A Father's Promise

by Marcia Evanick

  "More like twenty-four."

  Ellis frowned at the list in his hand. It was hopeless. They were never going to discover who his father was. Charlie had said something about elders and deacons. Maybe reading the list of names out loud would jog Charlie's memory. "What about Franklin Smythe?"

  Charlie shook his head as Ellis read down the list. He had just read the last name when Charlie finally showed some interest. "Repeat that one."

  "Arthur Graystone."

  "Mayor Graystone?" Harvey seemed startled. "I didn't realize that he was a member of the Methodist church back then. He's some bigwig over at the Lutheran church now."

  Ellis glanced back down at the paper in his hand. "He was a deacon at the Methodist church thirty-three years ago." He skimmed the list of active members. "He and his wife, Sophie, were both members."

  Thomas rubbed at his jaw. "That's right. He and Sophie got married in the Methodist church when I was still in high school. Sophie's father was the richest man in town and she was his only child. They acted like it was the wedding of the century. Nearly the whole town was invited and no expense was spared. I remember thinking that the whole thing was a terrible waste of money."

  Ellis glanced away from Thomas and over at Charlie. "Do you remember seeing Catherine with Arthur Graystone?"

  "Well, sure, they were together a lot because he was always at the church and so was she." Charlie leaned forward and his chair finally rested on all fours. "They used to whisper a lot."

  "Whisper?" He felt his heart skip a beat. "What do you mean by whisper?"

  "I don't know." Charlie shrugged. "You know, whisper."

  "Do you mean they used to whisper because they were in church?" asked Thomas. "Like most people whisper in the library?"

  "Naw, not that kind of whispering. They used to whisper when they thought no one was watching."

  Thomas tilted his head in Ellis's direction. "Did it appear as if they were hiding something?"

  "I can't remember," Charlie said. "All I can recall is seeing them whispering."

  "I saw them together once," Harvey said.

  "You did? Why didn't you say so?" demanded Thomas.

  "I didn't think anything of it. They were out on Turkey Run Road at that roadside stand that was set up every year. They were buying pumpkins, lots of little pumpkins. I guess for the Sunday school or something."

  Ellis slowly folded the list and slipped it into his pocket. Great, his mother bought pumpkins for kids in the Sunday school in the company of a member of her church and he was ready to call Arthur Graystone Dad. It just confirmed how desperate he had become. A simple outing and he was picturing his mother and some old married deacon of the church doing the wild thing in the back seat of some car surrounded by dozens of pumpkins.

  Suddenly he was disgusted with himself. His mother might have lied on his birth certificate as to the identity of his father, but she didn't deserve his lascivious mind conjuring up those visions. Catherine Carlisle had been a decent, loving mother.

  "I want to thank you gentlemen for traveling down memory lane for me," Ellis said. "If any of you remember anything more concrete than a pumpkin-buying expedition, I can be reached at Thomas's house for the next several days." He needed to get out of there before he fell apart. As his mother would have said, he was chasing the fog.

  When he was a little boy, his mother used to take him to a park near where they lived. There had been a small creek running through the park and he loved going first thing in the morning when they had the entire place to themselves. The fog rising off the creek used to fascinate him and he used to rim around trying to catch it in his little hands. Whenever he thought he had captured a fistful, he had opened his hand, only to discover the fog wasn't there.

  The same disappointment that had besieged him then was surrounding him now. He needed to see Sydney. He needed to hold her and love her. Sydney had a magical way of turning his disappointments into hope. He needed that hope now more than ever.

  He motioned for Trevor to come out of the cell as he reached for Thomas's hand to give him his cane. It was time to leave. There were no answers here today.

  * * *

  As Ellis drove to the St. Claire home three days later, he checked the rearview mirror, to make sure no one was behind him, and then applied the brakes and stopped in the middle of the street. The slight rise in the road gave him the perfect view of both the nursery and the St. Claire home. The sun was a fiery red ball, bathing the small valley in fading sunlight. The view brought a lump to his throat. As ridiculous as it sounded, he felt as if he was coming home.

  His home was ninety-six miles away. At least his house was ninety-six miles away. But everything that was important to him was here. Trevor, Sydney, Thomas. The only one back at his house was Rita, and she wasn't even there right now. He had sent her on a well-earned, long-overdue vacation to visit her daughter and her real grandchildren. Rita hadn't left his or Trevor's side since the initial diagnosis last summer.

  He never should have agreed to the business trip he had just taken. Three days and two nights away from Trevor and Sydney were too long. If it hadn't been for Sydney's gentle persuading, he never would have gone, no matter how important it had been to the company. He had excellent employees and he could name four people off the top of his head who could have handled the situation without breaking a sweat.

  The negotiations in Atlanta had been a tension-filled two days with facts and figures pouring out of fax machines and sliding across mahogany tables worth more than what most people made in a year. There had been lunches, dinners, early-morning conference calls and endless hours of sitting in his solitary hotel room with his laptop up and running in front of him. The competition had been fierce but One If By Land had toppled them all. They had signed the contract over lunch.

  The whole time everyone had been shaking on the deal, he had been thinking of Trevor and Sydney. He had been informed that his composure during the frantic dealing against other carriers had won him the contract. He hadn't bothered to tell his newest client that it wasn't so much composure as it was perspective. Yes, he had wanted the contract, and had wanted it badly. But he also knew that if he didn't get it, life would go on. O.I.B.L. trucks would still roll across endless highways. Trevor's illness had given him new priorities, both in business and in his life. What was a lost contract when he was losing his son?

  In the week since he had brought Trevor out to the country, he had been discovering quite a bit about his son and himself. The only thing he hadn't been able to discover was who had gotten his mother pregnant and then abandoned her. His calls home both nights he had been away hadn't been encouraging in that department. Thomas had been using Sydney's eyes and talking to more people than a politician during an election year. If he hadn't checked and rechecked all the dates himself, he would have sworn his mother couldn't have been four months pregnant when she left Coalsburg.

  It took two people to create a baby, and so far the most incriminating thing his mother had done was to buy a bunch of pumpkins. He had heard of babies coming from cabbage patches, but never pumpkin patches.

  With an effort, he pulled his troubled thoughts away from the frustrating task of locating his father, and back onto the more pleasant topic of Sydney and his son. His gaze skimmed over the nursery below. It was already closed for the night. The parking lot out in front of the main building was empty and the security lights were lit. In the three days he had been gone, changes had occurred. Clusters of daffodils and hyacinths were now blooming. The grass was turning a deep shade of green and would be needing to be mowed soon. Dozens of trees had been brought in from the fields, filling the yard next to the main building.

  Sydney had been one very busy lady. Correction, Sydney and Trevor had been busy. Each night when he had talked to his son, Trevor had filled him in on every detail of his day. His son's days began with Sydney, consisted of Sydney with a touch of Thomas thrown in for good measure, and then ended with Sydney. Even over a th
ousand miles of telephone lines he could hear the emotions tugging at Trevor's voice and words. His son was falling in love with Sydney. He couldn't blame the boy. Like father, like son.

  His gaze left the nursery and traveled the empty path he knew Sydney walked every day. The path that led directly to her father's house. He hadn't been surprised when he learned that Sydney had given up her apartment, and her independence, to move back home with her father after the accident. Her father's house was a nice comfortable home, but somehow it didn't really fit Sydney. He would have liked to have seen her apartment.

  Daffodils, hyacinths and a tulip or two were flowering in the gardens surrounding the house. The flowers added a touch of color and the promise of warmer days ahead. Atlanta had seemed to be in the middle of a heat wave, yet up in the mountains of Pennsylvania it was still chilly enough to wear a coat. He eased his foot off the brake and drove toward the house. He didn't need a coat. He had thoughts of Sydney and their private homecoming to keep him warm.

  Four minutes later he was hauling his garment bag and laptop from the trunk of the car when Trevor opened the front door of the house and flew down the walkway yelling, "Dad!" Ellis dropped the garment bag, but gently lowered the laptop to the ground a second before Trevor blasted into his arms.

  He held his son as he swung him around in circles. "I gather you've missed me?" Trevor's squeals of laughter not only brought a smile to his own mouth, but laughter to his heart. He was home. After receiving a half-dozen noisy kisses, he slowly lowered Trevor back to the ground and noticed Sydney standing quietly at the door.

  He could tell she had just taken a shower because her curls were still on the frizzy side, which was fine with him. He liked her hair a little wild almost as much as he liked it when the sun hit it at a certain angle and it appeared to be on fire. She was dressed in dark purple pants, that fit her legs like skin, and an oversize white shirt with tiny irises embroidered on the collar and pocket. And on her lips was the warmest smile he had ever seen. It nearly matched the warmth in her eyes.

  He gathered up the garment bag while Trevor picked up the laptop. His son liked to help him unload after a trip, but he wasn't big enough to handle the garment bag, so he always took the laptop. It was an awfully expensive piece of equipment to allow a five-year-old to carry into the house, but the look of pride and love brightening his son's face was well worth the risk. Computers could be replaced, the look on his son's face couldn't.

  Trevor slipped past Sydney and entered the house, calling for Thomas. Ellis stopped in front of Sydney and tenderly cupped her cheek. "I've missed you." Homecomings with Trevor were filled with wild hugs, excitement and "What did you bring me?" Coming home to Sydney was filled with slow heat.

  If he and Sydney had been totally alone there wouldn't be any wild hugs or frantic yelling. He would carefully peel off every article of her clothing and make slow, deep love to her. Over and over again. He would want to savor every inch of her to satisfy the hunger that had been building for days. Tonight, when Thomas and Trevor were in their own beds and he could safely join Sydney in hers, he doubted if he'd still have the patience or control to go slow. They had hours to go before he could taste her again.

  Sydney turned her head and pressed a kiss into the center of his palm. "I bet you didn't miss me half as much as I missed you."

  "You'd lose." He glanced into the house behind her and couldn't see either Thomas or Trevor. He leaned in closer and pressed himself against her softness. The gentle green of her eyes darkened. "Do you have any idea how badly I want you this very minute?"

  Sydney arched her hips and smiled knowingly. "I have an idea."

  He muttered, "Witch," before capturing her smile with his mouth. There was no way he could conceal his desire. The proof of it was pressed gently into her thigh. But that didn't mean she had to torment him even more.

  He broke the kiss when she begun to wrap her arms around his neck and it started to threaten his control. Having Sydney pressed up against his aching body was just too much of a temptation. He was never going to last until tonight if he didn't put some room between them, and fast.

  He forced himself to take a step back and yell over her shoulder, "Trevor?"

  "What, Dad?" Trevor's voice came from the direction of the kitchen.

  He glared at Sydney's knowing grin before answering his son. "Come see what I've brought you back from Atlanta." He heard Trevor's shout echo off the kitchen walls.

  Sydney leaned back against the doorjamb. "You, Mr. Carlisle, are a coward."

  He leaned against the other jamb and grinned. She was going to pay for the comment, and pay dearly. "It beats explaining to your father and Trevor why I'm carrying you up the stairs."

  Trevor's full-speed arrival through the living room prevented Sydney from responding. But he had to admit she looked extremely receptive to the idea.

  "What did you get me, Dad?" Trevor skidded to a halt three inches away from the garment bag.

  He reached down, unzipped one of the outer pockets on his suitcase and pulled out a bag imprinted with the name of a famous nature-store chain. "Bugs."

  "Bugs?" Trevor reached for the bag. "Real ones?"

  He saw the look of horror on Sydney's face and chuckled. "No, they're made from all kinds of different things, like wood, plastic and rubber."

  Trevor pulled a wooden box from the bag and showed it to Sydney. It was engraved with red letters.

  "It says African Insects." Sydney looked on with interest as Trevor slowly undid the latch and opened the box.

  Ellis smiled at the look of total rapture on his son's face. He had known as soon as he had spotted the insect collection that Trevor would love it. The box opened on hinges and both sides contained a dozen replicas of insects in their own compartments, neatly labeled and protected by a clear plastic cover. "There's everything from a desert locust to a tsetse fly."

  "Wow, Dad, can I hold them?"

  "Sure, but you have to be very careful, they're fragile." He reached down and showed his son how to undo the protective plastic cover. "Only take out one at a time so you'll remember which compartment it goes back into."

  "What's this one?" Trevor pulled out a dark-colored plastic bug with gossamer wings.

  "It's a termite."

  "Cool, can I go show them to Thomas?"

  "I … sure, go ahead." Show them to Thomas. Trevor knew Thomas couldn't see, so why did he want to show them to Thomas.

  Trevor carefully replaced the termite into the appropriate compartment and took off for the kitchen. He and Sydney followed at a slower pace.

  He took a step into the kitchen, but Sydney stayed in the doorway, silently watching the scene unfolding before them.

  Trevor pulled up a chair next to Thomas at the kitchen table. Thomas seemed to have been enjoying a cup of coffee. There was an empty glass of milk at the place next to him. A couple of cookie crumbs dotted the table. "Wait till you see them, Thomas, they're cool." Trevor carefully opened the protective plastic and removed a large brownish grasshopper. "Hold out your hand."

  Thomas immediately obeyed. "What am I holding my hand out for?"

  "A bug. I'm not sure what this one's called, but he's cool." Trevor carefully placed the bug onto Thomas's palm.

  Thomas sat very still as he brought his other hand over and lightly touched the bug. "It's not real."

  "Of course not." Trevor chuckled. "Dad wouldn't give me real bugs. He's not that crazy."

  Thomas laughed along with him. "I guess he's not." His fingers cautiously felt the bug. "This one feels like a grasshopper. What other kinds of bugs did he bring you?"

  "All kinds of neat ones." Trevor replaced the desert locust and reached for another one to show Thomas.

  Ellis felt his heart give a funny little lurch at the scene. His son had formed a special bond with Thomas. The older man's blindness didn't matter at all to Trevor. In his own way his son had simplified Thomas's disability. If Thomas couldn't see with his eyes, he could see with hi
s hands.

  Thomas should have been his son's grandfather.

  He turned away from the touching scene and glanced at Sydney. She was mesmerized by Thomas, Trevor and a boxful of bugs. He could see the love gleaming in her green eyes, but he could also see the tears.

  Thomas St. Claire was the man she called Father. The love they shared was obvious, and so was her pain. Sydney had been tossed out onto the stormy sea, just as Ellis had been. They were in different boats, fighting different waves, but they were on the same turbulent sea. He and his son were rowing against the monstrous wave called leukemia. Sydney was sitting alone in her boat watching her father row against the turbulent waves known as blindness.

  It was Thomas's fight, and Sydney had the difficult task of standing back and allowing him to fight the seas. She could make her father's life comfortable and offer him her companionship, but the fight was his. The blindness was his to deal with as best he could.

  He took a couple of steps to Sydney and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He felt his heart give another funny little lurch as she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder while continuing to watch her father and his son with misty eyes. Sydney St. Claire was one amazing and strong woman. And he knew he was falling in love with her.

  * * *

  Ellis felt like a thief, sneaking out of the guest bedroom and silently tiptoeing to Sydney's room. Discretion was a key element to loving Sydney. His gut was telling him they weren't fooling Thomas for a minute. Thomas might be blind, but as Trevor demonstrated so nicely, he could still see.

  He slipped into her room just as the shower stopped in the bathroom across the hall. Sydney was in there and the temptation to join her had been strong. Showering with Sydney was definitely one of life's experiences he was dying to try. The sound of running water had affected his body in a basic male way. A very hard basic male way.

  He wanted Sydney. He wanted the whole woman. He not only wanted her body, he wanted her warmth and her smiles. He wanted her heart.