How would Daniel react to the truth? she wondered. She was afraid that he would still judge her, and she was afraid to see that damning look in his eyes. What if he, like the others, thought that she hadn't done enough—that she hadn't tried long enough, hadn't prayed often enough, hadn't worked hard enough? What if he believed that she had taken the easy way, that without regard for Tony or Katie, she had chosen the path that was best for herself?
Well, she hadn't taken the easy way, and she wouldn't take it this time, either. She wasn't going to tell this man who despised her such painfully intimate details of her life. She wasn't going to demean her son's memory by using him to influence Daniel's opinion. She wasn't going to give in, to plead for understanding and forgiveness, when she hadn't done anything wrong.
She smiled wryly. That was a good, strong stance to take now, but after a few more weeks—or even a few more days—without her daughter, she might be willing to do all those things and more just for the chance to see her again.
Daniel parked next to the fancy German car, giving it a derisive look as he climbed out of his dusty truck. He'd seen the car a couple of times before, when the flashy redheaded lawyer had come to tell him about Katie, and again when she'd brought his daughter to him. According to Zachary's message, she was back now to "talk." Well, he didn't want to talk. In fact, he'd driven nineteen miles into town just to tell her that. Sarah hadn't changed his mind, not with her arguments and requests and pleas, and her fancy lawyer wouldn't, either.
He went into the office, tapped on the door, then walked into Zachary's inner office. With barely a glance for the redhead, he faced the other man. "Alicia said you wanted to see me."
Zachary rose easily to his feet. "Thanks for coming. Is she staying with Katie?"
"Yes." Finally he looked at the woman. His expression wasn't friendly.
"Daniel, you remember Beth Gibson, Sarah's lawyer?" Zachary asked.
He remembered her, all right. She was pretty, expensive and fancy, and she didn't like him one bit, he knew. From the first time they'd met, she'd made no effort to hide the fact that she found him totally unsuitable—as a man, as her client's lover, as Katie's father. It showed in her condescending smile, in her cool, aloof manner and in her cold emerald eyes. But he didn't give a damn what she thought of him, because he didn't give a damn about her, either.
"Mr. Ryan," Beth said, managing, as he had known she would, to make his name sound distasteful. She rose from her seat and offered her hand, smooth, long fingered, with perfectly groomed nails.
Daniel considered refusing the handshake, considered refusing any contact with her at all. He was annoyed with Sarah for bringing the woman here, felt irrationally angered by the threat the big-city lawyer was supposed to represent. But in spite of his feelings, he shook her hand quickly before turning back to Zachary. "I assume this is about letting Sarah see Katie."
Before Zachary could answer, Beth did. "You do realize, Mr. Ryan, that instead of giving you temporary custody of Katherine, Sarah could have turned her over to the state. You probably never would have known that she even existed."
"So I should show my gratitude by letting her play mother now that it's convenient for her." Daniel shook his head in disgust.
"Not 'letting her play mother,' Mr. Ryan. She is Katherine's mother."
He faced Beth again, his angry dark eyes meeting hers. "And I am Katie's father, and for the next twenty-three days, I have sole custody."
"Daniel, Beth…" Zachary came around his desk to stand between the two. "Beth, would you please wait outside while I talk to Daniel?"
She wanted to refuse, to argue with this man that Sarah had so foolishly chosen for a fling, but because he expected her to argue, she left willingly though spitefully.
When the door closed behind her, Zachary sat on the corner of his desk. "Look, I don't know what Sarah and Beth are planning, but they could create a lot of problems, Daniel."
"What kinds of problems?" he asked grudgingly.
"When you sue Sarah for custody, they're going to try to make you look like the worst father imaginable. Everything that you say and do now could be used against you then. Beth Gibson is an expert at twisting someone's words and beliefs and perceptions into something totally different to suit her client's needs."
Daniel walked to the window behind the desk, staring out at the square. "You're saying I should give in."
"Not give in. Be reasonable. Be fair. Then, when we go to court, we can say that you gave Sarah generous visitation rights completely of your own free will." Zachary was silent for a moment. "I know you wish that Sarah would simply disappear without a trace and leave you and Katie alone, but that's not going to happen, Daniel. You can't cut her out of her daughter's life."
Daniel considered the lawyer's advice while he studied a slim figure in the park across the street. Her back was to him, but there was no mistaking that cap of honey-blond hair. How smugly satisfied she must be, he thought with a trace of bitterness, knowing that she was going to get her way. She was going to win, and he was going to lose. "You didn't see them together."
"Sarah and Katie?"
Daniel nodded. "She was charmed by her." He realized that his statement wasn't clear—who was charmed by whom—but it worked either way. Sarah had seemed to think Katie was the most precious thing in the world, and Katie had liked her, too. When Katie had first come to live with him, he'd read magazine articles about the bonding between a baby and its parents, but he'd never understood it as clearly as he had that day last week. Katie liked everyone she met, but she'd never exhibited that kind of attraction to any of them, had never chosen anyone else over her father.
In a dull monotone, he recited the details of last week's visit—how Katie had refused to leave with her father, how she had wanted to stay with Sarah. With her mother.
Zachary didn't say anything for a long time. Because he understood Daniel's fears about losing the girl, the reassurances he could give wouldn't mean much. "Daniel … when you go to court to get permanent custody of Katie, I can't guarantee that you'll win. You know that, don't you?"
Daniel turned from the window and sat down. He knew, but it wasn't a possibility that he wanted to face. How could he live without Katie?
"In the event that Sarah does win, it couldn't hurt for her to owe you a few favors, you know? If you antagonize her and treat her unfairly now, she might decide to retaliate once she has Katie back."
Daniel's expression was stony. "If she wins and the judge orders visitation, she can't interfere."
"No, but she can certainly influence how Katie feels about you. She can certainly make things difficult for you." Zachary returned to his seat, leaning back comfortably. "What I'm saying is that you should cover all the possibilities. We'll go ahead with the custody suit—I'll have everything ready to file on the first, and the private detective in Nashville has promised me a report no later than the twenty-fifth-but in the meantime, make friends with Sarah. Let her see Katie. Show her that you can be a fair man."
In other words, Daniel thought cynically, lie to her. Let her think that he was being fair, that he was being a friend, while at the same time he was planning behind her back to take her to court. Deceive her, use her, then hit her with the truth. Was he that good an actor? Was he that hypocritical? Grimly, he turned away from the answer. "All right."
Zachary didn't ask for an explanation of exactly what he would do. Daniel never did anything by half measures. When he'd agreed to take care of Katie, even knowing that it was temporary, he'd put his whole self into it, heart and soul. Now that he'd agreed to befriend Sarah and give her access to her daughter, he would go all the way. "If you want the terms in writing, we'll need to discuss them with Beth first."
"No. This is between Sarah and me." Daniel stood up and glanced out the window. She was still sitting on the bench, looking small and so alone. "I'll be in touch," he said quietly as he started toward the door.
Beth looked up from the magazine she w
as reading as he passed through the waiting room. She knew from his somber expression that Sarah had won this battle, although she refrained from commenting.
Daniel crossed the street and followed the winding sidewalk to the bench where Sarah sat. Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down at the opposite end, his big hands clasped together.
Sarah looked up, surprised by his appearance, then she realized that she shouldn't be. Since Katie was the topic of discussion this afternoon, she should have expected Zachary to notify Daniel. This time she wasn't even the faintest bit hopeful that he might have their daughter with him.
He was staring at his hands, and she directed her gaze in that direction, too. They were big hands, the fingertips marked with the cuts and scars, the palms ridged with the calluses; she had noticed the day he removed her splinters. Hardworking hands, she thought. Capable hands. Like the man.
She didn't know how many minutes passed before he broke the uneasy silence. She expected to hear anger in his deep, rumbly voice. She was surprised by defeat.
"Why did you bring your lawyer here?" He admitted that it was the logical thing to do, that it was what he would have done in her position, but, irrationally, he felt betrayed. As he'd told Zachary, this was between him and Sarah—not him, Sarah, Zachary and the redhead.
Sarah gave a simple shrug. "I called her last Tuesday. Before you brought Katie to the house." After a brief pause, she reached out to touch his arm. "Daniel, I don't know what she told you in there, but I don't want to take you to court. I have too much respect for you for that."
He looked sharply at her. She respected him! That was more than he was capable of believing.
"Do you know how many men divorce their wives and refuse to pay even a few hundred dollars a month to help feed and clothe the children they helped bring into the world?" she asked, her voice sharp with the remembered pain that she had married one of those men. "Yet you took in a child you hadn't even known existed, who you'd had no say in planning…" Her voice grew soft. "A child whose mother you hardly knew. And you've raised her and cared for her and loved her. Yes, I do respect you, Daniel, very much."
He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. That wasn't the kind of speech the Sarah he'd condemned for so long was supposed to make … but he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that she thought well of him.
Drawing her hand back, Sarah gave a soft sigh and gazed around. Above the streets on two sides of the square fluttered banners announcing the date of this year's Harvest Festival: Saturday, October twentieth, right here in the square, from 9.00 a.m. until the music ended. She wondered idly what kind of festival a small town like Sweetwater put on, if it was similar to the country fairs she'd been to. Would there be rides and candied apples and game booths? Would Daniel bring Katie to ride the merry-go-round and eat cotton candy and play with the other small children in town?
Her smile was wistful. How she would like to share something like that with her daughter.
Now that her attention was elsewhere, Daniel felt safe in looking at her. Curiously, a great deal of his hostility was already gone. In deciding to make her a part of his life, he had unknowingly eased the resentment and anger he felt, not for her, but because of her. Because he'd known that he needed to hate her, but hadn't really been able to. Because he'd wanted to see her as his enemy but remembered her too clearly as his lover.
Now it was safe to see how pretty she was, how delicate. Now it was safe to remember their weekend in Nashville as it had really been—sweet, endearing, important. Now it was safe to admit that once he'd wanted much more than an affair with her, much more than two brief days and nights.
"As soon as your redheaded lawyer is gone…" He paused over the words. He didn't want to sound begrudging or resentful, didn't want her to think he'd been forced into this. "Come to the house. You can see Katie."
When he stood up, so did Sarah. Unmindful of the curious eyes on all sides of the square, she rose onto her toes and pressed a quick, joyous kiss to his lips. "Thank you, Daniel. Thank you so much. You won't regret this."
Flushed a deep bronze, he stepped back and saw old Henry Walters and Leon Peters sitting on the bench in front of the hardware store, looking in his direction. Within an hour it would be all over town that the city girl living in Leon's house had kissed Daniel Ryan right in the middle of the park. Small-town gossip being what it was, the townsfolk would make the logical leap from a kiss to a sweet baby girl who had appeared out of nowhere last November. Oh, well, he thought resolutely, he couldn't keep his personal life secret forever, and he couldn't keep the identity of Katie's mother secret much longer, either.
October 12
Friday was bright, sunny and cold, a sure sign that winter was on the way. Daniel hugged Katie close to his chest as he quickly covered the distance between his house and the workshop. Once inside, he continued to hold her while he turned on the heat; then he settled her in the playpen. With both hands, she tugged her knitted cap off, leaving her hair standing on end; then she grinned at him. "Go play, Daddy."
He studied her as he removed his jacket and hung it on an intricately carved coatrack next to the door. Next he removed her coat. "Play, huh? Did Sarah teach you that?" Two days with his daughter, and Sarah was already teaching her new things. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.
"Sair," Katie murmured. "Sair play."
She was so bright, picking up new words and ideas so easily. His daughter was growing up—their daughter, he corrected—and Sarah had missed so much of it: Katie's first steps, her first words, her wet kisses and energetic hugs and even her stormy tantrums. Most of all, she had missed being called Mama. How would she feel when she came in today and heard her daughter call her by name?
He knelt beside the playpen, picking up a wooden horse that had been thrown free and laying it back inside. "Not 'Sarah,' Katie. Say…" The word stuck in his throat. How could he encourage his daughter to call Sarah Lawson 'Mama?' At the same time, how could he not? "Say 'Mama,'Katie."
She picked up the horse and stuck its head into her mouth. Daniel gently removed it, but she immediately put it back.
"Can you say 'Mama'?"
"No."
He couldn't help but grin at the naughty gleam in her dark eyes. "You're being a snot."
"'Not," she echoed around the horse's head.
With a laugh, he turned to the worktable that filled half the room and took a seat on the high stool. The chair he was working on lay in pieces—legs, rungs, slats, arms, seat. Two chairs sat in the corner, waiting for their mates before they would be shipped to the man in Augusta who had commissioned them. Daniel had already shipped a table and a china cabinet that matched.
The pieces were sturdy, plain, functional. Their beauty lay in their simplicity—smooth, clean lines and graceful, flowing curves. Each piece had been carefully fashioned, sanded until the wood was satiny smooth and given a finish that would protect it for years.
Ever since he had sold his first rocker six years ago to a collector sent out by Zachary, he had put long hours into each piece. With no wife or children, they were to be his legacy, something that would continue as strong and beautiful as ever, long after he was dead.
But now he had Katie. The Ryan name would die with him, but the family would live on through her and her children and her children's children. And the work that had been a true labor of love was now a business—no less loved, but business all the same—because now he had a child to support.
He fitted the chair together, testing each joint, searching critically for some small flaw. He didn't find one, though. The Ryan name stood for quality, and he didn't accept anything less.
In the playpen, Katie chattered, lining up her toys, rearranging them, hugging first one, then another. Was she happier than usual, Daniel wondered when he glanced at her, because she knew that Sarah would come today as she had come yesterday and the day before?
It was getting harder to put Sarah out of his mind. The easy, gracef
ul way she moved. The low, slow sensuous drawl of her voice. The soft, trusting look in her eyes. The sorrow, the pleading, the happiness, the dignity. Every time his mind was idle, she slipped in, enticing him, touching him, stirring his guilt, his needs, his loneliness. She made him remember, made him feel, made him … want.
Wanting wasn't so bad, was it? She was a beautiful woman. Wasn't it natural that he should want her? As long as he didn't need her…
He sat for a long time, his hands idle, his thoughts two years distant. He had gone into that Nashville club looking for a drink, nothing else, but the moment he'd seen Sarah, he'd known that she was special. He had been drawn to her in a way that no woman had ever drawn him. His heart, always racing miles ahead of his mind, had immediately considered the possibilities of a future, of permanence and commitments. If he could have those things with any woman, he had known instinctively that it would be her. He had believed that she felt it, too, that rare sense of belonging. How could the bond exist for him, but not for her?
But it hadn't. The weekend had ended, and he had asked to see her again, had been willing to make the long drive into the city again the following weekend. But she had quickly, bluntly, turned him down. Those two days had been all she was willing to give. That was his first clue that she wasn't the perfect woman he'd made her out to be. The proof had come a year later in the form of a sweet brown-haired, blue-eyed baby.
So she wasn't perfect. That didn't mean she was horrible. She loved Katie, didn't she? He wasn't too familiar with love, other than his own, but wasn't that what he'd seen in her eyes when she played with their daughter?
But if she loved Katie, why had she given her away? Why hadn't she wanted her?
Before he could push the questions away, there was a knock at the door. It was Sarah, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt that swallowed her. Her hair was tousled by the light wind, and her cheeks were colored an attractive pink by the cold. Where's your coat? he wanted to ask. Why did you walk through the woods wearing clothing too thin to protect you from the wind's chill? But it wasn't his place to chastise her. It wasn't his place to take care of her. He turned back to his work without saying anything at all.
SOMEBODY'S BABY Page 7