by Susan Fox
“I know. But there’s no point in starting a relationship when I’m here and you’ll be in New York.”
“No. It couldn’t work.”
She shoved herself away from him, and back over to the driver’s seat. “I’m not usually so sensible. But as it is, it’s going to be hard enough letting you go.”
“I know.” He forced a smile. “This time we really will e-mail.”
She rolled her eyes and started the truck.
He felt like asking her to have dinner with him so they could spend just a little more time together, but he didn’t think he could handle the temptation.
By the time she dropped Evan at the Crazy Horse, the rain was thundering down. Jess was grateful she’d driven the truck today, rather than ridden Conti. As it was, she could barely see the road as she drove to the feed store for supplies, then to the drugstore, and finally home to Bly Ranch. A wind had come up, too, and she had to struggle against it as she made her way from the truck to the kitchen door.
Soaked and breathless, she slammed the door behind her and shook herself like a dog, spraying the Blue Heeler for a change, before she bent to greet him. The empty, dark room reminded her she had the place to herself. Her parents were out for supper and bridge, and Robin was spending the night with Dave so they could work on her science project.
“It’s just you and me, boy,” she murmured to Pepper as she let him out to do his business. And she’d keep busy with chores, because otherwise she might brave the storm, hop back in the truck, drive over to the Crazy Horse, and give Evan the passionate kiss that had been building inside her for days.
The message light on the answering machine was blinking. She’d turned off her cell earlier, when visiting Madisun’s parents. She should turn her cell back on, and check the answering machine as well, but really she just wanted to change and get on with a whirlwind of chores.
The home phone rang, and she stared at it indecisively. It was probably for her parents. She let it go through to message, and heard Dave’s frantic voice. “Jess? Jessie, where are you?”
She grabbed up the receiver. “Dave? I’m here.”
“Oh, Jessie-girl . . .” Dave’s voice broke, and in that moment her world turned upside down.
Not Robin, please don’t let it be Robin. I’ll do anything if it’s not Robin. But she knew it was. Tears slid down her cheeks. “How bad?” she whispered.
“Bad. But not . . . hopeless.” She heard him suck in a raspy breath, obviously fighting for control.
Not hopeless? My God, how bad is it?
“She was hit by a car,” he said. “It’s my fault, Jessie. It was raining and I should have picked her up from Kimiko’s. She walked, wearing dark clothing. A car came around the corner too fast. The driver braked, the car skidded, and . . . Jesus!” He drew another wavery breath.
“Dave! How badly is she hurt?”
“They think her spleen’s lacerated, maybe ruptured. Blood may be leaking into her abdominal cavity. They need to operate, may have to remove it.”
“Spleen.” What the hell was a spleen? “You can live without a spleen, can’t you?”
“Yes, but if they operate she may need a transfusion.”
“Oh, my God! And they don’t have enough blood?” It was something they’d feared ever since baby Robin’s blood had been typed.
“No, the blood of hers we had frozen isn’t enough. They’ve contacted the rare-blood banks and they’re flying some in, but it’ll take hours. Might not even be able to land a plane or helicopter here if this weather keeps up. They thought of taking her out by helicopter and getting her down to Vancouver, but that’d take time, too, and be a real bumpy ride.”
She sucked in a breath and let it out. “Evan.” She said the word with dread.
“Yes. There’s no one in Caribou Crossing with the same blood type. Evan and his dad were the only ones.”
“I know!” she snapped. Her panicked mind couldn’t think straight. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”
“I’d give anything if we did. But it’s Robin’s life.”
“Oh Lord, Dave, I never wanted him to know.”
His laugh was the essence of bitterness. “Nor did I.”
She swallowed. “We’re wasting time. I’ll drive over and get him.”
“You’ll tell him?”
“I can hardly haul him off to the hospital with no explanation,” she said grimly. “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”
She slammed the phone into the cradle.
Robin. Oh, God, let Robin be okay.
Still in her damp clothing, she threw open the kitchen door, barely noticing when Pepper darted inside, and ran for the truck. She had no idea how she made it to the Crazy Horse, and it seemed only seconds had passed before she was pounding at the door of Evan’s cabin. Please let him be here, not up at the lodge.
The door opened and she darted in. He took one look at her face, then grabbed her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
She shook off his hands. “Robin’s been in an accident.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“She needs blood.”
He nodded slowly, obviously not comprehending. “A transfusion? Is the hospital low on blood? You need donors?”
“Yes!” If only it were that simple. Could she let him go on thinking it was?
“Of course I’ll help.” He was reaching past her for the jacket that hung on a peg by the door. Then he stopped and pulled his hand back. “I might not be able to donate. I have an incredibly rare blood type.”
She stared up at him. Her panic stilled as she realized the moment had finally come. Now that it had, she felt almost calm. “I know. So does Robin,” she said.
He frowned. “Really? But it’s so rare. Dave’s the same type?”
A reprieve? She could let him believe it.
No. It was time for the truth. She shook her head. “No one in town is the same type. Just Robin. And you.”
“But . . . Oh, my God!” His face went dead white and he groped for the back of a chair.
Unable to meet his eyes, she stared instead at his clenched fingers. She spoke the words she had never wanted to say to him. “She’s your daughter.”
“But . . .”
Jess’s sense of urgency returned. “I know you want an explanation, but, Evan, she’s hurt. She needs blood. Now!”
“Yes,” he said slowly, unwinding his fingers from the chair back. Then, more quickly, “Yes, of course.” And he was in motion, thrusting his feet into his boots.
At the truck, he yanked open the passenger door. “Get in. I’ll drive. You’re crying.”
She was?
He ran around to the driver’s side as she leaped in.
Concentrating on the immediate, the physical, Evan adjusted the seat, slammed the shifter into first gear, and hammered his foot down on the gas pedal. The truck fishtailed in the muddy gravel, then he shifted into second, the tires gripped, and they were off. Rain thundered down and there was a wicked wind, too, strong enough to shake the sturdy truck.
“She was in an accident?” he asked. “How badly is she injured?”
“Spleen. Maybe ruptured. They have to operate.”
Spleen. Upper abdomen, left side. Once he’d had a mild case of mononucleosis and his spleen had been swollen and painful. What the hell did the spleen do?
In a raspy voice, she said, “They say she can live without her spleen. It’s the surgery, the blood, that’s the problem.”
The blood. That damned, weird blood he’d inherited. Why the hell did he have to pass it on to his daughter?
Daughter. She’s your daughter, Jess had said. Daughter. Daughter. The word rang in his head.
Jess’s daughter was his daughter.
The ripped condom. But Jess had said she was okay.
She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t even told him, because she wanted Dave Cousins—the guy all the girls thought was perfect—to be her child’s father.
> “Does Dave know?” he asked harshly.
“About the accident? Yes, he’s the one who called me.”
“Not that! Does he know I’m Rob . . . Robin’s father?”
Robin. He had a daughter named Robin. That cute kid with the ponytail, that accomplished rider, the girl with poise beyond her years—that kid was his.
“Of course Dave knows,” she snapped.
Great, the only one she’d left in the dark was the sperm donor. He could throttle her.
But when he glared over at Jess, the lights of a passing car reflected off the tears on her cheeks. Crap. The only thing that mattered right now was the girl. He had to get to the hospital and let them stick a needle in his arm. Everything else . . . he’d think about later.
When he pulled the truck up under the EMERGENCY sign, he and Jess leaped out and raced for the door. He flung it open and Jess flew past him, straight into a man’s arms. Dave Cousins. An older version of the boy Evan had secretly admired.
His daughter’s father. Another man he’d like to punch out.
Jess and Dave clung together as Evan walked slowly toward them. They were in a private cocoon, oblivious to him. Jess sobbed and Dave’s eyes leaked tears as he said brokenly, “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”
His fault? It was Dave’s fault that Robin’s life was in danger? Evan’s hands formed fists.
Jess raised her head, glared at Dave, and said fiercely, “Don’t blame yourself, Dave. Just don’t do that!” Then she burrowed her face back into his shoulder.
As Jess sobbed, Dave murmured, “Oh, Jessie, I can’t stand to think of her hurting, not our little girl.”
Evan had never felt more superfluous. They were family—this woman, this man, and the girl who lay in a bed somewhere nearby. And yet he was here because his blood ran in the child’s veins. He was necessary, yet unwanted.
As if he’d spoken aloud, Dave raised his head and stared at him over Jess’s bent head.
Dave drew in a breath, audibly. “Evan,” he said evenly. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks wet, yet there was immense dignity in his face. As easily as Evan read the other man’s agony over the accident, he recognized how much Dave hated having to ask for his help. How much he feared having Evan enter his daughter’s life.
His anger died. “Dave.” He nodded an acknowledgment. “Where’s the doctor?”
Jess peeled herself from Dave’s arms and wiped a forearm haphazardly across her sodden face. “Where’s Robin? I want to see her. And the doctor. Let’s get on with this.”
Chapter Fourteen
A gray-haired nurse took Evan to a cubicle, and soon the blood was draining from his arm as she grilled him about HIV and hepatitis.
“My blood’s okay,” he said. “I’m often called to donate, and they’re always testing it.”
“That’s a relief.” She patted his shoulder.
Did she know he was Robin’s biological father? If so, how had Dave explained that to her? And why was he even thinking about this stuff? All that mattered was for Robin to be okay.
After he’d donated, rested, eaten, and drank juice, Evan was finally set free. When he walked into the waiting room, Jess and Dave were huddled together on a couch and didn’t acknowledge him.
He sat on a chair across the room, out of their line of vision, and waited, deliberately trying to keep his mind a blank. After an hour or so, a surgeon went over to Jess and Dave. Evan eavesdropped, to hear that Robin had had a splenectomy and was in recovery doing very well.
Their arms wrapped around each other, Jess and Dave followed the doctor to the recovery room.
So. Evan had served his purpose, and without even seeing Robin. No one here needed—or wanted—him anymore. And he was damned tired. Relieved, pissed off, exhausted.
He called a taxi and waited just inside the hospital door, watching the still-pouring rain until it arrived. The driver wanted to talk but Evan slumped back and closed his eyes, feeling utterly drained. He’d had a bucket of blood pumped out of his body, which could certainly account for some of it. Then there was Jess and Dave’s intimacy, which depressed him for no good reason. And his fear for the safety of a girl he didn’t even know.
But mostly, what had knocked him for a loop was finding out—a decade late—that he was a father.
Jess had lied to him, back then and for the last week and a half.
When the cab pulled up at his door, Evan reached into his pocket. Empty. He’d left his wallet and key inside the unlocked cabin. He went in, found the wallet, and paid the driver.
Then he stood aimlessly in the middle of the living room. On the coffee table, he saw a note and a covered tray. The note read: Evan, are you OK? Did you go out for dinner like you did last week? Here’s a snack, in case you’re hungry. Don’t forget—we’re showing Return to Snowy River in the lounge tonight! It was signed “Kathy,” with a happy face.
He stared at the curving smile, then lifted the lid off the tray and studied the artful arrangement of cold meats, cheeses, home-baked buns, fruit, and cookies. He had no appetite. Not for food, nor for company.
He opened the fridge, saw that she’d left some fruit drinks, then closed the door again and poured a glass of cold water, which he drained in one long swallow.
He glanced at the time. They’d still be up, probably just finishing the movie. Maybe he should walk over and tell them he was okay, but instead he put the cover back on the tray, sank into a chair, and switched off the light.
Why hadn’t Jess told him?
His aching heart supplied an answer. She might’ve had a crush on him, wanted to share a special night with him, but it was Dave she’d loved.
Why should that bother him? He hadn’t wanted Jess to love him, hadn’t wanted to have a child. But how could she have been so callous about his rights, his feelings?
And what about now? Where did he stand now? Where did he want to stand?
They obviously didn’t want him in their lives. Well, Jess wanted him as a friend. A casual friend. Not only had she resisted a physical relationship, she’d gone to pains to make sure he never met Robin, and she’d refused his assistance with her dream project. What kind of friends did that make them?
Could he possibly be friends with a woman who had deceived him so cruelly?
He groaned, rose, and began to pace. Why had he listened to Gianni? Why had he come here?
If he hadn’t come . . .
Jesus, if he hadn’t come, Robin might not have received the blood she needed. He drew in a shaky breath. Thank God for Gianni.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling so tired. He ached, too, somewhere deep inside. Jess was right; as a child he’d learned to block his feelings. He had a good brain, so he’d focused on reason and intellect. This week he’d begun to think maybe emotions could be good, too. Now he remembered how painfully they could hurt.
He stumbled into the bathroom on heavy legs and bent down to turn on the bathtub faucet. On the marble ledge around the deep-set tub was a wicker tray holding an assortment of aromatic oils and bath salts. He chose a packet at random and tossed it into the water. Peeling off his clothes, he felt so slow and clumsy it was like he’d been drugged.
The air filled with an appealing aroma. He couldn’t define it exactly, but it smelled like the outdoors here. Mostly green scents, like pine and hay, but also something flowery, like those heady wild roses. He sank into the water. Once in, he wondered how he’d ever find the energy to rise again. He was too tired to even think, and that was a good thing. He wadded up a towel and leaned back, resting his head on it.
Tomorrow, there would be things to think about, and to discuss with Jess. Tomorrow, maybe he’d let himself feel anger and hurt and God knows what else, but for now he welcomed oblivion.
Some time later, he woke to the sound of a soft knock on the door of his cabin. Kathy, he figured. He should answer, but he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The water was cold, though. He should get up.
He hea
rd the cabin door open. “Evan?”
It was Jess. Jesus, had something gone wrong with Robin? He should have stayed, should never have surrendered to his childish hurt feelings. He lurched to his feet, splashing water all over, and dashed out of the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”
Jess stared at about 170 pounds of lean, muscled, dripping, naked male.
This wasn’t what she had in mind when she decided to drop by, see if he happened to be awake, and, if not, leave a note.
Her gaze dipped from his face to his chest, down to his abs and past. Oh man, had he grown up and filled out. A blush heated her cheeks and she forced herself to look at his face.
“Is Robin all right?” he demanded.
“Oh! Oh, yes. Did you think . . . ? Jeez, Ev, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Or, uh, disturb your bath.”
She tried to control her eyes but they seemed to have a mind of their own and kept shifting their gaze downward.
He turned on his heel and stalked off to the bathroom, giving her a perfect opportunity to confirm that his butt truly was world class.
He returned, tying a navy terry bathrobe. “You’re sure she’s fine?”
Embarrassed by the attention she’d been paying his body, Jess snapped, “Of course I’m sure. Do you think I’d be here otherwise? Dave’s with her. I’m on my way home to change my clothes and get some things for her.” She smiled at a memory. “She even gave me a list. And she said I should stay there and get some sleep, because I’ve been looking so tired lately.”
“She’s awake?”
“She was, for long enough to order me around.”
“And she’s really okay?”
“Physically, she’ll be fine. Out of the hospital in less than a week, but not back to her normal activities for six to eight weeks. If we can tie her down that long.”
“I gather she’s an active kid?”
“You can say that again. Rob’s had her share of broken bones and bumps and bruises because she’s fearless. But she’s always back up, back at it. It drives Dave crazy, he worries so much.” She smiled. “I was exactly the same as a kid.”