His Daddy's Eyes

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His Daddy's Eyes Page 24

by Debra Salonen


  Ren shook his head. When he found his voice, he said, “No. It means Julia and Hulger gave birth to our son. And when Brady’s older, we’ll share him with them—but for now, he’s all ours.”

  Sara turned the chair to make room to climb into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. “You are going to be the best father in the world.”

  Ren squeezed his eyes tight against the disappointment, the shock. He’d been so sure. “I love him so much,” he said, his voice catching on a sob.

  “I know. I feel the same way. Sometimes I can’t believe I didn’t give birth to him.”

  They held each for a long time, then Ren said, “If it’s okay with you, I’ll put the file in the safe. Brady will have it if he ever needs it, but this doesn’t change how I feel about him. And if Hulger’s parents have no objections, I’d like to adopt him after we’re married.”

  “You are a remarkable man, and I love you,” Sara said, her eyes shining.

  She took his hand and led the way back upstairs. They paused in the doorway of Brady’s room. Brady let out a small grunt and rolled to his side. Searching in his sleep, he found his elephant and his fingers closed around the creature’s trunk. He hauled the dilapidated beast to him and sighed with complete satisfaction.

  “That’s his ‘funt.’ Julia bought it for him that first Christmas when he was only a month-and-a-half old. He loved it from the start.” The memory seemed to sadden her, and her expression made him draw her close.

  “I’m sorry Julia died, Sara—for Brady’s sake and yours. We’ll make sure Brady knows the good memories. My father used to say the way to keep Sunny alive was by talking about her. He said, ‘I plan to make her the first one I look up when I get to heaven, so I have to keep her close by.’ Picturing them together was the one thing that made his death tolerable.”

  Sara hugged him. “I love you for the man you are and the man you’ll help Brady to be, but right this moment I’m in need of the man you were an hour ago.”

  She slipped her hands between the gap in his robe and pressed up against his naked body.

  “Sara,” he half choked.

  “I’m sorry, but I like making love with you and I’m ready to try something new.”

  He hugged her tight and kissed her breathless. “No problem, but let’s go back to our room. I’ve heard other parents complain about never having private time. We’re going to make the most of ours. Starting right this minute.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Four months later

  REN TOOK A LAST GLANCE at the election results, then closed his laptop and stretched back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d spent an election night at home. The sight of his loafers made him smile—one of the perks of being a professor was the casual dress. Another was having the holidays off, and he was looking forward to the upcoming Thanksgiving break with joyful anticipation.

  He closed his eyes and breathed a deep, satisfied sigh. Being married to Sara these last three months was a fulfillment that touched every aspect of his life. Her support had enabled him to do what he’d secretly dreamed of doing—teach law. At times he missed the judiciary, but he loved the challenge of inspiring students to look beyond grades to the people, the soul and the character of law.

  “Honey, would you bring up that last load of clothes when you come?” Sara called from upstairs.

  “You bet,” he hollered back. He sat up and took a pen from his desk drawer. Upstairs laundry room, he wrote on a notepad. First thing in the morning he’d call Rich, the contractor who had transformed his parents’ house into his and Sara’s home. It was silly to make Sara cart clothes back and forth upstairs—especially now.

  Claudie’s old room would be perfect, he thought.

  Ren started to get up, but sat back down when the phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Ren, it’s me. Any more calls from you-know-who?”

  “Not since Sunday. What about you? Any leads?”

  “Not enough to amount to a hill of beans.”

  Bo had been as perplexed as everyone else had when Claudie suddenly disappeared. Sara had been frantic until Claudie left a message on the answering machine informing them she was on some sort of self-imposed mission.

  “I gotta set something right, Sara,” Claudie had said. “Tell the Cookbook Man I can handle this myself. It’s a family thing, and I don’t need him butting in. That’s why I took off like I did.”

  In typical Claudie fashion, she’d added, “Don’t worry, Sara, I’ll be back in a week or so. Give Brady a kiss for me and tell the girls at One Wish House I’m sorry about abandoning them like this, but they’ll understand. Sometimes you get a chance to prevent history from repeating itself and you just gotta take it.” With that, she’d hung up, leaving Bo with very few clues to follow.

  Now Bo’s angry sputtering made Ren sigh. “How one skinny, little ex-hooker can disappear like that is beyond me! I’ve had my staff working overtime and they’re flat-out pissed. So am I.”

  Ren knew bluster when he heard it. Bo was hurting. “She said she’d be back soon,” Ren said. “Maybe you ought to just let her do this on her own.”

  Bo snorted. “Once I find her, we’ll discuss that possibility. Dammit,” he added, half under his breath, “I thought we had something going.”

  Ren grimaced at the pain and frustration he heard in his friend’s voice. “You’ll find her, Bo. You’re the best.”

  The sigh that came over the line seemed very unlike Bo.

  “What’s the problem, Lester? Are you getting soft? Can’t handle the challenge?”

  Bo growled. “Oh, I’m gonna find her and when I do…”

  A loud honk obscured Bo’s words. “Where are you calling from?” Ren asked.

  “My car. I thought I’d run by One Wish House and see if I can shake loose a few lips. Those women are as secretive as Claudie.”

  Bo paused for a second, then added, “I’m thinking about flying to New York.”

  “Why? Do you think Claudie’s there?”

  “No. I think she’s somewhere in the Midwest, but that’s just a hunch at this point. I’m hoping my cousin, Matt, can fine-tune the search. He used to work for the NYPD. Now, he’s doing computer tracking for the FBI, and he owes me a favor.”

  New York. Ren frowned, recalling Eve’s last letter. “I don’t suppose you’d have time to see Eve while you’re there, would you? Sara called her office yesterday, and they told her Eve didn’t work there anymore.”

  “Knowing Eve, she probably found something bigger and better,” Bo said.

  “Bigger than network news?” Ren asked doubtfully. “Sara said the last time she talked to her, Eve had complained about picking up some kind of flu bug on that trip to Panama. You know Sara; she thinks something terrible has happened to her.” There was a slight pause. “I doubt if Eve would be all that thrilled to hear from me. We’ve never been bosom buddies, you know.”

  Ren snickered. “That’s an understatement, but if you have a chance I’m sure a voice from home would be welcome.”

  There was another pause, then Bo said, “I’ll let you know once I hook up with my cousin. If Matt’s as good as my aunt says he is, I might not be there very long.” A barely audible “Thank God” followed.

  Bo’s connection started to fade, so they cut the conversation short. Ren replaced the receiver with a sigh then went to retrieve the basket of freshly laundered clothes.

  Aside from Claudie’s disappearance, things were going fabulously. Ren hoped Bo could solve this case fast. The worry wasn’t good for Sara, and he knew Claudie’s absence was felt at One Wish House, her halfway house for prostitutes. When he’d first offered Claudie the use of his old Victorian for the project, she’d been reluctant to accept. But Sara and, remarkably, Babe had convinced her to give it a try.

  Ren could never have predicted his mother’s support of Claudie’s efforts, but he credited Brady with having a mellowing
effect on his grandmother. Ever since the honeymoon, when Babe and Claudie took care of Brady while Ren and Sara explored New Zealand, Ren’s mother had shown a remarkable transformation. She laughed more, joined them on family outings and even volunteered at Brady’s day-care twice a week.

  After climbing the stairs, he walked to Brady’s door and looked inside the room. Sara lay on Brady’s bed reading aloud from the book I’ll Love You Forever. Brady, who would turn two on Sunday, lay beside her, his head pressed against the side of her rounded belly. With solemn concentration he drove a toy car up the incline.

  Ren made up his mind not to mention Bo’s call until morning. Knowing Sara, she would spend the whole night racking her brain for clues, and the doctor had advised additional rest. “Twins mean double prenatal care,” he’d admonished.

  Ren was thrilled at the thought of two babies. The news had created quite a stir among the Unturned Gentlemen’s reading club, since it fouled up the odds in the betting pool, but at least it eased competition between Bo and Claudie for “god-person” rights.

  Sara motioned Ren to join them. He set down the laundry basket and walked to the bed, then tousled his son’s hair and leaned over to kiss his wife. Ren couldn’t gaze upon her beautiful, glowing face without marveling at his initial blindness. How could I have called her plain? he wondered with chagrin.

  “Cooties,” Brady said, hiding his face.

  “I’ll cootie you,” Ren said, tickling Brady under the arms.

  Sara scooted out of the way of the wrestling match that ensued, laughing when Ren playfully tumbled to the floor, carrying Brady with him. She didn’t try to stop it—every moment Ren and Brady spent in play was a cherished gift. She knew those moments would be harder to come by once the babies came.

  She ran a hand over her belly, smiling with pure contentment. Marriage was everything she’d ever dreamed it could be—a true joining of spirit and soul. On those rare quiet afternoons at the bookstore when Brady was in school, and Claudie was campaigning to get young girls off the streets, Sara would ponder the quirks of fate. If Julia hadn’t gone to Tahoe, Sara might never have met Ren. Why she went remained a mystery, but Sara liked to think her sister would be pleased with how things had worked out.

  Sara glanced at the framed photograph sitting atop Brady’s bureau—Hulger and Julia beaming with pride at Brady’s christening. As a wedding gift, Ren had taken Sara and Brady to Denmark to visit Hulger’s parents. Sara doubted that Brady understood how Grandmother and Grandfather Hovant fit into his life, but his gregarious nature seemed to give the older couple tremendous pleasure. Although Sara had worried that Hulger’s parents might object to Ren adopting Brady, they’d warmly welcomed Ren into their home and had thanked Sara for keeping Hovant as Brady’s middle name. Brady Hovant Bishop. Smiling at her sister’s image, Sara silently whispered, You always said the right middle name would come along.

  “Help,” Ren cried, when Brady tackled him. “You’re reading the wrong book, Sara. You need Where The Wild Things Are.”

  “Brady, love, time for bed.” She closed her book and rose, feeling awkward and clumsy. By the time she’d put away the book and returned to his bed, Ren had Brady calmed down and tucked in.

  Watching Ren kiss his son good-night, she blinked back tears. So alike, so handsome. In unison they looked at her—matching blue eyes, alive with humor, charm and goodness.

  Perhaps not genetically identical, she thought, smiling back, but what does science know of love?

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-5131-4

  HIS DADDY’S EYES

  Copyright © 2000 by Debra Salonen.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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