His Daddy's Eyes

by Debra Salonen

  “Wow, Brady! Grandma Mean-Lady’s coming,” Claudie said. “She’ll probably serve you boiled bat tongues and lizard innards for dinner. Yum, yum.”

  Fighting a smile, Sara scolded her. “You shouldn’t tease him like that, Claudie. He comprehends more than you and Bo give him credit for. Just because you can’t understand everything Brady says doesn’t mean he can’t understand you.”

  Claudie gave Brady a long, serious look. “Really?”

  Sara nodded. “Just the other day Brady told Ren that Uncle Bo and Aunt Claudie were getting married.”

  “What?” Claudie shrieked.

  Sara tried not to smile. “Well, not in so many words. But Ren was sure that’s what he meant.” Actually, Brady, who seemed to prefer things grouped together rather than alone, used his favorite expression, “bofagator” —which Sara interpreted to mean “both together“ —to describe his adopted aunt and uncle. Ren took that to mean Brady thought Bo and Claudie should get married so he could stay with them at Bo’s houseboat more often.

  Claudie stared at Brady as though he’d just grown horns. “Good God. He’s not really that smart, is he?”

  Sara hid her grin with her hand. “All I’m saying is, you’d better start thinking of him as a miniature adult, not a puppy.”

  Brady picked up on the word puppy and started barking like the neighbor’s dog.

  Claudie dropped to her knees and charged forward, growling. Brady’s shrieks of laughter made Sara cover her ears. He jumped on Claudie’s back, demanding a horsy ride. The play continued until Claudie collapsed. “You’re too much, Brady boy.” She pulled him into a hug. “But I love you.”

  Sara’s eyes filled with tears. She’d never heard Claudie use those words about anyone or anything.

  Claudie stood up and walked to the door. “Ren told me he made the reservations for seven, so I thought I’d open up this morning. Then you and Brady can come down after his nap. Angela’s coming in to help with inventory.”

  Angela was Claudie’s new recruit—a skinny, pimple-faced girl whom Claudie was trying to keep from a life on the streets. She hadn’t been in the market for a job and didn’t seem to appreciate Claudie’s interference, but somehow Claudie had persuaded her to give the bookstore a chance.

  “Is it okay if Bo picks you up after work?” Claudie asked. “I need to use the car to run a few errands.”

  Sometimes Sara couldn’t help but marvel at the changes she’d witnessed in her friend over the past month. She didn’t know if the impetus had been Claudie’s scholastic achievement or the fact that she felt—and was—needed by Sara. The respect Bo and Ren gave her might have helped, too, Sara thought.

  “Fine. I have to take Brady to his playgroup at ten, then meet with Janice. Later, I want to run a box of books over to the jail.”

  “Will that give you enough time for Brady’s nap?” Claudie asked. “We don’t want him grumpy for Grandma you-know-who.”

  Sara laughed and shook her head. “Ren will be back around noon. He’s going to stay with Brady.”

  Claudie confirmed the last of their convoluted child-care and social arrangements, then left.

  Sara put away her clean clothes and finished straightening up her bedroom. She loved her room. At the thought of leaving this place, a small sound of pain escaped from her lips.

  Brady looked at her curiously.

  She smiled to reassure him. “Which is the new truck Ren gave you, Brady?” she asked, motioning him to come to her. “Is it red? Show me the red one.”

  He studied the pile a moment, then snatched a bright red fire truck from the jumble and carried it to her.

  Sara clapped and gave him a big hug. Claudie wasn’t the only one benefiting from all the attention. Between Ren and Bo, as well as the teachers at Bright Stars, Brady was blooming. There was no denying that Ren Bishop had made a huge difference to the lives of Sara and her extended family. So why did she feel so miserable?

  Absentmindedly accepting the toys Brady brought her, Sara sat on her bed and thought about her relationship with Ren. In the four weeks they’d been living under the same roof, he’d done absolutely nothing untoward or improper. He treated her with respect, yet, there was something—a heat, a tension—between them that she sensed but couldn’t define.

  She knew Ren felt it, too, but any time she caught him looking at her with what might be longing or desire, he turned away. Whenever they accidentally touched, Sara felt sparks reverberate through her body, but Ren would merely apologize and put more space between them.

  Sara hadn’t forgotten their kiss, but apparently Ren had. Sighing, she blinked back tears, silently admitting the futility of her feelings. How could she expect Ren to lust after her when he’d made love to Julia? Sara knew Ren liked her, respected her, but he didn’t feel that same gut-wrenching passion that made Sara listen for his footsteps at night. That made her sneak into his room early each morning to watch him from the window as he did laps in the pool.

  Sara wasn’t sure she could last another two weeks, but the alternative was just as harrowing. The cliche—caught between a rock and a hard place—came to mind. How could she stay? Worse, how could she leave?

  “SO, HOW DO YOU PLAY this game, anyway?” Bo asked, examining a golf ball as if it might hold a clue.

  Ren, who was in the process of squaring his stance in front of the first tee, looked up and frowned. “You took golf in college, Bo. I know. I lent you my clubs.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot,” Bo lied. He hadn’t set up this golf date to knock around little white balls. He was a man with a mission.

  He waited until Ren started the downward stroke of his swing, then said, “It’s time to shit or get off the pot.”

  The club made a dull thunk when it connected with the ball; a large hunk of grass flew up, too. Ren glared at him. “There is a certain etiquette to follow, Lester. Don’t talk when someone is swinging.”

  “Oh, I thought that only applied in baseball.”

  Ren stuffed his club back in the bag, then moved aside.

  Bo wiped his hands on his checkered double-knit pants—the most audacious he’d been able to find—and approached the finely manicured tee. “I meant it, though,” he said, squinting down the fairway as though he gave a hoot.

  “Meant what?”

  “You’ve got to do something. You’re killing her.”

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think?”

  Bo swung the club and felt the wooden head connect squarely with the ball. The ball arched into the air and flew straight down the green turf. “Wow. I think they call that beginner’s luck.”

  Shoulder-to-shoulder the two men walked down the fairway. Ren didn’t look at Bo when he said, “You’re wrong. Sara’s doing great. Brady loves his school. Claudie’s a success story. Everybody’s fine.”

  Bo knew by Ren’s tone that he didn’t believe what he was saying, even though it was all fact. Everyone was doing great—except the two lead players, who were miserable.

  Ren stalked to his ball, grabbed a club and walloped it with enough force for Bo to hear the swishing sound as the club sliced through the air. Bo watched the ball streak along the outer edge of the fairway, then drop into the rough. “Tough break,” he said unsympathetically.

  Ren gave him a black look and marched away. They met up again at the first putting green. “I didn’t mean you were killing her on purpose,” Bo said, a second before Ren’s putter connected with the ball. The ball hugged the cup for a heartbeat before arcing away to stop four feet from the hole.

  Ren’s epithet made Bo snicker.

  “I’m not killing her,” Ren shouted.

  The words seemed to echo in the still morning air. Ren closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. “Great,” he muttered. “If the paternity issue doesn’t screw up my reelection, a murder scandal will.”

  Bo putted his ball into the cup, then walked to Ren’s side. He patted his friend’s shoulder consolingly. “It’s not like you love t
his job, anyway.”

  “How would you know?”

  Bo shrugged. “I watch people, Ren. It’s what I do. And I’ve watched you for twenty years. I know you took the judgeship for the same reason you went to law school—because it was expected of you. But you don’t love it. I’m not saying you’re not good at it, but it’s not your thing.”

  Ren looked at him with a blank kind of astonishment.

  “What?” Bo asked. “Did you think I was just some illiterate gumshoe?”

  Ren didn’t respond. He finished his putt, then packed away his equipment. “Let’s go get some breakfast. We can talk there.”

  “What about the rest of the game? It’s starting to come back to me. I must not have been bombed that entire semester.”

  THE COFFEE SHOP Bo picked out was not the kind of place Ren or any of his golf buddies would frequent, which probably was why Bo chose it, Ren thought, pulling into the parking lot behind the Mazda. Ren sent Bo in to pick out a table, while he used the phone.

  Sara answered; her voice made an automatic smile spring to his lips. He loved the sound of it.

  “Hi. It’s me. Bo and I cut our game short. We’re grabbing a quick cup of coffee, then I’m coming home. Do you need me to pick up anything?”

  “Um…no, not that I can think of. What will your mother want for dinner? I was planning hot dogs for Brady.”

  “Perfect. She loves hot dogs,” Ren said, grinning at his blatant lie.

  “Okay.” She didn’t sound as though she believed him. “Oh, and guess what? Janice just called—she said the house is sold.”

  Ren’s heart jumped skittishly. “Really? That’s great news.”

  Sara hesitated a moment before agreeing with him. “She’s going to come over in a little while with the proposal. If you’re here, maybe you could look it over for me. I hate to ask, but…”

  Ren bit off a curse. Didn’t she know he’d do anything for her? Why did she always sound so apologetic when she asked for a favor?

  “No problem. I should be there in twenty minutes. I’d better run. See you soon.”

  Sliding onto the booth’s cracked, red plastic cushion, Ren saw Bo look at him appraisingly.

  The waitress delivered two coffees. “Menus?” she asked.

  “No, thank you, we can’t stay,” Ren said.

  “We can’t? Why not?” Bo asked, when she walked away.

  “Sara sold the house. She wants me there when the Realtor brings the paperwork.”

  Bo added a packet of sugar to his mug. “Hey, that’s good news. Did she sound happy?”

  Ren thought a moment. “Sorta.”

  “‘Sorta.’ What does that tell you, Ren? A woman sells the biggest white elephant ever built and she’s just sorta happy? What is wrong with that picture?”

  “I didn’t get all the details. Maybe it’s not a good offer.”

  “Bullshit. Janice is a mercenary. She wouldn’t bring in a shabby offer. I’m telling you Sara is miserable. She’s sinking fast, bud.”

  “You make her sound like the goddamn Titanic.”

  Bo sat back, giving Ren a look his friend knew all too well. With a muffled curse, Ren gave up. He knew Bo was right. Worrying about Sara kept Ren from sleeping at night. He pushed his coffee cup away and said, “What am I supposed to do? I’ve tried everything I can think of. I know she’s happy about Brady’s school and she was jumping for joy over Claudie’s exam—but you’re right. Something’s missing.”

  “Like the sparkle in her eyes,” Bo said, sitting forward again. “God, I miss that little glint of humor whenever she’d look around and see one of us standing there. I haven’t seen that in weeks.”

  “I know,” Ren said. “I tried gifts. I made her go to that day spa. We’ve taken Brady to the zoo and the wild animal park and Discovery Zone. He’s been doing great in his swim lessons, and I know she’s thrilled with that. He loves school and he’s getting along well with the other kids—”

  Bo shook his head. “Brady’s not the problem.”

  “And Claudie is doing fantastic. Ever since Sara made her assistant manager at the bookstore, you’d swear she’s a different person.”

  “It’s not Claudie.”

  “Babe hasn’t—”

  “Ren, it’s you.”

  Ren exhaled as if Bo had hit him in the gut. He ran his hand through his hair impatiently. “I’ve tried to keep my distance, Bo. God, it’s been killing me, too. You should see her in the morning when we’re downstairs alone. She likes to get up when she hears me come in from doing my laps. There’s something so fresh, so innocent about her. Damn.”

  Bo was silent a minute, then he said, “Have you talked to Sara about your feelings?”

  “Hell, no. Do you want to see her head for the hills? Christ, Bo, it can’t be easy living in the same house with the man who slept with your sister and could be your nephew’s father. I don’t know why she doesn’t hate me.”

  “I don’t either, but you know she likes you. Maybe she likes you as much as you like her.” Bo made a sound of disgust. “Did I just say that? Maybe I need to go back to high school.”

  Ren frowned. “I don’t know what to think, but I agree that things can’t go on like they are. I was planning on talking to her tomorrow—we’ve got Claudie’s party tonight, but maybe we can grab a few minutes alone once Janice leaves.”

  Ren reached in his pocket for his wallet, but Bo said, “Get out of here. Go home to Sara. Try not to blow it, okay?”

  REN THOUGHT ABOUT Bo’s words all the way home. As he pulled into the driveway, he noted the late-model Suburban with the real estate logo on the door parked in front of the house. He left his clubs in the trunk and hurried inside.

  Sara and Janice were in his office, sitting on the sofa with a stack of papers between them. Instead of going to his desk, Ren sat down on the other side of Sara. She seemed startled by his proximity but didn’t edge away. “You got here fast,” she said. “We barely sat down.”

  “Time is money in the real estate business. How’s everything, Janice? What have you got for Sara?”

  The actual paperwork was a snap. Janice, a true professional, seemed perfectly comfortable walking Sara through all the steps, answering her questions with courtesy and understanding. The offer was sound, better than he’d thought possible.

  Later, as he and Sara walked Janice to the door, he said, “I’m very impressed, Janice. That was not an easy house to market. You certainly earned your commission.”

  “Thanks, again,” Sara called to Janice from the step. She watched until the Suburban was out of sight, obviously reluctant to go inside with Ren.

  Screwing up his courage, he held the door open and said, “Sara, could we talk?”

  She faced him, a grim look on her face. “I have to pick Brady up from his play group in fifteen minutes.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  She walked inside and waited for a signal from Ren. He led the way to the back patio. He knew one of her favorite places was the gazebo. In fact, he’d added thick pads upholstered in a rich forest-green print just for her. He sat down on one side of the octagon; she sat opposite him.

  She wore a simple cotton shorts set of peachy orange. Her newly acquired tan made her arms and legs look sleek and sexy. The sun had lightened her hair several shades to a warm honey color. Ren longed to reach out and pull her into his arms.

  “Sara, I…” The lawyer in him had a whole speech prepared, but in the end it was the man who blurted out, “I love you.”

  Sara frowned as if trying to decipher a foreign word. “How do you mean that? The same way you love Brady and Bo and Claudie?”

  “I don’t love Claudie. She’s a pain in the butt. I like her, and I respect how she’s turned her life around, but I don’t—” Ren shook his head to get back on track. Her question had thrown him. But he realized it was valid. “You’re right. I love my friends and family. A lot. Especially Brady. But those feelings have nothing to do with the way I feel a
bout you.”

  “They don’t?”

  Ren tapped his forehead with his fist. “I’m really bad at this. I guess I don’t know how to explain love because I’ve never been in love before.”

  “Eve…”

  He shook his head. “Eve and I seemed liked a good idea at the time. That’s it.” He sat forward, closer to her. Sara didn’t draw back, but she seemed wary. “Sara, I know you’re not happy here. I’ve tried to make everything as easy as possible because I wanted to give you time to get to know me. I hoped that maybe, if I was lucky, you’d start to feel about me the way I feel about you.”

  He reached out and took her hand in both of his. “I know it’s a little crazy to think two people thrown together the way we were could actually fall in love, but that’s what happened—for me, anyway.”

  Her hand trembled but she didn’t pull it back. She looked at him, searching his eyes. “Are you saying you want to—” The color in her cheeks deepened.

  “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to resist you.”

  “You’ve been trying to resist me?” she whispered.

  She sounded so dumbfounded that Ren moved back, knowing that the best way to avoid blowing this was to take it slowly and deliberately. “Sara, I’m crazy about you. About your smell. Your smile. The way you look in your swimming suit. I fantasize about the way you’ll look out of your swimming suit.”

  Her blush deepened.

  “You’re sexiest in the morning when you’re all sleepy-eyed, standing there with a cup of coffee, waiting for me when I get out of the pool. No, wait, I’ve changed my mind. You’re even sexier when you’ve just tucked Brady in bed and you stand beside his door with your eyes closed listening to him. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about scooping you into my arms and carrying you to my bed.”

  “That’s sexy?” she asked, tilting her head dubiously.

  “To me it is. Because I know the energy and soul you put into raising that little boy, and I love you for it.”

  Sara sat forward, and Ren saw tears glisten in her eyes. “Do you mean love love? Not just I’m-Brady’s-mother love?”