She eyed him over her coffee cup. “Girls always like you, Liam.”
“Big ones though. And even that’s not always true.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Is everything all right with you?”
“Meaning?”
“Earlier, I thought you might have been crying.”
“Yeah…” She shrugged. “My mother.”
“Let me guess. She’s not happy about my seeing Faith?”
“To put it mildly.” She picked at the edge of her napkin. “We always seem to be fighting lately. I feel guilty for upsetting her and angry at the same time…” She paused, bit her lip and seemed to struggle for a moment. “My sister would just say to hell with her. She and Mom have never been that close. I don’t know, maybe Mom just has a bad case of empty-nest syndrome, but I feel bad for her. Responsible.”
“Your sister’s not at home anymore?”
“Well…” She sighed. “It’s a long story. Mom’s never quite known where she is with Deb, but I think she figured somehow that Faith and I would always be around. Now she’s scared to death you’re going to take us away.”
“The pirate’s dad could do the same thing,” he said. “How would she feel about that?”
“She’d miss us,” Hannah said. “But…” She hesitated. “Allan’s sort of won her over. Plus, she isn’t afraid Allan will take us…Faith, I mean.” Her face colored. “He won’t take Faith off to Ireland where my mom will never see her again.”
Liam watched Faith for a moment. Her ponytail had worked its way out of the clasp and her shoulders tensed as she energetically steered the wheel on the video machine.
“It’s strange really,” he said, “all things considered. But I don’t blame your mother for being concerned. I’m not sure how I’d feel if my daughter ended up with someone like me.”
Hannah frowned across the table at him. “What?”
“Well, picture it yourself. Faith brings this boy home—”
“Years from now, of course.”
“Of course. Years and years.”
Hannah grinned. “Twenty at least.”
“Let’s say she’s told you all about him, and you want to like him because she’s so over-the-moon. And then you meet him and put him through the twenty questions rigmarole—”
“Like my dad did to you.”
“Believe me, with your dad it was a lot more than twenty questions and he didn’t like the answers to any of them. I wasn’t close to being suitable. But you’ll be that way with Faith, too. You’ll want a boy who’ll go on to college and become a doctor or something. Someone who comes from the same sort of family you do. Who doesn’t eat his peas off a knife.”
She laughed. “You never did that.”
“Only because I could never get them to stay on.”
And then they were both smiling, sitting there with a box of doughnut holes on the table between them, the smell of hot coffee in the air, watching their daughter shoot space aliens. Once, Faith turned to see them watching her, grinned, then went on with her game.
He looked down at their hands on the table. Hannah’s nails were polished pink, and she wore a woven silver band on the middle finger of her right hand and something with a green stone on the index finger of her left hand. They’d both worn cheap gold rings when they were married. He would take his off before performances because it got in the way of the guitar strings. Hannah had clearly disbelieved his explanation though and looking back, it seemed that many of their fights had started around the same time every evening when he removed his ring.
“Liam…” She glanced up at him. “What you said yesterday about how we might still be together if my family had stayed out of our lives?”
He nodded. “Right.”
“I was surprised, to say the least. Do you really think about it much?”
“I used to.” His glance shifted back to Faith for a moment, then across the table to Hannah. “But I’d remind myself about the abortion and after a while…well, I came around to thinking that, all in all, it probably happened for the best. Like you said last night, we had a lot of strikes against us. In hindsight, I can see that you were in a pretty bad state. I think it says something about what a self-absorbed bastard I was that I couldn’t recognize it myself.”
“Self-absorbed? That’s how you think of yourself?”
He shrugged. “Single-minded, intensely focused, tunnel vision. It all pretty much comes down to the same thing.”
“You did used to get kind of wrapped up in the music. Especially when you were writing songs.”
“Which was all the time.” He laughed. “Remember when I nearly burned the kitchen down? What was it I’d done? Left a saucepan on the stove or something.”
“A pot of chili. I came into the kitchen and there was all this smoke billowing up and you hadn’t even noticed.”
“Day-to-day survival sort of goes by the board when I’m really tuned in to what I’m doing,” he said.
“Still?”
He nodded. “Music at the cost of everything else.”
HANNAH KEPT REMINDING HERSELF of that as they drove down the coast to San Diego. Reminded herself every time she looked at Liam and pictured scenes starring the three of them. Seated around the dinner table, going on vacation together and, her favorite, grouped around a bassinet smiling at the newest addition to their family.
The fantasies both compelled and annoyed her. It wasn’t as though she’d put her life on hold while she waited around for Liam to say he wanted them to try again. Besides, as she kept telling herself, this day wasn’t about her and Liam. It was about Liam spending time with his daughter. Hannah was only along for the ride.
She’d tried to keep that thought in mind last night as she prepared for their trip to the zoo. After Liam had left, but before everyone else got home, she’d roasted chicken, made a green salad and Faith’s favorite macaroni salad, defrosted a loaf of pesto cheese bread and baked a pan of chocolate brownies. Then shoved everything in the back of the refrigerator so Margaret wouldn’t see it.
“So Faith…” Liam turned his head slightly to address his daughter. “I bet I know what you like best about the zoo.”
“What?”
“Uh…” He furrowed his forehead, feigning deep thought. “Wait, it’s coming to me. I think it’s…uh, right, I’m getting a picture of it. It’s…the koalas.”
“Hey.” Faith kicked her foot at the back of his seat. “How d’you know that?”
“Because I know everything,” he said.
“Everything?” Faith cackled. “Uh-uh.”
“I do though. Ask me a question.”
“Um. How many is nine hundred and forty-two million, million, million and six billion, million?”
Liam groaned. “Ah, Faith, how could you do it to me? That’s the one question I don’t have the answer to.” He looked at Hannah. “You told her, didn’t you? You told her to ask me that question.”
“No, she didn’t.” Faith leaned forward in her seat to touch Hannah’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell me, did you, Mommy?”
“I never said a word,” Hannah agreed.
“See! Mommy didn’t tell me.”
“But how do I know you and your mum aren’t in cahoots?” Liam asked with a wink at Hannah. “How do I know you’re not just sticking up for her?”
Hannah gave Faith’s foot a little tug, resisted a sudden urge to reach over and give Liam a quick hug. She pictured it—her arm around his shoulders, the way he’d feel as she pulled him close. His quick look of surprise. They’d been studiously careful to avoid even the most casual physical contact. He’d apologized for accidentally grazing her arm as they left the doughnut shop. She’d leaned far back in her seat when he reached over to get his sunglasses from the glove compartment. A tacit agreement, it seemed, that this day was all about their daughter, not her parents.
The beach towns rolled by. Seal Beach, Huntington, Newport. In Laguna, as they stopped for a light,
she watched three teenage girls in bikini tops and towels, wrapped sarong-style around their hips, saunter across the road, tossing glances over tanned shoulders. She’d only been a year or so older when she married Liam.
She shifted in her seat and brought her foot up under her, turning slightly so that she could see Liam without appearing to be watching him. His faded navy T-shirt had a small hole on the shoulder. His jeans were similarly worn, his feet thrust into a pair of battered brown sandals. Allan had an expensive and extensive casual wardrobe of color-coordinated shirts and pants. Once he’d complained that it had taken him two weeks to find exactly the right shade of cream shirt to go with a new pair of khakis. Everything was either too yellow or too beige, he’d told her. If she asked Liam what color shirt he was wearing, she knew without a doubt that he’d have absolutely no idea. The thought made her grin. A moment later, as though he’d read what she was thinking, he turned his head to smile at her. The physical impact was like a bolt through her body.
Blood rushing to her face, she turned to glance at the back seat where Faith had fallen asleep, her head bent awkwardly. Hannah unfastened her seat belt, kneeled up on the front seat and shifted her sleeping daughter to a more comfortable position. Back in her seat again, she sat with her knees close together, her eyes straight ahead, intensely aware of Liam’s hands on the steering wheel; of his legs, his neck. They passed through Laguna, past massive Spanish-style homes that blocked all but brief glimpses of the ocean. Bougainvillea climbed white stucco walls, tumbled over wrought iron gates. Hands, legs, neck. Mouth. She shifted in her seat.
This day wasn’t about her and Liam.
Her body hadn’t quite got the message. Shoulders touching as they’d stood at the kitchen window the day before. Mouth curved in a smile. Would he take her hand as they walked through the zoo? Kiss her when he dropped her off tonight?
Pay attention to what you want, Margaret had said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN the zebras and the monkeys, Liam made a decision. They’d been traipsing around for hours from exhibit to exhibit. Faith had liked the monkeys. She’d also liked the elephants, the zebras, the lions and the giraffes. And, of course, the koalas. Then it was a return visit to the lions, several trips to the petting zoo, a stop for the picnic lunch Hannah had packed and then a final ogle at the monkeys.
Faith’s hand was warm and sticky in his as they trudged up the hill, past an enclosure of exotic birds. His shirt sticking to his back, Liam had looked down at her face, flushed with heat and exertion, her hair tangled and blowing, and known there was no longer any question of simply going back to Ireland and forgetting about her.
He wanted his daughter in his life.
Brid was wrong about it being either Faith or his music. There was room for both. In fact, by the time they’d packed up the food and headed over to the monkey exhibit, he’d worked out a plan that would have Faith spending part of every summer and every alternate Christmas with him in Ireland.
He stood with Faith and Hannah watching small gray monkeys dart from branch to branch. He would tell Hannah when they were back in Long Beach tonight. At the same time, they would also discuss when to tell Faith that he was her father. The thought excited him so much that it was all he could do not to rush them through the exhibits so that he could tell Hannah about his decision.
A daughter. He looked down at her. My daughter.
“Hey, Liam.” Faith tugged at his hand. “Do you want an ice cream?”
“An ice cream?” He pretended to think about it. “Nah. What I’d really like is a nice big plate of brussels sprouts.”
Faith’s look said she was on to him. “Uh-uh.”
“Sure, I love them. Great big green ones with lots of salt and pepper. I bet your mother likes them, too.” He shot another look at Hannah. “Ask her.”
“Mommy wants ice cream,” Faith said. “Right, Mommy?”
“I think someone has already had more than enough sugar for one day,” Hannah said. “How about an apple?”
“No.” Faith’s face crumpled. “I want an ice cream.”
“I want an ice cream, too,” Liam said.
Hannah looked at him long enough for him to understand that he’d made a strategic mistake. “On the other hand, an apple sounds good, too,” he amended.
“Hey, Liam, you know what?” Faith smiled up at him. “Allan said when we go camping, we have to put bits of apple on the stick when we roast the marshmallows because if you eat too many marshmallows, your teeth will fall out.”
Allan should go to hell, Liam thought. And, suddenly a cloud drifted across his horizon, colliding with all the sunny thoughts of the things he wanted to do with his daughter. Allan’s role hadn’t occurred to him. Allan—who would be there when he wasn’t. Birthdays, outings, meals together. Liam couldn’t stop Hannah from seeing Allan, or anyone else she wanted to see, but children’s attention spans were short. He might have made a hit with Faith today, but in a week or so she’d hardly remember his name. She’d end up thinking of Allan as her real father and himself as a sort of fun uncle she saw a couple of times a year.
THEY RODE BACK to Long Beach in silence, Faith asleep in the back seat. Hannah had dozed a couple of times, woken to look at Liam, who seemed lost in his thoughts. It was a little after eight when they pulled up outside the house, the lights were on in the living room. The drapes twitched once, then the room went dark. Hannah glanced at Faith, still sleeping, then at Liam, his face shadowy in the dim glow from a streetlight. She hoped to God her mother and Rose weren’t sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for a debriefing.
“It’s been a nice day,” she said. “Faith obviously enjoyed it. I did, too.”
“So did I.” Liam turned in his seat to look at her. “How long do you think Faith will remember me?”
“After today? I don’t know.” She felt, rather than saw, Liam’s reaction and tried to soften the words. “Faith had a great time, Liam, but she’s only six.”
“She’ll forget me,” Liam answered his own question. “I’ll be gone in a day or so, and she’ll forget all about me.”
Again, Hannah tried to think of something to say that would make him feel better. “I think you made an impression on her. I think she genuinely enjoyed being with you.”
“Until the pirate’s dad takes her camping, or back to the zoo, or whatever. And then what?”
She looked at him, unable to come up with an answer. Or at least an answer that wouldn’t hurt him. The truth was, he was right.
“I’ll help you carry her inside,” he said. “She’ll be a dead weight.”
Hannah got out, held the seat forward as Liam lifted Faith out of the car. Cradling his daughter in his arms, he followed Hannah up the driveway. As she unlocked the door, she felt her pulse speed up. From the kitchen, she heard a chair scrape.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s take her straight upstairs.”
He nodded. At the top of the stairs, Hannah pushed open Faith’s bedroom door and stood aside for Liam to carry her in. Margaret called from the kitchen and Hannah tiptoed to the top of the stairs. “I’m up here, Mom. With Liam. We’re putting Faith to bed.”
When she returned to the doorway, Liam had removed Faith’s sneakers and covered her with a folded blanket.
Seated on the bed beside their daughter, he turned around to look at Hannah. “She’ll be out for the night, then?”
“Completely.”
He smiled, his eyes taking in the room with its menagerie of stuffed animals and toys littered across the floor. “Well…” He stood. “I’d better be going. I’ve a radio interview in Los Angeles tomorrow early.”
Outside Faith’s room, they stood in silence for a moment, then Liam turned and walked down the stairs. Hannah followed him to the front door, opened it and stepped onto the porch, waiting for Liam to say whatever was on his mind. Her stomach suddenly felt tense with apprehension.
“I don’t have this all worked out yet,” Lia
m said. “But I want to be a father to Faith. A real father. I want to spend birthdays and Christmas with her, whether it’s here or in Ireland. I want her to come to Ireland for her summer holidays. Before I leave, I want us to tell her I’m her father.”
Hannah couldn’t speak. Ireland. He wanted to have Faith with him in Ireland. Exactly what Margaret had predicted. “Maybe you’re moving a little fast, Liam,” she finally said. “You just said you don’t have it all worked out. Maybe we need to think things through a bit.”
“I want to be a part of her life. I want her to get to know me. I’ve already lost too much time.”
“I understand that. But this isn’t simply about what you want. It’s about what’s best for Faith. You’ve spent one day with her. There’s a whole lot more to being a father than a day at the zoo.”
“I’m sure there is,” he said. “Until now, unfortunately, I haven’t had the chance to find that out.”
“Look, let me at least prepare her a little.”
“Prepare her for what? The shock of hearing I’m her father?” He laughed. “Oh right, I forgot. She thinks I’m in heaven, doesn’t she? I suppose that could be a bit of a shock…”
“Liam, come on, I’m not the enemy here. I’m concerned about my daughter…our daughter. If we do tell her, I want to be absolutely sure it’s the right thing to do.”
“You need to consult with your family first, is that it?”
“This isn’t their decision, Liam. It’s ours. Yours and mine.” But even as she said the words, she recognized their fallacy. Expecting that her mother and the rest of the family would just quietly accept whatever she and Liam decided was unrealistic, to say the least. As if to underscore the point, the curtain in the living room twitched again.
“Let me ask you something.” She studied his face for a moment, trying to read some indication of whether this was true commitment, or more of a spur-of-the-moment fantasy. “You’re on the road most of the time. How can you devote any kind of quality time to her?”
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