Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments)

by Warren, Pat

  Alex shook his head. “Cynthia wanted kids.” He left it at that as his eyes got stuck on the indentation in her chin. He remembered how he’d kissed it that day in the shower, how he’d kissed her. And he badly wanted to do it again. Seated close, her scent wrapped around him, adding to the ache.

  “Apparently, then, you didn’t. Is that why the marriage broke up?”

  “Partly. I was twenty-two, too immature for marriage, much less fatherhood.” And too busy having fun to want to settle down. “Children are a big responsibility.”

  “You can say that again. Once you have one, your whole life changes forever. In a good way, that is.” She watched the leafy shadows of the big tree limbs drift across his face. He was such a dichotomy—strong yet tender, bossy yet softhearted. “From watching you with Ryan, I’d say you’d have made a terrific father.”

  Alex plucked a blade of grass and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think so, certainly not then. When Cynthia became adamant about having a baby, I asked for a divorce. I didn’t want to wind up resenting her and any children we might have for my missing out on the things in life I wanted to do that I couldn’t have done tied down to a family. She’d changed from a fun companion to wanting a house, picking out china patterns, decorating a nursery. And never wanting to go anywhere anymore. It’s a big world out there. I couldn’t imagine staying in only a small corner of it all my life.”

  “And I can’t imagine wanting to keep searching for greener grass all my life.”

  He sent her a sharp look. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  Megan shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you?”

  “No.” He wasn’t used to explaining himself, his motives, his philosophy. But he wanted her to understand. “I just want to see all I can, to experience all life has to offer, to do everything I can before...before the Grim Reaper calls my name.”

  Megan frowned. “Do you have some reason to suspect you might die young?”

  “No. I’ve felt like this ever since my mother died at age thirty-two, which is the age I am now. All she’d known her whole life was working alongside my father. My younger brother was a workaholic, like both our parents. He died at twenty-seven in a stupid boating accident. He’d never even traveled farther than San Francisco. The only pleasure he allowed himself was his sailboat. Ironic that he died in a fall from it.”

  “My husband was the opposite of your brother, his philosophy more like yours. He wanted to go places and do things, too. Only what I didn’t know was that he had a hereditary liver disease that usually skips a generation and is almost always fatal without a transplant. Perhaps if I’d have known sooner...well, at least I might have understood why he did some of the things he did.” She’d spent many an hour seeking an explanation for Neal’s behavior and had finally settled on that.

  This was a new twist to Alex. “You mean he knew way back when that he’d die young?”

  “I didn’t find out till afterward, but five years before his death, the doctors had warned him that if he didn’t stop drinking, he’d be inviting liver damage. He didn’t stop. Neal had trouble facing reality. He told no one and instead stepped up his destructive way of life. He drank way too much and didn’t take good care of himself. By the time he finally acknowledged that the disease had a stranglehold on him, he was a very sick man.” She sighed heavily. “The disease is genetic, but if a victim is aware of all aspects, so much can be done to slow or even halt its progress. Neal was his own worst enemy.”

  Alex immediately thought of Ryan. “You said the disease skips a generation?”

  “Yes, but I’m taking no chances. I’ve had Ryan to a specialist already and he’s being closely monitored. Once he’s old enough, we’ll have to tell him so he can be aware and take good care of himself. And, of course, his children could be affected.”

  “Maybe by the time Ryan has children, they’ll find a cure.”

  “I pray they do.” Megan rose somewhat stiffly. “I’d better see to his dinner.”

  Alex also stood. “Is it because of Neal’s self-destructive behavior that you’ve sworn off men?”

  “It’s certainly a contributing factor. I’m just better off alone with my son. Relationships lead to complications. I need to lead a simple life.”

  “Don’t you miss having a man in your life? Not just in the bedroom, but in other ways?” He honestly wanted to know.

  In the bedroom? Hardly. But she could scarcely explain her true feelings to Alex. “I’ll manage. Celibacy’s not so difficult once you get the hang of it.” She tried a smile to lighten her words.

  “No.” Alex stepped closer, ran a finger along one silken cheek and watched her eyes darken against her will. “You’re too passionate a woman to decide to be celibate. I know. I’ve kissed you, remember?”

  If only she could forget, Megan thought, flushing to the roots of her dark hair. Carefully, she sidestepped him. “I’ve really got to go. Little League night, you know.”

  “Yeah, right.” Alex stood watching her make her way to the door. Her hand on the knob, she paused, turning back.

  “You’re coming to Ryan’s game, aren’t you?” she asked. “I think he’s counting on your being there. Unless you have other plans, of course.” Ryan had reminded her that Alex had promised at least half a dozen times already. Although she might be uncomfortable in his presence, especially after this last conversation, she didn’t want her son disappointed.

  She couldn’t drive yet with that foot, he knew. But that aside, he wanted to go. “No other plans.” He watched her smile in that hesitant way she had.

  Well, Shephard, Alex told himself as he followed Megan inside, you’ve got it bad when watching a kid’s softball game in a dusty field seated on hard bleachers alongside a sweet-smelling woman is exactly how you want to spend a warm spring evening.

  Alex turned on the powerful engine of the Porsche and headed toward Delaney’s B and B. His two morning meetings had gone about as well as he’d expected.

  The feasibility study had arrived in the overnight mail and been very favorable. He’d taken it to Williams and gone over his figures with the banker. Then he’d met with the Parsons family. As before, the two daughters were all for the purchase, pleased with Shephard Construction’s offer. But the son had balked again, saying he was certain they could get more.

  However, Alex thought as he turned onto the hillside road, again, one daughter had re-stated that they still hadn’t had even one other serious inquiry and their father’s nursing home bills were mounting. Watching the three of them, he was certain the son was stonewalling. But he had no intention of raising the bid to satisfy the man’s greed.

  Very calmly, as was his habit, Alex had told them they had seven days to come to a decision, after which he’d withdraw his offer. That, he felt, was more than generous. Then he’d walked away.

  Driving back with the sun high in the sky, he felt good. Of course, some other firm could show up and outbid him, but he doubted that. Most often, when land parcels came on the market, if they weren’t snatched up within the first few weeks, the chances of the offer increasing was minimal, all other things being equal. So the son who was holding out was likely in for a rude awakening. And Alex knew that both sisters were ready to sign on the dotted line. They’d probably give him a call even before the seven-day deadline.

  Humming along with an old Beatles tune on the radio, he turned into Delaney’s lot and almost screeched to a stop. The car parked nearest to the door was unmistakable. A long gray custom Lincoln with vanity plates reading “Shephard.” His father’s pride and joy.

  Parking the Porsche, Alex wondered what had brought Ron Shephard all this way. True, he hadn’t been checking in daily, but then he seldom did when he was away on acquisition trips. Had his father sensed something amiss in their last phone conversation? Or, and this was the most likely, was he worried about Alex’s health and needed to see for himself how his son was doing?

  Inside the foyer, Alex n
oticed that no one was around. About to walk through the dining room into the kitchen where he could usually find either Grace or Megan around noon, he stopped when he heard voices coming from the lounge. His father’s deep tones and Megan’s soft answer. Squaring his shoulders, he strolled in.

  Ron Shephard was seated in a cane-back chair next to a round table, where a bright red tray held a pitcher of iced tea, glasses, sugar and lemon. Standing near him, braced on a cane, was Megan, wearing white slacks and a blue top the same shade as her eyes. The same eyes that registered a wariness as they met his.

  “There he is,” Megan said, her smile a little self-conscious.

  Ron rose, his smile reserved. “Hello, son. Surprised you, I see. I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop in and see how things are going with the Parsons property.”

  In the neighborhood, my Aunt Tillie, Alex thought. Shephard Construction had no other business up this way. Twin Oaks was a good two-hour drive from San Diego, not even in the same county. He put on what he hoped passed for a welcoming smile. “Dad, good to see you.” Stepping closer, he shook hands with his father.

  “Can I pour you a glass of tea, Alex?” Megan asked, amazed at the resemblance between the two men. Although the father’s hair was more sandy than blond, his tanned face, the broad shoulders and impressive height were like mirror images of Alex with twenty-five years or so added. “Or would you two like lunch? Grace could put together a chicken salad in no time.”

  “No, thank you, my dear,” Ron said, smiling down at her. “I won’t be staying long.”

  She raised questioning brows at Alex.

  “I’ll pour my tea, thanks.” He glanced down at her foot and saw she was wearing sandals without the air cast. “How’s the foot?” To his father, he said, “Megan sprained her ankle badly a few days ago.”

  “Much better. I’ll leave you two to visit.”

  “Why don’t you join us for a few minutes?” Alex suggested. At best he’d be postponing his father’s inevitable questions, but he decided he wanted Ron’s impression of Megan for reasons he couldn’t explain even to himself.

  “Oh, thanks, but I’ve got things to do.” She smiled at Ron. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Shephard.” She let her eyes drift over Alex’s face for the briefest of moments before leaving, hardly relying on the cane at all.

  Alex sat down on the couch across from his father and fixed his tea. “So why are you really here, Dad?”

  Reseating himself, Ron Shephard had known his son would see through his excuse. He didn’t much care. Alex had been gone too long with only vague phone calls. He’d decided to see for himself just what was keeping him in this small town. After watching the eye contact between his son and the young woman who’d just left, Ron thought he’d found the reason. But first things first.

  “How are you feeling, son? No adverse reactions?”

  “None whatsoever. Is my health the reason you’re here?”

  “The better question is, why are you here for several weeks on a land purchase that could easily have been tied up in two days tops, then finalized by phone and mail?”

  Alex tasted his tea, then set down the glass and sat back.

  “Things are moving rather slowly. People in this small town don’t hurry. I just came from a meeting with the bank. The feasibility study you sent me was very favorable, as you know. The financing’s all set. But my second meeting with the Parsons family didn’t result in signed paperwork. Yet. The two sisters are ready to roll, but the son’s holding out. I’ve given them a week to accept our offer or I’ll withdraw it.”

  Ron’s lips twitched. “So, you have been working.”

  Alex tried to look surprised. “What else did you think I was doing up here?”

  Pointedly, Ron sent a look in the direction Megan Delaney had just disappeared. “She’s very lovely.”

  Alex shifted in his seat, cleared his throat. There was no point in denying the obvious. “Yes, she is.”

  His hands relaxed on the arms of the chair, Ron studied his son. Alex looked healthy enough, his tan even deeper, so he had to be spending some time outdoors. But there was something about him that was different. He didn’t meet his father’s eyes for very long, as if distracted or nervous. Or deliberately evasive.

  “I talked with Mitch. Finally got him to open up. You hired a private investigator, I understand.”

  Alex sighed. He’d specifically instructed Mitch to say nothing to his father. But Alex knew only too well how persuasive Ron could be.

  His father guessed what he was thinking. “Don’t blame Mitch. I forced his hand.” Again, Ron glanced toward the arch leading to the foyer and lowered his voice. “What were you thinking?”

  “Listen, Dad, you did what you thought best in securing my transplant and didn’t seek my advice. I also had something I had to do. It’s as simple as that.”

  Ron knew his son was as stubborn as he was, a fact that made dealing with him difficult. “Did you tell her? Does she know the real reason you’re here?”

  Alex frowned. “The reason I’m here is to purchase land for our company. Anything else is...is my personal business.”

  “Alex, you have nothing to atone for, nothing to feel guilty about. Neal Delaney would have died during surgery. If the man was that ill, he probably would have died on the operating table.”

  “Probably?”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  “Not for me.” Growing angry, Alex rose, walked to the window and stood looking out. “He wouldn’t have been on the list if his chances of survival weren’t good.”

  After a long minute, Ron strolled over, wishing he had a better argument. “So what is it you hope to accomplish by coming here, by befriending his widow?”

  “I don’t honestly know. I only know I had to do something. He left her with no money. She has a son, eight years old. She works twelve hours a day running this place, then bakes for two more and sells the stuff in town. It’s not fair.”

  Ron placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Life’s not fair, son. It wasn’t fair that your mother died. Nor Patrick.”

  “I know.” Alex lowered his gaze to the row of African violets on the low sill, all six in bloom. Megan had a way with plants and flowers and food and kids. And she’d managed to enchant a certain man who’d never been so confused in his life.

  Ron wore a worried frown. “Are you attracted to this woman, Alex? And if so, is it for the right reasons? Pity is a rotten basis for a relationship.”

  Alex moved away, his anger resurfacing. “I don’t pity her. I just feel she’s had a lot of bad breaks. And the boy, too.” He decided not to mention that he felt a need to try to make up for Megan and her son’s hardships, sure his father wouldn’t understand.

  Ron decided to take another tack. “I also came to see you because I have a project I’d like you to oversee.”

  Suspicious at the abrupt change, Alex looked up. “What would that be?”

  “You might recall there’s this property in England that my grandfather left me.” Relaxing somewhat, Ron shoved his hands into his pants pockets, trying to sound casual. He didn’t especially want his son to travel so far away, but a short trip might get his mind off this guilt foolishness. “It’s been years since I’ve inspected it. I’d like you to fly over, check it out, see what we can do with it. Maybe sell as is, or make improvements and then put it up. See what the current zoning is and the market value. That sort of thing. Possibly even build on it. Who knows?”

  Alex smiled. He couldn’t help it. The man was so patently obvious. “Dad, that land’s been yours for fifty years or more. I’m sure it can wait. It’s not going to work, sending me off on some obscure junket. I’m not going anywhere until this situation is settled to my satisfaction.”

  Ron wasn’t licked yet. “What about the next America’s Cup race? Aren’t you planning to get your boat in shape for that? When you went into the hospital, you vowed you’d be healthy enough to enter the next one.”
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br />   Alex nodded, remembering. “I did say that. Things change, Dad. Priorities shift. Maybe next year.” Funny, what little appeal that race held for him right now. He clapped his father on the back as he edged him toward the exit. “Be patient with me. I’ve got to work this out my way.”

  In the foyer at the door, Ron turned to his son. “All right, but one thing you must do. You owe it to Megan Delaney to tell her the truth, to explain the real reason you’re here.” And maybe she’d have the good sense to send him away.

  “I will.” He embraced his father somewhat awkwardly, then watched him don sunglasses, walk to his Lincoln and get in. His expression thoughtful, Alex stood in the doorway as the big car with the tinted windows drove off.

  In the dining room folding napkins, Megan looked up. It had been impossible to avoid overhearing them at the door. What had Ron Shephard meant when he’d said that Alex owed it to her to tell her the truth? What was the real reason Alex was here, if not to conduct his business?

  What was Alex hiding?

  Chapter 8

  Megan stepped out into the twilight of the backyard, intent on taking down the last load of linens from the clothesline. The dryer had finally given up the ghost.

  Dinner was finished, dishes and baking done, her son safely in his bed. One more chore before she could get off her feet and put them. up. Her right foot still gave her twinges of pain.

  Walking carefully, she reached up to unfasten a top sheet, inhaling the clean fragrance of laundry dried out in the open air. The dryer was faster certainly and less work, but nothing smelled like things straight off the line. However, she’d have foregone the pleasure if only the work-worn old machine had held up a bit longer.

  Folding the sheet and placing it in the basket, she sighed. Always something. Grace had wanted her to call Eddie Jenkins, but Megan decided to face facts. She was only throwing good money after bad, constantly repairing a dryer that was destined for the discard pile. How to find the money for a new one was the problem.