Finding Her Dad

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Jon was conscious that Lucy, too, had stopped eating and was watching her foster daughter. He wondered if, like him, she’d tensed at the unconscious comparison between her and Sierra’s mother. He wondered, too, where Sierra was going with it.

  “I guess, like, when I was really little I wished Mom was more like some of my friends’ mothers. You know? But later I was glad she wasn’t. Because she didn’t just have to work. She liked her job. That made me want to do something I’m as happy doing. Some girls I know want to have babies, or get married, or take some classes at the community college. But you can tell they think jobs are just something you do to make money. Mom was different. She talked to me about anything.” She shrugged finally, and looked at the two adults. “I love Lucy’s garden, and the cats, but now I know that everyone has different things that make them happy.”

  To Lucy she said, “I see how you like to touch. I mean, you run your fingers over the cats, or smooth my hair, or stroke that antique bookcase you bought, or the petals of a flower. Mom lived more in her head. She wasn’t so…” Her face reflected her struggle to find the right word.

  “Tactile?” Lucy suggested gently. “There have been studies, you know, about different ways of learning. Some people learn best by touching, some by reading, some by hearing information.”

  Sierra nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Tactile.” Jon could tell she was sampling the word. “Mom and I weren’t that huggy, but I knew she loved me.”

  As if she couldn’t help herself, Lucy reached across the table and squeezed Sierra’s hand. “I know she did. I could see it when you were together.”

  Jon looked at their hands, briefly flexing and then separating, and realized he’d noticed Lucy’s need to touch. He thought perhaps it had been good for Sierra, even if it wasn’t what she was used to. He wouldn’t mind if Lucy would reach for his hand, too. He knew how small it would feel in his, but suspected her hands were strong. She’d spent years containing frightened, struggling animals that were in pain; she worked hard in her garden and her business. This house was relaxed but spotlessly clean. Lucy was a hard worker, he could tell. Somehow very feminine in a way he suspected Sierra’s mother hadn’t been, and yet Lucy was strong, too.

  Tactile was sexy. He’d never been with a woman who could convey so much with a simple touch.

  Sierra. You’re here for her, not Lucy.

  “I’d like to see a picture of your mother,” Jon said.

  “Sure.” Sierra leaped up, abandoning her dessert again, and dashed from the room.

  He laughed low in his throat. “I didn’t mean right this second.”

  Lucy laughed, too, shaking her head. “For all that she does like her sweets, Sierra isn’t a very big eater.” She grimaced. “Not much makes me push away from the table.”

  “You don’t need to,” he heard himself say roughly.

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  Suddenly embarrassed, he said, “I thought you were implying that you eat too much. You don’t.”

  Lucy sighed. “I am trying to lose weight. Even five or ten pounds really show when you’re my height.”

  “You look…just right to me.”

  “Well…” Now her cheeks were definitely pink. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He cursed himself. There had to be a better response than that, considering he wanted to make her see him as a man, not just Sierra’s father, not just as a threat. That’s right, be formal, distancing. Way to get the girl. He didn’t have a chance to say that skinny women weren’t sexy. Sierra had returned, holding a framed photo.

  Just as well.

  His daughter thrust the photo at him, then plopped into her seat with that somehow ungainly grace that made him think of the way the giraffes at Woodland Park Zoo moved.

  He accepted it in the spirit it was offered and sat for a minute gazing at the face of the woman whose genes had blended with his to create a child. It unsettled him, looking at her, grappling to understand how they’d made a baby together without ever meeting.

  The picture had been taken of her and Sierra together. They might not be “huggy,” but their arms were about each other and they were laughing when the camera had captured them. It looked as if they were in a park, Becky Lind wearing shorts and a mint-green camp shirt, Sierra jeans and T. She was younger. Twelve? Thirteen? He wasn’t any judge, but could see that she was skinnier and lacked the slight curve of hips and breast that she’d since acquired. Her hair was not just blond, but the pale, somehow childish shade that most people grew out of. Moonlight. Jon felt a peculiar squeezing sensation in his chest as his eyes moved from Sierra’s face, happy in an uncomplicated way she’d lost, to that of her mother, a plain woman with ordinary brown hair, eyes that were… hazel or gray, he thought, behind glasses that sat a little crookedly. She had a neat figure. She wasn’t a homely woman, but he knew that he’d never have been attracted to her and that made him feel bad. Shallow.

  He wished suddenly, passionately, that she hadn’t died. Not for his sake, but for Sierra’s. Some drunken son of a bitch had stolen Sierra’s mother from her, and that made Jon angry. He found himself gazing into Becky Lind’s eyes and wishing she could see that he was there. That Sierra had found him. That Lucy had taken her in. He hoped her last thought hadn’t been despair for her daughter, left parentless.

  “I can see you in her,” he said finally, feeling oddly reluctant as he handed the framed photo to Sierra. “Your mouth, and something in the way you hold yourself.”

  He saw the pleasure in her face. “People said we looked alike. Except I was way taller than Mom.”

  “You’re way taller than me, too,” Lucy pointed out.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve always been way taller than practically all the girls. And most of the boys, too, in grade school. And even middle school. I was always in the back row when pictures were taken.”

  “Me, too,” Jon said. “It’s not hard to spot me in class photos even if I was in the back.”

  “Mom knew you were tall when she, um, picked you. She liked the idea.”

  Had she? Would Becky have found him physically attractive? Jon found himself wondering. It was another weird thought.

  “I’m glad she picked me.” His voice had come out gravelly from that same odd sensation in his chest. This girl was making him feel unfamiliar emotions. Which maybe answered his earlier questions to himself. He might be coming to it late, but he was beginning to suspect that loving Sierra Lind might not be hard.

  Sierra blushed and ducked her head. Lucy, he saw out of his peripheral vision, was watching him with slightly narrowed eyes as if she was trying to judge his sincerity.

  Did her lack of trust have its roots in her deeply protective instincts toward Sierra? Or was it something about him? Maybe she didn’t like cops, or the fact that he was running for office, or was damn near a foot taller than she was. She obviously didn’t like the fact that he’d given sperm seventeen years ago.

  And maybe she was suspicious only because he was a man.

  Finding out would be interesting. Convincing her to trust him, a challenge.

  Jon let his eyes meet hers and he smiled. They stared at each other for a sizzling moment, Lucy bristling with suspicion and perplexity and he didn’t know what else. Sierra remained oblivious.

  Jon let his smile broaden. “So on Sunday, to meet my mother, I’ll pick you two up at eleven, if that works.”

  Lucy didn’t even blink. “We’ll be counting on you.” The warning was unmistakable.

  Jon took it to heart. If he was to have any chance with Lucy, he couldn’t screw up.

  “Understood,” he murmured, and she gave a sharp nod as if satisfied.

  JON BRENNER HAD GROWN UP with money. They weren’t rich, but his mother’s home was a handsome, two-story house with a view of Lake Washington in a neighborhood of dignified homes that weren’t ostentatious but were well cared for. The clapboard was painted white, the trim and shutters black, the front door fire-eng
ine red, which Lucy especially liked. The color was like a saucy wink from an otherwise gracious, elegantly dressed lady. The yard was large, with smooth lawn and old trees, including a couple of big maples with leaves beginning to turn color. And flower beds, curved swaths out of the lawn. Lucy thought she might like Mrs. Brenner.

  He’d parked in the driveway beside a blue Volvo station wagon.

  “My sister’s here,” he commented.

  Sierra didn’t say anything. She was staring wide-eyed at the house. She’d been quiet the entire drive. Lucy didn’t blame her for being terrified. Having a lifelong wish fulfilled would scare anyone. And she had to be wondering if this new family would like her, or would stare and wonder whether the stork had brought the wrong child.

  Jon got out and turned, waiting for them to join him. Lucy said quietly, “Shall we?”

  Sierra gulped. “Oh, wow.”

  “Aren’t the flower beds beautiful? Your grandmother must be a gardener.”

  Through the windshield, Lucy saw Jon look surprised.

  “Come on, honey.”

  Sierra took a deep breath. “Okay.” She still didn’t move.

  Lucy laughed and got out. After closing her door, she opened Sierra’s. “Chin up.”

  “Right.” She did get out, moving stiffly. Her eyes were huge. She walked up the driveway beside Lucy.

  Jon reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Sure.”

  The front door swung open before they reached it. The woman who appeared was medium height, slender and with blue eyes. No, Lucy saw as they got closer, her eyes weren’t merely blue, they were that pale, crystal shade of her son’s, and of Sierra’s. Jon’s height and breadth might have come from his father, but he’d gotten his coloring from his mother. Mrs. Brenner was groomed in the way of someone who’d never lacked money—her hair was short and chic, her slacks and silk blouse simple but expensive.

  Her gaze had found Sierra immediately. “Oh,” she said. Then another, long-drawn-out “Ohh.”

  Sierra had stopped in her tracks. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, her elbows sticking out. Lucy had thought she looked pretty this morning, wearing a filmy blue shirt over a darker blue T along with a flowery skirt. In a fierce surge of protectiveness, Lucy decided she was going to hate all the Brenners forevermore if this woman didn’t say the right thing.

  Whatever that was.

  Mrs. Brenner suddenly had tears in her eyes. “If I’d seen you at the mall, I’d have known instantly that you were my Jon’s daughter. Oh, my dear, you’re lovely.”

  Of course, that was absolutely the right thing for her to say. Sierra’s cheeks flushed with color and tears sparkled on her lashes. “Thank you for…for inviting me,” she said. “You must have been surprised to hear about me.”

  “Surprised, and delighted.” Definitely weeping, the older woman gave her son a quick hug and Lucy a smile, then held out her hand to Sierra. “Sierra. Such a pretty name. Come and meet your aunt Lily and your cousins. They’re as excited as I was.”

  Jon and Lucy followed. Somehow, as she climbed the porch steps and went inside, his hand came to rest on the small of her back, as if she needed guidance. She was dismayed by how very good that large hand felt touching her.

  She told herself this peculiar melting feeling was really relief for Sierra’s sake, because today was going to be everything she’d dreamed about. It had nothing to do with the tall man who stayed close to her even as they entered the living room, where the rest of the family waited.

  But she lied, and she knew it.

  JON’S MOTHER TURNED the page of the photo album. “Oh, this is a favorite of mine.”

  Watching from across the family room, Jon winced. Some of his mom’s favorites were more embarrassing than others, but there were a few he’d considered slipping out of the album and shredding to avoid future blackmail attempts. Knowing her, though, he figured she had the negatives neatly filed somewhere and would simply print new copies of any pilfered photos.

  Sierra giggled and clapped one hand over her mouth. His mother laughed with pleasure. The two sat together on the sofa, close enough for their shoulders to touch, and the big album that held pictures of Jon from newborn to college graduation lay open across their laps. Sierra lifted her head to let him see the merriment in her eyes.

  “You were skinny.”

  “Yeah, I was.”

  Beside him, Lucy laughed. “Ooh. I’m going to have to go look at this one.”

  He grabbed her upper arm. “Not a chance.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “You can’t tell me your mother doesn’t have a few pictures of you tucked away somewhere that you’d rather never saw the light of day.”

  The laughter disappeared from her face—click, a light turned off.

  Why?

  “Maybe,” she said politely, and settled beside him on the love seat.

  Dismayed and somewhat intrigued, Jon released her. “I was kidding. Look if you want.”

  “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” She shifted so that she was facing his sister. Very politely she said, “It was nice of you to come over today, too. Sierra was nervous.”

  “Jon would have had to point his Glock at me to keep me away.” Lily cocked an eyebrow at him. “The boys and I were really excited. To think Jon has a daughter he never knew about.”

  The two women chatted, while his nephews sprawled on the floor and played a Nintendo game that wasn’t engrossing enough to keep them from stealing peeks at this fascinating and exotic creature he’d introduced into the family. A cousin. A teenager. A girl. Jon sat there taking it all in with a tangle of emotions he hardly understood.

  A part of his mind played with what Lucy’s odd reaction to his teasing remark about her mother had meant. At the same time, he kept looking from Lily to Sierra, comparing them and seeing even more clearly the familial resemblance. His sister and daughter were near the same height and build. Lily still had something of the lankiness combined with unexpected grace that characterized Sierra.

  His mother and Sierra laughed and looked up at him at the same moment, giving him a jolt. How had he doubted even for a fleeting moment that Sierra was his child? She took after his mother far more than Reese or Patrick did. Having her here felt good, but…unsettling.

  The good part was seeing the happiness that shone from her. The first ten or fifteen minutes, she’d been painfully shy, responding to questions but carrying herself stiffly and looking frequently for reassurance to Lucy. His mother, though, had had the sense to wipe away her tears and back off, chattering cheerfully, introducing Sierra to her cousins, who were uncharacteristically shy, too, and involving both Lucy and Sierra in preparations for the big meal.

  When they first sat at the table and his mom suggested they all hold hands and give thanks, not only for this meal but for finding each other, Jon suspected he wasn’t the only one who had a lump in his throat. He’d held Lucy’s hand in one of his, Sierra’s in the other, and had seen the expression on his mother’s face when she reached a fine-boned hand out and took Sierra’s. Joy and wonder.

  As glad as he was that his family was accepting his daughter with such generosity, he’d been startled by a shaft of anger. He’d clamped down on it right away, but it hadn’t left him. Like a rancid undertone, it flavored the brew of emotions that clogged his belly like an undigested meal.

  And he couldn’t understand it. His father was gone. Who cared what he would have thought of the choices Jon had made sixteen years ago, or the ones he was making now?

  No. That wasn’t what was eating at him.

  He thought it had more to do with his mother. She had welcomed Sierra with grace and love. He’d wanted that. He had.

  Would she have been as generous if Dad was still alive?

  Jon pictured her casting anxious looks at her husband and timidly trying to keep the peace while pleasing him. Pleasing him always came first, no matter how hateful he was.
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br />   Still looking at grandmother and granddaughter together, his mother exclaiming over another photo, Jon understood the anger. Mothers should fight as fiercely to protect their children as he suspected Lucy would for Sierra, even though she wasn’t her own. A mother shouldn’t claim to love, then pretend not to see when her son was beaten.

  Yeah, he wanted his mother to give everything to Sierra, who was so hungry for family. Jon was glad he had family to give her. But he’d never lie if she asked. Her grandma was a nice woman. But what he’d have to say was “Don’t count on her if you need her.”

  The churning in his belly calmed. His feelings about his mother would never be straightforward. He didn’t know why he’d let himself be bothered, even briefly.

  He laid a hand along the back of the sofa, behind Lucy’s head, and smiled at the way she tensed, at the awareness that made her hesitate midsentence and made her fingers bite into her thigh.

  At the sound of Sierra’s laugh, he looked at his daughter.

  “And you were my age!” She chortled. “You were so…” She tried valiantly to repress the laugh and failed. “So not hot.”

  He grinned at her, his ego intact. As long as Lucy thought he was hot now, he could live with the memory of the flagpole-skinny kid he’d been.

  “I wish,” Sierra said, her voice softer, “that I’d seen these pictures back when I was so ridiculously skinny. So I knew.”

  She didn’t say what she would have known. She didn’t have to. Linda Brenner hugged her, and Sierra hugged back.

  Jon glanced at Lucy, who was watching, too, and knew exactly why her expression was both happy and sad.

  Strangely, he felt the same.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “FETCH, MAGGIE!” Sierra tossed the wadded-up paper ball across the living room. It bounced, skittered and disappeared beneath a side table.

  The cat had been intrigued by the crackle of the paper. Maggie’s eyes followed the ball’s path. The rest of her didn’t. She continued to lie placidly on the rug, her middle-age spread…spreading.