by Pamela Bauer
He was saved from having to disappoint her with a refusal by the ringing of his cell phone. A quick look at the screen told him it was one of the calls he’d been expecting.
“I need to take this,” he announced. “Megan, you’re going to have to put the game away. When you’ve finished doing that, get your jacket and your mittens. As soon as I’ve taken care of this business call we’re going to take Faith home.”
That brought Faith’s head up with a jerk, but she didn’t argue with his statement. It was Megan who asked, “What about supper?”
“There’ll be plenty of time for supper after we take Faith home,” he said firmly, leaving the room so as not to allow any further discussion on the subject.
While on the phone, he heard footsteps on the stairs and knew Megan had done as he’d requested. After a brief conversation with his client, he returned to the kitchen to find Faith hadn’t been as impressed by his authoritative tone as Megan had been. She had tied a dish towel around her waist to act as an apron and was at the stove, getting his dinner. On any other woman he knew the dish towel would have looked absurd. On her it went along with the simple charm she seemed to exude. A charm he was having trouble ignoring.
When she saw him she gave him a polite smile before turning her attention back to the dinner preparations. She was either stubborn or conscientious. He guessed she was the latter, with a dash of defiance.
“I said I would take care of dinner,” he reminded her.
“Lori told me you would be stubborn about accepting help,” she said calmly.
“I’m not stubborn. I simply prefer to do it myself.”
She turned to face him. “If you don’t want me here, just say so and I will respect your wishes, but don’t pretend that you like cooking dinner when Lori has already told me that she does it for you nearly every evening.”
He wondered what else his sister-in-law had told her about him.
She didn’t say another word, but began to sing as she moved about the kitchen. She opened a can of sliced peaches, which she poured in a bowl and set on the table that was now covered with a pale yellow linen cloth he didn’t even know he owned. Next she cut bread and stacked it on a plate, setting it beside a jar of jam she’d already pulled out of the refrigerator. For someone who’d only seen his home for the first time a few days ago, she moved with surprising ease about his kitchen, efficiently putting the meal together.
“I can’t very well take you home when you have all this food already on the table,” he told her.
“You don’t have to take me home. I’ll take the bus,” she told him, not bothering to look up at him as she continued to go about her work.
“You take the bus to Lori’s every day?”
“Yes.”
He frowned. He didn’t even know where the bus stop was in his neighborhood and he certainly didn’t like the idea of her standing outside in the cold and the dark waiting for a bus to come along. “My car’s more comfortable than a bus.”
“The bus is not a discomfort.”
“It won’t be tonight because I’m giving you a ride.”
She glanced at him when she said, “That’s not a good idea.”
He shoved his hands to his hips and asked, “Why not?”
As she lined up the forks and knives next to the plates she said, “Because your food will be cold when you return.”
“You said it’s stew. Why can’t I just leave it in the oven until I get back?”
“It’s not good to leave the stove unattended.”
He frowned. “Then I’ll turn the oven off, put the stew in the refrigerator and zap it when I get back.” When she stared at him in confusion he added, “In the microwave.”
She gave him another blank look before turning her attention to setting the table. Megan came bouncing into the kitchen dragging her fur-trimmed parka behind her. When she saw what was on the table she said, “Yum. I haven’t had peaches in a long time.” She let her jacket slide to the floor and climbed up onto the chair. “Is this the bread we made yesterday?” she asked Faith, helping herself to a slice.
“Megan, mind your manners. We’re not sitting down to eat just yet,” Adam reprimanded her.
She shot him a wounded look, then snatched her hand back and slumped down in the chair. “I’m hungry,” she said in a very small voice.
“It won’t be much longer now,” Faith said over her shoulder.
Whether or not Adam liked it, dinner was being served. It annoyed him. Tonight he didn’t want anyone waiting on him, much less Faith, who managed to get everything on the table in a very short time and look charming as she did it.
“There,” she announced with satisfaction as she set the earthenware pot on a trivet in the center of the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?” With the oven mitts on her hands and the dish towel around her waist, she looked the picture of domesticity. And so very unlike any of the women he’d dated.
As he stood gazing at her he realized that what he wanted was for her to stay and have dinner with them. “You can get another plate and join us.”
Megan gasped in delight. “Are you really going to eat with us?” she asked, her eyes widening at the possibility.
“I’d like to but the Carsons are expecting me,” she answered.
“Can’t you call them and tell them you’re eating here with us? You can sit by me. Please say you will?” Megan turned her baby-blue eyes on Faith with an appeal most adults would find hard to resist.
Faith was no exception. After only a moment’s hesitation, she gave Megan an indulgent grin and said, “All right. I’d like that.” The glance she shot in Adam’s direction, however, didn’t have even a hint of a smile. It was a look that made sure he understood that she was only staying because of Megan.
As she sat down, Megan jumped up to turn on the television.
“What are you doing?” Faith asked.
“We always watch the news during dinner,” she answered.
Faith shot Adam an inquisitive look. “How can you have any conversation?”
He didn’t want to tell her that there wasn’t much talk between him and Megan even without a television running. “Leave it off, Megan. We don’t need to watch the news.”
When he would have reached for a slice of bread, Megan said, “Wait!” She looked at Faith and asked, “Are we going to do patties down?”
This time he was the one shooting Faith the inquisitive look. “What is patties down?”
“You put your hands down and bow your head and say a silent prayer of thanks,” Megan told him.
He pulled his hand back from the bread tray and said, “Sure. We can pray.”
As he watched his daughter at the dinner table he realized that in a very short time Faith had already been an influence on her. With him Megan was usually subdued and polite, but with Faith she blossomed into a talkative, playful little girl. Adam didn’t understand why. Faith led a simplistic life and had a quiet disposition.
Yet there was no denying that she’d had a positive influence on Megan. Lori said it was because she possessed a gentle soul. Connecting with people came naturally to her. Adam knew that was true. He’d seen examples of her compassionate nature in Megan. Last night when his daughter had overheard him refer to one of the neighbors as an idiot, she’d said, “You should always speak kindly of others.”
Faith was kind. Lori hadn’t been wrong about that. As he watched her help Megan butter a slice of bread he noticed how with a tender touch or a brief word she had an unobtrusive way of lending support. He wished he knew more about her past. What was it that she had left behind? Or whom? He glanced at her left hand and saw no ring on her finger. He knew that didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t have a husband waiting for her somewhere, although he didn’t understand why any man involved with her wouldn’t have filed a missing-person report when she’d disappeared. Her description had matched none of those on file with local police, yet he knew it would be unusual if there wasn�
�t a guy waiting for her somewhere.
She was the kind of woman a man settled down with—the kind he avoided and shouldn’t be thinking of in that way right now. It was purely sexual. It had to be because she was nothing at all like the women he dated.
As if she sensed what thoughts were running through his head she looked at him. He didn’t need to smile, or cock his head, or give her that look a guy gives a woman he’s interested in getting to know. She saw it in his eyes and he saw it in hers. There was no point in pretending that they weren’t attracted to each other because they were.
She quickly lowered her eyes and turned her attention back to Megan, a blush turning her creamy white cheeks a delicate pink. Normally he found shyness in a woman annoying, but in her it was charming. She appeared to be as innocent as Megan, yet he knew she couldn’t have reached adulthood without there having been a man in her life.
He was sorry to see dinner come to an end. When he offered to help with the cleanup, she turned him away. Megan, however, she allowed to stay. While he waited for them to finish, he went into his study and worked. From his desk he could see the two of them at the sink standing side by side doing the dishes. He liked the picture they made.
He thought she would refuse to accept a ride home but she once more surprised him by accepting his offer. She sat in the back seat with Megan, making him feel like a chauffeur as he drove his Lexus SUV through the city streets. He found himself glancing in the rearview mirror to catch glimpses of her.
How he ever could have mistaken her for Christie amazed him. With the exception of superficial similarities, she was nothing at all like the stripper. She intrigued him in a way the other woman hadn’t. Maybe it was because she was a mystery to be solved.
By the time they reached the Carsons’ Megan had fallen asleep and snow was falling. Adam climbed out of the car saying, “I’ll walk you to the door.”
She didn’t wait for him to come around, but shoved the door open and jumped out, making a dash for the house. She hadn’t gone but a couple of steps when she went sprawling to the ground.
He hurried to her side. “Why didn’t you wait?” he asked as he bent down to help her.
She didn’t respond, but grimaced as she tried to get to her feet. “Ouch!”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m just wet,” she said, spreading hands that were covered with snowy slush.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to dab at them. “You should have been wearing your gloves.” He expected her to snatch her hands away or make some quiet remark, but she did neither. She sat perfectly still, staring off into space.
“Faith?” He called her name. Startled, she looked at him. “Are you all right?” he asked for a second time.
“Yes, I…” She trailed off, her face pale.
As she appeared unable to get up on her own, he put his hands beneath her arms and hoisted her to her feet. She didn’t object.
Still looking dazed, she stared at him. “I had a memory flash.”
“What did you see?”
“It was bitterly cold and I was hanging laundry out on a line. I could barely get the sheets pegged to the line before they became frozen stiff. My knuckles were red.” She wrapped one of her hands around the other, trying to warm them.
He covered her hands with his and brought them close to his face so he could blow warm air on them. Staring into eyes filled with confusion, he asked, “What else do you remember?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.” Frustration replaced the confusion. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if by doing so she could will her mind to remember more, but after a few moments she opened them again and slowly shook her head. “That’s it. One brief picture.” Her shoulders sagged and a solitary tear escaped down her cheek. “When will the darkness go away?”
It was such a sad lament that all he could think about was comforting her. Still holding on to her hands, he lifted them to his lips and planted a kiss on them. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes. Don’t cry. Everything will be all right.”
As if suddenly aware of their closeness, she cast her eyes downward and snatched her hands away from him, wiping at the tear with the back of her hand. “I’ve got to go.” She walked away without looking back at him.
He didn’t try to stop her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MARCH IN MINNESOTA CAME in like a lamb, leaving the bitterly cold windchill factors of winter behind. The mild temperatures and sunny skies were perfect for adults and kids alike who welcomed the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors, except for Megan who could only kneel on the sofa, her arms draped over the back and watch with envy as other children in the neighborhood frolicked in the snow.
“Am I ever going to be able to go outside and play?” she asked Faith with a sigh of exasperation.
“As soon as it’s okay with your father,” she answered, her hands pushing a needle and thread into a pair of Megan’s pants that had come apart at the seam. Although Megan had been allowed to return to school, she still had limits on her physical activities, much to her dismay.
Megan let the curtain fall back into place and slumped against the sofa. “The snow will be all gone by then.”
“I doubt that.”
She sighed. “Can’t I just go out for a little while? I won’t go sledding.” She cast an appealing glance in Faith’s direction.
“If I let you do that, your dad would be very angry with me.”
“We don’t have to tell him.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” Faith corrected her. “How about if we work on your numbers instead?”
Megan groaned. “But I want to do something fun.”
“Numbers can be fun.”
“No, they’re work. You always say work is fun.”
“Because it is.”
Megan folded her arms across her chest. “I hope I never grow up because I don’t want to work all the time.”
Faith set aside her mending. “Grown-ups don’t work all the time.”
“Adam does.”
It was hard for Faith to argue with that statement when the only reason she was with Megan on a Saturday was because her father was working. A boat show at the convention center had all of the Novak family members in attendance, including Lori.
“I wish I could go home.”
“Megan, you are home,” Faith said gently.
“I mean to my house in Silver Bay. Uncle Tom doesn’t work all the time.”
“I thought you told me he goes away for months at a time on a ship.”
“In the summer he does but in the winter he plays with me. We have snowball fights, and one time he made me a fort that was this tall.” She stood and lifted her hand high above her head.
“You miss him, don’t you?”
“Mmm-hmm. He’s going to come see me when he gets his car fixed. I hope he comes when the snow is still here so you can see how he makes a fort. Adam said he can sleep in the blue bedroom.”
“Megan, why do you call your father Adam instead of Daddy?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
She kept her eyes downcast. “Because that’s his name.”
“Most children call their fathers Dad or Daddy.”
“I know.”
“Then why don’t you?”
Megan came over and sat down beside her, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “If I tell you something, will you promise not tell anybody?”
“If you want me to keep it a secret I will.” When Megan didn’t speak, Faith reached for her hand. “Do you need me to keep a secret?”
The little girl nodded, then with a very serious face she whispered, “He’s not really my daddy.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard Uncle Tom’s girlfriend, Mandy, talking about it. She said she didn’t believe Adam is my real daddy. I don’t believe he is, either, because Mommy told me my real daddy is in heaven and people can’t come back from heaven. Just ask Adam.”
Faith frowned. She thought back to when Adam had explained DNA testing to her. He’d told her the results would confirm or deny that she was Megan’s biological mother. Not once had he mentioned whether or not he was her biological father. Faith had simply assumed he was, and no one had ever given her any reason to believe he wasn’t—at least not until now.
With a couple of innocent statements, Megan had raised all sorts of questions in Faith’s mind. Like why hadn’t Adam seen Christie in over six years? Had they ever been married, or had Faith simply assumed they had been because he’d told her from the start that he was Megan’s father? What exactly had been his relationship with Christie? Was it possible that he wasn’t Megan’s biological father? If he wasn’t, why would Christie name him Megan’s guardian? They were questions she didn’t want to ask a child, yet she had a feeling that the answers were the key to Megan’s relationship with her father.
“Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand what your uncle said?” Faith asked.
Megan shook her head. “Uncle Tom wanted to be my guardian but the judge wouldn’t let him. Mandy said it was because Uncle Tom doesn’t have a lot of money. That’s why the judge made Adam my daddy.”
Suddenly Faith felt as if she’d ignored a No Trespassing sign and was now in the middle of some very private property. She’d entered the zone of family matters and had no business being there, yet something compelled her to stay.
“But I’ve heard your aunt Lori say you look like a Novak,” Faith commented.
“She just says that because she has to pretend, too. Do you want to see a picture of my uncle Tom?” Megan asked, changing the subject. She didn’t wait for an answer but went scrambling up the stairs calling out, “I’ll go get it!”
While she was gone Faith thought about what Megan had told her. She knew there were two sides to every story and she’d only heard one side that might not even be accurate. She wished that she felt more at ease around Adam so that she could talk to him about Megan’s misconceptions—if indeed that’s what they were. More than anything she wanted to ease the pain the child still felt from the loss of her mother.