Accidental Family

by Kristin Gabriel

  “Because it was addressed to Savannah Corrington on a powder blue envelope.” He set the lumber on the rug, then brushed off his hands “I know about the letter he sent you before, Rowena. I overheard Maureen talking about it on the phone.”

  Rowena couldn’t believe her friend would break a confidence. Then she remembered Maureen admitting she’d contacted a cop she knew in New York to look into the matter. But that was almost three weeks ago. Alan hadn’t said a word about it. “When exactly did you overhear that conversation?”

  He shrugged out of his coat. “The night you came over to Twin Oaks and proposed a truce between us.”

  Her stomach tensed. “I don’t believe this.”

  He moved to her side, his face etched with concern. “I think you’d better sit down. You look pale.”

  She didn’t move. She was through with men telling her what to do. “You’ve known about that letter from Max all this time?”

  “Yes,” Alan admitted. “Frankly, I’ve been pretty concerned. It sounds like the guy is unstable.”

  “So why didn’t you say anything about it that night?”

  He folded his arms across his broad chest. “If you remember, we hadn’t been on the best of terms. So I thought it would be better to just agree to your truce so I could keep an eye on you.”

  “Keep an eye on me?” she echoed.

  “In case Heller tried anything. I heard Maureen say you didn’t want to contact the police. Someone had to look out for you and the baby.”

  She gave a slow nod. “So that’s why you so readily accepted my dinner invitation.”

  “Don’t make it sound so calculating.” He took a step toward her. “Sure, I wanted to protect you from Heller, but it was more than that.”

  She met his gaze, trying to stay calm. Did he have other secrets he was keeping from her? Other plans for the future that he hadn’t deigned to tell her? “What else?”

  He turned toward the fire. “I don’t know. A chance to get to know you better, I guess. Hell, you’re the mother of my baby. Don’t you think that’s a good enough reason?”

  It should be. But for some reason it didn’t satisfy her. She’d proposed a truce between them to see if Alan was really serious about taking on the responsibilities of becoming a father. But she hadn’t planned to fall in love with him along the way. Everything was more complicated than ever.

  He turned to face her. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this. So I hid the stupid letter. I still think I did the right thing.”

  Her jaw tightened. “That’s the problem.”

  He blinked. “What do you mean? I was trying to protect you.”

  “I’m thirty-six years old, Alan. I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You’ve had enough stress in your life lately. I wasn’t about to let this Max Heller cause even more.”

  “But who gave you the right to start making unilateral decisions about my life?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You don’t trust me?”

  “That’s not the point.” She shook her head, sadness tightening her throat. He didn’t even begin to understand. “I left Max because he thought he always knew what was best for me. It started with little things. Like screening my telephone calls and picking out clothes for me to wear. Then it got progressively worse, until he wanted to imprison me in a cocoon and never let me go.”

  “I’m glad you got away from him,” Alan replied. “He sounds like a complete jerk.”

  She swallowed hard. “But you’re doing the same thing.”

  He recoiled as if she’d struck him. “You’re comparing me to Heller?”

  “You hid the letter,” she said by way of an example. “And you’re telling people that my barbershop is for sale. I just got a call from a real estate agent!”

  “Wait a minute,” Alan replied, his voice rising. “All I did was stop in at Tubb’s Café for coffee one morning and got into a discussion about land prices around here. I simply asked about the current market for a place as nice as your shop. Is that so terrible?”

  She glared at him, completely exasperated. “When did I ever tell you I was selling it?”

  “We talked about your moving to Toronto.” He began pacing back and forth across the same rug they’d made love on the night before. “I guess I just assumed the rest. I wanted you to get a good price. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

  “Max always thought the same way.”

  He whirled on her, furious sparks in his eyes. “Stop comparing me to him! I’m not out to hurt you.”

  “I know,” she admitted, then squared her shoulders. “But you want to control me. In the end, it’s the same thing.”

  “Control you?” He stared at her in stunned disbelief. “I asked you to marry me. I want you to be my wife.”

  “Why?” she asked, though she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Why do you think?” he replied, his voice laced with anger and confusion. “So we can be a family.”

  She closed her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

  He moved toward her. “Look, Rowena, I’m sorry if you’re upset about the letter. Maybe I should have showed it to you right away. But you’d just come home from the hospital, and I wasn’t about to take any chances with the baby.”

  She nodded, sympathizing with his fear for the baby. Too bad he was totally clueless about her fears. Alan simply didn’t understand that she couldn’t give up her independence. Not after her experience with Max.

  As much as she loved Alan, she wasn’t a bonus prize he could claim along with the baby. She wanted to be loved for herself. To be trusted to make her own decisions.

  And she needed to accept the fact that he might never understand.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I think you should go back to Toronto.”

  His jaw sagged. “What are you talking about? I want to marry you!”

  “You want the baby.”

  He backed away from her. “You really believe that’s the only reason I proposed to you?”

  She stared at her clenched fingers. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore. That’s the problem. I can’t take the chance of making a mistake! Not when the baby would be the one to suffer the most.”

  “What do you want from me?” he cried.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, feeling sick inside. “If you had just once told me you loved me—that would have been enough.”

  “Damn it, Rowena! I do love you.” His nostrils flared. “There. I said it.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Alan, don’t do this.”

  “Why are you doing this to us? I do love you, Rowena. Whether you want to believe it now or not. And yes, I love our baby. I want to be a father. Is that so damn much to ask?”

  She placed her hand on her stomach as if to protect the baby from the harsh words ricocheting between them. “No. You’ll be a good father. I want you to be part of the baby’s life. I’ll call my lawyer in the morning and—”

  “Don’t bother.” He bit the words out, turning his back on her and heading down the hallway. “Since I’m such a controlling monster, I’ll just handle everything myself.”

  She stood up. “Alan, wait...”

  But he didn’t turn around. A few heartbeats later he was in the living room, his suitcase in his hand. He grabbed his coat, then turned at the front door, unable to hide the despair in his eyes.

  “I never thought I’d find a woman I could love with my whole heart,” he said, his voice gruff. “With my soul. Maybe I don’t always say the right thing at just the right moment. I’m no damn poet. But I guess you’re right. We shouldn’t get married. Because you don’t know me at all.”

  Then he was gone.

  Rowena stood fr
ozen for a moment as she stared at the door. Panic assailed her when she realized he was really leaving. For good. She ran after him, but he was already in the car by the time she reached the front step.

  “Alan,” she called, frantically waving her arm in the air.

  But he peeled away from the curb and drove into the sunset, not once looking back. The baby fluttered inside her, and Rowena placed her hands over it, the tears freezing on her cheeks.

  “What have I done?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DARKNESS CLOAKED THE village of Cooper’s Corner when Alan finally turned his car in the direction of Twin Oaks. He’d been driving aimlessly for hours, stoking the red-hot ember of anger burning inside him. Because if he let it cool, the raw pain underneath would be unbearable.

  Rowena didn’t want to marry him. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as her words echoed in his brain. If you had just once told me you loved me.

  The irony almost made him laugh out loud, but his throat constricted instead. Hadn’t his father’s inability to express his love been one of the main reasons Alan had come to Cooper’s Corner? He was so certain he was different. He’d wanted to be a good father. To show unconditional love and support for his child. But how could he do that when the woman he loved didn’t even know it?

  He slowed the car when the Twin Oaks Bed and Breakfast came into view. If the Coopers didn’t have a room available for him tonight, he’d have to drive to New Ashford or Williamstown. Why hadn’t he headed home? If he’d been thinking straight, he would have driven directly to Toronto and consulted with Brad.

  But neither his mind nor his heart was quite ready to accept the inevitable.

  He grabbed his suitcase out of the back seat, then walked to the front door. It opened into the large gathering room, empty and dim except for the glow of the dying embers in the hearth.

  Maureen looked at him in surprise as she descended the staircase. “Hello, Alan. I’m surprised to see you here so late.” Then her gaze fell on the suitcase in his hand.

  “Do you have a room available, Maureen?”

  She studied him for a moment, then started down the rest of the stairs. “As a matter of fact, your same room is open. There was a couple from Rhode Island due in this afternoon, but they had to cancel their reservation at the last minute.”

  “I guess it’s my lucky day,” he said wryly, then pulled out his wallet to retrieve his credit card. “I’ll just need it for one night.”

  “How is Rowena?” she asked, concern etched on her forehead.

  “Fine.” He scribbled his name in the guest ledger.

  Maureen tilted her head, watching him. “You don’t look so fine.”

  He tossed down the pen. “I will be. I’ve been through worse.” Only he wasn’t sure that was true. At least with the cancer, he’d had something to fight against. But this sickness was in his heart, and he didn’t know how to vanquish it. He missed Rowena already. Her smile. Her laughter. Her eyes. When they’d made love last night, something inside him had felt complete. Now that old emptiness was back, and he feared it would never be gone again.

  “I know it’s none of my business,” Maureen said softly. “But Rowena is a good friend of mine. If there is anything I can do to help...”

  “It’s too late,” Alan blurted. He hadn’t planned to talk to anyone about this except his lawyer. And maybe the nearest bartender. But the words spilled out anyway. “It’s over between us. Rowena made her feelings about me perfectly clear.”

  Maureen arched a winged brow. “I thought her feelings about you seemed pretty clear at the Sweetheart Dance.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, trying desperately to hold on to his anger. “We both know she’s a good actress.”

  Maureen started to say something, then pressed her lips firmly together.

  Alan knew he’d probably irritated her with that remark, but he couldn’t get into this now. Not with his head pounding and his heart breaking. Maureen would probably learn all the details soon enough. He’d discovered in a very short time that you couldn’t keep secrets in Cooper’s Corner.

  “Just do me one favor,” he said, picking up his suitcase.

  “If I can,” she replied evenly.

  “Rowena got another one of those letters.” He shifted his suitcase from one hand to the other. “From Max Heller. Make sure she goes to the police this time. Even if you have to drag her there....” His voice trailed as he realized this was exactly the reason she’d shut him out of her life—because he thought he knew what was best for her. “I just want her to be safe.”

  “So do I,” Maureen said. “Safe and happy.”

  Alan nodded, knowing he couldn’t do anything about the latter—except stay out of her life.

  A child’s soft cry echoed down the hallway.

  “Please excuse me,” Maureen said. “It sounds as if one of the girls is having a nightmare.”

  He watched her walk away, then turned toward the staircase.

  “Alan?”

  He froze, the voice rolling over him like an echo from the past. He slowly turned and found himself looking at the last person he expected to see.

  His father.

  Alan stared at him until George Rand stepped forward. “Is this a bad time?”

  He couldn’t have picked a worse one. But Alan still had trouble believing the man was here at all. “I suppose it’s as good as any.”

  George waved toward the gathering room. “Do you mind if we sit down to talk?”

  Talk. After thirty-four years, Alan couldn’t remember more than a handful of times when he and his father had actually talked. “Sure.”

  He watched his father walk to the sofa, noting how much older he looked. His hair was thinner and completely gray. He had a hitch to his step, as if arthritis had settled into one of his knees. His body was much heavier, too, with fleshiness in his cheek and jowl. It had been so long since he’d seen the man. Almost five long years. Alan couldn’t be sure he would have recognized him if he’d passed him on the street.

  “I found the Twin Oaks business card you left in my door,” George said as he seated himself on the sofa.

  Alan grabbed the wing chair across from him. “Almost three weeks ago.”

  “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here now.” George shifted on the cushion as if he couldn’t quite get comfortable.

  That makes two of us.

  “Yes.” Alan wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight.

  George let his gaze wander to the stone hearth, then back. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to know if you’re all right, Alan. I thought maybe you came here because the cancer had spread....”

  “You couldn’t even bother to visit me during my treatments.” Alan bit the words out. “Why would I drive seven long hours to tell you anything when it’s so obvious you don’t give a damn?”

  “That’s not true,” George countered, a mottled flush in his cheeks.

  Alan shook his head. “Actions speak louder than words, Dad. Not that you ever wasted many words on me.” He rose to his feet, barely able to remain civil. “Look, if you came here tonight to find out if I’m dying, the answer is no. The treatments eradicated the cancer, and I have a full life ahead of me. A life I’ve gotten used to living without you in it. So you can just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

  He turned and took three long strides toward the staircase before his father’s voice stopped him cold.

  “I did it for you, son.”

  Alan whirled on him. “What the hell does that mean?”

  George struggled to find the words. “It means...I wanted to protect you. Or maybe I was just too damn proud to let my son find out I was a drunk.”

  He walked slowly toward his father. “I don’t know what y
ou’re talking about.”

  George met his gaze. “That’s because I knew how to hide it. Most nights, I’d come home from the bar so drunk I could barely stand up straight. Then I’d hide behind a newspaper and try to keep from passing out.”

  Alan tried to comprehend what his father was telling him, but he kept remembering snatches of their past. How George Rand would retire to bed at a ridiculously early hour, usually long before ten o’clock. How he always carried a supply of peppermints in his pocket. Had he used them to cover the odor of booze on his breath?

  “I was a closet drunk, Alan,” George admitted. “I could put in a full day’s work without any problem, but as soon as I punched out my time card for the day, I’d hit the bar. Then I’d drive home in a haze and not remember much of anything until the next day.”

  “But surely Mom knew.”

  George nodded. “I’m sure she did. But she never said anything. Or even asked me to stop. I think that was part of the problem.”

  Alan clenched his hands into fists. “You’re blaming her for the fact that you were a drunk?”

  “No,” George said hastily. “She was a wonderful woman. I think she truly believed she was helping me by not nagging about my drinking.” He got a faraway look in his faded brown eyes. “But sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she’d confronted me about it. Or even threatened to leave me. But that never happened, so I simply didn’t have a reason to stop.”

  “Except for me,” Alan said bitterly, realizing his father had preferred spending his free time with a bottle rather than his own son.

  George nodded, his voice growing thick. “When I found out you had Hodgkin’s disease, I finally realized how much time I had wasted.” He slowly shook his head. “That I might lose you before I got a chance to know you.”

  “Did you really care?”

  “Hell, yes, I cared,” George exclaimed. “For the first time in over thirty years, I cared about something more than losing myself in a bottle.”

  Alan sank into the chair again. “So why didn’t you ever try to quit?”