blanket on the floor before rolling to his feet. “Ashley needed to run an errand in town. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Actually, I came to see you.” She grabbed the back of the sofa, like she was holding on to a rope to save herself from freefalling.

  “Would you like to sit at the table? I need to feed Caitlyn in a minute,” he offered, but was sure she’d rather pace, given the look on her face.

  Today, she was a fascinating study in contrasts. Her face held a happy smile…and cautious distrust. And, her body…well, her body vibrated with a need so strong, he wanted to satisfy the need right there on the kitchen floor. Instead, he leaned down and picked up Caitlyn.

  Coward. He remembered too well how Gwen’s warm, luscious curves felt in his hands. Just the thought of her mouth on his caused his body to awaken and yearn for her touch. Using a four-month-old as a shield was pathetic, but a Marine used every tool at his disposal to maintain his well-being.

  He walked in a slow, deliberate manner toward the kitchen table and placed Caitlyn in her highchair. Gwen set the pie and her purse on the kitchen island.

  She had changed her nail polish to an orangey-red and wore a pair of flats. She almost always wore two-or three-inch heels. He liked the change.

  Her tight-fitting jeans ended precisely at the heel of her shoes, and the burnt-orange sweater with a four-inch line of silver beads at the sleeves made her face glow with color. Seeing her wear the color of autumn—his favorite season—didn’t make seeing her any easier.

  He pulled a bottle of Ashley’s breast milk from a pan of warm water. After testing the liquid on his wrist, he tickled Caitlyn’s lip to get her to take the rubber nipple. He glanced up to find a strange look on Gwen’s face.

  “Do you want to tell me why you stopped by?”

  She took a couple of steps closer. Signs of exhaustion showed slightly beneath her makeup, and her mouth was tight, and formed an unfamiliar expression. “I came to tell you I read my father’s letter and called his doctor. He doesn’t have much time.”

  “I’m glad you read the letter,” he said, still not entirely sure what she was getting at.

  “I’m trying to decide if I should go see him.”

  He glanced at Caitlyn to make sure she was content. “That would be a tough choice to make.”

  Gwen made a slight sound of annoyance. “Don’t you have an opinion?”

  He could guess what she wanted, and while he wanted to give her so many things, he couldn’t provide that answer. This one…she would have to decide on her own. His days trying to stay in control were over.

  He tickled Caitlyn’s cheek to make her smile, then looked at Gwen. “When I was a young soldier, I had a commanding officer tell me once, ‘Bryant there’s two types of soldiers in the military—those who start well and those who finish well. You’ve got to make up your mind which you’re going to be.’”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The frustration ebbing into her expression was expected. He’d pushed her to think, question the assumptions about her past. He was beginning to know her. Understand her. Giving his opinion was a lose-lose option. She’d have to decide. He couldn’t be her crutch.

  Control. That had always been his problem. With Sally. With Ashley. He was learning he had to let go. Let people struggle, possibly fail, because suffocating those he loved never worked.

  His heart sagged with the burden of sorrow. “You didn’t have a choice how your relationship with your father started, but you have a choice how your time with your dad ends.”

  Her reaction ran the gamut, starting with hair tug and scowl, and ending with huff and shrugging acceptance.

  “If I go, will you come with me?”

  The need in her voice made his gut ache. A couple of weeks ago, he would have done anything to be the man standing beside her, helping her, supporting her. Yet now he understood enough to know she had to do this on her own.

  “You’re strong, Gwen. You need to take this journey on your terms. You can do this, whatever you decide.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “What’s there to be scared of? He’s your dad, Gwen. He loves you. You need to trust in that.”

  If pulling her into his arms, holding her tight, protecting her from the world, would have helped, he would have done it, but he couldn’t shield her from herself. No one could.

  “You have my cell phone number and Ashley’s. You can call us, day or night.”

  “My personal twenty-four-hour, seven-days-a-week crisis hotline?” Her mouth quirked into a precarious grin.

  “Something like that.”

  She moved closer. Her eyes searching. “And what about us?”

  “Gwen,” he offered with compassion, “don’t you think you have enough on your plate right now?”

  “I said some harsh things. Things I didn’t mean.” She placed her hand on his forearm, and the gesture almost melted his resistance.

  “You felt attacked. I didn’t take what you said personally.”
>
  “But…”

  “But I’m at an age where I don’t want to play games. Plus, I have responsibilities and must consider Ashley in all this. You’re her friend, and I wouldn’t want to spoil what you two share. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

  Her hand dropped to her side. “You felt a spark. I know you did.”

  Spark? You mean the bomb you set off every time we’re close? “I won’t deny how I feel about you.” He pulled a strand of hair tangled in her hoop earring through the loop. “Lady, you are one class act. You deserve to be happy, but you need to decide first what will bring you joy. No one can help you with that decision.”

  “Why did my father have to show up?” Her whiny tone accompanied a whimsical smile that made him chuckle.

  He pointed at Caitlyn. “Why do babies always poop their diapers just after I change them?” He gave his granddaughter a cross-eyed face and blew a raspberry on her tummy to make her giggle. He placed a cloth diaper on his shoulder. “Come here, you.” He lifted the sixteen-pound happy baby and placed her on his shoulder to rub and pat her back.

  He turned back to Gwen. “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Have a little faith.”

  Gwen brushed the back of her finger against Caitlyn’s chubby cheek. “Seems to me, General Bryant, you have a special talent with the ladies. We drool when we’re around you.”

  A few days ago, a comment like that would have sent his body into hyperdrive, but today, for her sake, he had to resist.

  “Why don’t I walk you out? I’m sure when Ashley finds out you brought pie, she’ll give you a call.”

  Gwen turned and walked down the long hallway to the front door. Every step was a test of his discipline. Thank goodness Caitlyn was here.

  “Let us know if you need anything.”

  At the door, she turned, and lifted onto her toes, and pressed her mouth against his. The gentle tenderness sparked more than a few nerve endings. He leaned in, unable to resist, and ran his tongue along the edge of her bottom lip. Slowly, she pulled back.

  Her smoldering-hot eyes riveted his attention.

  “I wanted to make sure,” she explained.

  He lifted Caitlyn higher on his shoulder, his hand patting her back a bit faster. “And your conclusion?”

  “Inconclusive. I think when the time is right, I’ll have to test my theory again.”

  The pang of past regrets chimed like a grandfather clock at the top of the hour. Clang. Clang. Clang. Seconds passed. Events often changed a person’s life, and some opportunities never came around twice.

  He took a step back. “Take care, Gwen.”

  Without saying anything more, she turned and walked down the front pathway and around the corner. A sweet gurgling sound drew his attention.

  Regrets. A person didn’t get to his age without them. Fortunately, today, there were a few blessings to balance the scale.

  He had Ashley, Chase, and Caitlyn, and another grandbaby on the way. Contentment rolled past his loneliness.

  “Gramps needs to change your diaper, doesn’t he?”

  His chest hollowed with the click of the door’s lock and the missed opportunity.

  Life had moved on. And so must he.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hello, Dad.”

  Gwen choked back the shock of seeing her father’s debilitated state. His sunken eyes peered at her over a plastic oxygen mask, and an antiseptic smell only partly masked the essence of sickness saturating the air. He acknowledged her with a lift of a couple fingers.

  “Gwendolyn,” her mother’s head lifted from the book she’d been reading. “What are you doing here? Where have you been?”

  Her father’s hand lifted to remove his mask, but Gwen managed to get to his side to ease the struggle. He relaxed, yet still held tightly to her hand.

  “Dad asked me to come. I believe you were in France, or maybe it was Spain, when he came to visit.”

  Her mother’s gaze slid back and forth like a cat watching a swinging string. “What visit? When? Are you here to stay?”

  “I’m just visiting. I would have been here earlier, but the fog delayed my flight. Unfortunately, the return flight leaves in a couple of hours, so I can’t stay long.” Gwen glanced at the heart monitor, the oxygen meter, and then the needle running into her father’s veins. “Are you in pain?”

  He shrugged, and lifted the pain management control device in his hand. Yet you’re lucid, and haven’t taken your meds. Stubborn man.

  “We haven’t seen you in years, and you think you can just show up. Just like that? With no notice?”

  Gwen touched her father’s cold fingers. “I came because I want you to know two things.” Gwen leaned in so her dad could see her. “First, I want you to know I’m sorry for not listening to you. The nannies raised me to be respectful. The day you visited, I was angry. I let my emotions get in the way. I need you to know that I’m sorry for some of the things I said. I was hurt, but that is not an excuse.”

  Her dad squeezed her fingers.

  “Second, I want to thank you and Mom.”

  “It’s about time you appreciated what we gave you.” Her mother’s typical haughtiness seemed more pronounced. More pathetic. Yet, nothing had really changed.

  Gwen shifted towards her mother. “You both showed me what a family is not. It’s not about position or money or assets—it’s about connection. It’s about people coming together to support and love each other. Because of you, I know what a family isn’t, and that gives me a shot at finding a real family.”

  “You ungrateful—”

  “No, Mom. You missed my point. I am grateful. I’m strong and resilient because of you. I don’t need anyone, yet I can choose who I allow into my life.” And it’s not you.

  “Gwendolyn Jean, we are your family.” Her mother sat up straighter.

  “I guess it depends on your definition. Yes, I have your eye color, and father’s height, and grandma’s chin, and grandpa’s stubbornness, but never kindness or love or support.”

  If her mother’s eyes were a laser she’d have a hole in her forehead. “Parents are responsible for raising their children, not for being their best friend.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Emily,” her father interrupted, “would you give me a few minutes alone with our daughter?”

  Her mother’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she reached for her purse. “I need to stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She stood and walked around the end of the bed. “Don’t stay too long, Gwendolyn, your father needs his rest.”

  Since when did you start caring about Dad’s needs?

  Her mother pushed her shoulders back. She didn’t reach out to hug or kiss or connect. She simply walked out of her life.

  “Don’t mind her,” her dad patted Gwen’s hand. “She’s just here to protect her interests.”

  “Her interests? What interests?”

  “To make sure my business partners don’t talk me into changing my will.”

  “Ah. Like anyone can talk you into anything.” She winked and allowed a smile to slip into place.

  Her dad shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. She stood and helped adjust his pillows. When he settled, she held up a plastic cup with a straw so he could drink some water.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said while setting the drink aside. “It must have been hard.”

  Possibly harder than it should have been.

  “I came here because I want to put the past behind us, but I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. While I can forgive, I’m still not willing to allow either of you into my life. Some might see this as selfish.” She shrugged. “I call it self-preservation. You might have changed, but Mom never will.”

  “Don’t blame your mother. When I married her, she was full of ideals about what a marriage should be. Her parents pampered her, and she wasn’t prepared for the realities of the world.”

  Gwen snorted out a puff
of doubt, but allowed the statement to settle. “She does seem to live in a fantasy world.”

  “And I indulged her.”

  “Yes, you did,” she teased, a trace of humor dancing around her words.

  “What about you? Are you going to give the general a chance?”

  “I’m still thinking about it.”

  “He loves you, you know.”

  Gwen’s throat closed off, and she leaned a little closer. “Love? I don’t think so.”

  Her father’s eyes sparkled. “A father knows when a man loves his little girl.”

  A critical care nurse dressed in purple scrubs entered and grabbed a chart from off the heart monitoring machine pole.

  Gwen gently lifted his oxygen mask and replaced it over his nose and mouth. “I had better go.” A sting started in her nose and pushed to her eyes. “You should know, Dad, I intend to make something of my life. I’m going to use grandpa’s money to make a difference in people’s lives. I’m going to give it to those who need it.”

  She got up to leave and he reached for her hand.

  “I know, Dad. You don’t have to say it. I know you love me. It’s okay. I know.” She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “I might not trust you, but a part of me will always love you because you’re my dad. And thank you for going to the trouble of finding me. I’m glad we got the chance to say good-bye.”

  Her father blinked, then blinked again, tears welling in his eyes. He lifted his mask. “Live well, Gwendolyn Jean. Live well.”

  She nodded and turned toward the door.

  Maybe she hadn’t told the dying man what he wanted to hear, but she said what needed to be said.

  She did love him, if only a smidge.

  No regrets.

  She didn’t want any regrets. Now, she had only one more apology to go.

  Chapter Thirteen