His Daddy's Eyes

by Debra Salonen

  “Actually, the estate lawyer had that piece appraised and it’s tripled in value. I asked him if we could sell it so I could use the money to finish the yard, but he said he’d prefer to see the estate stay intact.”

  “He’s an idiot, too.”

  She laughed, and he had the urge to kiss her. “I should probably get going.”

  She nodded. “It was a busy day. I haven’t had so much fun in a long time, and I know Brady will be talking about it for days.”

  Ren still hadn’t figured out how anyone could understand anything that came out of Brady’s mouth. His doubt must have shown on his face, because Sara said, “He does speak English, Ren—it just comes out so fast nobody can understand him but me. It’s normal. Trust me.”

  “I do. You really handled him well in the car. I’d have just let him cry.”

  “That would have been okay, too. I’m probably too softhearted. Keneesha says I spoil him, but it breaks my heart when he’s upset.”

  “It must be tough to be both the caregiver and the disciplinarian.” He’d meant to sound supportive, but he could tell by the way Sara’s chin came up that she interpreted his words as condescending. He decided to change the subject. “How long were Julia and Hulger married?”

  “Four or five years, I think. I can’t remember. They dated several years before that. Julia had been a nurse at the hospital where he worked. She always said people accused her of marrying for money, when in truth Hulger probably married her to avoid deportation.”

  “Really?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Who knows? I never asked.”

  “Bo said people at the marina claimed they fought a lot.”

  “That’s true,” Sara said, looking down. Her toes curled against her leather thongs. “But it wasn’t all bad. They had fun, too. They traveled all over the world. They threw lavish parties—he was a terrific dancer, and Julia loved to party.”

  “Had they been trying for long to have children before Brady was born?”

  She let out a breath. “I think so, but I can’t say for sure. Julia was intensely private about some things. She was a complex person, and she hated anyone to second-guess her decisions. She prided herself on being in control at all times.” Sara tilted her head and gave him a serious look. “You know, it occurred to me earlier when Bo was describing your mother that she sounds a lot like Julia—no-nonsense, forward action, perhaps a little self-absorbed.”

  Ren couldn’t picture the slightest resemblance between the woman he knew as Jewel and his mother. “Hmm…” he said, trying to sound agreeable.

  “In fact,” Sara said, looking introspective, “now that I think about it, your fiancée is that kind of person, too, isn’t she?”

  Ren took a step back, surprised by her question.

  “Are you suggesting a pattern here?” he asked, trying to be amusing.

  She shook her head, giving a harsh, unhappy little laugh. “No, I’m the last person who should be giving advice about dating. I…”

  She looked at him, and Ren could tell she was remembering something painful. He ached to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he’d already made the mistake of kissing her; he wasn’t foolish enough to compound it.

  He said good-night and walked to his car, conscious of her gaze following him. As he pulled away, the porch light blinked off, removing the single dab of cheerfulness from the hulking fortress.

  SPEEDING DOWN Highway 16 toward town, Ren pushed a preset button on the built-in car phone and listened to the remote ring. There was no answer at the houseboat. “That’s weird. Where’d he go?” Ren mumbled. He punched a different button. Maybe he has his cell phone on him, he thought.

  After four rings, a voice said, “Yeah?”

  “Hi. Where are you?”

  “None of your business.”

  Ren wasn’t put off by his friend’s bluntness. “I tried the house and you didn’t answer.”

  “I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

  “Listen, after you drop off Sara tomorrow, would you come to my office? I want you to look into the trust that controls Julia’s estate. There’s no reason Sara should have to live in that godawful house. Have you seen it?”

  There was a pause, and Ren heard Bo murmur something to another person. Ren realized he must have intruded on a personal moment. “Are you with somebody?” he asked.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I just wanted to get this settled. Do you want to call me back later? I’m on my way to Eve’s right now.”

  Bo made a muffled comment to whomever was with him, then asked, “You’re calling from your car?”

  “Yes, I’m taking the back way to Eve’s.”

  There was another pause that made Ren think he’d lost the connection. He was about to hit Redial, when Bo said, “Listen, buddy, I should warn you. Eve called my house looking for you, and Claudie said she called here—at the bookstore, too.”

  Ren’s mouth fell open. “You’re at the bookstore?”

  The connection started to crackle. “Yeah,” Bo returned testily. “Wanna make something of it?”

  Ren grinned at his friend’s contentious tone. “No. Not at all. I know what a big reader you’ve become.” Snickering, he added, “Give my regards to Claudie.” But the line went dead.

  Ren wasn’t sure what to make of Bo’s interest in the young woman. Granted, she’d given up working the street when Sara hired her to work at the bookstore, but that didn’t mean she was right for Bo. Ren shook his head. He had more pressing matters to think about, namely what was he going to say to Eve.

  He wasn’t surprised to see the lights on in his fiancée’s apartment. She was a night owl. He parked and hurried up the steps to her door. She opened it before he could knock.

  “Hi,” he said, stepping into the foyer. “I heard you were looking for me.” His shin encountered a large black suitcase. “Going somewhere?”

  “Yes,” Eve said shortly. She was dressed in workout clothes: black leggings and a jade-green sports bra that left her midriff exposed. Her feet were bare. Her hair was twisted into a knot atop her head.

  He stuck his hands in the pockets of his Dockers and waited. He’d learned to respect Eve’s sense of drama—whatever kind of scene this was, it was going to happen her way.

  “Ren, I’m taking the job in New York.”

  “Is there a reason why you’re going so soon?”

  Her black eyes flashed in anger. “Damn right. When you chose that woman and her brat over me, I knew then and there our relationship was over.”

  Ren frowned. “I told you I was going to Bo’s.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know you couldn’t even wait long enough to see me receive my award. If I mean that little to you, if my feelings are so far down on your list of priorities…”

  Ren stepped toward her. “I’m sorry, Eve. I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal. You get those kinds of awards all the time. What’s one more?”

  Tears clustered in her eyes, and she turned away. “Nothing to you, obviously, but it meant something to me. And it meant something to the people who came up to me later asking where you’d gone and why you weren’t there to congratulate me.”

  Ren grimaced. “I should have stayed until after the ceremony. I apologize.”

  Eve turned around slowly. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m leaving in the morning.”

  Ren started to walk past her to the living room. “Can’t we talk about this?”

  She placed her small, perfectly manicured hand on his arm. “Why subject ourselves to the ordeal? It won’t change anything. You know this is the way it has to be.”

  Ren’s heart felt heavy in his chest. A rash of wonderful memories—Eve on Valentine’s Day wearing strategically placed construction-paper hearts; the two of them making love on the beach in Maui; their Sunday mornings together sharing bagels and the New York Times—chased across his vision, momentarily blinding him.

  “Are you
sure this is what you want?” he asked, covering her hand with his. “I’m sorry I hurt you today, but there’s nothing going on between Sara and me. Unless that DNA test proves I’m Brady’s father, I won’t have any reason to ever see her again.”

  Eve pulled her hand back and walked to the door. “I’m sure you believe that, Ren, but I don’t. I know you. Probably better than you know yourself. She’s your escape, your get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  Ren shook his head. “What does that mean? I’m not trying to escape from anything. You’re the one who’s leaving.”

  “But you left first. Why else have sex with a stranger? Why go to such desperate lengths to prove you’re the father of somebody else’s child? Why else would you give up on a wonderful relationship that could take you right to the top?”

  “Maybe I don’t need my relationships to take me anywhere, Eve. Maybe I like where I’m at.”

  She made a scoffing sound. “If you liked where you’re at, you never would have gone looking for Miss Bookstore. A lawyer could have handled any responsibility you feel toward her child, but you hired Super-Snoop to track her down. You’re involved with her, Ren, whether you want to admit it or not.” She took a breath. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

  Stunned by Eve’s slicing summary of his motivations, Ren moved cautiously back into the foyer. He stepped around her suitcase. “What about all your stuff?” He made a sweeping motion with his hand.

  “The movers come Thursday.” She lifted her chin proudly. “Marcella got me a full relocation package, great benefits and stock options. It’s everything I ever wanted—career-wise.”

  Ren heard a softening in her tone. She was hurting, too. He moved to her and put his arms around her, drawing her close. Bending low, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He breathed in her scent—exotic and spicy.

  “I’m proud of you, Eve. You’re living your dream. I’m sorry I can’t be a part of it anymore.”

  He felt her shoulders shake, and she clasped him tight. “Me, too,” she whispered softly.

  After a minute she broke away and took a deep breath. “I have a lot of packing to do.”

  He started toward the door.

  “I already called your mother and told her goodbye. She seemed pretty upset. You might want to call her when you get home.”

  Ren flinched. “Maybe.”

  “Oh,” Eve said. “I almost forgot this.” She held up her left hand and started to pull off the diamond ring he’d given her.

  Ren clasped her hand in his and shook his head. “It’s your ring, Eve. You picked it out. You said it was a brilliant stone for a brilliant future. That hasn’t changed.”

  She blinked rapidly and raised up on her toes to kiss him. “I love you, Ren Bishop. You’re a good man, and you’ve been a good friend to me. I’ll really miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.” He hugged her once more, then left.

  Just as he reached the curb he heard her door open. Eve walked to the top of the stoop and called out, “I hope you get your son, Ren. Don’t give up trying. Sara won’t be able to hold out forever.”

  He smiled and called back, “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  KEEPING HER EYES CLOSED, Sara held on to the pictures in her mind, reluctant to reenter the real world. Another Ren dream, she thought, savoring the breathless passion that lingered in her memory. She’d given up trying to control her subconscious—refused to feel guilty about something she had no control over. Besides, these dreams were a very nice part of her day.

  “Up and at it, sex fiend,” she muttered under her breath. “This is Saturday. Bo’s coming to help prep the gutters.”

  As she started to move, Sara realized she felt thoroughly rested, such a rare sensation that she barely recognized it. She glanced at her alarm clock and saw a flashing number twelve. Power failure, she thought—not an uncommon occurrence in the country. Did I oversleep?

  Not bothering with a robe, she sprinted down the hallway to check the clock in the kitchen. As she passed Brady’s room, she glanced in. Her heart stopped at the sight of his empty crib. “Brady?” she cried, clutching the door frame.

  A movement just to the side of her line of vision made her jump back; the doorknob collided with her lower back, making her cry out. A large form started to rise from the floor in the vicinity of Brady’s frog-shaped toy box.

  “Good morning,” the creature said, straightening to its full height. “Did we wake you?”

  Sara’s heart seemed to jump sideways. Pinpricks flooded her fingers and perspiration tingled under her arms. “Ren,” she croaked.

  Brady, who was draped over Ren’s left shoulder in some kind of wrestling move, waved from his upside-down position. “Hi, Mommy. Ren here.”

  Sara tried to smile back but wasn’t sure she could do it without crying. Her initial fear had robbed her of any equilibrium. Her knees felt wobbly.

  “Did I scare you?” Ren asked, his concern obvious. “Bo and I were scraping the eaves outside the window, and Brady saw me. I figured you were still asleep, so I used the key you gave Bo and let myself in. I thought I’d keep him entertained until you woke up.”

  Ren bent low and set Brady on the floor. The boy dashed to Sara, who pulled him into a tight hug. Over Brady’s shoulder she looked at Ren, who was wearing broken-in jeans and a loose denim shirt speckled with brown paint.

  “You’re scraping my eaves? Why?”

  His gaze shifted downward. “It has its rewards.”

  Sara looked down and realized she was wearing her oldest nightie. She felt herself blush. “Stay here, honey. I’ll be right back.”

  “Can I make some coffee?” Ren called after her, his voice rich with amusement. “The hired help is threatening to walk.”

  “Sure. Of course. Whatever.”

  When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, it was to the smell of coffee brewing. Brady was sitting in his high chair, banana smeared in his hair and brows.

  “He’s not real neat, is he,” Ren said, humor masking any criticism.

  “Were you, at this age?”

  “Actually, I was considered a holy terror until I was four.”

  Sara took a carton of milk from the refrigerator. “Really?” she said wryly. “What happened at four?”

  He didn’t answer right away, then said, “My older sister drowned. Everything changed after that, including me.”

  His tone was flat. He wasn’t looking for sympathy, just stating a fact—but Sara’s heart ached for him just the same. “How terrible! I’m so sorry for your family’s loss.”

  The toast popped up, and he dutifully applied butter. “Her name was Sandra, but everybody called her Sunny,” he said, handing Brady a toasted triangle. “Dad always said that described her personality, too—bright, smart, happy. She was the perfect one actually.”

  Sara couldn’t stop herself. She reached out and touched his arm where bare skin was exposed below the turned-back cuff of his shirt. “And after she was gone, you became perfect to take her place.”

  He looked at her, his face composed. “It wasn’t a conscious decision—I was only four. But things changed. There was sadness and tension in our home that wasn’t there before. I’m sure it affected me.”

  She squeezed his arm. “Only if you were human.”

  He smiled, but his eyes had a faraway look. “My father quit his job at the district attorney’s office to stay home and take care of me. Mother was pretty shook up—it took her a long time to…” He didn’t complete the thought.

  Babe never fully recovered from the loss, Sara guessed. “Grief and guilt go hand in hand,” she said. “Hulger’s parents were in Denmark at the time of the accident, but they blamed themselves, just the same.”

  He moved to the opposite counter and poured two mugs of coffee. He added sugar to one and set it aside. “It happened at our family’s cabin at Lake Almanor. My uncle Frank and his family were there,
too. His twin daughters were Sunny’s age. The men were fishing from the shore, the girls playing in the water out front of the cabin.”

  He took a drink of coffee. Sara gave Brady his milk in a spill-proof cup and sat down at the table. “How did it happen?”

  “The three girls were messing around with a raft they’d made out of driftwood. Sunny dove underneath the raft to fix something. Apparently she got tangled in a rope. By the time the other girls figured out she was in trouble, it was too late.”

  “Where were you?” Sara asked, forcing herself to swallow a bite of toast.

  His sad, strangled laugh broke her heart. “I was being a brat, and Mother was trying to get me to lie down for a nap.”

  “Surely nobody blamed you for what happened?”

  “No. But the loss of a child affects everyone.” He picked up the mug of sugared coffee. “I’d better get this out to Bo before he goes on strike.”

  Sara leaned back. Why did he tell me that? Was he looking for sympathy, or was he trying to tell her he’d understand how she’d feel if he tried to take Brady from her? She suspected the latter, and it touched her deeply. She could fall in love with a man that sensitive.

  “HEY, MAN, TAKE IT EASY. You’re gonna scrape a hole in that downspout,” Bo said, looking down at Ren from his vantage point on the ladder.

  Ren glanced up. Frustration made him growl, “I’d like to strangle the person who originally primed this piece of shit.”

  “Are you sure that’s who you’re mad at?”

  Ren rocked back on his haunches. “Who else would I be mad at?”

  Bo wore his Raiders cap backwards. Brown paint chips made his hair and skin appear diseased. Ren was certain he didn’t look any better. Talk about a detestable job! What had seemed a gallant gesture had turned into the job from hell.

  “Maybe mad is the wrong word. How about frustrated?”

  Ren sighed. He was frustrated—in more ways than one. The more time he spent with Brady, the more anxious he became to prove the little boy was his son. The more time he spent around Sara—especially when she showed up wearing a gossamer nightgown—the more…He put the thought aside and growled, “I’m fine. I’m still a little pissed about the way that estate lawyer blew Sara off, but she told me she has an appointment with the jerk next week, so maybe we can get the ball rolling—one way or the other.”