His Winter Rose and Apple Blossom Bride

by Lois Richer

  “Do you think they’ll agree?”

  “No one has so far.” She played with her spoon, her face pensive. “I’m finding a certain reluctance among many gallery owners to feature artists who don’t have some previous gallery experience, or who don’t come from one of the schools that teach textiles, painting, whatever. It’s frustrating because the work here is so innovative. It’s going to take someone with vision and commitment to see the potential. So far I haven’t run into that person.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re her, Ashley.”

  “Tracey said something like that, too.” She leaned forward. “Why did you say it?”

  “You obviously have an eye for exceptional work. You have gallery experience, I’m told. And you have an insight into how to market an artist.” Michael shrugged. “Maybe you should think about starting your own gallery.”

  The pizza arrived, followed seconds later by Tati who was red-faced and glowering. “There’s a very bad boy over there.”

  “Well, he can play by himself while we eat. But first you need a wash. Let’s go clean up.” Michael took her by the hand and headed for the bathroom. When he returned, Ashley gave him a quizzical look he couldn’t interpret.

  The server refilled their glasses and left extra grated cheese.

  “I’m starved.”

  “So am I.”

  They finished all but the last piece. Tati begged for another go at the play area now that the miscreant had left. Michael agreed, hoping it would wear her out so sleep would come quickly tonight. He hadn’t done anything in his studio for days.

  “Today one of the art students showed me drawings she’d done for the sets for the winter festival play,” Ashley murmured after sipping her coffee.

  Uh-oh.

  “She said some of your students thought they could build them with some leadership. From you.”

  “Ashley, I can’t. I explained all this.”

  “I’d be willing to help you, watch Tatiana if you needed it.”

  He found himself considering it. Not because he needed help with Tati, though that would be nice. But he wanted the chance to know Ashley better. She intrigued him, made him think life might hold something he hadn’t dared dream of again, something he never planned to risk.

  He couldn’t walk away from her offer.

  “While we were skating, Tatiana told me about her mother. I didn’t realize she was a famous ballerina.”

  “Carissa would have liked to hear that,” he mused aloud. “Her goal was to be a household name around the world. She hated being ill, not being allowed to dance. It was her reason for getting up in the morning.” He clamped his lips together, afraid he’d said too much.

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “Five months.” He studied her, decided it was better to get the truth out now. “Ashley, I never knew I had a daughter until six months ago.”

  “What?” She looked stunned.

  “Carissa and I were married only a few months when she was offered a six-month contract with the Bolshoi Ballet. My dad was ill, I was in the middle of—” he looked for the right word “—studies in New York. I couldn’t drop everything and follow her, but Carissa promised she’d be back as soon as the contract was over. Two months after she left, I got a letter telling me she’d made a mistake, that she wanted a divorce, that all she wanted was to dance.”

  “Oh my.” Her eyes grew huge. “She never told you she was pregnant?”

  He shook his head.

  “I tried to get in touch with her, to phone her. I wrote dozens of letters. They all came back. I learned her contract with the company had been suspended, but that’s all I could find out.” He pushed a hand through his hair as the memory of those dark days returned. “Dad died and everything else got pushed to the back burner for a while. Then the divorce papers arrived.”

  “So you signed them?”

  “It had been over a year. I couldn’t reach her. I had no access, other than through her former lawyer.” He swallowed, looked down at the table. “Besides, by then I knew she was right. We’d made a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry.” She reached out, touched his hand.

  Surprised by the voluntary contact from such a reticent person, Michael covered her hand with his, and glancing up, found only compassion on her face.

  “Thanks.” He sighed. “I thought it was over, that the only people we’d hurt were ourselves. I was living in New York when I happened to read a small newspaper article that said Carissa was there convalescing. I decided to visit her, to make sure she was all right, you know?”

  Ashley nodded, removed her hand from his grip.

  “I phoned, but her manager said she didn’t want to see me. I decided to go anyway. I figured I owed her that.” It still rankled. “A friend who worked at her hotel got me up to her room. I knocked on the door and this little sprite answered. It was Tati. I would have known my daughter anywhere.”

  “Oh, Michael.” She sounded as if she understood what he’d missed, the pain that had gutted him at what he’d never been allowed to experience.

  “Carissa wasn’t going to let me know until after she died. She’d married again. A man she met in Russia. Vlad was nice, rich, adored the ground she walked on, but he couldn’t buy her the cure she needed.”

  “Cure?”

  “When I saw her she was in the last stages of lung cancer. It was very aggressive. She wanted Tati with her as long as possible. Vlad was to bring her to me after Carissa died.”

  “But how did you— I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s kind of nice to explain instead of watching you imagine all kinds of weird scenarios.” He checked to be sure Tati was still busy, that she couldn’t overhear. “Carissa kept hoping, right to the end, that she would go into remission, find a cure, something. Vlad got her to come to New York on the pretext of seeing a specialist, but I think it was more because of Tati. He was afraid there would be problems with her custody and he wanted to honor Carissa’s wish for me to take care of her.”

  It galled him to say it even now, months later. He pushed away his coffee cup, stretched his legs and drew several breaths to ease the tension gathering at the back of his neck.

  “But why wait so long?”

  He smiled but felt no mirth. “We weren’t married very long but Carissa knew that if I’d known I had a daughter, I would have insisted on being with her. If she hadn’t fallen sick I’m not sure I’d ever have known about my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. Fortunately for all of us, Tati is very accepting. She’d always called Vlad by his first name. From the moment Carissa introduced us I was Daddy.”

  “I’m sorry she got sick, but I don’t understand her actions at all. To deny a child her father—it’s awful.”

  “You have to understand Carissa. No one ever said no to her. She’d pushed herself up through the ranks, made herself a household name. It was hard to match wills with her.” He stared at the little girl who’d lit up his life so sweetly. “But I’d have done it and more if I’d known.”

  “Of course you would have.” She summoned a smile. “You’re very lucky to have Tatiana.”

  “I think so, too,” he said warmly, appreciating her staunch defense. “So now perhaps you’ll understand why I was so defensive about being a father that day we were on the boat. I’m trying to forgive Carissa, but the whole thing still rankles a bit whenever I think of what I missed.”

  “No wonder.” She shook her head. “Now I’m doubly sorry I said it. How thoughtless!”

  “You couldn’t have known.” He took a deep breath, decided to risk it. “Maybe knowing our history will make you feel more comfortable. I’m not looking to dash into anything, to make another mistake. I learned that lesson the hard way. But I am looking for a friend. Can we be friends, Ashley?”

  She studied him for a moment, eyes large and luminous in her pale face. He held his breath, waiting. Final
ly she nodded.

  “I’ve made mistakes, too,” she said softly. “I’ve been engaged twice, both times to the wrong man. I don’t trust myself not to make another mistake, that’s why I said what I did.”

  Michael could tell it was a big admission for her. Delighted that she’d shared as much with him, he decided to press a little further, especially since Tati was happily involved with another little girl in the ball pit.

  “But your mistakes—that’s not what has made you so afraid, is it?”

  The soft rose flush that had tinted her cheeks a moment ago faded to white. “No.”

  “Can you tell me about it?” He touched her arm, turned her hand over and slid his fingers between hers. “I’m a good listener.”

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Just start at the beginning,” he encouraged.

  “Something happened to me a long time ago.” She stared at their entwined hands, briefly explained the almost-abduction. “It’s not just that. I don’t think I’ve ever really felt secure.”

  “What does that mean? Is someone after you now?”

  “I’m not—”

  A loud squeal interrupted. Tati. With an apologetic look, Michael withdrew his hand and went to find out the problem. His sobbing daughter stood in the middle of the ball pit, a bruise forming at one corner of her cheek.

  “She fell against the edge,” a woman explained. “I’m sure it won’t leave a lasting mark, but according to my son’s experience with the same thing last week, it hurts a lot more than it shows.”

  “Thanks.” He picked Tati up, hugged her close after inspecting the damage. “It’s only a bruise, sweetie. You’re fine. And it’s way past your bedtime.”

  “But I wanted to play some more,” she sobbed against his neck.

  Recognizing the signs of overtiredness, Michael didn’t argue, simply carried her back to the table.

  “I’m sorry, Ashley. I think it’s time we went home. Can you drive us back to the rink?”

  “Sure. Is she okay?”

  “Just a bump.”

  They left quickly, arrived at the rink with little more being said. Once Tati was settled into her own car seat, Ashley leaned in to kiss her goodnight, then closed the door. She tilted her head to one side as she studied Michael.

  “I enjoyed this evening,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you,” he said, admiring her ethereal beauty. “I’m sure falling on the ice wasn’t part of your plan for today.”

  “It had its moments.”

  Michael knew what he was going to say and didn’t even try to stop the words.

  “Tell Piper that if she really wants, I’ll build the sets. I’ll make it a project for the kids. Extra marks.”

  “You will? Really?” At his nod Ashley grinned, reached out and hugged him. “Thank you, Michael! Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hugged her back, relishing the touch of her silky cheek against his.

  “Oh, sorry.” She drew back, her face a soft rich pink.

  “Anytime,” he told her with a grin. And meant it. “Maybe you could get copies of those drawings from your art student and bring them to the school shop tomorrow. We’ll need to order the wood right away.”

  “Sure. I’ll do that. Thanks, Michael.” Her smile flared again. “This is so great.”

  Then she looked at him and her eyes held a thousand secrets as a tiny smile kicked up the corners of her mouth.

  Michael wanted to prolong the moment but he needed to get home, to do some work.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Yes. See you.” She climbed into her vehicle, waited for him to precede her out of the lot.

  As he drove home Michael suddenly realized that only once during their time outside the rink had Ashley checked over her shoulder or scanned the lot.

  Did that mean she trusted him?

  Chapter Seven

  “Did you have a happy Thanksgiving, Ashley?” Tati stood in the doorway, surveying her visitor. Orange icing was smeared above one eyebrow.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you, honey. How about you?”

  “I had two pieces of pumpkin pie.”

  “Two, huh? You must have been stuffed. I’m surely glad all the snow melted so we could see the pumpkin display at the library. Aren’t you?”

  “Uh-huh. I liked the scarecrow best.”

  “I liked the roosters and the sunflowers. Can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  Ashley followed her into the house, sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “Is something burning?”

  “Don’t ask,” Michael told her sticking his head out of the kitchen. “We’re decorating cupcakes for her class. The teacher got sick and missed their Thanksgiving party.” He frowned.

  “Really?” She couldn’t imagine that.

  “Really. But these things—” he pointed to a dozen round brown blobs perched on the counter “—aren’t nearly as funny as I remember.”

  “What are they?” she asked, pondering the misshapen lumps.

  “I think it’s bad if you have to ask.”

  She grinned. “Sorry.”

  “They’re pumpkins, of course.” Tati looked offended. “We’re going to decorate them when they cool off.”

  Michael winked at her. “Want to try one? I’ll even ice it for you.”

  “Thanks, anyway, but I just had lunch.”

  “Hey! They’re not that bad. Even I can bake a cake mix.”

  “I’m sure they’re delicious,” she offered reassuringly. “It’s just that orange icing does odd things to my taste buds. Especially that particular shade of orange. If you ice them, you’ll have to watch how you wrap them.”

  “Huh?”

  “The plastic wrap will stick to the icing.”

  “At school the teacher uses toothpicks.”

  Ashley smiled. Tatiana believed she was far too old for day care so she called it school and reprimanded anyone who termed it otherwise.

  “Wanda doesn’t think I can bring pumpkins but I told her Daddy would do it. He builds lots of stuff.”

  “He sure does. And he’s very good at it, too.” Ashley chuckled at Michael’s preening. “I was talking about the sets, not your current, er, construction.”

  “Be nice, Ashley.” He winked, held up the spatula and let a blob of orange drop off it into the bowl. “Or I’ll make you taste this.”

  “Eww!” She glanced at Tati who was mucking about in the sink. “Hey, what about our trip?”

  “Oh, we’re still going. I was just soaking the dishes. Now I’ll get my jacket.” She raced out of the room.

  “Soaking the dishes, her clothes, the floor, the curtains.”

  “She’s a sweetie.”

  “Yes, she is. And she has such faith in me. It’s scary.”

  “Why? Every little girl thinks her daddy is invincible.”

  “Yeah, but what happens when she finds out I’m not?” Michael made a face at his creations. “I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint her at this tender age because other than plastering this icing on top, I don’t know how to make these things look a bit like pumpkins.”

  “Hmm. Do you have any chocolate chips?” Ashley accepted the bag he retrieved from the cupboard, arranged a stem on the one he’d iced. “Buy some green gumdrops for leaves and you’re done. The kids will probably pick them off but it looks good.”

  “Yeah. Good idea. Thanks.” He grinned at her as if they’d achieved an impossible feat, then covered the icing and stored it in the fridge. He glanced down, grinned. “Ah, new boots for our ride on the quads. I liked your other ones better.”

  “I thought you said you liked the heels I had on yesterday.”

  “I did.”

  “And my sandals that I wore that day on the houseboat?”

  “I liked those, too.” He deadpanned an innocent look.

  “You seem to notice my footwear a lot, Michael. Why is that?”

  “No comment. E
xcept to say that given a choice, I prefer the heels.” He grinned a wolfish smile that did nice things for her ego. “Though I do understand you couldn’t wear them today.”

  “Well, hardly.” She shook her head at his teasing and tried to quash the ripple of warning that told her to be careful. Stifling it, she checked to make sure Tati had not yet reappeared. “You have heard about the cougar, haven’t you?”

  “Sure.” He nodded. “There have been lots of stories at school about one coming down from the hills. But we’ve had cougars in the area before. They seldom attack people.”

  “Still—” She didn’t want to say anymore, not with Tatiana liable to appear at any moment.

  “We’ll be fine, Ashley. I wouldn’t endanger my daughter.”

  No, that was true, but it didn’t help much. When Tati reappeared, Michael sent her to the basement on an errand, then walked around the counter to face Ashley. He pressed his forefinger under her chin, tilting it up so she had to look at him.

  “You worry a lot, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Really?” It was clear Michael saw right through her pitiful defense. “Your footwear isn’t the only thing I notice, Ashley. When we were on the boat that afternoon, you kept checking Tati’s life jacket. And your own. Over and over, as if there might be something wrong with them.”

  “Did I?” She looked away.

  “Yes, you did. And the night you went off the road you kept looking around.”

  “I explained that.”

  “Uh-huh.” He touched her arm. “But there’s something you haven’t told me, isn’t there? That night at the restaurant you said you’ve never really felt secure. I’ve been thinking about that. It seems so out of character.”

  “It does?” She wondered if he’d spoken to his mother, heard her story of crazy Ashley’s abduction.

  “You’re a strong, confident woman who’s lived and worked in a big city. You’ve handled complicated showings, done your job with people coming and going all the time. So I’m guessing your anxiety level went up about the time you came back to Serenity Bay, right?”

  “It was already up. But, yes, something like that.”

  “You’re still talking?” Tatiana stood in the doorway, hands on her hips as she glared at them. “Are we going or what?”