Island Child

by Roz Denny

  "Tell me why he can't come. Am I being blamed for another man's sins, Sarah? I'm not Farrell. I understand he did a real number on you and Mike, and I understand how you feel about him. Why did you marry the guy if he was such a bastard?"

  Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "I wasn't as smart then as I am now."

  "Marriage doesn't just happen, Sarah. It takes two. There must have been something positive that came from it?"

  "My son!" she shouted. "Now, go. Please. I have a raging headache."

  "I'm sure you do." He yanked her up against his chest. His eyes gleamed in the subdued lamplight. "Did you drink too many pretty red drinks at some other party and wake up married? Is that it?"

  "Certainly not. Get your hands off me. I don't like you touching me."

  "Ah, at last the truth. You married for sex, but it was lousy, huh? Well, you've compared me to your ex in every other way. Maybe you'd like to see how I stack up in that department before you compare scores."

  The kiss, born of his anger, changed to desire before Gabe's lips even touched hers. By the time his hands slid around her slender rib cage and up her rigid backbone, he didn't want to fight anymore. He never had. Yet he needed some indication of Sarah's feelings for him, so he poured everything into the kiss, begging her for a response.

  She gave none.

  Backed against a door where they'd ended, he released her instantly. Her utter passivity forced him to do that. Considering what she'd been through, he felt like a first-class heel.

  Her eyes were haunted and dark. An apology that erupted from his heart lodged in Gabe's lungs. His throat worked and his fingers curled into his sides. "Sarah—" He got no further.

  Sarah rubbed her arms where his fingers had left warm imprints on her icy skin. "Oh, you compare all right, Gabriel Parker," she informed him. "Nothing mattered to Farrell, either, except what he wanted. Please, just leave. Leave me and my son alone. Get yourself a new community project."

  "Sarah, it's not like that." He spread his palms. "Listen, I beg you!"

  She stood, unmoving and unmoved.

  Gabe turned away. She looked as if her nerves were stretched so tight she'd break at the slightest provocation rather than bend. Lord, how he cared about her and Mike! But if she didn't know by now that he wasn't like her ex-husband, there was nothing left for him to do but retreat. "Go to bed," he said gently, turning back to cup her cheek with a hand that wasn't quite steady. "I'll let myself out."

  "You do that," she said, avoiding his touch. "I meant what I said. Don't come back—or it'll be Mike who's hurt in the end."

  Gabe closed his eyes and rubbed a thumb across his tired brow. They were both drained, and things always looked better in daylight. "This isn't over, Sarah. I was trying to help. You saw how upset Mike was about giving up soccer. Please reconsider before you set up a no-win situation." He picked up the book on parenting that had fallen open on the floor when Mike had cried out and shoved it into her hands. "Here. You underlined the answer." Without a backward glance, he grabbed his wrinkled tuxedo jacket and left.

  Sarah glanced at the passage. "Children thrive best in an atmosphere of love and trust." She threw the book down and went to check on Mike.

  The sun was already high in the sky the next morning when Gabe realized he'd been watching twenty-foot waves pound the shore at Waimea Bay for almost two hours. In all that time he'd come to only one clear conclusion— Sarah wasn't likely to change her mind about surfing. He wouldn't press her further to take Mike to Sunset Beach.

  That would give her a week to think things through. The big problem was figuring how to let Mike down easy. Gabe wasn't sure he had the finesse. But Sarah was right, it wasn't his place to have made the suggestion again without first asking her. At least not yet. Come next Sunday, though, when the Grand Nationals ended, one way or another they'd settle what was between them. And he'd be damned if he'd leave her alone until they did.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The telephone shrilled. Sarah pulled the covers over her head to block the sound. Slowly she opened one eye, groped about for the phone and knocked it onto the floor. The noise ripped through her head.

  "H-hello," she stammered, at last getting it to her ear.

  "Sarah?" Mitzi sounded hesitant. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

  "Isn't it Sunday? Why are you calling so early?" she croaked.

  "Early? Sarah, it's eleven o'clock."

  Sarah wet her parched lips. "Eleven," she repeated tonelessly. "And Mike isn't up? Oh, no." Panic seized her. "Hold on. Or shall I call back?"

  "I'll hold."

  Sarah stood with some effort. On legs wobbly as a toddler's, she made her way next door. She was delighted to see Mike sitting up in bed, TV blaring.

  He saw her and waved.

  Then Sarah noticed that his coverlet was a jumble of small stacks of clean clothing. "What's with all the laundry, mister?"

  "Not laundry, Mom. I'm gettin' stuff ready for when Gabe comes."

  Sarah put a hand to her head. She brushed a pile aside and sat heavily on the end of his bed and tried for a reasonable tone. "Dr. Manolo said you needed rest."

  Mike's lips pressed in a stubborn line. "He said I could go with Gabe."

  Sarah's latest argument with Gabe ricocheted around inside her head. How could she explain to an eight-year-old that the man he idolized shared too many undesirable traits with his footloose father?

  She couldn't. Not yet. Not until her head stopped whirllike a windmill. "I, uh… I left your aunt Mitzi waiting on the phone, Mike. I wanted to see how you were feeling."

  "Better." He rubbed a hand over his ribs. "Don't got no pain today, not 'less I move quick."

  "Any. You don't have any pain. 'Don't got no' is a double negative."

  He tilted his head, gave her a squinty look and promptly changed the subject. "I'm hungry. When's breakfast?"

  "Breakfast?" The thought made her stomach churn. "What would you like?" she asked.

  "Chocolate chip pancakes," he said without hesitation.

  "Ugh." She couldn't prevent her involuntary shudder.

  "They're good." Suddenly he looked contrite. "Now I 'member—last night Gabe said you didn't feel good. Are you still sick, Mom?"

  Sarah recalled just enough to make her uncomfortable with his question. "Better," she assured him. "Hey, if I don't go back and talk with Mitzi, she'll think we both died."

  "Okay. Holler when it's breakfast."

  "I'll bring yours," she promised, making good her escape.

  Back in her room, Sarah snatched up the phone. "Mitzi?"

  "I was about to send out the National Guard. Is everything all right? Sarah, are you hung over?" When there was a lengthy pause on Sarah's end, Mitzi chuckled. "Well, I did urge you to hang loose, didn't I? So, tell me—did Gabe spend the night? You'll have to hurry, though. I told Osamu I was calling to remind you about my trip to Mother's family reunion. I couldn't wait a whole week to find out if you… well, you know…"

  Scenes from last night's party, and after, flashed through Sarah's mind in splashes of brilliant technicolor.

  "Well?" Mitzi said impatiently. "Does the pregnant pause mean he's there? That you did?"

  "It does not," Sarah said when she found her voice. "It means I forgot you were going to San Francisco. I intended to ask your mom to baby-sit Mike next week. He got hurt playing soccer yesterday. What Gabe and I did was spend half the night in the emergency room." She paused, then said wryly, "But I'm afraid you're right about my condition, Mitzi. I can't even think straight."

  "Back up," Mitzi said. "How badly is Mike hurt?"

  "He collided with another boy and bruised his spleen. Spleenalomegaly, Dr. Manolo called it. It could have been worse—if it had ruptured."

  "That happened to one of Osamu's wrestlers last year. Wow! It can't have been a fun evening. I was worried because Harvey said you'd been treating Scarlett O'Haras like fruit punch."

  Sarah muttered, "I thought they were fruit punch."
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  "Only you, Sarah. Only you. Must have been rough doing the hospital run after that."

  "Gabe helped." She stopped, realizing that was an understatement.

  "Aren't you lucky it was Gabe who took you home and not Harvey?"

  Sarah frowned. Lucky for Mike. Viewed from that perspective, she'd probably been too hard on Gabe. After all, what would she have done without him?

  "Yo, Sarah? You still there?" Mitzi raised her voice. "Hey, have you thought of asking Gabe to keep Mike next week? He's his own boss."

  "He offered," Sarah said lightly. "Of course I didn't accept."

  "Why not? Are you nuts? Mike would love it."

  Sarah winced. "Must you shout?"

  "Sorry. If you refused, I guess you have a good reason."

  "Yes. He's a judge in some surfing contest and he'd expected to keep Mike at his beach house all week. Can't you just imagine the kind of supervision any child, let alone a sick one, would get in that atmosphere?"

  "Sarah, I swear. How long are you going to flog a dead horse? You just admitted Gabe stuck with you last night. Would Farrell have done as much?"

  "No." Sarah had no illusions about her ex-husband. "If it was anything but surfing, Mitzi…" Old memories swam through Sarah's head.

  "Darn, Sam's calling me. We have to go pick up Mother and get to the airport." Mitzi sounded unhappy. "Sarah, I love you dearly, but you have to wake up and smell the flowers. I saw the way Gabe Parker looked at you last night. I also heard him tell off his dad, Layman, and dear Sheena. Before you throw away something good, you'd better think long and hard. That's positively all I'm going to say, though."

  Sarah bit her lip, recalling suddenly how much she'd missed Gabe the night Mike's team had won and they'd gone for pizza. Recalling how much she like his touch, his kisses. Liked them too much. And when that nurse mistook them for husband and wife—well, she'd wished it was true.

  "You may be right, Mitzi. I promise to think about it while you're gone. You have a good time on your trip. Send Mike a postcard from Fisherman's Wharf, would you?"

  When Mitzi had hung up, Sarah clutched the receiver for several moments, deep in thought. Sometime when she hadn't been looking, her once-dormant passion had been stirred by Gabe Parker. Feelings of respect, of affection, of… something more, had sneaked in and nested in her heart. It wasn't for Mike's sake that she'd become so critical of Gabe, comparing him to Farrell. It was for hers. She knew that it was cowardly. But what if she gave her heart again and the same thing happened? No one, not Mitzi or Lou, no one knew how Farrell had destroyed her self-esteem. Little by little she had won it back. And yes, she was treading carefully this time.

  Mulling over all that had happened since the arrival of Gabe Parker in their lives, she wandered out to the kitchen. Mitzi had a valid point. It was wrong to lash out at Gabe because her old reactions to Farrell were kicking in. By the time her coffee perked, Sarah had a loose apology formulated. She fine-tuned it as she fixed Mike's chocolate-chip pancakes.

  Gabe's offer to keep Mike was, no doubt, genuine. Yet the fact remained that she wasn't comfortable with his plan. The book Gabe had handed her was big on compromise, as well as on love and trust. So, what if she overrode her discomfort and took Mike to Sunset just for the weekend? It was a start.

  Pleased with her decision, Sarah smiled. Anytime now, Gabe would call and she would tell him. Whistling softly, she carried a tray to Mike. The stacks of things on his bed were a sobering reminder that she had yet to deal with his disappointment.

  "Guess what I just saw on TV, Mom?"

  Sarah's breath caught as he turned bright blue eyes, so like Gabe's, eagerly her way. "What did you see?" she teased, scooting one of the piles of shorts aside. "A funny cartoon?"

  "Sunset Beach," he announced, accepting the tray and promptly digging into a gooey chip-laden pancake. "I yelled for you," he mumbled with his mouth full. "Guess you didn't hear. They showed Gabe's house. I got to see the patio where I'll be. Golly, Mom, it's right on the ocean. And you know what?" he rushed on, ignoring her meager protest. "They showed him doin' all this neat stuff. Did you know he tests the sea for org'nisms? Bad org'nisms that spill outa ships and stuff. The man 'splained how surfers all over are doin' this for the 'virement. What's 'virement, Mom?"

  "I think he meant environment, Mike. Our natural resources—land, water, air. You know how I told you plastics and pollutants are ruining our water and our air? And how, because we live on an island, we have to be especially careful?"

  Sarah was actually shocked to hear Gabe and other surfers cared about the environment. It certainly wasn't anything that ever entered Farrell's mind. "Don't talk with your mouth full," she told Mike as he began to speak.

  "Sorry." Mike chewed fast and swallowed. "Gabe must be pretty 'portant to be on TV, don'cha think?"

  "Important, Mike." Sarah frowned. "Yes," she said slowly, digesting that bit of truth. "Gabe comes from a successful and important family."

  Sarah remembered then how his sister-in-law had called her a nobody. Had she really been so foolish as to entertain exploring a relationship with him? There were other issues between them besides her dislike of surfing. More important ones. Kisses, feelings, meant nothing compared to social standing. More than once Gabe had made remarks that inadvertently pointed out their differences. Goodness, he owned yachts, and she didn't know from one year to the next if she could pay her property taxes!

  "Mike, I need to wash my hair. Will you be okay?" Sarah was too shaken by the discovery to listen to any more hero worship. "Leave the tray on your nightstand when you finish. I'll pick it up later."

  "But you never said when Gabe's gonna be here," Mike protested.

  "I don't know." Her tone was sharp. "Being on TV and all, he may forget." It would be infinitely easier all around if Gabe ended his volunteer work now. Doing it later would be much harder on Mike. On her. So here they were, back at square one.

  Mike stubbornly held faith. "He won't forget, Mom. Gabe always does what he says."

  Bully for Gabe. Sarah stalked down the hall and into the bathroom. Feelings for Gabriel Parker that had soared briefly were suddenly jerked up short again. Nothing had changed. What she couldn't allow was for Mike to be left dangling in the middle. Somehow, she had to find the backbone to end this once and for all.

  She closed her eyes and stepped into the shower. If only it wasn't so difficult. She hadn't thought Mike would miss Farrell, whom he'd hardly known, but the questions had started when he went to school and discovered most of his classmates had two parents. There was no doubt in her mind that Gabe filled a gaping void in her son's life.

  Clean hair made Sarah feel almost human again. However, no great revelation had come to her in the pulsing massage of the spray. It fact, it was downright frustrating that every thought doubled back to Gabriel Parker.

  The doorbell chimed. Sarah's heart raced. They rarely had visitors on Sunday. Unless Gabe had decided to drop by, instead of calling. The possibility slowed her steps. She wasn't ready to see him yet.

  Mike's door flew open. "Bet that's Gabe." His voice rose excitedly.

  "You get back into bed. I'll check." Sarah crossed to look through the peephole. "It's Harvey," she told Mike, reaching for the doorknob, surprised herself.

  Harvey slicked one hand through his hair, then stepped inside. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, Sarah."

  She didn't respond, only gathered her bathrobe close and retied the belt.

  "I was on my way to Sunday brunch and decided to stop by and see how you are." He angled his chin and tugged at the knot of his paisley tie.

  "I'm fine, Harvey." She wrinkled her nose. "If only you'd been this solicitous last night. I'm afraid I learned the hard way about lethal punch."

  "Yes…well… That's partly why I'm here. I, of all people, knew you weren't a drinker. You may have noticed I haven't been myself lately. Jeanette made me see how badly I treated you. Will you allow me to apologize?"

  Sarah sank onto
the couch. "Apologize?" Did he mean he wanted to take up where they'd left off? "Well, Harvey," she said, knowing she couldn't let that impression continue, "things can never be quite the same between us."

  "Not even a good working relationship, Sarah?" His face fell. "I'm handing Jeanette's case over to Gordon Banks. Would it help if I told you I never expected to fall in love with a client?"

  "Love?" Sarah blinked.

  "I do love her, Sarah. Once her case is decided, we're going to be married, whatever the outcome."

  "Why, Harvey, I don't know what to say."

  "Congratulations was what I'd hoped for," he said, clearing his throat. "She and I have the same goals. The same beliefs. We're a lot alike."

  Sarah swallowed her amazement. "Of course, Harvey. I wish you every happiness. I've known for weeks that we had no future together—since the lunch, when it became clear you didn't like Mike."

  "I don't dislike the boy. I can't seem to relate to children. My own parents were much older and very strict. As an only child, I was expected to act like an adult. At any rate, you both deserve someone younger. Someone more flexible. Like Gabe Parker. I'd be a terrible father, Sarah. If you want, I'll apologize to Mike, too."

  "That won't be necessary. I'll explain. I appreciate your honesty, Harvey. However, I don't want you to have the mistaken impression that there's anything between Gabe and me. You saw me last night in his world—as out of place as you feel in mine."

  She heard Mike's door creak. Frowning, she turned to look. Then, because he didn't appear in the hall, she said with some haste, "I don't mean to rush you, Harvey, but I need to see to Mike. He was injured yesterday playing soccer. He's supposed to be confined to bed."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Oh, and Harvey…I won't be at work tomorrow. Mitzi's mom is out of town, so I think I'll stay home a few days, instead of looking for a sitter. My work's all caught up. I'D call Lou, of course."

  "No problem. I'll tell him. Good legal assistants are worth accommodating." He fidgeted, jingling the change in his pockets.