The Daddy issue

by Melissa Beck

  "Right.” Daniel eyed him, wondering where he was going with this line of conversation.

  "Several of us tried to date her after David took off, and after she got back from Chicago. But she wouldn't have any part of it. Guys started calling her ‘Ice Queen’ behind her back."

  "Maybe she had good reason to be cautious. Who knows what she went through in Chicago."

  Wally leaned in a little. “Between you and me, I think she fell in love."

  Daniel sat back. No way. They'd both hated the idea of love. Her fiancé hurt her. His ex-wife hurt him. So they were just toying with each other. “No. She didn't find love in Chicago."

  "How would you know? Did she tell you?"

  "Yeah, pretty much.” No. She hadn't even told him goodbye, actually. “Anyway, she came back here alone. That says a lot."

  Wally scratched his chin. “She never told us about her boyfriend there. We figure he left her for another and broke her heart. Then the jerk wouldn't even come and see his daughter."

  I didn't know about her, Daniel wanted to say in defense. Instead, he bit his tongue.

  Wally switched back to the subject of Spyders and filled the air space with his vast knowledge of the cars.

  An hour later, riding back to MCC's offices, Daniel said, “That wood you're using is very impressive. And with the old-fashioned planing techniques, secret recipe polish and forged hinges, you've got a unique product. Without seeing your books, I'd say at least outwardly your company's solid. You just need to know how to compete in today's market. Finneyville jumped into the deep end. Now it's your turn. Only, you've got to jump off a higher board."

  "I hear ya.” Wally pounded his palm against the steering wheel. “I'm pumped all of a sudden.” He glanced in Daniel's direction. “Thanks."

  "No problem.” Daniel hummed with energy too, from assessing a product and knowing he could help to promote it. Remembering his real reason for being in town, he hopped out of the truck. “Hey, thanks for the conversation and the tour. I need to run."

  Wally grabbed the brown bag that had been sitting between them and held it open. “Want lunch ‘to go'? I've got an extra peanut butter sandwich."

  When was the last time he'd had peanut butter? “Crunchy?” Daniel queried. “Or creamy?"

  "Creamy. With grape jelly. I'm a purist."

  Daniel reached out a hand.

  Grinning, Wally plopped the sandwich into it.

  "Thanks,” he said, glancing up the street. “Now I've got to try and catch Gretchen on her lunch break. Think she eats in the café?"

  "Chances are pretty good that she does. That or takes out food from there, since it's near her shop."

  "Great. We'll meet tomorrow if I'm still here and Gretchen is tied up again."

  Wally nodded.

  He hurried out of there, eating the sandwich as he strode down the sidewalk. The peanut butter, his second departure from the usual, after the cereal he'd shared with Amy, tasted good. He sure was going all out on this break from his old way of living. But a familiar tension headache threatened near his temples as he considered what Wally had said about Gretchen. Scenes popped into his head, one of Gretchen standing in a white dress in church, waiting on a man who never showed up. That scene changed to one of her returning to town pregnant, and people staring at her and whispering speculations. And finally, he tried to picture her with this “Joel,” but that proved more elusive, since he had no idea what the guy looked like. Still, he wondered. Maybe Joel was why she didn't really want him around.

  He'd stopped in front of the cafe. He was early for Gretchen. Maybe she'd come early, too.

  When the string of bells on the door jingled, Crystal the waitress looked up and smiled. “Hi, handsome!"

  He looked around self-consciously at the customers, who stared back. The geezer with the newspaper was there again, eating his toast and eggs. And there were the teenagers, allowing their gazes to slip away from each other only long enough to flick him curious looks.

  He nodded at the room in general, sensing it was some strange ritual they awaited, and they bobbed and went back to their business.

  He sat down in a booth.

  Crystal, in black jeans and a turquoise tie-dyed top a size too small for her full breasts, sauntered over. “Coffee black?"

  "Right."

  "You should eat, you know.” She squeezed his bicep. “Wouldn't want you going all weak on me.” She arched a brow. “Then again...” When he didn't react to that, she said, “You're giving yourself wrinkles. Something that's troubling you stolen your appetite?"

  He looked at her. The first thing he'd noticed yesterday—who wouldn't—was that wild hair of hers, a brownish-purple mass pulled back by a band that must be straining against all that thickness. Still, she had an open smile, and below the purple paint on her lids, her eyes seemed to reflect universal compassion. “Don't worry about me,” he said, with a casual wink. “A guy just gave me a peanut butter sandwich."

  Crystal's shiny lips formed an “O” before “You had lunch with Wally?” came out, each word more slowly than the last.

  His brows lifted. “You knew that because...? Is he the only one around here who eats peanut butter?"

  "No. But he may be the only grown man who does.” Lingering beside his table, she fluttered a hand around on its Formica top, picking up the extra silverware and setting it right back in place atop a paper napkin. “I used to sit with him in school when he ate PBJs. And his secretary told me he still does sometimes."

  "Well, I'm afraid I can't cure him of that. But he seems like a nice guy, and since marketing is my thing, I might be able to help him get out and get some exposure."

  "Really?” Her face lit. “I'm glad you think he's nice. Wally doesn't see his good qualities. His father was a schmoozer, but he's quieter. I think he feels he has to live up to his dad's reputation. He's really funny, though."

  "Sounds like you know Wally pretty well."

  Someone rang the summons bell at the cash register then, and a blushing Crystal made a hasty retreat.

  Smiling to himself, Daniel turned his gaze back to the table.

  "I see you've discovered the local lunch hangout."

  He swiveled around in his seat in time to appreciate Gretchen's approach in that red sweater and those hip-hugging jeans. “I was hoping to catch you here."

  He noticed the flush to her cheeks. A result of the day's biting wind, most likely. Still, it made her blue eyes all the more striking.

  "What have you been doing with yourself?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from him. “Have we bored you enough yet for you to leave?"

  "Nope. I've been meeting with Wally Williams, actually."

  Her brow wrinkled. “What for?"

  "Offering my services. He's having tough times, and he needs marketing help."

  She sat back. “Come on, Daniel. Your agency represents some big companies. What would you want with Wally?"

  "Hell if I know.” He clenched a muscle in his jaw. “I haven't worked with anyone on that small of a scale in years. But then, I never chased after a woman in my life, either. I've never been a father."

  "I hope you didn't say anything to him about—"

  He shook his head. “I promised you I wouldn't and I won't. But he did pin me down as to why I'm here. I implied that we're dating."

  "What?!” Her eyes widened.

  "Gretch!” hooted Crystal, breezing back with the coffee pot. “Get away from him. He's mine."

  Gretchen sent her a wan smile. “We're just gonna talk for a few minutes. After that, you can have him.” She ordered a grilled cheese and fries.

  When Crystal left with the order, Daniel scowled. “You'd pass me off to another woman just like that?"

  She arched a brow. “That's so you know for sure we aren't dating."

  "Fine. I see what you think of me."

  "Frankly I'm not sure what to think of you.” She studied him with her head slightly tilted, her friendly expression repla
ced with a seriousness that made him shift in his seat.

  "What are you still doing here, really?"

  "I'm here to get to know my daughter and to understand what is best for her,” he said, rather proud of his diplomatic wording. “Plus, I've committed myself to a small PR job for MCC."

  "I don't believe you."

  He took a swig of his coffee, and set his mug back down. “On which account?"

  "Look. I agree we should be civil with each other and I'm glad that we've established that. I just don't want you coming here for something like, oh, I don't know—like wanting a relationship with Amy because you've decided you need it or something, and then leaving her.” She pressed her lips tightly together, as if she'd just released something she hadn't meant to say, or at least hadn't meant to say it here. But then she added a quieter, “I won't let you do that."

  Watching her, Daniel felt the full impact of what he'd stepped into by arriving in town yesterday. A past lover sat across from him, saying things he'd never planned on hearing. Things that had a lasting ring to them. And somehow he'd already committed to their dating. This wasn't his modus operandi. He walked out of relationships long before they turned the corner toward this arguing stage. But he couldn't make a scene because someone might connect him to Gretchen's past and she didn't want that. He didn't want that.

  He felt Crystal watching them, leaning on the counter over there. He heard the old man on the stool in front of Crystal thrust his paper down with a crinkling sound.

  He tried to relax, to stretch his legs out, kicked Gretchen and apologized. Then, in frustration, he thought of Amy. He thought of her big intelligent eyes and her teasing smile. He thought of her hand in his. “Let's talk about what I can expect from you, Gretchen,” he said, very low. “You left town five years ago without telling me about my daughter."

  Her eyes widened for an instant, and she glanced around before her expression grew passive again. Still, he saw her reach out and grip the leather backpack purse she'd set on the table. Was she considering running from this, too?

  "How would it have been any different if I'd said goodbye?” she demanded.

  "I can't say, since I wasn't given that option,” he glanced away, before returning his gaze to hers. “But maybe I'd have been here a lot sooner."

  Her lips parted at that, but she didn't say anything.

  She glanced up as Crystal approached. The waitress set her food down, snatched ketchup off another table for them, and for once made a silent retreat.

  Over at the counter, the old man rattled his crossword page.

  Gretchen looked back at Daniel. “You men are all so honorable, anyway.” She seemed to hold her emotions in check because of their surroundings. “I knew what your response would be. I knew you wouldn't come."

  Picking up a fry, he waved it at her. “There's the real reason why you didn't tell me.” He popped it into his mouth and chewed, but it tasted like cardboard.

  "What?"

  "You generalize when it comes to men. You don't trust any of us."

  "I do not!” She rose from her seat. “I don't have to take this."

  He stood, too, and reached into his pant pocket to retrieve his wallet. Plucking a ten from it, he tossed the bill onto the table. Taking her elbow, he said, “I think we both need some fresh air."

  Something in her eyes stated plainly that she didn't want to go with him, the conversation was over and he should release her arm. But then she looked around at the other diners and the crew behind the counter. Clamping her lips together tightly, she walked with him to the door. Once it closed behind them and they stood on the curb, she whirled around. “I'm still angry with you because I had to deal with things on my own, okay? I thought I'd gotten over it. But now that I see you again, it all comes back to me."

  With a quick nod, he indicated the group of ladies strolling along the sidewalk a few shops down from them. Crooking a finger for her to take the discussion walking, he had her follow him across the street to the empty park square. He waited for her to find a place on the wooden bench before he sat beside her.

  Gretchen sat close enough to Daniel to feel the warmth of his body and hear his breathing. All day, she'd composed in her head what she wanted to say to him. But she hadn't considered how awkward it would be. She hadn't thought about how much his mere presence would make her forget her rehearsed lines and finally resort to the blunt accusation, “I didn't get pregnant on my own."

  She wasn't looking at him, but she felt him turn and stare at her. Then he put his hand on her thigh. Why? She frowned down at his fingers resting there.

  He moved his hand away.

  Good. She didn't want him thinking he could just touch her that way. And yet, crazily, she instantly missed the warm strength of his hand.

  "Not that it matters anymore,” she said, “but I'd just like to know. What exactly does all this mean to you? I mean, was I the first? Were there others who could've had your baby?"

  In the instant after she'd said it, she thought she saw hurt in his dark eyes. But in the next, he said in a flat tone, “This is my first and only child, Gretchen. And as for doing it on your own, you wrote that script and you didn't write a part into it for me."

  She lowered her face. “Like I told you before, I was scared."

  "It scared the crap out of me, too, when your friend mentioned Amy and I figured out I could have gotten you pregnant,” he admitted in a lower tone.

  She could tell by the lines on his forehead and the intensity in his gaze that he was telling the truth. For the first time, she realized he'd been scared. He seemed so determined now, she hadn't thought about his really fearing parenthood. Consciously avoiding it and being narcissistic about it, yes. But fearing it? That surprised her.

  He started raising his arm, as if he were about to put it around her, but lowered it again, probably remembering her earlier reaction to his touch. He moved a little in his seat. Something seemed to be bothering him.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him kick at the leaves. He stretched his legs out. His bones were so much longer than hers. Would Amy be taller, like him? She heard him sigh, and it sounded full of frustration.

  She shifted. She wanted him to touch her again, and yet if he did, she would turn him off with a look. Why? Why did his presence confuse her this way?

  "You should leave.” If he stayed, she might do something stupid like let him get under her skin. “It'd be best for Amy."

  He frowned. He sat there a moment, before fidgeting again. Finally he caught her gaze. “I want to have a relationship with Amy, whether it's in Chicago or here. So tell me now. Are you planning on denying me time with her if I stay these few days?"

  She stared at him. Could she trust him? He looked sincere. But looks could deceive. He sounded like he meant it. But words were words.

  She drew a long breath in and out. “I may be crazy, but I want you to know her. There's so much you don't know. But I don't trust you right now. I can't help it."

  "I understand."

  "So you have to do what I say."

  He nodded.

  "You can see Amy when I'm around and only when I'm around. And you can't tell her who you really are.” It was deceptive, but what else could they do? “We really haven't discussed you, and I'm afraid of how she'd take it."

  He nodded again.

  They sat there in silence.

  She pushed back some hair that had blown across her eyes. She felt him watching her. But she didn't want to look at him again. This was too intimate, this time with him. She couldn't afford intimate with Daniel.

  "I have to go now.” She stood. “I'll see you around."

  He rose. “Can I come by when she's out of school? It's only a couple more hours. Right?"

  Something about his eager tone softened her fear. “I should be there."

  As she walked away, she felt his eyes on her. What was he thinking? He'd seemed as uncomfortable as she was over their topic of conversation. And yet he
seemed earnest about staying, for Amy.

  Well, she'd set the boundaries. She would stick to them, and see that he did, too.

  As Daniel watched her go, he felt a new surge of respect for her. How could someone so small be so strong? When she talked about being pregnant and scared, she said it simply. Yet, he'd seen the truth in her eyes, and heard the hint of wavering in her voice. She had been alone. She'd managed, but it hadn't been easy.

  He'd wanted to put his arm around her. But then he'd reminded himself that he wasn't going there with Gretchen. That'd be the last thing they all needed. He was here for Amy.

  He would keep his vow to not tell Amy who he really was, and to only see her when Gretchen was around.

  And he wouldn't touch Gretchen again.

  He'd only been trying to show her a little empathy. If her leg had felt warm beneath his fingers and he'd enjoyed inching closer at that moment, it was just because she was sexy and he acted on impulse. Nothing else.

  She'd given him the green light on being here. That was all he'd wanted to get out of their talk.

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  Chapter Six

  "Where's the bread, Mommy?"

  The bread. Gretchen glanced at Amy's reflection in the rearview mirror. “I forgot it."

  Amy's face fell. “But the ducks are hungry."

  "I'll call Crystal and see if she and BJ fed them.” Even as she said it, Gretchen prayed she wouldn't forget, and disappoint Amy all over again. She had too much on her mind. Namely the big question of why Daniel was here.

  "Can I hear my music?"

  "Sure.” She popped in the tape of favorite kids’ songs.

  Amy bobbed her head and sang along to the tunes, giving Gretchen free time to consider Daniel again.

  He was probably in her house this very moment, seated at the secondhand desk in Granny Bea's old bedroom. He'd sure rolled up his shirtsleeves and settled down to business here. Was she making a huge mistake, allowing him to stay a few days?

  She kept telling herself that deep down she wanted him to know his daughter. It was important to her, because of the tears she'd cried when her own father left. Seeing Daniel with Amy planted this weird hope in her, this wish that he could care enough. But enough to what?