by Debra Webb
“Please don’t leave me, Paige,” he whispered in the darkness, his voice raw with emotion. “I can’t lose you again.”
Paige held him tightly to her. How could she ever have let this happen? She knew when she came that she couldn’t allow herself to get involved with him. And look what she had done.
Nathan drew back to look into her eyes. “I love you, Paige. I never stopped.”
Chapter Ten
Nathan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Paige slid her arms around him from behind.
“I’m so glad you stayed the night,” she said and planted a kiss on his shoulder. She reached for the brush she had dropped on the bed and tugged it through his hair. “I love your hair. Remember when we were kids and I used to braid it for you?”
“How could I forget?” He smiled in spite of the tremendous ache in his chest. “Every time I sat still for more than five minutes you were twiddling with my hair.”
“You loved it and you know it.”
“I guess I did,” Nathan admitted as she continued to smooth the long strands. Though they had made love again during the night, still he wanted her now. He shifted, the jeans he had pulled on becoming uncomfortably snug.
“I think we should call Bubba’s and see if he would consider sending over a hot breakfast,” Paige suggested playfully. “I’m starving. And after we eat, we need to talk.”
“Let’s talk now,” he said. His smile relaxed into a frown when he considered that during their lovemaking he’d told Paige how much he loved her and that he wanted her to stay; each time she had remained silent. Nathan knew she loved him. He could feel it. He could see it in her eyes.
“You mean you aren’t hungry?” Paige asked, surprised.
“Tell me about the surgery.”
She blinked, uncertainty shoved aside the surprise in her eyes. “That’s one of the things I’d planned to talk to you about. I just keep putting it off.”
“So tell me.”
“Cancer. I have... had cancer.”
He hadn’t been prepared for that. The words slammed into him with such force that Nathan couldn’t speak for a long moment. “Cancer?” he repeated tightly.
She nodded.
“But you’re okay now?” He heard the desperation in his own voice. He couldn’t lose her now. He’d only just found her again.
“Yes, but,”—she lowered her gaze—”I can’t have children now.” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “They had to”—her gaze returned to his—”you know what they had to do.”
He clutched her shoulders, fear gripping him. “You’re sure you’re okay now? It won’t come back?”
“There’s no reason to believe it will.” She took his hands in hers. “Nathan, facing this disease made me realize the mistakes I’ve made. It made me see things more clearly. I know I should have told you everything a long time ago, but I thought—”
“Told me what?” he interrupted, fear and concern clouding his ability to understand.
“When I found out, you had already married someone else. I didn’t want to—”
He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
She took a deep breath. “Nathan—” A ring from the telephone cut her off.
“Let it ring.”
“It might be important.” Paige released his hands and answered the annoying instrument. She listened quietly for a few moments.
Nathan could hear the caller speaking louder than necessary. He hoped nothing had backfired for Calvin.
“Beatrice, I don’t understand. Slow down.” Paige stood, clearly distressed.
Nathan got up and stood beside her, watching her closely. Who the hell was Beatrice? What could she want?
“Jesse?” Paige paled as she uttered the name. “Yes, I’m on my way. No!” She threaded her fingers nervously through her hair. “I’ll be there in two hours. Just make sure Jesse’s okay.”
Jesse. A knot twisted in Nathan’s gut and a sense of foreboding settled over him. Who was Jesse? Paige had not mentioned that name before. Nathan had a bad feeling about this Jesse.
She pressed the disconnect button and placed the receiver back on its base. “I have to go back to Memphis,” she told him quickly without looking at him.
“What’s going on?” Nathan moved up behind her. Fear gripped his heart. She was leaving and someone named Jesse had something to do with it.
She blinked and shook her head. “I don’t have time to explain. I’ll call you later.” She rushed to the dresser and jerked out something to wear.
“Paige, tell me what’s going on,” he demanded more firmly than he had intended, hands planted on his hips. She wasn’t going anywhere until she told him the deal.
“Nathan, I don’t have time.” She tugged on her jeans and slipped on a T-shirt.
“I’ll go with you then,” he offered.
“No,” she shot back, shaking her head adamantly. “No. I’ll call you later.”
He knew true fear when he saw it. Paige was scared. He watched as she pulled on her shoes and tied them with trembling fingers. Something was very wrong. “What does this Jesse character have to do with whatever’s going on?”
Paige leveled her gaze on his. “Nathan, I promise I’ll explain everything later, but right now I have to go. Tell Calvin I’ll come back for him later this evening.”
Nathan backed off when he saw the tears brimming. He wouldn’t make things worse. Whatever she had to deal with, he had no intention of adding to her anxiety.
“Bye,” she said hastily before dashing out the door.
Nathan dropped back on the foot of the bed. Helpless. He felt helpless to control any of this. He raked his hands through his hair, pushed up from the bed and strode to the window. He watched, his hopes sinking, as Paige sped away in a cloud of dust and spraying gravel. She had said she would call. He squeezed his eyes shut and considered his options once more. Stay here and wait for her to call or come back. But he had done that before and look where it had gotten him.
No.
Nathan wasn’t going to let history to repeat itself. He would go to Memphis and find out just exactly what the deal was himself. Calvin was supposed to go home, Nathan could drop him off and save Paige the trouble.
Yeah, he thought with a smile. And that would be his excuse for following Paige to Memphis. He would be doing her a favor.
~*~
Paige parked in the long, half-moon drive that curved across the lawn of the Weston estate. She sighed, trying to dispel some of the growing anxiety. Mercy, she dreaded this encounter. Her father had returned home earlier than anticipated and the man had flown into a rage upon hearing of Paige’s whereabouts. It wasn’t like Beatrice could have lied. Why else would her father’s housekeeper have Jesse? How could anyone have known that he would have returned home unexpectedly?
Paige got out of her car and walked up the sidewalk, past the elegant landscape and the bubbling fountain. She climbed the steps and crossed the immaculately kept veranda. Paige pressed the doorbell and held her breath. Please, God, she prayed, don’t let my father say anything that will hurt Jesse.
Raymond opened the door. He smiled with sincere affection. “Miss Weston, so nice to see you.” He stepped back, swinging the door wide open.
“Thank you, Raymond.” She produced a smile as best she could and stepped into the richly decorated foyer. Raymond had been the butler for the Westons for as long as she could remember. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Your father is waiting for you in his study.”
“Thank you,” she replied, not feeling thankful at all.
Paige walked down the marble-floored entry hall until she reached the door to her father’s study. She moistened her lips and firmed her resolve. She could handle this situation. She had to handle this situation. Paige turned the knob and pushed the door open. Her eyes came immediately to rest on Jesse, sitting quietly on the sofa beside Beatrice. Paige had waited silently on that same couch many times as a
child. Waited for her father to give her one lecture or the other regarding propriety. A term she had learned was synonymous with Elliott’s Rules.
“Mommy,” Jesse cried, jumping down to run into her embrace.
Paige almost winced. Her father had never allowed running in his house. Jesse’s arms flew around her as she crouched down to meet him. She hugged him tightly and inhaled his little-boy scent. How she had missed him. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Beatrice, would you take Paige’s son into the kitchen for refreshments,” Elliott Weston directed. Elliott never asked people to do things, he directed.
Her son. Anger shot through Paige at her father’s avoidance of Jesse’s name. The calm, holier-than-thou sound of Elliott Weston’s voice made her bristle. She and Beatrice exchanged worried looks. She pulled free of Jesse’s loving arms and allowed Beatrice to lead him from the room. He didn’t need to hear or see any of this. The door closed with an audible click behind them and Paige finally allowed her gaze to meet her father’s.
His disapproving gaze swept over her. Paige knew she looked a mess. Worn jeans and T-shirt hastily pulled on. Nathan’s scent sill lingered on her skin.
“Please sit down, Paige,” her father issued the command softly, but firmly nonetheless.
“I think I’ll stand,” she replied without flinching. She wouldn’t feel quite so vulnerable standing.
“Fine,” he acquiesced. He studied her for a long while before he began. “Would you care to explain to me what fascination Trinity has held for you the past few days?”
“Actually, no.”
“I believe I have the right to an explanation, especially since I arrived this morning to find your son in Beatrice’s care.”
Ever the lawyer, Paige mused. “Jesse is his name and he’s your grandson,” she stated defiantly.
“Not a day goes by that I don’t consider that fact.”
“It’s nice to know you think of us often, Father.” Paige pasted a smile across her lips. How could he be so cold?
She took a deep, steadying breath. She wouldn’t lose it, because that’s what he wanted. She had his number. Paige held her tongue.
“You are my daughter. Of course I think of you often. Especially since...” His voice trailed off. He straightened in his luxurious chair, “And, as you say, Jesse is my grandson. How could I not think of him?”
“If it were only that simple with you,” she said ruefully.
“Since you have no intention of telling me why you went to Trinity, why don’t I hazard a guess?”
“Uncle Robert is on his honeymoon. I went to oversee the renovations in his house,” Paige told him in a tone just a degree short of scathing.
“Beatrice has already provided that cover story.”
“Cover story?” Paige was a grown woman, thirty years old. She didn’t have to answer to him. “Do I have to remind you that I’m well past the age of needing your consent?”
“I know how old you are. Even if you don’t act it.”
“This conversation is over, Father,” Paige retorted. Enough was enough. She didn’t have to stand here and take this. Why did she? Because he was her father and Paige wanted to give him every opportunity to change his mind.
Elliott stood, rage blazing in his blue eyes. “I know why you went to Trinity, Paige.” He rounded his desk and moved closer to her. He shook his aristocratic head in disgust. “Didn’t you learn your lesson five years ago? Nathan Blackrope is no good. He wouldn’t have anything if Amos Collins hadn’t been foolish enough to marry his mother.”
“I won’t listen to this,” Paige said through clenched teeth.
“He’s nothing. A parasite living on the misguided good intentions of a wealthy man. I can’t believe you would lower yourself by crawling back to him. I raised you better than that. Your uncle filled your head with ridiculous notions all those years. I should never have allowed you to spend one summer with Robert.”
“Stop it!” Paige shouted. “You’re wrong. Why can’t you see how wrong you are? Are you that blind?” Her entire body shook with rage. How could this man be her father?
“You’ve thrown your whole life away over that damned man,” he bellowed. “I’ll treat the child fairly since Weston blood runs through his veins, but if you insist on cavorting with the likes of Nathan Blackrope, I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Disown me? Disinherit me?” Paige spat vehemently. “Take your pick. I stopped caring long ago.”
“This has gone on too long, Paige,” he shouted. “You’re my daughter and I’m entitled to your respect. I will not have you ignore me or my wishes!”
“Respect is something you earn, Father. You don’t own me.” Paige shook her head. “I’m not a piece of property.”
“You’re my daughter, Paige. I won’t lose you over the likes of Nathan Blackrope.”
Beatrice burst into the room. “I can hear you two shouting clear in the kitchen. And so can Jesse.”
Paige’s heart twisted with pain at the thought of her son hearing this exchange. Episodes like this were the reason she had stopped seeing her father more than a year ago.
~*~
Nathan parked his truck next to Paige’s car. He had dropped Calvin off at his grandmother’s house first. The kid’s last words to him echoed in his head, “She loves you, Chief. Don’t let her get away.” He tried to tell himself that Calvin was right, but something kept eating at his insides. Something he saw in Paige’s eyes each time he looked at her. It was more than her revelation about the cancer and not being able to have children. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. En route Calvin had gotten a call from his grandmother, she was the Beatrice who’d called Paige. Whatever the woman had called about, it had gone down at Paige’s father’s house.
He took a long look at Elliott Weston’s home. His stomach tied itself in knots when he considered the possibility of coming face-to-face with that man again. Paige had said her daddy was away on business. If Nathan were lucky, maybe he hadn’t returned yet. All he wanted to do was see Paige and find out about this Jesse guy.
With a heavy exhale, he emerged from his truck. He slipped on his Stetson and strode to the Westons’ front door. He stared at the intricately designed wood and glass that stood between him and uncertainty. Nathan shook off the hate-filled memories of Paige’s daddy and pressed the doorbell.
A formally attired man of at least sixty opened the door and greeted Nathan. “May I help you, sir?”
“I’m here to see Paige,” Nathan told him hesitantly. A butler, he realized. Nathan almost laughed in spite of the tension he felt. Hell, he thought those guys were extinct.
“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s not available at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
Neither the man’s tone of voice nor his facial expression varied the slightest when he spoke. Nathan smiled. “I’ll wait.” He allowed his voice to convey his level of determination. He would not leave until he had seen Paige.
“I see,” the man noted. “And whom shall I say is calling?”
“Nathan Blackrope.” He tightened his jaw against the other words that wanted to tumble out. If Paige’s daddy was home, he would soon know without having to ask.
“Come in, sir.” The man allowed Nathan into the long hall. “I’ll inform Miss Weston of your arrival as soon as possible.”
Nathan removed his hat and thanked him. The man turned and walked down the long hall, an air of dignity in his step. Nathan shook his head. A butler. As if Elliott Weston couldn’t answer his own door.
He surveyed the ritzy digs. So this is how Paige had grown up. No wonder she loved her summers in Trinity so much. This joint was no place for a kid. It reminded Nathan more of a fancy funeral parlor or maybe a museum.
Heated voices caught Nathan’s ear. He listened. One belonged to Paige. The other he knew to be Elliott Weston’s. Nathan’s skin crawled at the sound. He set his jaw harder and willed the anger to retreat. He hadn’t come to make a fool of himself. No matter ho
w Elliott provoked him, he would stay calm for Paige’s sake.
“Hello.”
Nathan snapped his head around and then dropped his gaze to find the source of the voice. His eyes came to rest on a child and his heart stopped beating. A boy. Black hair and eyes... dark skin. Nathan’s head spun and his pulse pounded in his ears. He blocked out all other stimuli and focused completely on the boy.
“My name’s Jesse.” The child stepped closer and smiled up at Nathan. “What’s your name?”
Nathan sank to his knees. Partly to get a closer look at the boy and partly because his legs would no longer hold his weight. His gaze moved slowly over the child, taking in blue jeans and a Spiderman T-shirt. Jesse. He had said his name was Jesse. Nathan tried to keep his voice calm.
“Nice to meet you, Jesse,” he managed to choke out and extend a shaky hand. “I’m Nathan.”
The little boy latched onto his hand and shook it hard. His toothy grin widened. Nathan’s heart lurched at the child’s touch. Jesse suddenly dropped Nathan’s hand and reached for a long strand of black hair.
“You Indian, like me,” Jesse noted innocently.
Nathan nodded, unable to speak. This couldn’t be.
“I go to preschool,” Jesse said, reaching down to touch the hat Nathan held. “Frankie said I was a Indian. I’m four years old now. Soon I’ll go to big-kid school.” He took Nathan’s hat and set it on his head and then pushed it up so he could see.
Nathan swallowed hard and set his gaze on the child’s angelic face. “When’s your birthday, Jesse?” Nathan held his breath as he waited for the answer. This just couldn’t be.
“I already had my birthday. It was March,” he said happily, adjusting the large hat on his head once more.
Nathan quickly calculated the time between the day of his mother’s funeral and Jesse’s birth month four years ago. Nine months. The room whirled around him. His head pounded. His unsteady gaze locked on the little boy wearing his hat.
Jesse was his son. His son. How could Paige have kept this from him? There had to be some explanation...