He's Got His Daddy's Eyes

by Lois Faye Dyer

  He tugged Sarah forward and across his lap.

  Josh didn’t sleep at all. Sarah dozed, lying sprawled on top of him, but Josh couldn’t close his eyes. The wonder of having her in his arms was too profound to allow him to sleep. In the hours before dawn while Sarah slept, Josh faced a truth he could no longer deny. Impossible though it seemed, he loved her more than he had five years before. Bonded as they were by the love they’d shared when they were younger, it seemed that the time they’d spent apart had only deepened and intensified his need for her.

  Whatever it takes to keep her here in Butte Creek and in my life, I’ll do, he vowed as the sky lightened outside and the first rays of morning sunlight slanted their way through the bedroom and across the foot of the bed.

  Sarah stirred, her lashes lifting lazily.

  “Josh?”

  “Yeah, honey?” His arms tightened and he brushed a kiss against the crown of her head. Soft strands of silky blond hair, subtly scented with roses, brushed his lips and nose. Josh felt drunk on the smell and feel of perfumed hair, satiny skin and warm curves that were uniquely Sarah.

  “What time is it?”

  Josh turned his head to read the dial of the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table. “Just after five o’clock.”

  “Mmmh.” She snuggled against him and closed lier eyes. “Molly isn’t bringing J.J. and Caitlin home until eight. We have a whole three hours left to sleep.”

  Josh felt her body relax and knew that she slept, no doubt exhausted from the hours he’d kept her awake last night. Still, he couldn’t fall asleep, and at six-thirty he reluctantly eased out of bed, tucked the sheet over her bare shoulders and silently collected his clothes before padding down the hall to the bathroom.

  “Sarah. Sarah, honey. It’s time to wake up.”

  Sarah muttered in protest and turned her face into her pillow, shifting away from the hand that gently shook her shoulder. Seconds later, fingertips brushed her hair from her face and warm lips skimmed damp, teasing kisses over her cheek and ear.

  Josh watched Sarah’s lips slowly curve into a smile while her eyes remained closed.

  “Come on, sunshine,” he murmured against the corner of her mouth. “If you don’t get out of bed and into the shower, J.J. is going to be in here jumping up and down on top of you.”

  Sarah’s lashes lifted and she looked up at him. He leaned over the bed, his hands braced flat against the mattress on either side of her. She smothered a yawn and stretched lazily. “What time is it?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  She groaned and lifted a hand to push the hair out of her eyes, heavy lidded and languid. “It can’t be. Didn’t you just tell me that it was five o’clock?”

  “Yup—two hours ago,” he said dryly.

  “Oh.” Her lashes lifted a little higher and she stared at him, frowning slightly. “You’re dressed.”

  “Yeah.” Josh watched drowsiness give way to wakefulness and knew the exact moment when uneasy insecurity claimed her. He reached out and stroked a forefinger between her brows, smoothing out the tiny frown lines. “Stop worrying, Sarah. Everything’s going to be fine. Go take your shower and then come downstairs. I’ll make coffee and we’ll talk.”

  “All right.”

  Josh dropped a kiss against her cheek and stood.

  Still not completely awake, Sarah caught the edge of the sheet and swung her legs over the edge of the bed before she remembered that she didn’t have a stitch of clothes on. She clutched the sheet against her chest, her gaze racing to his, and felt her cheeks heat at the amusement that mixed with masculine appreciation in his eyes.

  “Would you hand me my robe, please?” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

  “Sure, honey, where is it?”

  “On the back of the door—no, wait.” Sarah belatedly recalled Josh stripping her out of the blue terry cloth last night She searched the room and found the robe lying in a heap in a corner by the bureau. “Over there.”

  Josh collected the robe and held it out for her to slip into, but she caught a handful of material and tugged it out of his hands. “Sarah,” he said, “don’t tell me you need to hide behind a sheet and that robe this morning. There isn’t an inch of you that I didn’t see last night. It’s too late to hide from me.”

  Impatient though he sounded, Sarah didn’t miss the worry scarcely hidden beneath his scowl. “All right, fine,” she snapped at him, and tossed back the sheet, standing in one smooth movement before shoving her arms into the robe. “Go ahead, have a good look.”

  She didn’t pull the robe closed, and Josh’s gaze stroked slowly down, over the smooth curves of rose-tipped breasts, the inward sweep of waist and the shadowy indentation of her navel to the gentle outward swell of her hips and the corn-silk curls at the juncture of her thighs. She was petite, tiny compared to his own height and bulk, and he’d always been amazed at how long her legs were considering her height. He let his gaze linger over her body on his way back up to her face, and by the time he reached her stormy blue eyes, he was painfully hard.

  “Damn, woman,” he breathed. “Are you trying to kill me? We haven’t got time to make love again before the kids get home.”

  Sarah had meant to assert herself and erase her embarrassment over the fact that she’d instinctively reached to cover herself. Instead, she felt her bones melting at the hot, urgent need she read on Josh’s face as he looked at her.

  Josh reached out and smoothed his palm slowly over the curve of her breast before he drew a deep breath. With trembling fingers he pulled the edges of her robe together and tied the sash.

  “Go get in the shower,” he said, his voice unsteady, “before I lose what little control I have left”.

  He turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Sarah standing silently beside the bed. It wasn’t until the sound of his boots on the stair treads ceased and the house was silent that she drew a deep, shaky breath.

  “Modesty is not a concept that man understands,” she grumbled to herself as she left the bedroom for the shower. But she knew it wasn’t lack of modesty that drove him; Josh was refusing to let her put any space between them. She also knew that distancing herself from people had become a defense mechanism she used with everyone. He was right to be wary of its use against him.

  The smell of coffee filled the kitchen when Sarah entered the room twenty minutes later. Josh was leaning against the counter, sipping from a steaming mug; his gaze flicked over her from head to toe and back, and his hard mouth lifted in a lazy, appreciative smile, his eyes warm.

  “I liked you better naked, but you look like sunshine in that dress.”

  Sarah glanced down at the yellow sundress she wore and smoothed a hand over her midriff. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.” She crossed the room to the counter and took a mug from the cupboard.

  “You were wearing that dress the first time I saw you.”

  She paused in the midst of pouring coffee and glanced sideways at him. “I was? No, I couldn’t have been. I only bought this dress last year.”

  “I meant the first time I saw you this summer. You crossed the street in front of my truck. It must have been the first day you were back in Butte Creek, because you were wearing it when you came to the ranch house later that afternoon.”

  “Oh.” Sarah finished pouring her coffee and sipped it slowly, turning to lean against the counter. A bare twelve inches of space separated her skirt from his faded jeans. “You remember what I was wearing?”

  “I remember everything about you.”

  “You weren’t very happy to see me,” Sarah chided him. “You told me to get off the Rocking D and stay off.”

  Josh shrugged and twisted to set his cup on the countertop behind him. “That was because I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t deal with having you living and sleeping within walking distance. Before I knew why you left.” He gently took the mug from her hands and put it next to his before he cupped her shoulders and moved her in fron
t of him. He tugged carefully and she allowed him to pull her forward until she rested against him, her forearms against his chest, his arms loosely circling her waist, hands linked at the small of her back to keep her close. “Before I met J.J.”

  Sarah stiffened, her eyes going dark with uncertainty. Josh waited patiently.

  “Josh, about JJ…”.

  She halted, her small white teeth worrying her lower lip. Silence stretched.

  “I’d still like to have our blood tested,” Josh said quietly. He didn’t add that he desperately wanted confirmation that J.J. was really his son. On some level he had the uneasy feeling that it was small-minded of him. Shouldn’t he accept JJ. regardless of who his father was? There wasn’t any doubt that Sarah and J.J. were a package deal—and Josh really liked the little dynamo. Still, he wanted to know if J.J. was truly his. “You don’t have to decide today,” he went on, reading the conflicting emotions on Sarah’s expressive features. He tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and bent to kiss her cheek. “Just think about it, okay?”

  Sarah lost herself in the kiss they shared, but she knew that despite the mountains they’d scaled last night, they still faced a seemingly unresolvable issue. Could she bring herself to face conclusive results of blood tests? Could Josh fully accept JJ. without them?

  Sarah paused and drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly before pushing open the door to her mother’s hospital room. Sunlight streamed into the room, gleaming off the deep red petals of a bowl of roses sitting on the windowsill. Propped against bedpillows, Patricia turned her head and smiled.

  “Good morning, Mama,” Sarah said cheerily, returning the smile. “I saw Dr. Silas in the hall. He told me that you’re ready to leave the hospital.”

  She bent over the bed to brush a kiss against her mother’s cheek and Patricia’s smile widened, her blue eyes sparkling with pleased excitement.

  “Ye-es.” She lifted a hand to indicate the room. “I’m glad. I’m so tired of the smell of antiseptic and these boring white walls.”

  Sarah dropped her purse on the bedside table and pulled a metal-framed chair closer to the bed.

  “Dr. Silas believes that you’d benefit from spending a few more weeks in a rehabilitation program.” Patricia’s eyes darkened and a frown replaced her smile. “There’s an excellent rehab center in Fargo that he recommends very highly.”

  “I want to go home,” Patricia said firmly, her chin set stubbornly. “I’m sick to death of hospitals.”

  “The rehab center isn’t a hospital, Mama,” Sarah observed reasonably.

  “I don’t care,” Patricia replied sharply. “It’s still not my own bed in my own home.”

  Sarah sighed. “I know, Mama. I don’t blame you for being tired of this. If it were me, I’m sure I would be, too. But wouldn’t you rather go to a rehab center now instead of later? In a few weeks you’ll be finished and, except for the possibility of coming back to the hospital for outpatient treatment with a physical therapist, you’ll be able to go home for good.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Patricia said reluctantly. “Did Dr. Silas say anything about whether I’ll regain full use of my arm?”

  “He told me that the prognosis is very good. A lot depends on how hard you work with the therapist.”

  Patricia’s gaze searched Sarah’s. At last she seemed satisfied that Sarah was being truthful, and she looked away.

  Puzzled, Sarah watched her mother’s thin fingers pluck at the bedsheet “Mama?” Patricia’s gaze rose to meet hers. “Is something wrong? Are you worried about therapy?”

  “No.” Patricia shook her head, her silver-blond hair shifting. She brushed a few vagrant strands from her cheek before dropping her hand to her lap once more. “I have something I need to say to you, Sarah. I know I haven’t been an easy patient Truth to tell, I haven’t been an easy parent, either.” She lifted a hand to stop the denial Sarah was clearly about to offer. “Let me get this said. It’s not easy, and I’m not likely to say this more than once in my life, so don’t stop me.”

  Sarah remained in her seat, listening with growing surprise as her mother continued.

  “I could have died from this stroke. I figure God was giving me a warning. And maybe a little more time, if I’m lucky. I know it must seem to you that I always favored Margaret. Well, that wasn’t true. It’s just that you’re very much like your father, and Margaret’s very much like me.”

  Again Sarah nearly interrupted, but Patricia continued doggedly on.

  “Margaret was—is—wild, and so was I, when I was young. It wasn’t until I met and fell in love with your father that I realized I’d been traveling down a bad road.” She squared her thin shoulders and faced Sarah, meeting her gaze without flinching. “There’s no disguising the truth. I was a scandal to my poor parents. I turned my back on all that when I married your father and moved to Butte Creek. I vowed that I’d be worthy of him.”

  Sarah was stunned. Her pious, upright mother had a shady past? “You were, Mama,” she said slowly, searching for the right words. “He adored you. You must have known that he did.”

  “Yes.” Tears welled and Patricia dabbed at her lashes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “I know he did. It was such a miracle.”

  “Did he know?” Sarah asked carefully, wondering just exactly what scandalous things her mother had done.

  “Yes, oh yes.” Patricia nodded. “And he loved me anyway. That was the amazing thing.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks and drew a deep breath. “I’m not blind to the fact that I’m a difficult woman in many ways, Sarah. Like your father, you seem to know that and love me anyway. Not many daughters would have come home to look after a mother who had banished them from their home for five long years. I want you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and that I hope you’ll stay in Butte Creek.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Sarah’s own chest tightened and her eyes grew damp. She cleared her throat before she could speak. “I’m thinking of staying. J.J. loves it here.” She paused a moment, gathering her courage to face the expected outburst from her mother. “Josh and I are trying to work out our differences. There may be a future for us.”

  The outrage and fury Sarah expected didn’t come. Instead, Patricia shook her head, resignation and worry on her face.

  “It’s difficult for me to object to Joshua Hightower after what I’ve just confessed to you. But I have to tell you, Sarah, that man is trouble. Unlike your father, he’ll never be an easy man to live with.”

  Relieved, Sarah smiled. “I know, Mama. But you just told me that I’m like Daddy. Maybe the best marriages have one easygoing person paired with one difficult person. It seems to have worked with you and Daddy.”

  “Hmmph,” Patricia snorted, wiping her cheeks with a brisk motion. “I don’t know that I like the thought of you comparing me to that Hightower boy, but I suppose the basic premise is true.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Sarah rose and folded her mother in a spontaneous hug. “I hope so.”

  Patricia grumbled and returned Sarah’s hug with endearing awkwardness. For the first time in years, Sarah felt a glimmer of hope that the future would hold a better, kinder, more comfortable relationship for them.

  Josh took Caitlin and JJ. to stay with Jennifer and Lucas while Sarah drove Patricia to Fargo and saw her settled into the rehabilitation center. The entire family was gathered on the front porch for an afternoon break when Sarah returned.

  “’Mommy! Mommy!” J.J. raced across the lawn and threw himself at her. Sarah caught him and swung him up into her arms, pretending to stagger under his weight.

  “Wow! What’s Jennifer been feeding you? I think you’ve gained ten pounds!”

  “Nah.” He giggled and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. “But we had a campfìre last night and roasted hot dogs and made s’mores, and it was really fun.”

  Sarah searched the porch until she found Josh, leaning against a white post. His warm smile erased the fatigue of the long drive and she cl
imbed the porch steps with renewed energy.

  “They had fun, all right,” Jennifer said. dryly. “Both J.J. and Wayne had chocolate and marshmallow smeared from ear to ear.”

  Distracted by the welcoming heat in Josh’s eyes, it took a moment for Sarah to realize what Jennifer was referring to. She swung J.J. to his feet and took the seat Josh held for her.

  Josh settled his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Want something cold to drink?”

  She tipped her head back and looked up at him. “Yes, please.”

  He squeezed her shoulders in a gentle caress and walked to the end of the porch where a wicker table held tumblers and a pitcher of iced tea.

  Murphy Redman sat next to Sarah in an old-fashioned grandfather rocker, a cane hooked over the arm, his leg stretched out in front of him with the foot propped on a small footstool.

  “How are you, Murphy?” Sarah asked, assessing the healthy color in the older man’s face and the sparkle in his deep black eyes.

  “Fine, missy, just fine.” He grinned at her and winked. “I’ll be ready to dance at the Saddle Club this year, so you save a waltz for me. I’ll be there to collect it.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that promise,” she said, laughing.

  J.J. and Wayne were seated on the porch steps, their swinging feet knocking their boot heels against the riser with rhythmic beats. Rum lay stretched full-length at the bottom of the steps, panting in the afternoon heat.

  “You gotta have a daddy.” Wayne’s treble voice filled the silent space in adult conversation. “Who’s your daddy?”

  Sarah gasped, and her gaze shot to JJ.

  “Why can’t I just share yours?” J.J. asked with childish logic. “He’s a pretty good one, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but he’s mine.” Wayne’s tone left no doubt that sharing was out of the question. “You gotta have one of your own.” He leaned closer to J.J. and stared, nose-to-nose. “How about Unca Josh? You live at the Rocking D where he lives. Is he your daddy?”