The past will not stop speaking to me until I answer it.
He’d said that several times in the hours they talked, especially when he spoke about leaving his first family. But this time Miguel had grabbed his arm, digging into Zach’s flesh with surprising strength, his black eyes burning with the knowledge of his own death and with a message. This time he turned the words on Zach.
The past will not stop speaking to you until you answer it.
That was when the dream always woke him, the feel of that grip on his arm, the words in his head.
“He told me, The past will not stop speaking to you until you answer it. I came back to Tobias to answer the past so it would stop speaking to me.”
Fran supposed she should have expected it. With so many citizens of Tobias packed into and around Bliss House for the three days of the opening weekend, the gossip mills were bound to kick into overdrive.
Saturday afternoon, she found Zach collecting the trash from a full bin along one of the paths.
He’d withdrawn since telling her about Miguel, the man he hadn’t been able to save.
She hadn’t lectured him about realizing he couldn’t save everyone—he knew that. But knowing wasn’t enough. Believing it had to be.
And she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a connection, not only to the death of his mentor Elliott earlier this year, but further back to his father. A father who had died around the same age Elliott and Miguel had, yet before Zach could know him well.
A woman’s voice floated from the Moonlight Garden on the other side of a hedge.
“I always said Zach Corbett’s not the kind you could rely on. Wild, that’s what he was—and is!”
Another voice said, “But are you sure?”
“What else? I heard it from a reliable source—the girl’s his daughter. He got Lily in the family way, then ran off. Took shameful advantage of his brother, letting everyone think Steve had treated Annette shabbily while they were engaged.”
Overcoming her shock, Fran opened her mouth, but Zach grabbed her elbow and turned her around, leading her away. The voices followed them. One belonged to Miriam Jenkins, which meant all of Tobias would know soon.
“But what will happen now? If he’s the real father…”
“Ha! You think that will mean anything to someone like him? He won’t want the responsibility now any more than he did eight years ago.”
Fran would have gone back and confronted the women—how dare Miriam, who’d basked in his attention, who’d seen him come to Muriel’s rescue—if Zach hadn’t kept his hold on her.
“Well,” came the other voice, “you would think a father would want to take care of his child.”
“What can you expect? He ran off once, he’ll do it again.”
That was the last they heard. Either they had moved too far to hear the women or the women had moved to another part of the garden.
“Zach, they don’t know the situation. They don’t know you.”
“They knew me most of my life. But it doesn’t matter. What they think of me doesn’t matter.”
How could it not matter to him, when he had been so pleased to have these same women talking to him in the garden just a couple of weeks ago?
She took his hand, tugged him into the shed nearby, closed the door behind them, and kissed him as thoroughly and deeply as the protruding handle of a shovel and the tines of a rake would allow.
And when they agreed that they’d better get back out before they did something not only foolish but possibly dangerous in this venue, they straightened their clothes and emerged.
Walter from the country club spotted them immediately and his eyes twinkled wickedly even as his face remained absolutely solemn.
“Ah, Mr. Zach, that absolutely charming woman told me I might find you here with Miss Dalton. I was hoping you might show me the trees we discussed last week.”
“Of course. But what absolutely charming woman?”
“Miss Bliss—Trudi.”
Fran and Zach exchanged a lightning look of amazement, both at the concept of Miss Trudi as absolutely charming and at the ever-formal Walter referring to her by her first name.
Zach headed off with Walter, while Fran returned to her duties in a much-improved mood. Zach was right. It truly didn’t matter what people said. But it was unfair.
And that injustice was the reason she snapped on Sunday. That and the fact that the opening had been so wildly successful that they’d worked until nearly 1:00 a.m. each of the past two nights to clean the house and restock craft items, then were back at first light to give the grounds a quick sprucing up before the next wave hit.
She’d told Rob flat out that Zach was going to stay with her in her room. But they’d both been too tired to take advantage of that other than to curl up together. At least Zach hadn’t had any dreams that woke him.
So when she heard Muriel Henderson tut-tutting about Nell being Zach’s biological daughter late Sunday afternoon, Fran was tired and perhaps feeling deprived. She marched up to the older woman and said, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Muriel. He took care of you when you fainted while the rest of us stood around looking stupid. Zach has been nothing but kind to you, and besides, he’s…he’s a hero.”
Everyone had left except the committee and Zach.
Fran suspected it was because none of them could move. Max and Suz sat on a bench by the back door. Annette, Steve and Miss Trudi were at one table, Rob and Kay at a second, and she and Zach at a third.
“You know,” said Suz, “I kept thinking once we got to the opening that the hardest work would be over.”
“A month of construction’s easier than this,” agreed Max.
Annette nodded. “If this keeps up, we’re going to have to hire someone to run the place. Even only being open the weekends for now, how can we handle it?”
“And we’ll have to be open more around the holidays,” Kay said. “I was talking to this TV producer about a feature on Bliss House at Christmas….”
Everyone groaned.
“Hey, it’s a great opportunity.”
A loud knock interrupted her defense.
Max, the closest one to the door, heaved himself up and opened it, but not wide. He blocked the opening and said, “Sorry, you’ll have to come back next weekend. We’re closed.”
“Oh. Too late for some publicity shots?”
“Well…” Max looked over his shoulder.
“Never too late for publicity,” Kay said.
Max swung the door open, and Kay’s face changed immediately.
“You!” Kay said. “Get out of here.”
Fran swung around to see the tabloid reporter she’d watched retreat from her property two weeks ago advance on Zach, snapping pictures.
Zach remained where he was, his face void of expression, his eyes lifeless.
“I knew I remembered you,” the man taunted. “You tried to be all high and mighty, but I remembered. There was a story—before it got taken over by the rescue of that family. But I remember faces—it’s my job. And I remembered yours. What was the headline? Something like A Day with a Dead Man?”
Fran stood, trying to get between the man and Zach. “Get out.” She looked to her brother. “Get him out of here.”
The man continued to shoot pictures around her. And he kept talking.
“You were the one who sat with that guy who’d been crushed so bad you guys decided not to try to get him out. You were his buddy while everybody waited for him to die, right?”
Rob and Max grabbed the guy’s arms, pulling him toward the door.
“How’d that feel, Zach? What was it like? Not so high and mighty now, huh?”
The two men shoved him outside and locked the door.
Steve turned to his brother, concern lining his face. “What’s this about, Zach?”
Zach stood with a lurching motion, totally unlike his usual ease. “Nothing. I’ve gotta go.”
Fran grabbed his arm. “Tell hi
m, Zach. Tell Steve what you do, who you are.”
Zach said nothing.
“He’s a hero, that’s who he is,” Kay said.
“I’m no damned hero.” Fran barely recognized Zach’s hoarse voice or the dullness of his eyes. “He had it right. I sat with a man while he died. Watched him and couldn’t do a damned thing except listen to his stories. Barely a day. You were with your dad for more than a year. If watching somebody die is a hero, then you’re the hero, Fran.”
“You know you couldn’t have saved that man, Zach. You can’t blame yourself. You can’t.”
Zach pulled free of her hold and walked out the front door.
Fran felt the hot sting of tears but didn’t let them fall. She was so grateful Kay knew, because Zach wouldn’t tell his story and she didn’t think she could talk around the emotions tightening her throat.
“Tell them, Kay,” she got out before she went after Zach. “Please, tell them.”
Fran woke to the sound of heavy rain against the window. She was alone.
She hadn’t been when she fell asleep. Zach had been with her then. With her, around her, in her.
She’d caught up with him outside Bliss House. Without a word, they drove home, went up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Then all he’d said was, “Fran.”
It was, she was sure, a preamble to explanations that he wasn’t the man she knew him to be. She stopped all the words by kissing him.
He’d engulfed her in a wave of desire and need that had her shaking inside and out. The only thing that calmed him at all was answering his passion with her own until they clung to each other as shelter within the storm they’d created.
Holding him to her, his face against her neck, her arms across his shoulders, their lower bodies still joined, she had accepted that she loved him. The final word she had held back. Love.
The bad-boy-gone-good, who now sat on her window seat, with one elbow on his bent knee while he stared out at the rain.
She slipped her arms into the sleeves of his shirt, closing a few strategic buttons, then went to him.
Without taking his gaze from the window, he shifted his leg, making room for her to sit facing him.
“I want her, Fran.”
She brushed his hair off his forehead. “I know.”
“She’s my daughter, and I want to be her father. I couldn’t do it the way things are now, not knowing when I might be deployed with the task force. I’d have to quit. Look for another kind of job. EMT’s too irregular for a single parent alone. I could work in a hospital, maybe. Something with more regular hours. I could do that.”
“You can’t give up the task force, Zach. You love it.”
“I’m no good anymore.”
“That’s crazy. That’s—”
“I’d give it up. For her. I owe her.”
“That isn’t what you owe her, Zach.”
“She’s my daughter, I owe her everything.”
She shook her head, repeating, “That isn’t what you owe her.”
“Damn it, I didn’t know! If I’d known and still taken off and not been here to take care of her, or if I’d been here but let Steve take over my responsibility, then, yeah, I’d have said it was my own damn fault. But I never had a chance to be a father. Shouldn’t I get a chance to be her father?”
“You’re right. It’s not your fault. You had no reason to think Lily was going to have your baby when you took off. And giving you the chance to be a father now would certainly be the most fair thing for you, Zach.”
He looked at her for the first time, and she saw that he knew what she was going to say. Knew it, needed to hear it, and didn’t want to.
“But what’s the most fair thing for Nell? It’s not her fault, either. All she did was be born, and form a bond with the man who’s loved her from her first day of life. This is her home, Zach. This is her family.”
He turned back to the window.
“I had to say it out loud once—that I could really be her father.”
She touched his cheek, not sure if the track she saw there was a reflection from the window or from a tear.
“Zach, you’re giving her what’s most important for her to have a good and happy life. You’re putting her ahead of yourself. That’s what a father does.”
It was a little past ten, but the rain made the night darker than usual.
Zach hung up the phone as Fran came into the kitchen.
“What is it, Zach?”
“I’m going over to talk to Steve and Annette. Nell’s asleep.”
“Oh.”
“Will you come with me?”
“I don’t think—”
“I’d like you to be there, Fran.”
To be there for him.
“Yes.”
It was simple, really. Much simpler than he had expected it to be.
He stood in their kitchen, just inside the door, with Fran beside him, her hand still in his from when he’d taken it as they walked under one umbrella, and he said the words.
“I wanted you both to know I won’t fight for custody of Nell. Or visitation. Not now, not ever. I’ll put it in writing in whatever form you want, sign whatever papers you need.”
Annette’s eyes instantly filled with tears. Her mouth formed a silent thank you.
Steve looked at him, simply looked, but Zach saw the same emotions in his brother’s eyes that were in Annette’s.
Zach turned for the door, Fran’s hand the only warmth in a cold, wet universe.
“Zach.”
He stopped at Steve’s voice, but didn’t turn around.
“I have never felt as many emotions fighting each other as I did when I saw you standing in Corbett House three weeks ago. Nell’s birth, marrying Annette—those were the most incredible moments of my life. But those were pure awe and joy. Seeing you…”
Zach turned now, pulled by the feeling in his brother’s voice.
“I was afraid for Nell, for us—Annette and me. I was so damned angry at you for staying away. And I was more relieved than I could have thought possible.”
Steve stretched his arm across the counter between them, offering his hand.
“I am so glad you’ve come home, Zach.”
Zach put his hand in Steve’s, the first time he had touched his brother in more than eight years.
Chapter Twelve
The rain was causing flooding all over the area, according to the radio announcer. Swollen streams were feeding into the Tobias River, which was expected to overflow its banks later today. But parkland bordered both sides of the river in Tobias County, and the flooding should do little damage before it emptied into the lake.
Fran wondered if the new plants at Bliss House would fare as well. She and Zach would have to go over there later and check.
Or would Zach come with her to the gardens ever again? What happened now that he’d made his decision about Nell’s future? What happened to his future? What happened to them?
The network news report cut in on the radio. She didn’t tune in to the announcer’s voice until she heard one word.
Earthquake.
The professional voice gave the few facts known, all grim. Heavy casualties reported, major structural damage in densely populated areas of large and poorly constructed buildings. Communication mostly cut off. But one item came through clearly—local authorities were overwhelmed.
She felt Zach behind her, sensed him listening to the radio and watching her. Chester barked outside. A light, excited bark. They ignored it.
“It’s in South America. Won’t they call Miami?”
“Maybe. But even if they do, our team will be on standby.”
“You’re going.”
“Yeah.”
“But you’re on vacation. You told me you still have weeks of vacation time left. You told me.”
“You know it’s not about the job. I’m not even sure anymore…”
“Don’t say that, Zach. Don’t even think it. You
belong on that task force.”
He jerked his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter now whether I do or I don’t. I won’t leave them shorthanded. I’m signed up for the job, and if they need me, I’ll do it.”
“You have to leave today?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not even going to stay to say goodbye to Nell?”
“It’s better this way. Not see her, just go away. I wish…” He didn’t finish. “I won’t ask you to wait, Fran. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the man to give you what you deserve.”
“What about what I want?” She raised her chin. “Isn’t that what you’ve been giving me these past days? Or was it a sex workshop after all?”
“Fran—”
“No, you listen to me, Zachary Corbett. I’ve been listening to you for three weeks now. Not only listening but watching and…and feeling. I know the man you are—the man you’ve made yourself. Yes, that’s your profession, but it’s more. It’s who you are inside.
“That’s what you’ve been giving me. That’s what I want. That’s what I deserve. No more and certainly no less. And you’re the only man who can give it to me.” A tiny smile curved her mouth while her eyes glittered with tears. “Bad Boy Zach Corbett with the killer baby blues, the man who steals my calm—who would have believed it?”
“Fran, I’m not the kid I was, but I’m no prince, either. When the best thing I can do for a kid is give up all rights as her father—”
A duo of barks sounded. Urgent, distressed.
Fran lifted her head. “Chester and—that sounds like Pansy.”
Zach moved to the door. “It is Pansy.” He craned his neck. “No sign of Nell.”
Fran joined him at the door. “That’s strange. Could Pansy have run off and come over here on her own?”
“Sure. But she’d also have had to open the porch door then close it behind her, because she’s on the porch. I’ll take her home later when I… I’ve got to go, Fran. I’ve got to get back to my job and to…figure things out. If you came to visit, or maybe I could come back here…”
Baby Blues and Wedding Bells Page 20