“And I hated her!” Clara yelled. “She always landed on her feet, Miss Syrupy-Sweet Sally. She always found the nauseating bright side to every situation like a damned Pollyanna.
“My God, our parents disowned her when they discovered that Sally was pregnant, threw her out of the house to fend for herself. Did Sally crumble and cry? Oh, no, not her. She lived in a horrible little room in a boardinghouse and worked as a clerk in a drugstore for pennies.
“Then you were born. ‘Oh, look at my beautiful son,’ Sally said to me. ‘This is the happiest day of my life, Clara. I am so blessed, Clara.’ She nearly starved to death raising you, but she thought life was wonderful.”
Tears filled Clara’s eyes and spilled onto her pale cheeks.
“And somehow…it was wonderful,” she said, sobbing. “You and Sally were so happy together, acted as though you lived in a mansion, instead of a shabby apartment where one of you had to sleep on the sofa. You had nothing, nothing, yet it was as though…as though you two had everything.”
“We had what counted, Clara,” Andrew said quietly. “We had unconditional love and endless trust in each other. We were a team, stood united, together.”
“And I had no one to love me,” Clara said, nearly choking on her tears. “I tried to be happy. I married men who were supposed to make me happy but…Damn it, it wasn’t fair. Even after Sally died and I moved you into my home, gave you decent clothes for the first time in your life, the finest food, expensive gifts, you didn’t love me. Not even then.”
“You can’t buy love, Clara,” Andrew said. “You have to earn it, give as much as you receive. You’ve never done that.”
Clara closed the distance between them and gripped his shirt with both hands. Tears tracked paths through the heavy makeup on her cheeks, and dark smudges of mascara were beneath her eyes.
“Don’t leave me alone, all alone,” she said, crying openly. “I can’t bear to be alone anymore. Please, Andrew, tell me you didn’t mean it when you said you never wanted to see me again. I’ll kill myself. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll commit suicide and it will be on your conscience for the rest of your life.”
Andrew grasped his aunt’s wrists and pulled her hands away from his shirt.
“I won’t turn my back on you if you do what I ask, Clara,” he said. “You have one chance. One.”
“Anything. I’ll do anything you want.”
“Check into a rehabilitation clinic. Get help for your drinking problem. Tell them the truth about everything you’ve done and allow them to show you the way to be happy, how to like yourself.”
Clara’s eyes widened in horror. “You can’t be serious. Bare my soul to total strangers? They’d take Sally’s side, I know they would. They wouldn’t understand how everything I should have had was taken away from me by other people, and I simply took steps to attempt to set things to rights.
“As for my drinking? I enjoy a drink, several drinks. That doesn’t mean I’m an alcoholic who needs to go to some drab place and get dried out. I could quit drinking this very moment if I chose to. You’re asking too much, Andrew. It’s ridiculous.”
“Fine. Then don’t ever expect to see or speak to me again. It’s up to you.”
“Well, I…” Clara wrung her hands. “I really could use a vacation. This whole situation has been very stressful for me. Some of those clinics are very posh, like resorts. I suppose I could go to one of those and…I’ll play your silly game, Andrew, if that’s what it takes to get you to come to your senses and realize that I deserve a place in your life.”
“You’ll have to make it clear wherever you go that I’m to be kept fully apprised of your progress there,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Understand?”
“Yes, whatever,” she said, waving one hand in the air. “I’m leaving now. You’ve upset me terribly and I’m exhausted. I may have made some mistakes in the past, Andrew, but you’ve treated me horribly here tonight. I’ll be waiting for your apology for that.”
Clara rushed from the apartment and Andrew sank onto the sofa, leaning back his head and closing his eyes.
He was totally drained, he realized. He wouldn’t be able to move a muscle even if the building was on fire. But, well, he’d done it. He’d tackled the first step. Whether or not he ever saw Clara again was up to her.
Next step? Hell, he couldn’t even think about that now. Not tonight. Maybe in the light of the new day he’d be able to think clearly.
Yes…maybe…tomorrow…he’d know what…to do.
“Oh, Kara,” Mary MacAllister said, her eyes misting with tears. “He’s such a beautiful baby.”
Kara smiled and nodded as she stood next to the rocking chair in the hospital nursery, watching as her mother held the infant.
“I know,” Kara said. “I love him so much, Mom. This waiting to hear the judge’s decision about whether or not I can adopt him is so difficult. I don’t know what I’ll do if my petition is denied.”
“They wouldn’t dare deny it,” Ralph MacAllister said. “I’ll go to that judge myself if I have to, tell him that my daughter will make a fantastic mother, and unless he has sawdust for brains, he’ll realize that. That’s a MacAllister you’re holding there, Mary. Guaranteed.”
“Oh, I love you,” Kara said, rising on tiptoe to kiss her father on the cheek. “Both of you. You’re the best parents in the world.”
“That’s true,” Ralph said. “We’re dandy grandparents, too.”
Kara sighed. “I was planning on telling the whole family at once about my plans to adopt this little miracle, but the opportunity just hasn’t presented itself because of what happened to Uncle Robert. But since you decided it was best to fly back to Florida tonight, I couldn’t let you leave without meeting my son. Oh, please, God, let him be my son.”
“He will be,” Mary said. “I feel it in my heart. He’s yours, Kara, is meant to be yours. I truly believe that. He…he…he…When are you going to give this darling a name?”
“Not until I know he’s truly mine,” Kara said. “I just can’t bring myself to do that until I’m certain I’m going to be his mother.” She paused. “You do realize that there may be some problems down the road due to his being addicted to drugs when he was born.”
“So?” Ralph said. “Deal with them when and if they happen. That’s simple enough. Just take it one day at a time, enjoy your baby and don’t worry about what might or might not come to be.”
“I’ll remember that, I promise,” Kara said. “Oh, I’m going to miss you two so much. It’s been wonderful to have you here during these weeks.”
“We’ve enjoyed it, too, dear,” Mary said, “but we feel we should get out of the way. Margaret and Robert don’t need extra people sleeping under their roof while Robert is recuperating. We’ve extended our visit as it is because of what happened, but it’s time to go home. You will call us the moment you receive word on the judge’s decision, won’t you?”
“Of course I will,” Kara said. “Listen, you can tell Aunt Margaret and Uncle Robert about the baby, as well as any other MacAllisters you might see before you leave. I think we’ve had enough family meetings to last us a while. I’ll let word of this event of mine pass from one person to the next. That’s fine.”
“Well, you know there will be a big MacAllisterclan baby shower for you once you receive the official word that he’s yours,” Mary said. “Oh, how I hate to miss that party. I adore baby showers. And that one will be for my own daughter and grandson. Mmm. Florida is seeming very far away all of a sudden. Jack gave us our grandson Joey and there’s another baby coming along there and—”
“Hot damn, we’re moving back to Ventura,” Ralph said, rubbing his hands together. “I knew you’d see the light eventually, Mary. It took babies to do it, but I’m ready to pack up and leave Florida, haul ourselves back here where we belong.”
“Which would not mean you’d start going to the office of MacAllister Architects every day, Ralph MacAllister,” Mary said ster
nly. “You and I will discuss this once we are in Florida, Ralph. There will be rules laid out and promises made.”
“I’m in trouble,” Ralph said, smiling at Kara.
“You’re definitely in trouble,” Kara said, matching his smile.
“Kara, dear,” Mary said, continuing to rock the sleeping baby, “there’s something else on my mind that I must address before we board that plane.”
Kara sighed. “Andrew Malone.”
“Well, yes, my darling, Andrew Malone,” Mary said.
“You saw the story and the photograph in that awful newspaper, didn’t you?” Kara said.
“Yes,” Mary said. “Jack brought us that tabloid so we wouldn’t be caught off guard if someone made reference to it or…But even before that, it was apparent that you and Andrew were spending time together.
“Richard was having a fit, then finally calmed down and…well, the whole family is aware that something is…how shall I put this?—going on between you and Andrew.”
“Now, Mary,” Ralph said, “don’t get nosy.” He looked at Kara. “All right, young lady, what’s going on between you and Andrew Malone?”
I’m in love with Andrew, Mom and Dad, Kara thought. How’s that for a bulletin? I’m in love for the first time in my life, and I’m so miserable I could cry for a week because the man of my heart will never come to love me in return. Never.
“Oh, heavens,” Kara said, striving for a breezy tone of voice, which didn’t quite materialize. “It’s a big hoopla over nothing. I just felt that Andrew was isolated, all alone, during the crisis with Uncle Robert, so I befriended him, and everyone jumped to ridiculous conclusions, including that tacky reporter, and anyway, Andrew returned to Santa Maria and no one knows if he’s even coming back…if any of us…will ever see…him again. So, that’s that and…”
“You’re in love with Andrew,” Mary said. “That’s as clear as the nose on your pretty face, Kara darling.”
“Yep,” Ralph said, nodding and stroking his chin with one hand.
“Yes,” Kara said, her eyes filling with instant tears. “But it’s hopeless and I really don’t wish to discuss it. Please. I just can’t talk about it right now.”
“Honey,” Mary said, “it may seem hopeless at the moment for reasons you certainly don’t have to explain to us. But don’t underestimate the power of love, of its ability to solve what seem to be insurmountable difficulties.”
Kara sniffled and shook her head. “No, it’s definitely hopeless. Trust me on this. I do not have a future with Andrew Malone. I’m going to raise my son alone and be a happy fulfilled woman and mother. I’ll be fine, you’ll see, just fine.”
“Mmm,” Mary said, then exchanged frowns with her husband.
“We’re here if you need us, pumpkin,” Ralph said. “Don’t forget that.”
“I know,” Kara said, “and I love you both more than I can ever begin to tell you.”
“Want me to get your brothers to go deck Malone?” Ralph said, raising his eyebrows.
“No, thank you, Dad,” Kara said, smiling through her tears.
“Well, the offer stands. Okay, Mary, my turn to hold that bundle for a while. For mercy’s sake, Kara, give that kid a name.”
“I will,” she said softly, “when the time is right, when I know he’s really my son. Legally, not just in my heart like he is now. When…when he’s truly a MacAllister.”
Chapter 15
During the following week, Andrew kept himself as busy as he possibly could. On the days when paperwork didn’t need his attention at the office, he donned old clothes and his hard hat and worked side by side with the men on his various construction sites.
He made it a point during breaks and lunch to chat with the guys, ask them about their families, girlfriends, whatever might be on their minds.
While the men where surprised and, therefore, hesitant at first to open up to the boss, Andrew’s undivided attention soon had them competing for his time and attention.
When one of the construction crew tentatively broached the subject of the past articles in the newspapers, Andrew found that he was comfortable saying that Robert MacAllister was, indeed, his father, a fact he had just recently discovered. Since he and the Ventura MacAllisters had given the press nothing more than “no comment” replies to their questions, the reporters had moved on to fresher stories, leaving Andrew in peace, to think. The men accepted his short explanation with nods and shrugs, and that had been that.
Andrew thoroughly enjoyed the camaraderie and found himself looking forward to updates on what was happening in the men’s lives.
When a nervous young crew member left work one day with the intention of proposing to his girlfriend that night, Andrew was among those waiting to hear the results the next morning, and he cheered with the others when the grinning man approached them with a thumbs-up.
He was practicing the role he might have as part of a large family, Andrew knew, pretending he had taken his place within the MacAllister clan. And he liked it very very much.
He was also acutely aware that he had no idea if the MacAllisters would choose to accept him in their midst, didn’t know if Robert had explained what had happened between him and Sally Malone, or what the reaction of the other MacAllisters had been.
Kara would know how things stood. But as much as Andrew wished to hear her voice, he exerted a great deal of self-control and didn’t allow himself to pick up the telephone to call her, not while he was still mired in confusion.
His days were busy and fulfilling, but the nights were long and empty, his sleep coming in snatches, as he tossed and turned and thought about Kara. When he did manage to sleep, he dreamed of her, sensual dreams that often caused him to jerk awake drenched in sweat.
He loved her. Ah, man, how he loved Kara MacAllister. But the hopelessness of ever having a future with her, the chilling knowledge that it would never come to be, caused a knot to tighten in his gut and an icy wave of loneliness to consume him again and again.
Sitting in his office late at night, one week to the day since the confrontation with Clara, whom he had not heard from since, Andrew decided it was time to return to Ventura. To stay away longer would be not to deal with the very real possibility that the MacAllister family members beyond Robert, Margaret…and Kara wanted nothing whatsoever to do with him.
He now knew he wanted to be a part of that clan, albeit in a limited manner due to the miles between them but counted as one of them just the same.
At nearly forty years old he was going to have, for the first time, brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews…and a father. A father who was wealthy, powerful, highly respected as a person and a businessman, and who had a moral code that would make any son proud.
Father, Andrew mused, sinking back in the leather chair behind his desk. He moved the word and its meaning through his mind, then allowed it to travel to touch his heart, his very soul, warming him as it journeyed.
He, himself, wished to be a father. He truly did. He wanted to be Kara’s husband and the father of the children they would create together. He wanted a child to call son or daughter, a real house, instead of an apartment.
And a dog. He mustn’t forget the dog. They’d name it Duke or Butch or…
Ah, hell, he thought, dragging both hands down his face, why was he torturing himself like this? He would never be part of the picture he was painting in his mind.
Kara would never agree to marry him, would not allow herself to acknowledge whatever feelings she might have for him, because she was adamant never to become involved in a serious relationship, a forever love.
“Damn it,” he said aloud, shaking his head.
So, okay, he would get Harry to take over the reins again, then drive down to Ventura to spend some time with Robert.
And Kara?
What should he do about Kara MacAllister?
Stay as far away from her as possible? Not seek her out, escape from having to deal with knowing how much he lov
ed her and how out of his reach she really was? Take what he could get in the form of a no-strings, no-commitment affair with her? Make love with her while being certain he didn’t declare his love for her?
He didn’t know. He couldn’t sit here, a hundred miles away from Kara, and form a plan regarding her. He would just have to do what felt right when he was back in Ventura, close to her. He’d—
The sound of the outer door to the office opening, then being shut, brought Andrew from his complicated thoughts. He stared at the doorway to his office, wondering if Harry had gone out for ice cream again for his pregnant wife and had stopped by to shoot the breeze for a bit.
Andrew’s eyes widened and he got to his feet quickly as three tall and well-built men entered his office. Three very familiar men.
“Good evening, Andrew,” one of the men said, no readable expression on his face. The trio halted halfway across the large expanse, spreading out in a line. “I’m Michael MacAllister, and these—” he swept one arm toward the other two “—are my brothers, Ryan and Forrest.”
Andrew came around to the front of his desk, folded his arms over his chest and nodded. The men advanced to stand about three feet in front of him. Andrew tensed his muscles and shifted his weight slightly to rest more on the balls of his feet.
“You didn’t return to Ventura,” Michael said, “so we came to you.”
“And?” Andrew said.
“Our father explained what took place between him and your mother,” Michael went on, “and made it clear that you’re our brother or half brother.”
“So it would seem,” Andrew said, his gaze riveted on Michael.
“Since I’m the oldest,” Michael said, “or I was until you showed up, I get to do this.”
With that, Michael drew back his fist and delivered a stunning blow to Andrew’s jaw. Andrew staggered backward from the painful impact, nearly sprawling onto his desk. He straightened, steadied himself, shook his head slightly to clear it, then curled his hands into tight fists at his sides.
“Okay,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “If that’s the way you want it to be, it’s fine with me. Come on, all three of you, but you better have packed a lunch because I’m not going down easily.”
The Baby Bet: His Secret Son (The Baby Bet #5) Page 18