by Day Leclaire
“Talk to me, Daisy,” he murmured. “I know you’ve been keeping something from me. What is it?”
She debated for a long moment. What good did it do to hide the truth? Maybe if she explained, he’d understand. Blowing out a sigh, she closed her eyes and confessed. “That caterpillar? It’s the first thing I’ve painted in a while.”
He froze. “Define a while?”
She shrugged. “A longish string of days.”
“Longish, as in twenty months, eight days, seventeen hours and twenty-nine minutes?”
She opened her eyes, hoping they didn’t reflect the intensity of her misery, and nodded. “To the nanosecond.”
Without a word, he drew her into his arms and held her. The delicious scent of him flooded her senses. So did his strength and determination. It was as though by being here with him, she’d absorbed bits and pieces of him. She couldn’t explain it, certainly didn’t understand it. She could only accept and revel in being with him again and experiencing the return of her creativity, even though she suspected it had a lot to do with the man who held her.
“Perhaps this is the appropriate time to make a confession of my own,” he murmured.
“You can’t paint, either?”
A chuckle escaped him. “No.” His humor faded. “And I also can’t work. In my case, it’s been going on for longer than twenty months, eight days—”
“—seventeen hours and twenty-nine minutes?”
“Thirty-one,” he corrected absently. “And I’d say it’s been closer to two years, two months and thirteen days. I can provide you with the hours and minutes if you require.”
“That’s not necessary. I get the idea. So what happened two years—” Her breath escaped in a rush. “Oh, Justice. Your accident?”
“Yes. That’s when I realized that, other than Pretorius, I had no one in my life. At least, no one who would miss me if I were gone.”
“And you wanted someone?”
He swept her hair back from her face and smiled at her, something vaguely bittersweet clinging to the corners of his mouth. “Very much.”
“No wonder you resorted to a computer program to find a wife.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Instead, you’re stuck with me.”
“I guess that means we’re stuck with each other.”
She searched his face for a clue to his innermost feelings. “Are we, Justice?”
“Only if we want to be. And only if we can find a way to make our relationship work. With that in mind, I suggest it’s time for another condition.”
“Oh, great. One of yours or one of mine?”
“How about one that’s ours,” he suggested. “Joint Condition One. You have permission to paint on walls. Certain walls and only certain walls.”
Everything inside softened and warmed. “Really?” she asked, delighted.
“I want this to be your home, too, and if that’s what it takes to unblock your artistic talent and get you painting again, I’m more than willing to sacrifice a few white walls.”
Daisy wrapped her arms around Justice’s waist and hugged him tight. “Thank you. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
He wrapped her up in a snug embrace. “Before you get too excited, the labs downstairs and all of Pretorius’s areas are strictly off-limits.” She could feel his steady heartbeat against her cheek, while his voice rumbled in her ear. “You may paint down to the bottom of the steps leading to the basement area, but no farther. Understood?”
“Understood.” She tilted back her head and smiled up at him. “You may even discover you like what I’ve done so much you want me to paint those walls, too.”
He swore so softly Jett’s behavior modification program didn’t catch it. Nor did Noelle, thank goodness. “We’re not kids anymore, Daisy. This isn’t like the lines I used to draw, lines you took such delight in stepping over.”
She had a sneaking suspicion it was exactly like the lines he’d drawn all those years ago, lines meant to box her out. Instead, she’d forced her way in, forced him to expand those lines to include her. Just as she was doing now. But he’d have to discover that for himself. “Thank you, Justice. Thank you for understanding.”
“You’re welcome.” As though unable to resist, he kissed her, the moment one of the sweetest she’d experienced since her arrival. “Well? What are you waiting for? You have walls to paint.”
“I’m on it, I’m on it.”
Daisy bolted across the office and closed the door behind her. Then she waited. She knew the instant he saw what she’d done to his office wall—the painting of Emo X-14 peeking at him from behind the safety of the door, his electronic control helmet askew, processors twinkling, his row of aquamarine eyes glowing with mischief.
“Son of a—!” Wheep!
Daisy grinned. Whether Justice liked it or not, he now had people who cared about him. And with luck it would help him work again. With luck they’d find a way to blend their imperfect little group into the perfect family.
Nine
Perhaps it happened because Justice gave his permission to paint the walls. Perhaps it was because his analytical block mirrored her own creative one. Or perhaps happiness gave her the release she needed, but when Daisy woke the next day, it was with the overwhelming urge to paint. Not just caterpillars, but entire sweeps of lovely, blank wall.
And paint she did.
The floodgates opened and there weren’t enough hours in the day to transpose all the ideas rampaging through her head into painted images. Little by little, the house transformed as furnishings arrived and lush jungles exploded to life. Exotic creatures peeked from corners or flitted along the ceiling or whimsically appeared in unexpected places, much to everyone’s amusement and delight.
But the section that gave Daisy the most pleasure was the stairway leading to areas off-limits. There she painted an amusing rendition of Noelle creeping down the steps, a mischievous expression on her impish face, the little girl trailed by Kit, Cat and all manner of creatures. At the very bottom of the staircase, one naughty toe crossed over Justice’s line and into forbidden territory.
Daisy knew the instant Justice spotted that single, defiant toe. His roar of laughter echoed up the stairwell, the sound so unexpected, so unrestrained and so painfully rare, that it had everyone in the household scurrying to see what had caused his amusement. Even Pretorius made an appearance, though he only stayed long enough to chuckle before darting the group a nervous glance and scampering back to his computer room. He’d actually relented later that day and gave her a brief, nervous tour, no doubt at Jett’s insistence. But Daisy knew it was a start.
It gave her hope that they were all coming together as a family, and maybe, just maybe, she and Justice would be able to make a permanent commitment and…as he put it “bond” and “form a family unit.” Or as she put it, fall in love. Maybe she’d have taken up permanent residence in her personal fantasyland if she hadn’t had a conversation with Cord while working on the final home improvements.
“I’d like to create a better flow between these two rooms, maybe open up this section of wall.” Daisy pointed to a long expanse of painful white. “I can’t imagine what the architect was thinking to close it off.”
“Wasn’t the architect. Used to be open,” the huge man informed her. “That Pamela woman…beg pardon…Dr. Randolph, as she insisted I call her, had it closed up and plastered over. Might have a bunch of fancy initials after her name, but I gotta tell you, Daisy. That woman was an idiot.”
Daisy froze, thinking fast. She suspected if she expressed ignorance about Dr. Randolph, Cord would clam up. He was that sort of man. “I didn’t realize the wall had been one of her decisions,” she said in what she hoped was a casual manner. “I’m surprised Justice didn’t have you change it back to the way it was.”
“Nope. He was more concerned with getting all her fancy East Coast furniture cleared out right pronto. Never did suit the place. All stiff and formal and cold. Like her, if you kn
ow what I mean.” His gaze swept the improvements Daisy had made and a satisfied smile settled on his broad, homely face. “Just like I can look at your changes and know what kind of person you are.”
“I hope that’s a good thing,” she murmured.
“Very good.” He slanted her a quick, curious look. “You one of his apprentices, too? You don’t strike me as the type.”
“No,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound too forlorn. “I wouldn’t qualify. I’m not an engineer.” Or anything close.
After Cord left, Daisy thought long and hard about what he’d told her. Justice had never mentioned that he’d actually found an apprentice/wife. Or that it hadn’t worked out. While part of her wondered why their relationship ended, another part couldn’t contain her relief that it had. How would she have handled it if she’d arrived on Justice’s doorstep only to be faced with a Mrs. Dr. St. John? Daisy flinched at the idea.
So, what did she do now? Confront him or keep the knowledge to herself? Pamela’s existence and Justice’s continued use of the apprentice/wife program hurt, she finally decided. Seriously hurt, even though they weren’t together at the time. They would have to discuss it at some point. But not yet. Not when everything and everyone rested on a knife’s edge. She’d give them time to grow closer, to see if he wouldn’t open up on his own. And then she’d demand answers.
Her assessment proved sound when Aggie decided to throw her first bridge party. “They’re just some people I met in town,” the housekeeper explained. “Since socializing is difficult with everyone spread out, we decided to meet on a weekly basis to play cards. So, I was wondering…” She clutched her hands together. “Could we meet here?”
“I’m sure Justice won’t mind,” Daisy said. “Invite them over.”
“Right now it’s only two other people. But I’m confident we’ll find another player before long. We’ll play a dummy hand for our fourth until we do.”
“I think it’s a great idea. You can use the dining room, if you want. Or, better yet, we can set up a table in the great room in front of the fireplace.”
Aggie beamed in delight. “That would be the perfect place for a lovely cup of tea, don’t you think?”
“I can’t imagine a better one,” Daisy replied with an answering smile. “Bridge and tea. You can’t improve on that.”
“No, you can’t.”
Justice’s only objection on the night of the bridge party related to Pretorius. “He’s been dealing with a lot of changes these past couple of weeks.” He shot a look toward the great room where Aggie’s visitors had gathered. “I don’t want him pushed too far.”
“If it doesn’t work out, we’ll reconsider,” Daisy replied. “Let’s give it a try to see what happens.”
“My trick, I believe,” a voice boomed from the speakers just then.
Justice shot Daisy a look of utter bewilderment. “That sounds like Pretorius.”
The two crept closer to the doorway, staring in fascination. Justice stood behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body and hear the give-and-take of her breath. The bridge group sat around a table in front of the fireplace, just as she’d suggested. A sparkling tea service perched on a cart closest to Aggie, dainty cups and saucers at the elbows of the three women gathered there. The fourth position at the table remained empty, although a holder full of cards occupied that portion of the table, facing the fireplace.
“This is delicious tea, Aggie,” Pretorius continued from on high.
“Thank you, Pretorius. It’s an English blend I order off the internet.”
“I appreciate your sending Jett down with a tray so I could enjoy it with the rest of you ladies.”
“And we appreciate your being our fourth,” one of the women said, her laugh carrying a girlish, almost flirtatious ring. “Maybe, when you feel up to it, you’ll consider joining us in person.”
Dead silence met the offer. Then to Daisy’s utter astonishment, Pretorius said, “Maybe I will.”
“Are you having any trouble seeing your cards?” another of the ladies asked. “Do you need the holder moved?”
“An inch to the left would help. No, no, Grace. I should have said my left. Yes, that’s better. The camera was having trouble focusing on that last card.”
“He’s playing with them,” Daisy whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes and she turned, burying her face against Justice’s broad chest. “He’s actually interacting with people.”
“I never thought he’d be able to change,” Justice murmured in a husky voice. “You’ve only been here nineteen days, three hours and five minutes. And look at the difference you’ve made.”
She could hear the emotion ripping apart his words. Pretorius wasn’t the only one changing. She could sense the loosening of Justice’s tight control, as well, where the events of the past had left a painful smear on his soul and encouraged a man who already tended to distrust emotions to suppress them entirely. Maybe he’d talk to her about Dr. Pamela, take her deeper into his confidence. Daisy could only hope.
Right now she sensed that he was becoming more the man she knew all those years ago. Allowing his heart—on rare occasions—to rule his intellect. Certainly at night he became that person, the intimacy of their lovemaking allowing him to open what he’d always kept so carefully closed and locked, giving them a place to relate…and grow from. Maybe, just maybe in this season of miracles, he’d learn to trust. To open his heart in the brilliance of daylight, as well as the shadow of night.
Maybe, instead of trying to teach a robot to feel, he’d learn how to do that for himself.
“The program’s ready,” Pretorius announced. “When you’re done playing…?”
Ever so gently, Justice threaded Noelle’s tiny hands with a thin band, while his daughter sat—for once still and silent—and watched in fascination while he strung a cat’s cradle. “I’m not playing. I’m teaching,” he corrected. “There now. We’ve just made a rectangle. Can you say rectangle, Noelle?”
She prattled happily and Justice nodded gravely. “Excellent.”
“That wasn’t rectangle,” Pretorius objected. “That was baby babble.”
“Oh, and I suppose P.P. isn’t baby babble?”
“P.P!” Noelle crowed, twisting around toward Pretorius.
“See? She associates P.P. with me.”
“Not something I’d run around admitting to all and sundry,” Justice muttered. He bent attentively over the crisscrossing laces entwined around his daughter’s fingers and ever so gently restrung them. “And this, Noelle, is a triangle. Say, triangle.”
Pretorius snorted at the baby’s laughing coos.
“And this…” He pulled gently on two of the strings. “This is a Christmas star for my Christmas baby.”
The excited burst of gibberish came precariously close to the word star and left both men beaming in pride at her brilliance. But it was her final word that gutted Justice. A sweet, clear baby-voiced “Dada,” followed by her holding out her arms imperiously, still entangled in the cat’s cradle. He pulled her close and she mashed her face against his in an awkward, openmouthed kiss.
A cascade of emotion flowed through him, the sensory input overwhelming. His arms tightened around his daughter and he literally inhaled her. The distinctive baby scent, the incredible softness of her warm skin, the silky strawberry-colored curls that brushed his face. The living, breathing essence of her filled him to overflowing and all he could do was hang on and ride the tidal wave of emotion that threatened to swamp him.
He had no idea how long he indulged in the irrational, before finding his way back to a more normal frame of mind. To his relief, Pretorius self-consciously occupied himself with banging away at his computer, giving Justice time to recover. He started to speak, then discovered he needed to clear his throat for some odd reason.
“Next time we’ll work on trapezoids and equilateral parallelograms,” he informed his daughter gruffly, holding out his hand for her to clutch. “If
you work hard you’ll have your geometric shapes mastered by Christmas. Eighteen months, tops.”
Pretorius did some throat clearing of his own. “Hey. Dada. Can we get down to business? I don’t know how much wall space is left to keep Daisy occupied. If you don’t want her getting wind of what we’re doing, I suggest you shake a leg.”
The instant Justice removed the strings from her fingers Noelle began to wriggle, not pleased with the interruption to their game. “Damn it—” A siren sounded a discordant wheep, wheep. “Darn it—how am I supposed to get a measuring tape around her? She won’t stop squirming.”
Noelle stilled, grinned, then fluttered her pale green eyes at him. “Damn.”
For some reason the siren didn’t sound for the baby. Hell, no. Only when he slipped up. “I’m beginning to dislike your computer. A lot.”
“Darn it, Justice—” Wheep! “It’s not my computer. It’s Jett’s. But if you don’t stop breaking Condition One, all heck—” Wheep! “—is going to break loose. Now, why the hell is it going off when I’m not even swearing?” Wheep! Wheep!
Noelle gurgled. “Damn. Hell.” Dead silence.
“This is all your fault,” the two men said in concert. They paused in their efforts long enough to glare at each other.
“It’s not my fault,” Pretorius protested. “That juvenile delinquent hacked in again and set up another Condition One Violation program. Every time I delete it, it pops back up.”
“I’ll give you one day. After that, I take matters into my own hands and I promise you, it won’t be pretty.”
“I’ll speak to her.”
They went back to work. All the while, Noelle fidgeted and burbled and jabbered nonstop, thoroughly enjoying the attention, as well as finally being rid of most of her clothes. Justice shook his head in amusement. If he didn’t watch her like a hawk, she’d shed her diaper, too.
“Okay, I have the first measurement,” Justice announced. “You ready?”
“Set.” Pretorius spun his chair around and sent it shooting across the floor toward his computer banks. He jabbed his eyeglasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “And go.”