Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles

by Teresa Southwick

  She hesitated, then said, “All right.”

  “Have you kept in touch with all the people you’ve met through Donna—and Marcus?”

  She shrugged. “Some of them, the ones who want to continue the connection. Others want to put it behind them and go on in as normal a fashion as possible.”

  “What about the little girl?” He’d thought the idea of it would open up the ache inside. And it did. But not as much as he’d expected.

  “Yes. I still see her.” She looked down at the linked hands in her lap, then met his gaze. “The family has always wanted to thank you. I could arrange a meeting between you and—”

  He shook his head. “Maybe someday. But not yet.”

  “All right. If you change your mind, let me know.” She studied him. “But for what it’s worth, I haven’t seen you like this in—well, longer than I can remember. You look—”

  “How?”

  “It’s hard to describe.” She shook her head. “Not content exactly. And not happy precisely. Just—as if you’re looking forward to something.”

  “That’s because I am.”

  “I’m going out on a limb here. Does it have something to do with Megan?”

  “And her daughter,” he confirmed. “They’re coming over, and I’m taking Bayleigh fishing.” He glanced at the clock on the dining room wall. “In fact, they should be here any minute. When you rang the bell, I was sure it was them.”

  Janet stood up abruptly. “Look at the time. I’ve got to run.”

  Surprised, he looked at her again. “You just got here. Stick around and I’ll introduce you to the woman who’s responsible for changing me from a cranky ingrate to the man you see before you.”

  “I—I wish I could, Simon, but I just remembered I’ve got an appointment.” She grabbed her purse from the coffee table and headed for the door. “Another time. I’d love to meet her.”

  “Okay.” He got up and followed her.

  She opened the door and walked out. “Bye,” she called over her shoulder.

  “See you—” But her car door slammed as the word “later” came out.

  “Hi. Sorry we’re late,” Megan said when Simon answered her knock on the door.

  “No problem. Hi, Bayleigh.”

  “Hi.”

  “Come in,” he said.

  Megan walked in, but her child stood there like a statue and looked up at him. He grinned at her. “Simon says come in.”

  Bayleigh took a big step over the threshold. Pushing her glasses up, she asked, “When are we goin’ fishin’?”

  “Bayleigh. That’s not polite.” Megan met his gaze. “Sorry.”

  He held up two fingers. “That’s two sorrys in less than a minute. One more and I go skateboarding down that big hill on the 405 freeway. The sun is out. The sky is blue. We’re going to have fun. Right?” he asked, looking at the little girl.

  “Right.” She nodded emphatically. “Simon says no more sorrys.”

  “Okay, then.”

  When he met her gaze, a wolfish gleam stole into his eyes, sending a sizzle of awareness through Megan. In the car on the way over, Bay had chattered incessantly about two subjects: being a pilgrim in the kindergarten program the following week and catching fish with cheese. Mostly it was fish, liberally sprinkled with comments starting with Simon this or Simon that. Her daughter’s little body had practically vibrated with excitement. Megan’s had hummed for a very different reason. What had happened the last time she’d been here wasn’t ever far from her mind. But it wouldn’t happen again, especially today with her little chaperone along. Still, she couldn’t relax.

  “Follow me,” he said, leading the way downstairs.

  “Where we goin’?”

  “To get supplies,” Simon answered.

  “I get to be a pilgrim at school,” the little girl said. “The day before Thanksgiving.”

  Bringing up the rear, Megan couldn’t hear his reply. But that didn’t bother her as much as her normally shy child sharing details of her life so unselfconsciously. She wanted a family almost as badly as Megan yearned to give her one. But getting attached to Simon wasn’t a good idea—for either of them. Megan still had to tell him the truth about Bay’s cornea surgery. When she did, the last thing he would want was the two of them.

  And the two of them wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t helped her out of a jam yesterday. But she wouldn’t have been in hot water in the first place if he hadn’t showed up. Why had he? Another sign that he was coming back to life?

  Megan followed them through the bottom level of the town house past a laundry room, full bath and spare bedroom. A door led out into the garage and she joined the other two.

  “What supplies are we gettin’?” Bayleigh asked.

  Simon opened the garage door to let in light. “We need an ice chest.”

  “To keep the ham and cheese in?” the little girl wanted to know.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I thought we could put some bread on some of it in case we get hungry. And we’ll keep some drinks cold.”

  “I like juice boxes,” Bayleigh informed him.

  “Somehow I thought you would.”

  Megan saw the flash of pain in his eyes and wondered if this whole thing was a good idea. She couldn’t imagine how much he must be hurting, being around a child again. Tears burned her eyes as a lump the size of the Channel Islands formed in her throat.

  “Okay,” he said, letting out a long breath. “We’ve got work to do. I’m glad you reminded me Thanksgiving is this week. We need to catch some fish for dinner.”

  Bayleigh giggled. “You don’t have fish on Thanksgiving. You have turkey.”

  “Really?” he asked, in mock surprise. “The pilgrims didn’t serve fish?”

  The little girl shook her head. “Nope. Turkey. My grammy’s fixin’ one for us.”

  “You’re a lucky girl.” He rubbed his hands together. “But the fish are waiting.”

  Bayleigh nodded. “I’m going to look around for supplies.”

  “Good idea,” he agreed.

  Megan watched him reach up for the ice chest resting on top of an upright freezer. In his worn jeans and plaid flannel shirt, he looked fit, fine and oh so tempting. Before she had time to carry that thought too far, he set the chest on the cement floor.

  Meeting her gaze, he said, “You’re uncharacteristically quiet. Something bothering you?”

  “No,” she lied. “I was just wondering how you’re feeling. Looks like you’re moving around pretty well.” She studied his face. “I don’t think you’re going to have any scarring.”

  “Too bad. Chicks love scars.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah. So you said. I’m just wondering on what you base this observation. Personal experience?”

  Why did that thought make her want to choke someone? Surely she wasn’t jealous? How stupid would that be?

  He rested his hands on lean hips. “Let me ask you a question. Do you, as in women in general, not have a thing for Harrison Ford?”

  “Does the word duh mean anything to you?” When he grinned, her knees felt as if she’d just run five miles in the sand.

  “Does he or does he not have a scar on his chin?”

  “He does.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “Okay. But I didn’t really mean the scars on your face when I inquired about your well-being. How’s the leg?”

  “It feels pretty good. A little stiff and sore. I actually went to see the doc.”

  “You’re joking.” Her eyes widened. Then she glanced at Bayleigh, who was poking around in a plastic container and pulling out what looked like sand toys. Apparently the little girl was too caught up in her exploration to be interested in the adults.

  “Nope,” he said. “I went to an orthopedic specialist, and he’s got me on a regimen of physical therapy. Said the leg will be as good as new.”

  This was big. A major step forward. He’d signed himself out of the hospital against medical advi
ce just a couple weeks ago. Now he’d voluntarily seen a specialist for further treatment. Megan had been listing the signs that he was ready to hear the truth. And here was one more. She should tell him.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Bayleigh, who was now poking through a small storage shed standing in the corner of the garage, the part not occupied by his BMW. Now was not a good time for that discussion. It was going to be difficult for him to hear what she had to say, and she needed to do it when she and Simon were alone. Soon.

  “Look what I found. It’s a fishing pole just my size.” Bayleigh beamed at them as she held up the treasure she’d found.

  Megan’s heart dropped to her toes. It had to be his son’s. She rushed over to her daughter. “Bayleigh, put that down. You shouldn’t touch things without asking.”

  She’d been afraid of this. An awkward moment with Bayleigh involved. She couldn’t understand that she was a painful reminder of what Simon had lost. Megan could kick herself for agreeing to this outing. For Bayleigh—and Simon.

  “But, Mommy, it’s just my size. Why does Simon have one my size if I can’t touch it?”

  Simon stood beside them and looked down at Bayleigh. “It belonged to my son, Marcus.”

  “Where is he? Did he ever catch a fish with his fishin’ pole?”

  “Bayleigh, you shouldn’t ask—”

  He met her gaze and shook his head slightly. “It’s all right.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then he swallowed hard. When he looked at her again, she could almost feel his pain. But then, amazingly, he smiled down at her child.

  “Bayleigh, Marcus never caught a fish. I bought him that fishing pole, but he died in a car accident before he got a chance to use it.”

  Megan had discussed the issue of death with her daughter after a goldfish had passed on. She knew Bay knew it meant Marcus wasn’t coming back.

  The little girl moved beside him and slipped her little hand into his big one. “I’m sorry, Simon.” Then her eyes went wide, and she clapped her other hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t s’posed to say that. You’re not goin’ on the freeway without a car now, are you?”

  To Megan’s immense relief, he laughed. Squatting down in front of Bayleigh, he tapped her nose. “No. I won’t go skateboarding on the freeway.”

  Bay breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad.”

  Impulsively she put her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. Megan held her breath for both of them. Her daughter’s spontaneous show of affection could be too much for him to handle. And if he rebuffed it, Bayleigh’s little heart could be deeply wounded.

  Slowly Simon lifted his arms and folded the child’s body against him to return the hug. “Thanks, Bayleigh, I needed that.”

  The little girl backed out of his arms. “Do you think Marcus would mind if I used his fishin’ pole? I promise not to break it.”

  Simon smiled. “I don’t think he’d mind at all.”

  “Ya-ay,” she said. “Can I go get the cheese and ham?”

  He nodded. “It’s in the refrigerator. We’re right behind you.”

  After she disappeared up the stairs, Megan released a long breath. “I don’t know what to say. If I’d known—”

  He pressed a gentle finger against her lips to silence her. “No more sorrys. Simon says.”

  Then he pulled her into his arms, and she knew he planned to kiss her. Every warning about this man went instantly out of her head; the worst was happening. She was in serious danger of falling for Simon Reynolds.

  There was a clatter of footsteps on the stairs and a childish voice said, “I can’t find the cheese.”

  “I’ll go help her.” Megan tried to pull away, but he held on to her, gently but firmly.

  “You can run, but you can’t hide. Not forever. If anyone knows, it’s me.”

  This wasn’t the time to tell him he had no idea how right he was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Megan opened her door in response to his knock, Simon knew she’d been baking. She had streaks of flour on her face, smudges on her black turtleneck and white trails down the front of her soft, worn jeans where she’d rubbed her hands. The fact that Thanksgiving was the next day was also a big clue. Looking at her, he couldn’t help thinking he had a lot to be thankful for this year.

  “Hi,” she said, obviously surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Good question,” he answered, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Would you believe the town house felt too big?”

  Her eyes widened. “No way.”

  “I missed your cooking and couldn’t stomach takeout?”

  “Not buying it.” She folded her arms over her chest as she huffed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

  It had only been a couple of days since he’d seen her. She didn’t have on a speck of makeup. Her hair was tumbling out of the ponytail on top of her head. But that sweet, slender body was pretty hard to conceal, even in old jeans. She looked awfully damn cute to him. And he was like metal filings to a magnet.

  “How about I got some good news and had no one to share it with?” he said.

  “Now you’re talking.” She stepped back and held the door wide. “That one got my attention. Come on in.”

  It was the polite response, but uttered with the most intriguing combination of warmth and hesitation. Megan Brightwell was a very complicated woman. She fascinated the hell out of him. That’s why he was here. But if he’d told her that she wouldn’t have invited him in. And he wanted to come in. For all the reasons he’d given her.

  If she and Bayleigh had never been to his place, he wouldn’t have noticed how big and quiet the town house was. But they had been there, and he felt the emptiness they had left in their wake.

  “Simon!” Bayleigh looked up from her place on a chair at the dinette. She jumped down and ran to him.

  He opened his arms and braced himself for impact. When she reached him, he grabbed her and lifted her into his arms.

  “How are you, sunshine?”

  “I’m fine. Mommy and me are baking pies to take to Grammy’s for Thanksgiving. Want to help?” She rested her hand trustingly on his shoulder as they looked eye to eye.

  “Bay, Simon may have things to do,” Megan said, leaning against the door after shutting it.

  “No.” He shook his head, savoring the weight and warmth of the little girl in his arms. “Nothing pressing. What kind of pies are you making?”

  “Pumpkin. Apple. And—” She wrinkled her nose as she thought. “What’s that other one?”

  “Mincemeat.”

  “I can never ’member that one,” she said with a sigh. “You should come to Grammy’s house with us tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Bay, he probably has plans,” Megan said, standing up straight.

  “No. But I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “What’s that?” the child asked.

  “It’s when you come over without an invitation,” Megan said wryly as she met his gaze.

  “I can invite him.” Bayleigh looked from her mother to him. “Grammy won’t mind. She always says—I forget. Something about merry.”

  “The more the merrier?” he suggested.

  “That’s it.” The little girl nodded enthusiastically. “Grammy always says I can invite my friends over. Simon’s my friend.”

  “But Grammy wasn’t talking about Thanksgiving, sweetie. It’s different.”

  “How?” The child wanted to know.

  “Setting another place at the table. Last-minute guest.” Megan looked at him and put her hands on her hips. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “I’m gonna call Grammy.” She wiggled to be let down, and Simon set her on her feet.

  After she raced out of the room, he asked, “Does she know the number?”

  “I should let you think she’s a gifted and talented child, but no. My mom is number one on the speed dial.”

  “She is gifted
and talented,” he said.

  “I think she’s pretty special,” Megan agreed. “Look, Simon, I don’t mean to sound as if you’re not welcome for dinner. If I were cooking—”

  He looked around. “There wouldn’t be room for everyone?”

  “There is that. But no. It’s just—”

  “You don’t want me there?” He saw the truth of his question in her eyes and something else that he recognized because he felt it, too. A hungry yearning. “Or you want me there too much?”

  Her expression of surprise confirmed his suspicions. But before she could weasel out of answering, the little girl ran back into the room.

  “Grammy says he’s more than welcome to come.” Bayleigh stopped beside him and slid her small hand into his. “So are you going to?”

  He knew he should let Megan off the hook, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. And he wouldn’t have to make up a lie for Janet about why he couldn’t spend the holiday with her and her friends or with his folks in Phoenix. He’d be where he most wanted to be.

  “I’d love to spend Thanksgiving with—” He’d started to say my two favorite girls. But that was a can of worms he didn’t want to open. One step at a time. “Your family,” he finished.

  “Ya-ay,” the little girl said as she jumped up and down.

  Megan was just as easy to read. Pleasure and panic mixed together in her expression and body language. If only he could make her see she wouldn’t be sorry. He wouldn’t be making an effort to be her friend if he wasn’t prepared to be around when she needed him.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Okay. Now that’s settled. What’s the good news you stopped by to share? Let’s have it.”

  Then make like a tree and leave. That was the subtext of her words, Simon thought. She was definitely trying to keep her distance. She didn’t know it, but he didn’t plan to allow too much space between them. If he intended to cave on that, he wouldn’t have accepted an invitation to holiday dinner. She’d made him feel again. And, by God, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop now. He remembered the yearning he’d seen in her eyes when he’d pulled her into his arms the other day. She didn’t really want her own space any more than he did.