Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance)

by Bradford, Laura

  She pulled alongside the curb behind the last of four Winoka police cruisers and cut the engine, her heart thudding in her chest. All the way there she’d second-guessed her decision to come, her worry over getting Mark’s hopes up unnecessarily almost making her turn around. But every time she slowed the car to do just that, Seth’s voice had gotten louder in her head.

  If she was wrong, she was wrong. But if she was right, and she did nothing…

  Dropping her keys into her purse, she stepped from the car and crossed the street to Mark’s house, a huddle of police officers quickly disbanding as she approached. “Can I help you, miss?” one asked her, not unkindly.

  “I’m a friend of Mark’s. I’d like to see him if it’s okay.”

  The officer hesitated a split second before waving her through. “Yeah, okay. But he’s in bad shape right now. Might be helpful if you can get the poor guy to eat something. He’s gonna need his strength if this drags on.”

  She nodded and continued up the driveway, her feet guiding her to a door she’d vowed she would never step foot in again. But this was different. Her being here had nothing to do with her and nothing to do with Mark.

  This visit was about Seth and only Seth.

  When she reached the front porch she knocked, only to be instructed to enter by the same police officer who’d given her permission to pass.

  Was she crazy for being here? For pretending she actually knew Seth in a way that made her privy to his thoughts?

  Maybe.

  But it was worth the shot. Seth was worth the shot, she reminded herself.

  This time, when she entered Mark’s home, she didn’t linger in the hallway looking at pictures. She knew they were there, knew Seth’s eyes were on her as she nodded toward the officer standing there and turned her focus to the living room and the man with the chocolate-brown hair who sat slumped in a chair, staring at the carpet beneath his feet.

  She hesitated, for a moment, his private pain slowly thawing the anger she held for him. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through—the raw fear he must feel, wondering if he’d ever seen his precious little boy again.

  But before she could muster the courage to speak, before she could settle on just the right sentiment to offer, a board creaked under her feet. At the sound, Mark’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. “Emily?” he choked out. “What are you doing here?”

  Pushing aside all residual anger for the man, she crossed the room and stood awkwardly beside his chair. “I heard about Seth.”

  Mark’s head pitched forward once again, his shoulders caving inward. “He was in his bed when I went to sleep last night. I kissed his head and tucked him in bed with Geronimo. And then…this morning…he was gone. They both were.”

  Gathering her courage along with her breath, Emily put words to the scenario that had played itself out in her thoughts again and again throughout the drive. “Did you check his tree house?”

  Mark’s head moved from side to side. “Seth doesn’t have a tree house.”

  “Yes, he does,” she said. “He told me all about it at the beach the other day.”

  In a flash Mark’s eyes were on hers, penetrating, questioning. “What are you talking about? What tree house? Seth doesn’t have a tree house.”

  Slowly she lowered herself onto the couch across from Mark and reached for his hand, the feel of his skin against hers and the subsequent thumping in her heart something she’d have to chastise herself for later, when she was alone. “The other day, at the beach, before you came over…Seth and I talked about the castle he was making and which room he’d live in if it was real.”

  Mark’s eyes closed and he gave a tired shrug. “Seth is big on fairy tales. Has been ever since he was old enough to sit on Sally’s lap at bedtime and follow along with the pictures in a book while she read the story aloud. Something about her voice when she read the princess stories left an impression on him. By the time he was two, those had become his favorite, and that hasn’t changed.”

  Emily shook his hand ever so gently until his focus was on her once again. “Please, Mark. I need to tell you this. After he showed me his room in the castle, I told him that I used to dream about living in a castle when I was little, too.”

  “Emily, I don’t see why any of this matters. My son is missing! Don’t you get that?” Pulling his hand from hers, he raked it through his hair. “He could be wandering around lost, or be with someone who intends to do him harm.”

  She continued on, undaunted. “I told him that just because my dream didn’t come true, there was no reason to think his couldn’t…because dreams are good and special, and no one can ever take them away from us unless we give up on them ourselves.”

  Sensing Mark’s growing frustration, she plowed on, desperate for him to see the tree house tidbit the way she did—as a viable place for finding Seth. “That’s when he told me about his tree house. He said he found it in the woods.”

  Mark straightened in his chair. “Woods? What woods?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. I think he called it Gem’s Woods or something like that,” she recalled, unsure of whether she was saying the right name. “I suppose it could be a place in his imagination, but he talked about it like it was real. Like it’s a place he’s gone before.”

  “Say the name of the woods again,” he prompted.

  “Gem…Gum…Gam… Something close to—”

  He drew back. “Did you say Gam?”

  “That’s the closest I can remember. I’m sorry....”

  “No. No. Don’t be. That’s what he calls my mom. It’s a carryover from when he had a hard time saying his rs when he was first learning how to talk.”

  “Are there woods behind your mother’s house?” Emily asked.

  “There are, but her house is easily a mile away from here. He couldn’t walk that by himself. He’s only four.”

  She nodded, even as she relayed the rest of the conversation she’d had with Seth. “He told me he liked to climb the ladder and sit there. He said he liked to go there and dream with his eyes open.”

  “Dream with his eyes open?” Mark repeated in confusion.

  “He said that he likes to dream that way best because then they’re not as scary as the ones he has at night in his bed.”

  This time, Mark brought both hands to his face and peered at Emily across the tips of his fingers, clearly trying to absorb everything she was saying. After a few seconds, he jumped to his feet so forcefully his chair tipped over backward. “Oh my God, do you think that’s where he went?”

  She rose in turn, finding the hope on Mark’s face both encouraging and frightening at the same time. “I don’t know. I really don’t. But if there’s even a tiny chance that’s where he went, it’s worth trying to find it, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely!” he shouted as he ran toward the door, with Emily at his heels. “Anything is worth a shot at this point!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The police car had barely come to a stop in his mother’s driveway before Mark was out of the front seat and opening the back door for Emily. “Come on, let’s go! Hurry!”

  Together, they took off in a sprint around the neatly kept house where Mark’s mother lived, and headed into the woods, their path slowed from time to time by a downed tree and the occasional large rock that posed a tripping hazard to anyone not paying attention. With unspoken agreement, they split off in opposite directions when the trail they were following did the
same, one branch leading toward a rushing creek, the other farther into the woods.

  Emily turned left and darted around an old rusty fence that marked some long-ago property line at the base of a steep hill. Without breaking stride, she ran to the very top, her gaze flitting from side to side for any indication of the tree house Seth had spoken about that day at the beach.

  He hadn’t given her anything to go on, no concrete description of the path he took to get there that could now serve as a map. What she did know was that the tree house had a long ladder, which meant the structure was elevated a fair distance. From the perspective of a four-year-old, anyway.

  Running through the woods was something she was good at. Emily could weave her way around trees and toppled limbs like a football player tasked with the job of getting the ball down the field and into the end zone. But that was when she was looking straight ahead, not up, as was currently the case.

  Everything she knew about missing children pointed to the importance of time. The longer a family went without finding their child, the less likely they ever would. So the urgency to locate Seth’s tree house and rule it out as a possibility was critical. With that in mind, she lowered her head and began searching for the ladder rather than the tree house itself, enabling her to run faster.

  And that’s when she saw it—a rotting, weathered affair that looked as if it could barely support the weight of a curious squirrel, let alone a human. But Seth was light and compact.

  Without altering her stride, Emily stuck her fingers in her mouth and gave a long, low whistle to alert Mark to her find. The ladder she’d spied grew closer and closer, until she could just make out the bottom of an old tree house that had clearly seen better days. When she reached the actual tree, she said a silent prayer, hoping against hope that her gut was right—that Seth was inside, dreaming, safe and sound and completely oblivious to the massive search now under way in his honor.

  With barely a pause to collect her breath, she began climbing, the second board of the makeshift ladder giving way beneath her feet and prompting her to grab hold of the fifth board and pull herself upward. Two more big pulls and she was emerging through the floorboards into a dank and dusty place that smelled vaguely of strawberry Pop-Tart. Squinting into the darkness, she choked back a sob of relief at the sight of the little boy and his stuffed giraffe sleeping peacefully beneath a blue-and-white baby blanket, a framed photograph of Mark’s late wife peeking out from under the soft fleece.

  Slowly but surely, a parade of tears made its way down Emily’s cheeks. “Seth? Seth, wake up, sweetie. It’s me, Emily. From the beach and the pizza parlor the other night.”

  “Emily?” the little boy repeated in a voice heavy with sleep. Slowly, he sat up, furiously rubbing his eyes, then peered at her between the ears of his giraffe. “Emily? Is that really you?”

  She heard the crunch of leaves on the ground below as Mark reached the tree, prompting her to move away from the hole in the floor to afford him access to his son. “Yes, Seth, it’s really me.”

  “But how did you come back?” he asked, his eyes round with confusion.

  “Come back?” she echoed. “Come back from where?”

  “From God’s house!”

  She moved aside as Mark pulled himself into the tree house and lunged across the floor, drawing his son into the fiercest bear hug she’d ever seen. “Seth…Seth…Seth! You scared me half to death! What were you thinking by leaving the house like that in the middle of the night?”

  The little boy pointed over his father’s shoulder. “Daddy, look! It’s Emily! She came back from dying!”

  She looked from Seth to Mark and back again, the child’s bizarre statement throwing her for a loop. “Dying? Seth, I didn’t die. I’m right here, perfectly fine as always. See?”

  Wiggling out of his dad’s arms, Seth turned a questioning eye on Mark. “Daddy, you told me we wouldn’t be seeing Emily anymore, remember? You told me that last night, when you were kissing me and Geronimo good-night.”

  Mark’s mouth gaped. “Is that why you ran away, little man? Because you thought I meant that Emily had died?”

  Seth nodded solemnly. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. So I came here…to say goodbye in my wake-time dreams. Just like I did when Mommy died.”

  “Oh, little man, come here.” As he gathered his son in his arms once again, Mark’s shoulders began to shake, an indication of the tears Emily suspected were streaming down his face and onto Seth’s head.

  Mark was right.

  Seth cared about her way too much. Especially for someone so young, who had been through so much already. He’d grieved enough for one lifetime.

  Swallowing painfully, she made her way back across the floorboards to the ladder. She’d done what she’d set out to do. She’d found Seth and reunited him with his dad. It was time to go home.

  * * *

  SECONDS TURNED TO MINUTES and minutes to half an hour as Mark sat there in the tree house, holding his son close, grateful for the chance he’d been so sure he’d lost.

  When he was convinced the moment was real rather than a cruel dream from which he’d soon waken, he brushed a hand across his eyes and released Seth for a long-overdue once-over. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I woke up this morning and you weren’t in your bed? Or how scared I was that someone had gotten into the house and taken you? Or that I’d never get to hold you in my arms again?”

  Seth’s cheeks turned crimson and he cast his eyes downward. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I was afraid you were all alone and waiting for me to find you.” He heard the words as they left his mouth, the fear, relief and anger in his tone shaking him to the core once again. Now that Seth was safe, Mark realized just how terrified he’d been while he’d sat waiting for some word. It was a feeling he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

  Seth raised his stuffed giraffe in the air and waved it around for Mark to see. “I wasn’t alone, Daddy. Geronimo was here to keep me safe. Mommy, too.”

  “M-Mommy?” he sputtered.

  “I talk to Mommy here. And she listens to me.”

  Mark sucked in a breath as he searched for the right words. Clearly, it was time to bring in a professional—someone who was trained to help his son through his grief. Raking his hands through his hair, Mark asked, “What do you say to Mommy when you’re here?”

  Seth rocked back on his knees, and smiled. “The first time, when I just found my tree house, I got to tell her goodbye. And then I made sure to tell her that I love her very, very, very, very, very much. Because she needed to know that, Daddy. She really did.”

  “Mommy knew how much you loved her, little man. It’s why she smiled like she did all the time.” Shifting slightly, Mark reached for Seth once again, this time pulling him onto his lap. “There wasn’t a day that went by when Mommy didn’t know how much you loved her and how very special she was to you. And you know what? That was the greatest gift you could have ever given her.”

  “But I wanted to tell her goodbye before she went with God. Just like you got to, Daddy. Only you and Gam didn’t let me. You said I was too little. But little people can say goodbye just as good as big people. Geronimo thinks so, too.”

  Mark considered his son’s words and compared them with the decision he’d made as Sally’s death neared by hours rather than days. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye to her, Seth. I really am. It’s just that…well, all I can say is t
hat sometimes big people have to make a decision they think is right. And I thought it was more important for you to remember Mommy the way she was the day before she died—when you were able to cuddle up next to her, looking through the pages of your favorite storybook together.” He heard his voice give way under the weight of the memory, and he worked to compose himself so he could say what needed to be said. “I didn’t want your last memory of Mommy to be one where she could no longer say anything to you. Because that’s what it was like for me, and it was really sad.”

  Seth nestled against Mark’s chest, his hand wrapped tightly around Geronimo. “It’s okay now, Daddy. I said goodbye to Mommy in my wake-time dreams. And she heard me, because she made a rainbow right out there—” he lifted his giraffe and pointed it toward the square opening that served as the tree house’s lone window “—as soon as I told her. It was big and had lots and lots of pretty colors. Even purple!”

  Mark wanted to ask about the rainbow, but opted to leave the topic alone. If Seth needed to see a rainbow to make peace with his mom’s death, then he needed to see a rainbow. Telling him that such a sighting in thick woods was nearly impossible served no real purpose.

  Sometimes being right didn’t matter. And this was one of those times.

  Instead, he lifted his hand to Seth’s head and smoothed back the crop of blond hair that was so like Sally’s. “How did you find this tree house? Because I know you couldn’t have gotten Gam out here all by yourself.”

  “I found it the day Mommy died.”

  “I get that,” he said. “But how did you find it?”

  Seth shrugged. “I found it all by myself.”

  He swallowed. “Gam let you go out in the woods by yourself?”

  “No. Gam didn’t know. She was crying in her room. But I knew why. I knew God had given Mommy her wings so she could fly like the rest of his angels. ’Cept she’s extra special because she’s a princess angel.”