He looked around for Alice, spotting her further down the beach, collecting something in her hands. Seashells, he suspected, knowing she kept an assortment of them in a jar in her room. Molly was gathering up more flat stones.
“I’m not going to throw these away,” she said. “They’re going in my collection.”
“A rock collection?”
She nodded, turning a smooth black stone over in her hand. “I’ve found some really nice ones since moving here. I’ve been looking for fossils. Alice found one. She has it at home. It’s really cool.”
Clay sat down on a nearby log. “You two have a lot of fun together?”
“Yeah. She’s my best friend,” Molly said, and after hesitating a moment, she sat on the log next to him, continuing to inspect her rocks.
Clay couldn’t help himself. Sensing she felt comfortable with him, he decided it was safe to probe for information, ever so carefully. “It’s a shame that you had to move away from your stepfather. Do you get to see him often?”
Molly answered without looking up. “I haven’t seen Richard since we moved here.”
“You must miss him.”
She looked at him sideways, answering in a forthright manner that surprised him. “No. I don’t care if I ever see him again. I don’t even like him. My mom and I are fine, just the two of us.”
Her chin lifted defiantly as she spoke, her gaze determined. She was trying to be brave, and it pierced his heart. Clay knew what it was like to be a child longing for an absent father. It was something Jordan, who grew up in a loving home with two devoted parents, could never comprehend. Molly’s words only served to stiffen his resolve that the little girl needed him in her life, and his anger at Jordan simmered. She had hurt both him and their daughter irreparably, denying them both the relationship that was rightfully theirs.
“Still, it’s got to be tough, all these changes in your life,” Clay suggested.
“Yeah, but it’s not so bad. My mom’s a lot happier now. She used to cry all the time.”
Taken aback, Clay simply nodded, deciding not to probe further. Molly may have trusted him as her friend’s uncle and her mother’s friend, but he didn’t want to push his luck.
“How come you were in Greece?” the little girl asked then.
“I was hosting a TV show on archeology.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “Is that where you dig up dinosaur bones?”
“That’s paleontology. I dig up stuff left behind by people in ancient times,” Clay explained, though he hadn’t actually done such a thing in years.
“Like mummies?” she asked breathlessly.
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“That’s really neat.” Molly said, and the look of fascination on her face elated Clay more than any other accolade he’d received over his entire career.
“What are you guys doing?” Alice’s voice rang out across the beach as she jogged toward them.
“Nothing much.” Molly stood up. “Did you get any shells?”
“Yeah, a few.” Alice held out her hand to show them several mud-caked specimens she’d found.
“We’d better get back for dinner,” Clay said. “Your mother won’t appreciate it if we let her famous lasagna get cold.”
* * *
Jordan drew back the edge of the curtain on the living room window to peer outside at the driveway. Still no sign of Molly. She should have been home by now.
Turning around, Jordan sank back onto the sofa, facing the TV. She’d been watching an old Katherine Hepburn movie while repairing the hem on one of Molly’s skirts, but she wasn’t following the plot very carefully or sewing accurately, having pulled the stitches out twice to start over.
Since yesterday Jordan had felt unsettled. She couldn’t get Clay McAdam off her mind. If someone had asked her two days ago how she’d react to seeing him again, she wouldn’t have been able to predict how it had felt when he walked into her store without warning. It was shocking, to be sure. Uncomfortable, certainly. But beneath that were so many other conflicting emotions she wouldn’t have anticipated, so muddled that she couldn’t put a name to them.
And she’d seen the look on Clay’s face when Molly walked into the bookstore. Like a deer caught in headlights, Adele had said. Could she be right? Could Clay have so quickly guessed Molly’s age and then drawn the conclusion that she might be his child? It seemed unlikely. It was hard to think of another explanation for his reaction to her, but there had to be one.
Jordan picked up Molly’s skirt and then set it down again, sighing heavily. Surely all this musing about Clay McAdam was a waste of time and energy. He had come and gone quickly, and she would probably never see him again.
What bothered her most was the inexplicable sadness that had settled over her at the thought of never seeing him again—even though she knew full well that there was no use trying to recapture a past left behind for good reason. Clay’s potent sensuality would have an effect on any woman who was feeling a little lonely. And she was a little lonely, she had to admit, despite what’s she’d told Adele about how perfectly happy she was with her new life. And she was still a little scared about striking out on her own, without Richard to help her.
Jordan lay back against the sofa cushion, abandoning all pretense of watching the movie now that Richard had popped into her head. Now that he and Clay were both in her mind, she couldn’t help comparing them. Unlike the lightning-bolt attraction she’d felt for Clay when they met, it had taken her a long time to fall in love with Richard. He was a co-worker first, then a friend, and finally a romance had blossomed. It was a comfortable relationship, carefully cultivated to meet her and Molly’s needs. Richard was a good match for them both, a family-focused man who worked predictable hours and treated Molly as his own daughter. His smile had never managed to make Jordan’s knees buckle, but she had cared for him deeply, and when they married her life had felt whole. At last they were a complete family, and Molly had a reliable father who attended every ballet recital and was always available for picnics and trips to the park.
Jordan was fairly certain they would still be married today, had the last three years of their marriage not been consumed by their failed attempts to have a baby of their own. Thousands of dollars spent on fertility treatments had led only to crushing disappointment. In the end, Jordan came to accept the fact that Molly would be her only natural child, but for Richard this reality was intolerable. Adopting a baby was not an option in his eyes. At the time, Jordan couldn’t help but blame herself for the failure of their marriage, and for failing Molly. And maybe she still did. At the same time, it was a relief to be free of the emotional hell of feeling like a failure to her husband.
As for Richard—no sooner had the divorce gone through than he was engaged to a woman he’d met online only weeks after separating from Jordan. Someone fertile, no doubt, she thought sourly.
When she heard the doorknob turn, only then did Jordan realize her lashes were wet with tears. Grateful for the distraction, she scrambled off the sofa and switched off the television.
“Glad you’re home,” she said, smiling as Molly walked in. “How was dinner?”
Jordan froze. Behind her daughter in the doorway stood Clay McAdam.
“It was really good,” Molly replied, sliding off her jacket. “Alice’s mom made an awesome lasagna, and apple pie for dessert. I’m stuffed.”
Jordan stared at Clay, releasing a quick breath. “What are you doing here?”
“He drove me home,” Molly explained, smiling up at Clay. “When he came in the store yesterday I didn’t know he was Alice’s uncle. Did you know that, Mom?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Clay cleared his throat. “Alice is Sheryl’s daughter.”
Jordan nodded, piecing things together. “Is that how you knew to find me at the bookstore?”
He nodded, his expression impassive.
“Isn’t that something. Small world,” Jordan muttered. She looked at Molly. �
�It’s time to get ready for bed, kiddo.”
“I know. See you later, Clay. Thanks for the ride.”
“See you.”
As Molly headed for her room, Jordan turned to Clay, hardly knowing what to say to him. It was so odd, standing in the doorway of her new house with a man from far in her past, imposing himself upon the present.
“Thanks for bringing her home,” she said finally.
She expected him to leave then, but he didn’t move. His steel-gray gaze met and held hers. “Can we talk?”
Jordan blinked at him, a shiver scooting down her spine. “About what?”
He nodded toward the door. “Let’s step outside.”
“All right.” Grabbing a sweater from the coat closet, she followed him out into the chilly evening air, closing the door behind them.
Clay lowered himself onto the top step of the porch, gesturing to Jordan to sit next to him. Dusk had settled in, bringing with it the rhythmic song of crickets. Settling next to him, Jordan couldn’t help but think back to evenings they’d spent together, cool evenings like this one, bundled in a blanket on the beach, counting the stars. He would name them for her, using ridiculous, vaguely Latin-sounding names he’d made up to make her laugh. How surreal it was to be under those same stars with him now, when everything else was so different.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” she asked.
He turned hardened eyes on her. “You have no idea?”
Jordan stiffened. “None at all.”
“Drop the act, Jordan,” he barked, startling her. “I’m not a fool. You took me for one eleven years ago, and I guess I must have been one, because I trusted you.”
“Clay, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Molly. Who is her father?”
Jordan drew her arms tightly around herself. “Why are you asking me that?”
“I think you owe me an answer.”
“Clay, I haven’t seen you in over a decade,” she said slowly, beginning to shiver. “We’ve both moved on with our lives. I don’t owe you anything.”
He stared at her, his jaw pulsing as his eyes glittered, harshly shadowed under the pale light from her porch lamp. “How dare you? If she was my daughter then, she’s still my daughter now. You had no right to keep her from me all this time. I can’t for the life of me understand how you could be so cruel, so unfair to me and to Molly. I thought I knew you, Jordan.”
“Please lower your voice,” she said, mindful of the neighbours’ houses close by. “I don’t know where you got the idea that Molly is yours, Clay, but she isn’t.”
“You’re denying it? Sheryl told me Molly’s age. You had to be pregnant when I came back from Peru and offered to stay with you.”
Suddenly it all clicked into place. She had Sheryl to thank for this. “You’re right, I was.” Jordan drew in a deep breath before spilling the rest of the story. “That’s why I turned you away when you came back that August. I thought knowing I was having someone else’s baby would hurt you more than just letting you go.”
Her voice wavered with emotion and her eyes welled with tears as she recalled how hard it had been to let go of this man, not once but twice.
Clay paused, his voice softening as he continued. “Who was it?”
She shook her head. “You didn’t know him.”
“I’ve seen Molly’s eyes,” he persisted. “They’re gray like mine. Yours are green.”
“So what?” she shot back. “The heredity of eye colour is not that straightforward, Clay. It’s just a coincidence. Gray eyes are unusual but not that rare. It’s a variation of blue.”
Clay shook his head. “I just can’t believe you’d jump into bed with someone else so quickly.”
“Is it easier to believe I’d hide your daughter from you all these years? And that I’d deprive Molly of her father? I know how it affected you to grow up without a father. Why would I do that to my own child?”
He didn’t answer at first, but stared straight ahead, his jaw working. Then he spoke slowly. “Maybe to avoid being tied to me for the rest of your life, because you didn’t really want to be married to me. If the reason you refused to go to Peru with me wasn’t that you didn’t want to leave Vancouver, but because it was an easy excuse to get me out of your life. Maybe you thought I wouldn’t be a good enough father. Maybe you feared I’d insist on an abortion, knowing I didn’t want children. There could be a million reasons.”
Wiping the moisture from her cheeks, Jordan turned to him furiously. “None of that is true.”
He studied her tear-streaked face for a moment, his rigid posture easing a little. “I think you’re lying to me. I think you’re afraid I’ll try to take Molly away from you. But I promise you, I won’t do that. I want the chance to get to know her. I have that right. She has the right to know me. She needs her real father. I’ve seen the pain in her eyes when she talked about hating her stepfather.”
“Clay—”
“You know I’m staying here in Victoria. I’ll be nearby to spend time with her. I’m not like I used to be, Jordan. I want to put down roots. I’m not going anywhere this time.”
Jordan saw the desperation in his eyes, and the sincerity, and she understood. He believed he had missed out on knowing his own child, and it hurt him deeply. She’d never seen so much vulnerability in his face before; self-assurance had been one of his defining characteristics. Her heart aching for him, on impulse she reached out to curl her fingers around the familiar contours of his large, warm hand.
“You’d make a wonderful father, Clay,” she said gently. “But Molly’s not your daughter.”
Clay yanked his hand away and shot to his feet, his eyes hardening again. “We can settle all this very simply with a DNA test.”
Exasperated, Jordan stood as well, facing him with her fists clenched. “This is ridiculous. Come with me, Clay.”
Grasping his sleeve, she led him inside, carefully closing the door that sealed off the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Confident that Molly wasn’t within hearing distance, Jordan led him to a cabinet in the living room and slid open one of the drawers.
In a pile of old pictures, she quickly located a snapshot showing a dark-haired young man holding a fair-haired toddler on his lap, his arms wrapped around her, their cheeks pressed together as they both beamed for the camera.
“This is Molly’s father,” Jordan whispered fiercely as she thrust the photo into Clay’s hand. “We did get married, but the marriage lasted less than two years. I think the resemblance between them is pretty obvious.”
Silently Clay studied the photo in his hand, and Jordan could see by the shift in his expression that he recognized the similarities: the curve of Scott’s smile matching Molly’s, and the identical slope of their slightly upturned noses.
“Scott was a neighbour I’d known for some time, just as a friend,” Jordan continued. “After you left for Peru, we got together a few times, and … well, I suppose it’s obvious what happened. We got married shortly after I last saw you. We would never have married if I wasn’t pregnant, but at the time we figured we could make it work, for the baby’s sake. We were just unsuited to one another.”
“Where is he now?” Clay asked quietly, his gaze still fixed on the photo. The determined set of his muscles had eased, leaving his powerful shoulders sagging in resignation.
“He died of cancer six years ago.”
Clay’s gaze snapped up, a flash of pain touching his eyes. “Poor Molly,” he muttered, and Jordan understood with a twinge of compassion that he was thinking of the father he’d lost at the age of seven.
She released a breath. “Yeah, she took it hard. Richard tried to fill the void, but I think she resented him for trying to replace her father, so soon after his death. They became close eventually, until our marriage started to crumble.”
“The things she said make a little more sense now.” Clay handed back the photo. “But by the look on your face when Molly walked into th
e bookstore, I thought for sure—”
“It wasn’t the most comfortable moment for me, knowing you might find out after all these years the real reason I turned down your proposal,” Jordan explained. “Not that it matters now, but now you know that I wasn’t honest with you. And I should’ve been.”
As she finished speaking the hallway door creaked open and Molly sauntered in, making Jordan jump. She hadn’t told Clay anything that Molly didn’t already know, but still, it wasn’t the sort of conversation the ten-year-old needed to be privy to. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious to the tension etched through the two adults’ faces, as she launched into a breathless report on Alice’s just-confirmed sleepover birthday party, to take place at her grandmother’s house on Salt Spring Island in a couple of weeks.
“She’s only invited four girls, including me. And we’re going to go horseback riding!” Molly exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “And for a whole weekend. I don’t think I can wait until June, Mom. Alice has had to wait five months, of course, since her actual birthday was in January but she wanted to wait until summer to have her party. What do you think I should get her for a present? I think I’d like to make her a necklace, if you can take me to the bead store. How about tomorrow?”
“I should go,” Clay muttered, offering Jordan and Molly a nod and a tight smile as he headed for the front door. “I’ll see you around.”
Jordan nearly reached out to stop him, but didn’t; what could she say? He had no reason to stay. A sudden dull ache tightened her throat as the door closed behind him, and with a shudder she tried to shake off the disconcerting longing for his presence that swept through her.
“Time for bed, kiddo,” she said brightly, smoothing Molly’s long hair over her shoulder. “We can discuss bead shopping in the morning.”
Chapter Three
A week later Clay stood motionless on the porch outside Jordan’s front door, letting the rain soak his hair and jacket. As he walked up the driveway he’d seen her inside, through the lace curtain, moving past the window. Several times he’d reached for the doorbell, then let his hand fall back to his side. He hadn’t yet decided what to say, so he remained where he was, barely aware of the trickle of cold rain tracing a path down his cheek.
Where the Heart Lies Page 3