by Brenda Novak
“My cradle?”
“You were born in this house, you know. Your mother had you right here, with a midwife, and Pop made you a beautiful wooden cradle.” A hint of the sadness he’d grown to recognize as a boy filled her voice. He could barely remember his mother, but he knew Gram and Pop still mourned her death, still wondered how things could have gone so terribly wrong.
“I think Jenna will feel more optimistic about the baby if she sees that we’re with her, that we’re all prepared and excited.”
His grandmother’s mention of the baby brought the reality of Jenna’s pregnancy into sharp focus for Adam. With Jenna’s waist still trim and her stomach flat, it was almost too easy to forget about the child. He knew he wanted Jenna—and Ryan. But how would he feel about the baby when it arrived?
“Just let me put on my shoes,” he said.
“You know where the storage area is in that old barn,” she answered. “I’ve got to pay some bills. I’ll be in the office. I’ve asked Jenna to help you in case she sees something else she might like to clean up for the nursery. There’s an old rocker out there, too, I think.”
Adam put on his socks and shoes and laced up his running shoes as his grandmother trudged away. A baby. Was he ready to share the responsibility of caring for a squirming helpless bundle? He tried to picture a toddler tearing through his home in San Francisco and couldn’t.
When Adam reached the kitchen, he found Jenna waiting for him. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, she’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and looked so much like the girl he’d known in high school that he almost walked over and slung one arm around her shoulders as he would have then.
“All set?” he asked, keeping his hands to himself.
She finished the glass of water she’d been drinking and nodded. “Do you remember when we were in high school and you tried to convince me this place was haunted? You said the man and woman who built the original house died mysterious deaths, and that their bodies were discovered out in the old barn.”
“It’s true!”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “I do the advertising brochures now, remember? The couple who built the Victoriana sold it long before they died. It was too much for them to take care of, so they moved to the city and bought a condo. Nothing mysterious about it.”
He grinned. “I owe a lot to that little story. It got you into my arms every time.”
“Well, scare tactics won’t get you what they used to.”
Maybe not, but he didn’t for a second believe she was as immune to him as she pretended. If words wouldn’t reach her, touch might. Fortunately he was pretty good with body language when he wanted to be.
Just the thought of touching Jenna again fired his nerve endings. He turned abruptly and headed out the door so she wouldn’t notice her effect on him.
The chilly morning had crystallized into one of those clear warm days that could belong to spring as easily as autumn. Adam lifted his face to the sun and smiled as he breathed in the smell of damp rotting leaves and wood smoke from a neighbor’s chimney.
“Is there any particular reason for the lightness of your mood?” Jenna asked suspiciously.
“You mean, like, did I win the lottery? No.”
“Someone who drives a $60,000 Mercedes doesn’t need to win the lottery,” she grumbled. “But it would be just your luck.”
“Do I detect a pang of jealousy?” They reached the locked garage on the far corner of the property and Adam produced a key.
“No, I’m going to get a new car myself. I’ve been saving, and if my stained glass does well this spring when the tourists return, I should be able to get one next fall.” Brushing aside a cobweb, she ducked inside when he held the door.
Adam thought of Gordon Motors, where he’d bought his last vehicles and knew he could co-sign for Jenna and get her a car tomorrow, regardless of the damage Dennis had done to her credit. He didn’t say anything, though. Knowing Jenna, her pride would never allow her to accept that kind of help.
Maybe when she came to San Francisco, he’d drive her to the lot and try to tempt her.
“So where do we start?” she asked, grimacing at the dust-covered collection of stacked furniture, boxes, stuffed black garbage bags, mirrors and lampshades. A narrow path had been made through the clutter, and it meandered crookedly toward the back of what had once been a barn. Gram’s storage had grown and multiplied over the years, until odds and ends and recent additions spilled into the walkway, making it almost impossible to move very far very fast.
Adam liked the cozy fit. He could easily detect the light scent of Jenna’s perfume and the tantalizing smell of her skin. “I’m guessing the really old stuff will be at the back.”
Jenna peered toward the gloomy recesses of the building. “You don’t think there are any mice in here, do you?” she asked, picking her way toward the mystery objects along the rear wall.
The farther they moved from the old dirty window at the front, the more difficult it became to see. “Should I give you the answer you want or the truth?”
She shivered. “Just turn on a light.”
“Sure.” Adam reached around her to pull the chain that dangled from the ceiling in the center of the room, and managed to plaster himself against her backside in the process.
She gave him a warning elbow to the stomach. “Very funny.”
“Just trying to accommodate,” he told her, and began to survey the items now visible beneath the harsh light of the bare bulb overhead. Several chests of drawers, an old steamer truck, a dining-room table, a piano missing its top…The rocker Gram had mentioned was buried beneath bags of clothes and an orange feather-and-flower arrangement that had to be a relic from the sixties.
Adam grimaced at the musty odor as he dug out the rocker, then nearly choked on the dust when Jenna pulled a sheet off a likely-looking shape sitting on an old coffee table.
“Voila`! One baby cradle,” she announced proudly. Running a hand over the painted wood, she added, “Wow, it’s beautiful. Look, Adam.”
Adam leaned over Jenna to see the cradle Pop had made for him. “The old guy’s pretty good with his hands.”
“Yeah.” She glanced up at him. “I’ll be careful with it. I mean, I’m sure you’ll want to use it someday yourself—when you marry and have children.”
Adam slipped his arms around Jenna’s waist. “Doesn’t it sound more appealing to get up with the baby during the night from the warmth of my bed than trying to handle this all on your own?” he whispered in her ear.
She hesitated as though unsure, but slowly her body softened and molded to his. “It sounds even better to have you get up with the baby during the night.”
“That would take an occasional incentive,” he said.
“Like?”
“Like this.” Adam slid one hand up her shirt and the other down her pants. He’d been achingly aware of her since before they left the house and no longer cared if she knew it.
Jenna moaned as his fingers reached their targets. Her head rolled back onto his shoulder as he nuzzled her silky hair aside so he could kiss the soft skin of her neck.
“Adam, stop,” she said, but her voice was thick with the same desire that pulsed through his body, and she made no move to escape him. He could hear the panting of her breath, feel the goose bumps on her body, and thought she had far too many clothes on. Turning her in his arms, he’d just planned to remedy that situation as soon as possible when the door opened with a streak of light and Pop stood at the entrance.
Jenna scrambled a few feet down the aisle, her quick movements and the flush on her cheeks enough to give them away.
“Someone’s here to see you, Jenna,” Pop said shortly, throwing Adam a disapproving frown.
Jenna darted toward the door. “L-Laura,” she said. “She called earlier.”
Adam’s grandfather caught her by the elbow as she began to skirt past him. “It’s not Laura.”
She paused, obviously reading Pop’
s face the same way Adam did: something was wrong.
“It can’t be Dennis—” Adam started to say.
“It’s not.” Pop’s expression softened as his eyes locked with Jenna’s. “It’s your father.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JENNA’S MOUTH went drier than dirt. Her father? The same man who’d left her mother almost twenty-five years ago and never looked back, not even to spare a kind word for the child they’d created together?
Anger, raw and powerful, ignited in Jenna as she marched to the house. Damn him! How dare LeRoy Tottering surprise her now after everything that had happened? The last time she’d heard from him was when her mother and stepfather had died. She’d been staying with Laura and her family, and Laura’s parents, concerned for her, had tracked down her father’s number in Santa Rosa and encouraged Jenna to call him. It was only right he take her in and support her until she graduated from high school, they’d said.
Feeling helplessly torn between fear of rejection and hope of acceptance, Jenna had listened to them tell her that he would come through. He was blood. He was her father. She just didn’t know or understand all the reasons he’d stayed away. She’d wanted to believe them, so she’d swallowed her fear and dialed the number.
His wife had answered and coldly informed her that he’d call if he wanted to speak to her. He did phone that night, but only to let her know he wasn’t the rock she could cling to. He had another wife to keep happy and four other mouths to feed. She’d never fit in.
That was it. That was all. She’d never contacted him again.
Jenna tried to suppress the pain that memory occasioned, pain that should have dulled long ago. She wasn’t a child anymore. She was an adult with responsibilities of her own, and she didn’t need her father. She was no longer vulnerable—so why did the thought of seeing him again scare the hell out of her?
Breathing deeply, she stood outside the door, concentrating on the initial anger she’d felt when Pop had announced her visitor, instead of the confusion and sense of loss that had quickly followed. She didn’t hear Adam come up behind her, but she felt his hand close over her cold fingers.
“Come on, Jen,” he said. “Let’s meet the bastard.”
Jenna wanted to scream at him to leave her alone. She couldn’t let herself lean on him. What if he withdrew his support when she least expected it? She’d fall without a chance to catch herself, and the hurt would be much worse than if she’d stumbled on her own.
“I can do it,” she said, but strength and energy pumped from his body to hers through the contact of their hands and heartened her until she couldn’t bear to sever the connection. She’d push Adam away later, she told herself. She wouldn’t trust him, wouldn’t risk another fall. But for now, for this minute, couldn’t she simply be grateful for his support, his presence?
“There’s no reason to do it alone. I’m here now, and I’ll never again let you face a man who might hurt you without being around to break his jaw if he tries.”
She smiled, remembering how good Adam had been to her eighteen years ago. He’d wanted to beat her father to a pulp then—as a mere teenager—and had been the one to support her through the confusion and heartbreak of her parents’ deaths. Fortunately, because she hadn’t wanted to move away from Adam, anyway, her mother’s only sister took her in. Though the widowed Aunt Zelma had been eccentric in many ways, she was kind and lived close to the Victoriana. She’d died of a heart attack five years after Jenna’s marriage.
Adam had been there for her once, she thought. And he was here now. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow.
“If anybody’s going to hit him, I am,” Jenna said simply, and headed inside.
The last of Friday night’s guests lingered in the front parlor near one window, gazing at the view, but Jenna’s attention quickly focused on an uncomfortable-looking gray-haired man in a pair of polyester slacks and a golf jacket. He stood next to the door as though he’d rather bolt than stay, but he stepped toward her when she approached.
“Jenna?”
She nodded, scarcely recognizing this person who was her father. She remembered a man with thick wavy dark hair, like her own, a rather stern face and a slight build. This man, now staring at her from beneath the ledge of a prominent brow, had lost most of his hair. The color of his eyes had dulled to a pale blue, and he seemed several inches shorter than she remembered. But then, she’d been much smaller herself—only eight years old when he left, after all. “Hello.”
“You’re lovely. All grown up,” he said, shaking his head. “How old are you now? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”
Jenna felt Adam’s comforting pressure as he squeezed her hand in reassurance, but couldn’t keep the chill out of her voice. “I’m thirty-two. This is Adam Durham, an old friend of mine. Adam, this is…LeRoy Tottering,” she finished lamely, unable to say, “my father.”
Her father’s gaze moved from her face to Adam’s and then down to their clasped hands. “Can we have a few minutes alone?” he asked, looking back at Jenna.
Adam spoke before Jenna could decide how to answer. “I’m afraid anything you have to say to Jenna can be said while I’m here.”
Her father sighed and ran both hands over his bald pate as though combing through hair. “This isn’t easy, is it?”
“That depends on what you want.” Jenna motioned to the couch as the couple who had lingered at the window strolled out the front door. “Would you like to sit down?”
He shook his head and clasped his hands in front of him. “I just…” His voice broke, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see you, I guess.”
“After twenty-four years?” Jenna struggled to control her resentment. “What makes you want to see me now?”
“Caroline died. Last March.”
Jenna searched for something sympathetic to say, but the memory of his callous reaction to her own mother’s death kept her from uttering words she knew would be obviously insincere. “And?”
“The kids are all gone. You know, what with college and marriages, they’re getting pretty spread out. There’s five of them. I don’t know if you knew that. Pretty big family.”
There’d been only four the last time Jenna had known anything about her father, but it wasn’t the number of kids that reverberated in her head. It was his use of the word family. Why hadn’t LeRoy Tottering wanted her as part of his family? “How fortunate for you,” she said. “Big families are nice.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets as Adam silently moved to stand behind her, his protectiveness reassuringly familiar to Jenna. Just like the old days. It would be so easy to pick up where they’d left off—but how long would it last this time?
“So you haven’t married?” her father asked.
“I’m divorced.”
With a bitter chuckle he ran a hand behind his neck. “Then you know marriage isn’t a walk in the park.”
“Neither is taking care of children, but I’d never abandon one of mine.”
He sighed again. “I deserve that,” he said with a nod that seemed to confirm the statement. “You’ve got kids, then?”
Suddenly Jenna wanted this man to see what he had missed, what he had rejected. “Adam, would you go get Ryan, please?” she asked, and felt the loss of his presence the second he left the room.
“I have a son,” she told her father. For some reason she didn’t mention the baby. It was too much to go into now, in this brief meeting that felt more uncomfortable than Jenna could ever have imagined. “What brings you here?”
LeRoy Tottering seemed old and defeated. He stared at the carpet. “I know it’s a bit late. I’ve been thinking of looking you up for some time, but I didn’t know if you’d see me.”
If he wanted encouragement, Jenna had none to give him. She was still reeling from the shock of his sudden appearance—and the meekness of his manner. Where was the man who had so firmly set her away from him?
Adam returned with Ryan, and Jenna be
gan to perform the introductions. “This is my son, Ryan.”
Ryan looked at her, waiting for the other part of the introduction.
“This is LeRoy Tottering,” she told him, knowing the name would mean nothing to him. He’d heard of his grandmother, but she had died a Smith, and when Jenna married she’d become a Livingston.
“Nice to meet you,” her son said. Putting a smile on his recently scrubbed face, he stuck out a hand.
Jenna watched as grandfather and grandson clasped hands, and her heart contracted. What this man could have given her if only he’d loved her!
“You seem like a fine boy, Ryan,” her father said, but he didn’t try to identify himself any further than Jenna already had.
“Thank you, sir.”
Her father dug in his pants pocket and produced a card that said, “Tottering Heating and Air-Conditioning,” bearing a telephone number and a Santa Rosa address, and held it out to Jenna. “I know you probably won’t want to use this, but if you ever have need of anything, you can reach me at that number.”
When Jenna hesitated, Adam took the card for her. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll keep that in mind. But if it’s up to me, Jenna won’t be needing anything.”
Her father nodded. “It looks like she’s in good hands.”
Jenna almost screamed that she was in no one’s “hands.” She could rely only on herself—but it would be enough. It had to be.
“Goodbye, Ryan. I hope we can see each other again someday,” her father said before she could add anything else, and left.
“Who was that, Mom?” her son asked as soon as the door shut behind him.
Jenna sank into the closest chair and nearly said, “A ghost.” Instead, she patted the place next to her and, when Ryan sat down, put her arm around him. Avoiding Adam’s probing eyes, seeking, instead, the comfort of Ryan’s constant love, she said, “That was my dad.”
He pulled back, his brown eyes blinking up at her in confusion. “But you called him LeRoy something.”
“That’s his name. And it’s basically all I know about him.”