The Reluctant Daddy

by Helen Conrad

  He took out his wallet and opened it to the accordion-pleated picture holder. “There she is.”

  Dressed in a short, blue costume made for figure skating, the girl in the photograph had her blond hair piled high and she was laughing into the camera, her eyes wide with hope and excitement.

  “What a beauty,” Glenna said, glancing at him curiously. “She looks like a darling.”

  He nodded absently. The picture did things to him, things he would rather not share with anyone. “And here’s my son,” he added, flipping to a picture of Mark. It was his eighth-grade graduation picture and his hair looked long. He didn’t wear it that way anymore, but the same smile prevailed.

  “How old is he now?” she asked, holding on to the edge of the wallet so he couldn’t snap it shut and be done with it.

  “Seventeen.”

  “They’re so old,” she said in surprise as he withdrew the wallet and put it away. Lee didn’t seem old enough to have children that age.

  “I started young,” he admitted with a lopsided grin.

  She nodded, her mind still on those angelic faces. They were his children, but because of divorce, he wasn’t with them. It made her think of Alan. But Alan didn’t care. That had been the whole point. He’d wanted to get away from them. Was Lee like that?

  “Where are they now? What are they doing?”

  “They’re in Madison, living with their mother.”

  “Do you ever see them?”

  His expression should have warned her. He didn’t want to discuss this, and he wasn’t going to much longer. “Occasionally. When they have the time.”

  Now she was truly puzzled. The way he talked about them, he didn’t sound like a man who hated children. And the snapshots she’d caught a glimpse of interspersed between the two portraits he’d shown her, displayed a loving father with two adoring kids. What was the situation here? She didn’t understand at all.

  “You didn’t keep your side of the bargain yesterday,” she reminded him quietly.

  He turned and stared down at her. “What bargain?”

  “To tell.”

  “To tell what?”

  “Why you don’t like children.”

  He laughed shortly. “Well, that was yesterday. This is today.”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t buying. “Come on. You promised. Now you have to tell.”

  He looked down at her again, his eyes dark in the shadows. “Why is it important?” he asked softly.

  She hesitated, then blurted out, “It’s probably the most important thing to me.”

  He nodded. Somehow he’d known that. Thinking hard, he tried to think of a way to tell her, but nothing came to mind. Finally he turned and looked at her, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said simply.

  She blinked, staring up at him. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  He turned away, shaking his head. “I just can’t explain it. There is no way to do so.”

  Glenna was chilled to the bone by his words. Then there was no hope, was there?

  Well, just what sort of hope had she in mind? she asked herself as they started back to their seats. Had she been planning some sort of great love affair in her heart of hearts? Has she been dreaming that he would sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to...well, to Madison? She didn’t want to go there. She wanted to stay right here. In fact, she had to.

  She had a life here in Tyler. Her children had a life here. And her children, after all, were what was important. Whether or not their mom had a hot affair with a stranger was incidental. Her kids needed stability, needed to be in Tyler with their grandparents. Glenna wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize their well-being. She’d already done enough to hurt them.

  She and Lee sat side by side and he reached out, taking her hand in his. She let him, warmed by the fact that he wanted to. And little by little, she found herself leaning closer and closer to his wide shoulders.

  Despite everything, she thought, I really do like this man.

  “Are you going home for Christmas?” she asked him at one point.

  “Home?” he said sardonically. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be spending Christmas right here in Tyler.”

  “Oh, Lee, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s no big deal. Christmas is just another day to someone without a family.”

  She wanted to comfort him, but something in the set of his shoulders told her he wouldn’t take kindly to it, so she sat in silence and tried to digest what he’d said. How did it affect his feelings toward children? She couldn’t quite figure that one out.

  After some graceful exhibition skating by the amateur figure skaters, there was a scene choreographed around the story of Romeo and Juliet, with what seemed like hundreds of young skaters converging on the ice at once.

  “Ah, yes, two warring founding families,” Lee muttered, holding her hand to his chest in a melodramatic move. “It seems to be a recurring theme around here, doesn’t it?”

  She looked at him, caught between illusion and reality. “It’s old news, you know,” she said defensively. “It really doesn’t apply any longer.”

  His eyes narrowed as they looked into hers. “Doesn’t it?” he said simply.

  “Have you been talking to Miss Grassley again?” she asked him.

  “No.” He chuckled, remembering the librarian. “But she’s not the only one marketing the theory that the rift is still alive.”

  “Isn’t she?” Glenna looked away. “Who else is feeding you this fantasy?”

  “I’m not going to tell you,” he said affably. “If I did, everyone who is now spilling their secret stories to me would quit doing it. My sources would dry up.”

  She turned and looked at him again. He was smiling. He really did think this was all a joke, didn’t he? The tension between her shoulder blades relaxed just a bit. Maybe she didn’t have to feel so defensive. Maybe all this really didn’t mean a thing.

  “Oh, brother,” she said lightly. “You sound like those reporters who refuse to tell where they got their stories and have to go to jail for it.”

  He nodded, smiling at her. “That’s exactly what I’m like.”

  Slowly, she began to smile back. “Hard guy,” she said softly.

  He held her gaze. “You got it.”

  She took a pretend swing at his chin with her free hand and he caught hold of it, pulling her to him. “No rough stuff,” he warned her, whispering in her ear so those around them wouldn’t hear. “But I’ll get you later for that.”

  She sat against him for the rest of the show, and it felt like heaven. She loved the feel of his arm around her, the warmth of his skin, the tickling provocation of his breath on her cheek when he turned her way.

  The show was over, and they were clapping. She bent close to his ear and whispered, “Would you like to see the cemetery?”

  He turned, staring at her. “What cemetery?”

  She raised both eyebrows and looked superior. “Where the pioneers are buried, of course.”

  Surprise swept his face. “You mean the Ingallses and the Kelseys?”

  She nodded, glad to have struck a chord. She could see that he thought this a very good idea.

  “You bet I’d like to see it. Isn’t it up on the hill just out of town?”

  “That’s right. It’s pretty historical—full of founding fathers and casual settlers from around the time of the Civil War.”

  He smiled, obviously pleased with the idea. “Let’s go.”

  They began to file out with the rest of the crowd, but he held her hand so they didn’t get separated.

  “Aren’t you scared?” she prodded when they were out of the rush again, heading for their car. “To go to the cemetery, I mean.”

  He gave her a quizzical l
ook and shook his head. “How about you?”

  “I have no reason to be scared,” she said in a mocking tone. “They’re my ancestors.”

  He made a face and helped her past a knot in the crowd. “Don’t you think your ancestors will like me?”

  She smiled. “I’m not sure. You’re here doing bad things to the industry they founded all those years ago.”

  “So you think they’re out for revenge, huh?” he asked.

  “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE MOON WAS HIGH and the air was still as Glenna and Lee made their way from where they’d parked the car to the cemetery, hidden from the road by a grove of evergreens behind an old, wrought-iron fence. Lee had found a flashlight and they were clinging together as they left the sidewalk and started in through the trees, following the bouncing circle of light.

  The night was perfect for a mystic adventure, Glenna decided whimsically. What else would one expect from a midnight trip to a remote and windswept cemetery with a past?

  “This is so spooky,” she whispered, more in hopes of getting to Lee than because she really thought so. She’d been here many times before and it had never frightened her. But with a little luck, she might get a rise out of her male companion.

  She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, but there was no sign that the situation was affecting him in any way. His face was granite hard, as usual. It was just too tempting to try to crack his impervious exterior.

  “What was that?” she cried suddenly, grabbing his arm.

  Stopping, he looked down at her and shook his head, one side of his mouth turned down. “Give it up, Glenna,” he said with exaggerated weariness. “You’re not going to rattle me. I’m not scared of cemeteries.”

  She sighed, letting go of his arm. “Okay. I was just trying to make it a little more fun for you.”

  “For you, you mean.”

  She made a face at him and he ruffled her hair with casual affection that made her smile, and they started on again, wandering among the gravestones.

  “How far back before we get to the section we’re looking for?”

  “Just a little bit more. It’s tucked down in a hollow,” she said, then frowned. “Wait a minute. We should have been there by now.” Her voice dropped an octave. “You don’t suppose...are we lost?”

  “Nice try,” he said sardonically. “I think I see it just ahead.”

  “Shoot,” she complained. “You’re just too darn sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I try to be.”

  They came to a dip at the side of the hill, and there was the cluster of ancient graves. Glenna and Lee stopped at the edge, looking at them. The brightness from the flashlight he was training on one after another revealed old-fashioned granite headstones, simple white crosses or plain marble grave markers. The place had an eerie quiet, as though it were a window into another age, and the two of them stood silently studying it, until an owl hooted in the tree just behind them, and Lee jumped a foot into the air.

  “Aha!” Glenna said, laughing and waving a finger at him. “Gotcha at last!”

  “C’mere,” he said, laughing too, and he pulled her close to drop a quick kiss on her mouth. “You win.” He released her just as quickly, then stepped into the historic plot.

  She had to reach out to steady herself against a headstone, her breath caught in her throat. He’d kissed her. It was casual and it didn’t mean a thing. But it was delicious and she savored it happily.

  “Look at this,” he called to her. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”

  Your kiss to fade, she could have told him, but she didn’t. “I’m coming,” she said instead.

  The section of the cemetery was like a who’s who of Tyler in the early days. The place was full of Kelseys and Ingallses.

  “All the Kelseys seem to be on this side,” he noted, “and all the Ingallses on the other.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Rock-solid evidence of a feud, I’d say,” she intoned in a gruff voice.

  He looked at her and grinned. “You are a wisenheimer tonight, aren’t you. I didn’t say that. It’s just interesting, that’s all.”

  His comments filled her with so much happiness, she felt as though her blood were sparkling with champagne bubbles.

  “You want to see Jackie Kelsey’s grave?” she asked.

  He turned, training the light on another headstone. “He’s the original guy?”

  “He is that.” She led him to the largest headstone in the place, and he stood beside her to read what was carved into the granite in ornate, old-fashioned lettering.

  Here lies Jackie Kelsey, a friend and a father the like of which is seldom found. He died of a broken heart after losing his sweet wife, Maggie Jane, in California.

  “Hi, Jackie,” Lee said softly, as though he thought he really were talking to a spirit who refused to fade away. “How’s it going?”

  “Just fine, bucko,” Glenna offered in a quavery voice, and he turned on her with a laugh, grabbing her to him again.

  “Will you cut it out? I didn’t know you could be so annoying.”

  She grinned back at him, knowing the glitter of humor in his smile and the way he held her told a different tale than his words. “I’ll be good, honest,” she answered. “I’m all done with the kidding around. I’ve got something serious to tell you.”

  “Okay,” he said, but he seemed reluctant to let her go. She sort of hoped he would drop another of those quick kisses on her lips, but he didn’t, and when he released her, she took a deep breath and tried to get back into her story.

  “The thing is, this isn’t the original headstone. That one was put up by the Ingallses, and the Kelseys didn’t cotton to it a whole lot.”

  “Is that right?” Lee asked, interested.

  Glenna nodded. “If you remember any of the story, you know that Jackie went off to California looking for gold and came back a broken man. Gunther Ingalls took him in and gave him a job and took care of his son, Michael, when he died, raising him. Now the Ingallses will probably tell you he raised him like one of his own, but I have read what writings are extant for the period and I have my suspicions that he raised him like a poor relation.”

  Lee nodded, not wanting to interrupt her, his eyes glittering in the light of the moon and the flashlight.

  “Not that he had any responsibility to do otherwise,” she added quickly, enjoying the way her story was holding his attention, “especially in those days when they were so strict and God-fearing. But I do know that Michael Kelsey left the Ingallses at seventeen and went to work as a cowboy out in Wyoming until he’d saved up enough to come back and settle down in a place of his own.” She gave the headstone a friendly pat. “Buying this was one of the first things he did—to replace the one the Ingallses had put up.”

  Lee reached out and touched it, too, as though he could share in the legends that way. “What did the original headstone say? Do you remember?”

  She nodded. “I was getting to that. The headstone Gunther put over his friend’s grave went something like this: Here lies Jackie Kelsey. Please God, forgive his sins. He goes to a better world, and we do hope and pray he will be a better person when he gets there.”

  Lee stood in stunned silence for a moment, then let out a laugh. “No wonder his son was bound and determined to change it,” he said, still chuckling. “I would have felt the same way.”

  She nodded. “The Ingallses were a pious bunch in those days.” She glanced at him, hoping he wasn’t going to file away this story and what she’d just said under “Feud Evidence.”

  “And the Irish Kelseys were undoubtedly a saucy lot,” Lee said, strolling on to the next set of graves and reading off the names and dates. He looked back at her. “Judging by their progeny,” he added
with a quick grin.

  She laughed and followed him, still musing on what he’d said. “Funny,” she said as she came up behind him. “I don’t know where we get off calling ourselves Irish anymore. Jackie came to this country in 1840-something. There have been at least six or seven generations since then and we’ve had so many other nationalities mixed in over the years that any Irish blood is about as thick as the wild Irish brogue we all speak in so often.”

  He nodded, looking at her with humor. “Now you’re using sarcasm,” he noted. “Are you going to leave anything to me?”

  She shook her head. “Why should I?” she challenged. “I’m tired of letting you have all the fun.”

  He started to come toward her. She saw the move and held her breath. But he hesitated and then thought better of the effort, turning away with a slight frown instead, and she let the air out of her lungs in a long sigh of disappointment.

  “You’ve had other nationalities mixed in?” he said, getting back to the subject of her Irishness. “Like what?”

  “Like, oh—” she put up her fingers and began to tick them off “—a French war bride in the early twenties. A Chippewa princess at the turn of the century. A few local Swedes and Norwegians. And there was the disowned daughter of an English earl.”

  “An English earl.” He whistled his appreciation for that and his eyes were laughing. “Should we call you a mixed breed?”

  She grinned back. “Just call me colorful.”

  He leaned back against a headstone, examining her in the glow from the flashlight and obviously enjoying what he saw. “It’s interesting that you know your background so well.”

  “Don’t you know yours?” She looked at him in surprise. Everyone in Tyler knew his background. It was just something you were raised knowing. “How far back do you know it?”

  “Oh...” He considered, his head to the side. “About back to last Sunday.”

  “Oh, come on.” She waved a dismissive hand at him, not believing it for a minute. “Who are your parents?”

  He had to think about it. “My mother came from British and Welsh people, if I remember right. My father’s background is Swedish. That I know. After all, the name does give it away. I think my great-grandfather is the one who came to this country, but I couldn’t swear to it.”