Like Father, Like Son

by Karina Bliss

  But the fallout of Sue’s earlier rebuff had impacted their lives—and friendship—for years, though the bond had never broken.

  Which was precisely why he hadn’t involved her in his current troubles. She’d see right through him, then insist on giving him money that she and Rick didn’t have.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I won’t leave you out again.”

  “Well, you’d better not. Remember, you and I were family before it became official.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Resigned to a lecture, Joe leaned against a tree. The bark under his palm was cool and gnarled.

  But Sue had always been too smart to labor a point. “Did Belle tell you Mom and Dad are staying?”

  “Yeah, something to do with Adam?” Aunt Jenny had spent a lot of time with her new brother after his second stroke. Seemed like she and her husband had only recently returned to Florida.

  “Mom said he’s deteriorated even since they were last here. I guess we don’t notice it, seeing him regular—”

  “Adam’s getting better!” He heard his panic and smothered it. “So what’s this latest visit about?”

  There was a moment’s silence. Somewhere close by, an owl hooted, prompting a flurry of scampering in the undergrowth. “Mom’s brooding over the way Uncle Sam’s been treating your father like a pariah since we discovered he was related to us. She wants to make a big gesture, one that will show Uncle Adam that he’s loved and accepted by the rest of the Carson clan.”

  Joe frowned. “What kind of big gesture?”

  “Mom and Uncle Adam may have been brought up separately,” Sue continued doggedly, “but they’re still full brother and sister, and Mom treasures that connection. And technically, as the oldest Carson, Uncle Adam has rights—”

  “Oh, no!” Joe suddenly saw where this was going. “No way! That bloody necklace has caused enough tension in your family. It’s not coming into mine.”

  Sue sighed. “Mom’s already asked Uncle Adam, and he said yes.”

  “Of course he said yes.” Joe realized he was stripping the bark off the tree, and pushed himself away, to walk off his frustration. “Doesn’t your mother realize he’ll sell the thing off as soon as he’s on his feet?”

  “Uncle Adam knows it can’t be sold, only passed down.” The necklace had been in the Carson family for generations.

  “It doesn’t matter.” He sounded dictatorial, but Joe didn’t care. “It’s Sarah Carson’s legacy to her adopted daughter. Aunt Jenny has to keep it.” There wasn’t enough room to pace among the trees, so he stomped back toward the clearing.

  “It’s a love legacy,” Sue said with equal stubbornness. “Used by Grandma Sarah to show Mom how much she loved her. Mom’s given it to Uncle Adam in the same spirit. When it comes right down to it, your father’s a Carson and so are you.”

  “Yeah?” He prowled across the clearing and back again. “Well, maybe I’m as ashamed of that as good ol’ Uncle Sam is. I have zero respect for my real grandfather and very little for Nana Jo.”

  “But you adored her.”

  “I used to.” Joe’s footsteps slowed. His grandmother’s extraordinary secret had tarnished his memory of her. How could she give up a child she could have kept? And hide paternity from the one she did keep? He stopped in the middle of the clearing. “But that’s beside the point. Sam’s been driving your mother crazy trying to get her to hand over that necklace. Giving it to Adam will make him madder than a hornet.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe he should have thought about that before he played his ‘I’m still Sarah’s only child by blood’ card.”

  “The son of a bitch.” For a moment Joe was tempted to let things stand just to see his uncle’s face, but he had bigger things to worry about than Sam’s pathetic obsession. “I don’t want to give that lunatic any further reason to harass Adam. I can barely refrain from wringing Sam’s neck as it is. Your mom has to withdraw her offer.”

  “Okay, okay, no need to shout. I’m on your side, remember? I’ll sort it out with Mom and Uncle Adam. Mom’s so desperate to do the right thing that she’s talked herself into believing that Uncle Sam wouldn’t dare harass a sick man. But you’re right, we can’t take that risk.”

  The outside light of the girls’ cabin flicked on. Pip came out on the porch, dressed in a striped flannel nightshirt and thick woolen socks, and holding a flashlight. The beam swept the grounds until she spotted Joe. Then she put a finger to her lips.

  Despite his annoyance, Joe had to smile. She only needed a nightcap and a candle to look like Wee Willie Winkie out of the nursery rhyme Kaitlin used to love. Are the children all in bed? It’s past eight o’clock!

  Raising his hand in a conciliatory wave, Joe walked back into the woods. “I know you’re on my side,” he said to Sue more quietly, “but you don’t need to do my dirty work. I’ll tell both of them when I get back.”

  “Actually, I don’t think you’ll get a protest from your father,” she commented. “I got the feeling he only said yes to take the heat off Mom.”

  Joe snorted. “Yeah, he’s got such a great track record of caring about his relatives.”

  “We can’t seem to strike common ground tonight, can we?” she said lightly. “So tell me how it’s going at camp and I’ll leave you in peace.”

  He hated hurting Sue, so he made an effort. “I feel like Kaitlin’s dad again,” he confessed. At bedtime his daughter had whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here” and the fierceness of her hug had brought unexpected tears to his eyes.

  “That’s great, Joe,” she said softly.

  He hid his self-consciousness under a laugh. “Yeah, well, let’s see if she still loves me at the end of camp.”

  He filled his cousin in on the day’s events and she started to chuckle. “It’s like Rambo meets Middle School Musical.”

  “And to make it interesting,” he replied, “I’ve got a little competition going with the female teacher of one of the boys’ teams.”

  “Oh, God,” Sue said in an awed voice. “Does she have any idea what she’s got herself into?” In high school football circles he’d been nicknamed Killer.

  In the dark, Joe grinned. “Not yet.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE WAS BEATING HER. Not winning—that Pip could handle. But rubbing her nose in the dirt…

  Because whenever Fraser’s Fillies won their crazy challenges—skinning a fish, what was that about?—there was none of the “oh, it’s nothing, really” diffidence of New Zealanders. Joe and his gang of formerly sweet little girls celebrated every victory American-style with big, brash, shoot-’em-in-the-air, eat-my-shorts glee.

  “A prime number is…” In the center of the small stage, Kaitlin paused.

  Sitting cross-legged with her team at the other end of the stage, Pip held her breath. Even the bulbs illuminating the small-windowed, barracks-type hall that constituted home base seemed to flicker. Kaitlin’s thin chest swelled in triumph. “A number that can only be divided by itself and one.”

  Dang it, they’d just won again.

  Anita adjusted her glasses and looked at the answer. Pip’s best friend among the faculty, the young brunette had been dragged in as quiz adjudicator. “Fraser’s Fillies stretches their lead—” The rest of what she said was drowned out by squeals of delight and howls of despair, as the other teams and their adult leaders—mostly dads with a sprinkling of teachers—rooted for their favorite.

  Pip put her hands over her ears. Seventy-five kids made a lot of noise, especially when reenergized by a lunch break.

  Squeezed around the official program, the competition-within-an-official-competition had proved a lot of fun over the past twenty-four hours, with vociferous supporters on either side.

  Among the kids it came down to gender. The girls championed Joe’s team and the boys cheered for Pip’s.

  Among the adults it got more complicated. She frowned at Anita, who was exchanging grins with Joe. “You’re on my side, remember?” Pip mouthed. An
d you’re married, missy.

  At least Pip was popular among the dads, though some had been sucked into Joe’s testosterone-charged jet stream. And the half dozen camp professionals who managed the program were definitely on the side of authority—with the exception of the cook, who said Joe’s team left the kitchen the cleanest it had ever been.

  Kaitlin and the other girls fell into formation and did their familiar hip-swiveling victory dance. “Who’s the best? Fraser’s Fil-lies…Fraser’s Fil-lies.”

  Pip leaped to her feet. “It’s not over till it’s over!” she hollered. “Right, Pip’s Phantoms?”

  “Right!” Her boys adopted the stance of the Maori warriors she’d taught them, all fierce eyes and poking tongues. Because of course she had to respond to the dare.

  Across the stage, Joe puffed out his chest and clenched his fists to pump up his biceps. Oh, dear God, those biceps. “Want some tips on kicking butt, Ms. Browne?”

  Pip cupped her hands to her mouth. “Quick, somebody call a paramedic! Mr. Fraser’s ego needs an emergency deflation.”

  All the kids dissolved into laughter. How she and Joe Fraser had fallen into this ridiculous wrestler-style posturing, Pip had no idea.

  Joe grinned at her. They were frequent now, his smiles, which meant she was forever stripping down to her T-shirt and saying, “Gosh, haven’t we been lucky with the weather?” Though it was the last days of a sunny September in Sonoma County, the inland forest had its own microclimate. Permanently shady, always cool, with enough chill at night to warrant a campfire.

  “You wanna piece of me, Ms. Browne?” The line always had the kids rolling around the floor as though it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. Little Ms. Browne and big Mr. Fraser.

  Unfortunately, Pip’s thoughts always turned in a different direction, one completely inappropriate for a kids’ camp. Just a small piece, please. I’m on a man diet.

  She’d discounted romance during her fifteen months in the States. Why make it harder to leave? And she certainly hadn’t spent twelve of them resisting the lures of charming, easygoing Californians to fall for this hard nut, as close as she was to going home.

  Even if Joe was interested—which at times she thought he might be—now was the time to be cutting ties, not forging new ones.

  As the kids filed out of the hall, Kaitlin lingered behind. “Sorry I beat you, Miss Browne.”

  Affectionately, Pip patted the girl’s shoulder. Existing ties were hard enough to cut. “It’s only a game, sweetie.”

  The fight to the death is between me and your dad.

  Joe fell into step beside them. “Still happy for the leader to take the rap for their losing team?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, mate,” Pip advised kindly. The last two activities of the day were archery and table tennis, both events at which her boys excelled. “We’ll be kicking butt within the hour.”

  He laughed and moved on, leaving her staring at the portion of anatomy she intended kicking. Inappropriate, she reminded herself.

  Kaitlin misread her frown. “Don’t worry,” she reassured her, “we’ve already told Dad you’re not going in the mud wallow.”

  Over his shoulder, Joe flashed Pip a wicked grin. She returned a basilisk stare, but her lips twitched. Little did he know she’d talked the boys into choosing that punishment for him.

  How could she possibly be attracted to a man with such a sad lack of gallantry?

  But later, after the kids had been sent to bed and the adults were relaxing on the canteen’s deck in the moonlight with mugs of hot chocolate, her gaze drifted to Joe again. Tilted back in a chair, his long legs balanced on the porch rail, he was talking football with another dad. The darkness seemed to accentuate the husky timbre of his voice, making it deeper and sexier.

  Pip shivered. Without interrupting his conversation, Joe shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her.

  “That’s kind, but…” It was warm, scented with wood smoke from tonight’s campfire.

  “No fraternizing with the enemy?”

  Reluctantly, she handed it back. “Something like that.”

  ON THE THIRD MORNING, as he strode to the canteen for breakfast, hair damp from a recent shower, and the woods adding a resinous spice to the tantalizing aromas of bacon and eggs, Joe tried to remember the last time he’d had this much fun.

  With a rare surge of happiness, he stopped and raised his face to the sun. The deal he’d reluctantly had to initiate to get here didn’t matter. He had his daughter back.

  At the sound of voices, Joe sheepishly lowered his face. But the two adults approaching were too deep in conversation to notice him.

  “Ten bucks says he’ll do it,” Anita said.

  Joe grinned. All the grown-ups were laying surreptitious bets on the outcome of his and Pip’s little contest. “I mean, Joe’s obviously attracted,” she continued, “and he mentioned he’s not seeing any—”

  Anita caught sight of Joe at precisely the moment he realized what this particular wager was about. “Yeah,” he said sternly, “you should look guilty.” As with Pip, appearances were deceptive with Anita. Tall, thin and bespectacled, she looked like Miss Prim, but had as much mischief in her as any of her charges.

  Joe nodded hello to the dad with her. “At least Vince has the sense to bet against me asking Pip for a date.” In the real world, Vince was an insurer, erring on the side of caution. At camp, the big man was a commando, always instigating impromptu games of tag.

  Vince found something interesting to look at up in the trees. “Actually,” he confessed to a squirrel, “I said Pip would do the asking.”

  “So you think—?” Joe stopped before he made a fool of himself.

  “Yes,” said Anita. “We do think she’s interested. So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Quit trying to skew the bet your way,” Vince warned.

  Joe looked incredulously from one to the other. “Have you two forgotten we’re at school camp?”

  “Yes, but when we go home there’s nothing to stop you asking her for a date,” Anita pointed out.

  “It’s not going to happen.” Even back in San Francisco Pip would still be Kaitlin’s teacher. And given his financial constraints, the only place Joe could afford to show her a good time was in bed. He blocked transmission before his imagination got him into trouble.

  “She could still ask him,” Vince reminded Anita.

  “You two need to stop eating mushrooms you find in the woods,” Joe said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry.”

  In the canteen, he lined up for a plate of bacon, eggs and hash browns, served by two dads in aprons. Then he threaded his way among the tables to where his daughter sat with the rest of his pink-clad brigade.

  “Good morning, Fraser’s Fillies.” Dropping a kiss on the top of Kaitlin’s head, Joe took a seat opposite so he could stare at her. No wonder he was half in love with Pip. She’d helped him win back his daughter.

  Appalled, he immediately corrected himself. He was only dazzled because he’d been living in a dark cave for two years. Across the room, Joe heard Pip laugh and resisted the urge to turn around. He was nowhere ready to leave the cave yet. His soul was still too bruised by the divorce.

  “Have you thought of a task for me yet?” demanded Melissa, who was pretending to feed Sanderella from the sugar bowl. With sugar crystals clinging to her furry nylon snout, the stuffed Scottish terrier looked like a coke addict. “We’ve only got two more challenges.”

  Joe met Kaitlin’s anxious gaze. Despite constant brainstorming, neither of them could think of a single thing Melissa could win. “We’re working on it.”

  Melissa slumped back in her seat. “You mean it’s hopeless.”

  Kaitlin patted her friend’s arm. “Don’t worry, Dad will think of something.”

  But hey, no pressure. He’d gone from zero to hero in three days. Now Joe realized that meant he had so much further to fall. “Anyone want some of this bacon? I’m not
as hungry as I thought I was.”

  All five girls clamored for it. Pushing his plate into the middle, Joe sat back with his coffee, trying to think of something for Melissa.

  Talking with her mouth full? He looked around the table; nope, they all did that. “So, have you guys decided what Miss Browne’s penalty will be when her team loses?”

  “Yeah.” One by one they got the giggles.

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  Kaitlin beamed at him. “We’re going to make her go on a date with you.”

  Joe choked on his coffee. They were all looking at him with such childish excitement that he bit back his first reaction.

  Amanda’s braces glinted as she giggled again. “Kaitlin told us how you like her.”

  “Kaitlin Josephine Fraser.” He glared at his daughter. “I never said any such thing.”

  “No, but you laugh with her a lot and you’re showing off and you—”

  “Pull her pigtails?” Joe was momentarily diverted.

  “Silly!” Grace tugged at her own cropped blond mop. “You can’t braid short hair.”

  “I told you we should have left it a surprise,” Melissa admonished the others.

  He shuddered. Thank God they hadn’t. At least now he had the opportunity to fix this. “Listen very carefully.” He leaned forward and waited until they’d put their heads together. “No.”

  The girls groaned and sat back. “But she hasn’t got a boyfriend,” said Amanda. “I asked her.”

  “And you haven’t got a girlfriend,” argued Kaitlin.

  “And she’s so pretty,” breathed Melissa, “and you’re sort of handsome.”

  Britney cupped her freckled chin, her gaze dreamy. “And we could all be flower girls when you get married.”

  “Except me,” said Kaitlin. “I get to be a bridesmaid because I’m the daughter.”

  Joe understood the magnitude of his task. Little girls who saw nothing mismatched about Beauty and the Beast wouldn’t understand that a loner had no business with a woman who made family of everyone she met. Only a sledgehammer approach would work now. “Girls, I forbid you to do this. I do not want to date Ms. Browne.”