by Ginna Gray
"Nothing. Scott and Bonnie pressed charges and the police investigated, but Dad claimed that Damon had fallen down the stairs, but Scott and I knew better."
Scott's sobs intensified, and Jennifer laid a hand on his shoulder and looked at Dirk bleakly. "Damon told a different story at first, but the child was so terrified of Dad he later claimed he couldn't remember what happened. Damon is twenty-two now, and he still has no memory of that day. We think he simply blanked it all out.
"Anyway, after that, Scott and I severed all ties with Mom and Dad. Neither of us saw them again until Dad's funeral."
His father was dead? Dirk had thought he would feel pleased, but he experienced only an odd sense of loss, which he quickly squelched. "When did he die?"
"Five years ago, of a stroke. Mom is in a nursing home. She has Alzheimer's. She doesn't even know her own name."
Dirk was quiet and pensive on the flight home. "Are you all right?" Alissa asked gently.
He drew his gaze away from the clouds outside the window and smiled at her. "I'm okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm sure. I have to admit, you and the doc were right. I needed to do this. It wasn't pleasant, but it has helped."
She studied his face. "Then you're not still angry with Jennifer and Scott?"
He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. "No. Not anymore," he said quietly.
"Good." She slipped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder, and Dirk's gaze returned to the window. He narrowed his eyes and stared out at the brilliant white clouds.
He felt oddly calm, almost peaceful. All the anger and resentment that he had carried around for years seemed to have dissipated. There was simply no one left to hate. His old man was dead and his mother was as good as. There was no satisfaction in confronting an empty shell.
And it was difficult to be angry with Jennifer and Scott, now that he knew how much they were hurting. In a way, their suffering was almost worse than what he had endured, because they had brought it on themselves. They had to live the rest of their lives with what their fear and self-serving had done, not just to him, but to Scott's own son.
Actually, he pitied them. Their guilt was much worse punishment than anything he could have done or said.
He glanced down at his sleeping wife and smiled. Drowsiness overtook her often these days. Smoothing a lock of hair off her cheek, he tucked it behind her ear. He was glad that she had pressured him into today's meeting.
His brother and sister had been genuinely happy to see him. He grimaced. Probably because they hoped he'd grant them absolution, he thought cynically. Still, they had been remorseful for what they had done—or rather, had failed to do.
They had parted, not exactly on amicable terms, but with a sort of guarded civility.
Dirk sighed. They would probably never be close, but they were his family, and it felt good to know they had taken the first tentative step to reestablishing some sort of relationship, no matter how fragile.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^
It snowed in Houston only once every ten years or so, and almost never in March, but as luck would have it, Alissa went into labor during the worst spring blizzard the city had ever seen.
During the last two months of her pregnancy, Dirk had stuck close to her. He had curtailed his business trips, sending others in his stead, and he had taken to leaving the office early, usually arriving home by four each evening.
Because of the snowstorm, Alissa had sent Mrs. Appleton home in the middle of the afternoon. Barely thirty minutes later, she experienced her first contraction. Since it was only a little one and she expected Dirk home within the hour, she did not get overly excited.
By five o'clock, her pains were coming every five minutes, and there was still no sign of Dirk. No longer caring how busy he was or what important deal she was interrupting, she snatched up the telephone.
The meeting of Tex-Con's top executives had been going on for almost two hours when the call came through to the conference room.
"It's Alissa," Henry said, and Dirk's heart gave a leap as he took the receiver from him. The next instant, the instrument hit the conference table with a clatter and he sprinted out of the room, galvanized into action by the unmistakable panic in Alissa's voice.
Minutes later, when he arrived at the apartment, he was appalled to find his wife curled in a fetal position on the living room sofa, in the middle of a grinding contraction. He scooped her up in his arms and shouted for Mrs. Appleton to fetch the bag.
"She … she's not h-here," Alissa gasped.
"Not here! Where the hell is she?"
"I sent her ho…home early because of … the st-st-storm."
Turning the air blue with curses, Dirk put Alissa back on the sofa and tore down the hallway. He was back in seconds with her bag, and scooped her up again.
Fighting rush-hour traffic, icy streets, the congestion caused by dozens of fender benders, and idiots who had no idea how to drive in snowy conditions, it took him the better part of an hour to reach the hospital. By then, Alissa's water had broken and her contractions were coming hard and fast. They had planned for Dirk to coach her through the delivery, but there was no time for him to scrub. There was barely time to rush Alissa off to the delivery room.
Terrified, Dirk tried to follow, but a burly orderly stopped him at the entrance. Several people on the hospital staff tried to persuade him to retire to the waiting room, but he wouldn't budge. He paced the floor outside the swinging double doors for what seemed like hours. In reality, barely ten minutes later a smiling nurse emerged.
Before she could utter a word, Dirk grasped the woman's shoulders in a painful grip. "My wife. Is she all right?"
"Relax, Mr. Matheson. Your wife is fine. So is your daughter."
Dirk stared at her and swallowed hard. "Daughter?"
"Yes. You are the father of a healthy, seven-pound baby girl."
Dirk was unprepared for the feelings that swamped him when he held his daughter for the first time.
It was over an hour after her birth before the marine drill sergeant of a floor nurse finally allowed him in to see his wife. When he entered the room, Alissa was propped up against a pile of pillows with the baby at her breast. He stopped in the doorway and stared.
Alissa, her honey-colored hair tumbling about her shoulders and a tender smile curving her lips, was gazing down at the infant with the most incredible joy on her face. She was, Dirk realized, the very essence of femininity: gentle, loving, nurturing—everything he had ever wanted.
The baby suckled greedily. Her hand lay on the top of Alissa's breast, and every few seconds the tiny fist kneaded the soft flesh.
They look like the Madonna and child, Dirk thought, mesmerized.
Glancing up, Alissa saw him standing in the doorway. A luminescent glow lit her face, and her blissful smile beamed across the room at him. "Hi," she said softly.
"Hi, yourself," he answered, in the same emotion-filled tone. "How do you feel?"
"Wonderful now. Absolutely marvelous." She held out her free hand to him. "Come in and meet your daughter."
Dirk's gaze remained fixed on his wife. He walked to the bed and grasped her hand tight, relief cascading through him just at touching her again. He'd never been so frightened in his life as he had on the drive to the hospital. Every time a contraction hit her and she cried out in pain, his heart had nearly stopped. When they wheeled her away from him on that gurney, he had been terrified he would never see her again.
He was suddenly shaking all over, and as his knees went weak he sat down on the side of the bed. Leaning forward, he kissed her with reverence and awe, his lips gossamer-soft and caressing against hers. "I love you," he whispered, staring into her blue eyes.
"I love you, too. Oh, my darling, I'm so happy." She choked the words out, her eyes filling with tears. "We have a daughter. Our very own miracle."
Her joy sent intense pleasure wafting t
hrough him. He was fiercely, unutterably glad that he had given her a child. He couldn't believe that he had ever wanted to deny her this happiness.
He gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah. I guess you're right."
"Look, isn't she beautiful?"
He peered cautiously down at the infant. His heart began to pound. She was so tiny! He'd never seen fingers that small. Or skin that delicate. He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he agreed in a husky voice. "She is."
Then his gaze returned to his wife. "So are you."
"Oh, Dirk." Alissa cupped her palm to his cheek and gazed at him with love shining in her eyes, too choked with emotion to say more.
He kissed her again, longer this time, and when he finally pulled back he gave her an amused grin. "I called your sister. She was over the moon. They probably heard her squeal as far away as Brenham."
"I'll bet." Alissa chuckled.
"She said to tell you she'd let Tyler and his family know, and that the rest of the clan will be here in a few hours."
"Good. I can't wait to show her off."
"Have you thought of a name yet?" They had discussed names at length. For a boy they had settled on Samuel David, but none of the names they had come up with so far for a girl had seemed quite right to Alissa.
"Yes. I think I have. I want to name her Faith."
"Faith?"
"Yes. It seems appropriate, since that's what she's given us—the faith to overcome the past."
Dirk stared at their joined hands. He hoped she was right.
Alissa glanced down at baby, who had fallen asleep, her rosebud mouth slack. Smiling, she adjusted her nightgown over her breast and stroked her forefinger over the baby's cheek. Instantly the infant's mouth made suckling motions, and her parents laughed.
"Greedy little thing, isn't she?" Dirk remarked. "Especially to be so tiny."
"She's not that tiny," Alissa replied indignantly. "I'll have you know that seven pounds is about average for a newborn."
"Really?"
Alissa cocked her head and studied his fascinated expression. "Would you like to hold her?"
"Who me? I, uh … I don't think that's a good idea. I don't know anything about babies. I might hurt her."
"Don't be silly. She won't break. Here."
Before he could move away, Alissa put the sleeping infant in his hands.
Dirk stared down at his daughter, his heart pounding. She felt light as a feather to him. To his amazement, he realized that she looked like him. A fuzz of Alissa's honey-colored hair covered her scalp, and she had her mother's nose, but Faith's mouth and eyes, the shape of her face, even the slant of her eyebrows, were his.
At that moment the baby opened her eyes. Though Dirk had read that newborns couldn't focus, he could have sworn that she was staring straight up at him. Tentatively he shifted her to the crook of one arm and touched his forefinger to her cheek. He was awed by its velvety texture. The tiny starfish hands waved in the air. One bumped his finger, and the minuscule fingers latched on with an astonishingly strong grip.
Dirk stared at that tiny hand holding his so trustingly, and a tidal wave emotions washed over him, nearly suffocating him. His chest tightened until he couldn't breathe. His throat ached as though he'd swallowed an apple whole and it was stuck halfway down. Those matchstick fingers might as well have been clutching his heart, because he was instantly, completely, irrevocably enchanted. Love for his daughter filled every cell in his body. Quite simply, he adored her.
Moved beyond words, he bent his head and kissed her velvety-soft cheek. Her heavenly baby scent filled his nostrils, and he squeezed his eyes shut. The mere thought of anyone harming her was like a stab in his heart.
Two days later, they brought their daughter home to the apartment. After Mrs. Appleton had dutifully oohed and aahed over Faith, Alissa laid her in the crib in what was now the nursery. Instantly, the infant's eyes opened. She squirmed and flailed her arms and made a few tentative squeaks and grunting noises, and then her fist bumped her mouth and she found her thumb and drifted off to sleep again, sucking blissfully.
Alissa grinned at Dirk. "Did you ever see a more cooperative child? With any luck, she'll sleep long enough for us to have a bite of lunch." She spread a light receiving blanket over Faith and tiptoed out of the room, motioning for Dirk to follow.
He lingered beside the crib for several moments. Watching him from the doorway, Alissa wondered at his tragic expression. He'd been acting strangely ever since he first held Faith in his arms.
"Dirk, she'll be fine. Really," she whispered.
He brushed his hand over Faith's fuzzy head and leaned down and kissed her cheek. Then, reluctantly, he walked out of the nursery.
Alissa was still moving slowly, and she leaned on Dirk as they entered their own bedroom. "My. I'm more tired than I thought I'd be. I think I'll have a little nap before lunch. Why don't you join me?" she said, sitting gingerly on the bed and patting the mattress beside her.
He stared at her, as though memorizing her face. Finally he shook his head. "I can't stay."
"Can't stay? Oh, Dirk, don't tell me you're going in to the office today? It's Sunday, for heaven's sake, and this is our first day home with our baby."
"No. I mean … I can't stay here. In this apartment, with you and Faith. I can't take a chance with her." He avoided Alissa's shocked eyes and shifted from one foot to the other. "Yesterday I rented a place not far from here. I've already moved some of my things out."
Alissa felt as though she had received a crushing body blow. She tried to draw air into her lungs, but couldn't. Only seconds before, she had been so happy; now her whole world was coming apart. Blindly she stared at him, fighting back tears. Don't panic. Stay calm. Reason with him, she cautioned herself. Finally she managed to pull some oxygen into her tight chest. "But why, Dirk? It isn't necessary. Dr. Houghton thinks you can handle the responsibility of having children just fine."
"That's not good enough. I have to know for certain. Until I have proof that she's in no danger from me, I'm going to live elsewhere."
"But … how can you have proof of something like that?" she pleaded, feeling panic welling up. "Especially if you're not living here?"
"I don't know." He raked a hand through his hair, and cast an agitated look around. "All I know is, I can't take a chance with Faith. I love her too much to put her at risk. I've talked to Mrs. Appleton. She'll stay with you around the clock until you regain your strength."
"You told Mrs. Appleton about your past?" she said with disbelief. He'd never told anyone but her, and she hadn't revealed his story to a soul, not even her sister.
"No, of course not. I simply explained that we were separating temporarily."
That was bad enough. Alissa could just imagine what the older woman was thinking. That also explained those pitying looks she had cast her way when they came home. "I see. For how long, Dirk? How long do you expect it will take before you feel comfortable living with us?" she demanded, using anger to cover her fear.
"I don't know. How ever long it takes."
"I see. Then we could be talking days here. Is that it? Maybe even weeks, or months? Maybe even years?
"Look, sweetheart, I'm not deserting you. I swear it. I'll drop by every day, and here's my new address and telephone number. Call anytime you need me. I'll be here in minutes."
She stared forlornly at the slip of paper he handed her, her heart breaking. "I need you every hour of every day."
She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with the tears she could no longer hold in check. "Don't you know that?"
"I know. I know. I'm sorry. If there was any other way…" He made an agitated motion with his hand. "Look, I have to go. I'm sorry. But I have to."
"Dirk, wait!"
He stopped a few feet from the door, his dark head bent. Without looking at her, he said, "I do love you, Alissa. I love you both. More than you could possibly know." He turned his head and looked at her over his shoulder. What she saw in his eyes was pur
e, screaming hell, and she knew then that this was as much agony for him as it was for her.
Long after the door had closed behind him, Alissa sat on the side of the bed, staring at the blank wood panel in a stupor of pain.
She would not cry, she vowed. If she started, she didn't think she would be able to stop, and she simply could not allow herself to get that upset while she was nursing.
Looking up at the ceiling, she widened her eyes to keep the tears at bay and hugged herself tightly.
"This will pass," she told herself staunchly. She would call Dr. Houghton in the morning. He would convince Dirk that he was being overcautious. Why, the very idea of Dirk harming their daughter was ludicrous. He loved Faith. And he loved her. She didn't doubt that for a moment. He would be back in a few days.
A few days turned into weeks, then a month, and Alissa began to despair that Dirk would ever return to them for good.
As he had promised, he stopped by to see them each night when he was in town. However, he had resumed his business travel, going out of town even more frequently now than before, and often days went by between his visits. Alissa suspected that seeing her and Faith for only an hour or so each day was painful for him and he was using work as an escape.
At first, hoping Dirk would return soon, Alissa covered for him with her family and friends, but after a while she had no choice but to tell them of their separation. In fairness to Dirk, she felt compelled to explain his reasons for leaving, as well.
As a result, they were all left with conflicting emotions.
"This is, without a doubt, the most frustrating situation I've ever encountered in my life," Callie said, fuming when Alissa broke the news to her family. "I didn't know it was possible to be furious with someone, admire them and feel sorry for them, all at the same time."
"Yeah. I know what you mean," Joe agreed, with a heavy sigh. "I feel like putting my fist through his face for leaving, and getting down on my knees and thanking him for caring so much. Of course, he's worrying for nothing. We've all seen him with the kids. Everybody knows that he'd never hurt a child."