Inherited: One Child

by Day Leclaire

  Jack had been brought up with a single motto: No matter what it takes. And that was how he would respond to his custody battle. When it came to Isabella, he would do whatever he had to, no matter what it took.

  He pulled into a broad drive, guarded by a ten-foot-high stone wall and a high-tech electronic security gate. He keyed in the code Taye had given him and, once the wrought-iron doors swung open, drove toward a mansion even more elaborate than his own. Beside him, Annalise’s jaw dropped. He turned down a narrow, graveled pathway, just wide enough for his Jag, and followed it for several hundred yards to a bungalow snuggled between beach and marsh.

  Beside him, Annalise relaxed, possibly because the bungalow was an exercise in simplicity in comparison to the main house. “It’s lovely,” she said with all sincerity.

  He smiled in satisfaction. “I hoped you’d approve.” He thrust his door open. “Come on. Let’s check it out.”

  Even Isabella lost her more typical apathetic mien and showed some enthusiasm. She darted into the bungalow behind him, one arm wrapped around her doll, the other around her stuffed lion. Jack couldn’t help but wonder if the lion was meant as a protector—not that he’d blame her if that were the case. If it added to her sense of security, he’d surround her with a dozen lions.

  The front door opened onto a small foyer, which accessed the main living area and a small dining room that he could use as a temporary office. On the far side of the dining room was a snug kitchen. A hallway branched off the living room and he led the parade in that direction, fairly certain they’d find the bedrooms.

  Jack opened the first door and a small, rusty “ooh” emanated from behind him. His heart skipped a beat at the sound and he felt a surge of hope. Maybe Annalise was right. Maybe this vacation would turn Isabella around. Maybe it would even get her talking again. He forced himself to stroll casually into the bedroom, not wanting to betray any sort of reaction to that almost-word, afraid it might alarm her.

  Isabella followed him in and made a beeline for a huge wooden structure that was part bunk beds and part tree fort. She vanished into one portion of the fort, climbed through trap doors and along secret tunnels, ending up in a bed cradled in the branches of the manufactured “tree,” complete with fabric leaves and stuffed animals hidden in various nooks and crannies. Her vivid green eyes glowed with happiness and Jack realized that nothing had ever given him greater pleasure than the sight of his niece’s beaming face.

  “Like it?” he asked, striving to keep all trace of emotion from his voice. She nodded eagerly and her blondish-brown ringlets bobbed around her flushed cheeks. “It’s good to see her hair growing out,” he murmured to Annalise, who came to stand beside him.

  “Did they cut it off after the accident?”

  He nodded. “According to the pictures I’ve seen, she had beautiful long hair. But there were so many scalp lacerations, the doctors were forced to cut away large chunks of it. It seemed best to even it up and then let it grow out again. I just never realized how much work it would take to keep it from matting.”

  Annalise released a chuckle. “The hazards of curly hair, I’m afraid. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been tempted to go for one of those super-short hairstyles Isabella’s sporting.”

  He studied her bone structure for a long moment. “You’d look good no matter how you wore it.”

  “Thanks.” She actually blushed. “The nice thing is, it’ll give me something in common with Isabella. We can do our hair together.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Good luck. That was one of the battles her former nannies fought on a daily basis. She doesn’t like anyone touching her hair.”

  “Probably because right after the accident it hurt her scalp. That shouldn’t be a problem any longer.” She spoke with a confidence he hoped would pan out, though he had serious doubts. “I’ll work with her on it.”

  Jack examined the room with a frown. “I didn’t realize there would only be children’s beds in here. There’s no way you’ll fit in that tree fort.”

  She shrugged. “No big deal. I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room.”

  “Let’s check out the other bedroom before we decide.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Your room? I don’t think so.”

  “Relax. I just thought if it had two beds we could move one of them in here.”

  Her mouth tilted into a smile. “You sure, Mr. Mason? I could have sworn I saw a distinct green accent coloring that suggestion.”

  “Not at all, Ms. Stefano. I’m perfectly satisfied with our current relationship.” He left her to ponder that while he crossed the hallway to the second bedroom. A huge king bed dominated the room. Annalise came to a stumbling halt behind him. “Puts paid to that idea,” he said.

  “The couch it is,” she agreed. She spared a quick glance at her watch. “We have a couple of hours until lunchtime. I think I’ll check out the kitchen and see what supplies I’ll need to pick up before then.”

  “I asked Taye’s housekeeper to take care of stocking the shelves and refrigerator. If she overlooked anything you think we’ll need, you can call up to the main house and she’ll be happy to have it delivered.”

  “Taye?”

  “Taye McClintock. He owns the McMansion we passed on our way here.”

  Her lips twitched. “And is McClintock a McDreamy, a McSteamy or a McWeeny?”

  “McWeeny?” Jack chuckled. Taye had been one of his best friends in college and possessed the face of an angel and the mind of a computer, and was the only man Jack had ever met who could romance a woman into his bed in five minutes flat. “Oh, Taye’s definitely a McWeeny, as I’ll be sure to inform him the next time I see him.”

  She stared in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Not only would I, but I will.”

  A fierce debate raged across her face before she turned on her heel. “I think I’ll unpack the car and get organized.”

  He caught her arm. “The organizing can wait. I’ll unpack the car, while you wrestle Isabella into a bathing suit. Then we’ll hit the beach before the rays get too intense.”

  The idea clearly appealed and she nodded. “Sold.”

  Twenty minutes later, they were out the door and spreading their beach towels on the empty stretch of beach. To his intense interest, Annalise wore a modest two piece in an emerald green that brought out the gold highlights in her eyes. The bottoms were a pair of shorts that skimmed the tops of her thighs and showcased her mile-long legs. The top was equally modest, resembling a cropped tank that left her midriff bare.

  If she thought he’d find it less appealing than something scantier, she’d underestimated him. If anything, the outfit teased his senses, whetting his appetite rather than satisfying it. The top fluttered in a flirtatious manner while the bottom clung lovingly to her pert backside and toned thighs. His body clenched and he forced his gaze away. If he was this randy on their first day of vacation, God help him get through the next two weeks.

  “I’m going for a quick swim,” he informed Annalise. “Will you keep an eye on Isabella?”

  “Of course. That’s why I’m here.”

  “For some reason, I’m having trouble remembering that,” he muttered.

  The ocean had warmed significantly over the past few weeks of warm, humid weather. He struck out through the gentle swells, working himself hard. By the time he climbed from the water, he’d regained some semblance of control. To his amusement, Annalise and Isabella were busy working on a sand castle. His niece looked up at his approach and waved him over with heartwarming eagerness. She put a plastic shovel in his hands and pointed at the moat they’d started to dig around the castle.

  “You want me to help?”

  Her broad grin and enthusiastic nod had him setting to the task with a will. Over the next hour they worked diligently, their efforts stymied by the turning tide. The waves crept closer and closer, overflowing the moat and splashing up the sides of the castle ramparts. Isabella shrieked in a comb
ination of protest and laughter, first racing away from the waves then dashing back to prop up the collapsed towers.

  Little by little, the sea won the battle. When the final tower toppled, melting into a mere lump of its former glory, Jack gathered up their towels, then scooped his niece into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder, reveling in her laughing squeals of protest. Not even her flailing sandy limbs could curb his pleasure in the changes these few short hours had wrought.

  “Time for lunch, munchkin,” he announced.

  They took advantage of the outdoor shower, rinsing away the sand before entering through the laundry room off the kitchen. While Annalise and Isabella changed, he raided the refrigerator and put together a selection of sandwiches. Then he headed for the bathroom. By the time he returned, he found his niece dressed and seated at the table eating one of the sandwiches, her hair clinging to her head in tidy, damp ringlets.

  “I didn’t hear any screaming,” he murmured to Annalise. “How did you pull that off?”

  “I let her help me with mine and then we reversed the process. So far, so good.”

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  He didn’t know how else to express his gratitude, except…He hooked her chin with the knuckle of his index finger and started to brush her mouth with his when he suddenly realized what he was doing. He froze and their gazes clashed. Her eyes were wide and startled and her breath escaped her parted lips in a soft gasp.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, inches from her mouth. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to thank you.”

  Everything about her teased his senses—her sweet, sweet fragrance, her silken touch, those glorious eyes—making him want to draw her into his arms and consume her, body and soul.

  “Do you thank all your nannies this way?” she demanded.

  “Only you.” His voice roughened. “I can’t explain it.”

  “You promised not to touch me again.”

  He deliberately released her and took a step back, amazed at the strength of will it required. “Better?”

  For a split second he thought she was about to say, “No.” That she’d be the one to take that forbidden step into his arms and finish what he’d started. Then she nodded and deliberately turned away. The next instant acute tension tightened the muscles of her back and shoulders. A single look told him why.

  Isabella had stopped eating and stared at them with unmistakable intensity. He couldn’t tell whether their embrace had upset his niece or pleased her. Maybe she wasn’t sure, either. After an endless moment she smiled, giving her seal of approval. A small dimple winked in her cheek. Until that moment, he didn’t even realize she had a dimple, so rare were her smiles. That’s what Annalise had managed to accomplish in just one short day.

  Jack returned his niece’s smile. Whether his dear nanny knew it or not, his niece’s smile had just sealed Annalise’s fate.

  The next several days flew by. Annalise proved to be right on several fronts. Getting away and devoting his full attention to Isabella made a noticeable difference. Of course, it didn’t solve all her problems. There was still the occasional tantrum, but to his relief they were few and far between. It also helped that the two adults presented a united front, making it clear that such behavior wouldn’t be tolerated.

  To Jack, the most telling change came when his niece stopped painting her face in swirls of black, red and violent purple, but switched to more cheerful pastels that reflected her improved outlook on life. Not that the war paint lasted for more than an hour or two each day. Their twice-daily beach visits washed it away almost as soon as she applied it. On the fifth day, she forgot to wear it altogether, and that was when hope took hold.

  Maybe, just maybe, there was a pathway out of the darkness.

  Jack had to admit that his favorite times were in the evenings when the three of them curled up on the couch together and chose a DVD from the extensive selection stocked on the shelves surrounding the wide-screen TV. There in the darkness, he could relax his guard and simply enjoy this moment out of time.

  “I think she’s nodded off,” Annalise whispered during one of their nightly sessions.

  He’d sensed as much ten minutes ago when his niece’s breathing had slowed and deepened and her muscles had gone lax against his chest. “I’ll take her to bed in a minute.”

  “You like having her fall asleep on you, don’t you?” The lights from the TV flickered, allowing him to catch the brief glitter of compassion reflected in her eyes. “Does it remind you of when you and Joanne were Isabella’s age?”

  Jack released a harsh laugh, one that had Isabella stirring in his arms. He traced a reassuring hand along his niece’s back and forced himself to calmness. With a small, inarticulate murmur Isabella settled. “Not even close,” he stated quietly. “My father would have considered this sort of activity a complete waste of time.”

  “Oh.” That single word spoke volumes. “And your mother? Would she have also considered it a waste of time?”

  He hoped the darkness concealed his expression, but he could hear the pain creep into his voice. “She was different than my father. Before their divorce she tried not to show her emotions, since he’d use any sign of weakness against her. She changed later on.”

  “How old were you when they broke up?”

  “Eight. Nine, maybe. Joanne was two years older.”

  “And how did your mother change, afterward?”

  “She softened, became more openly affectionate. Of course, it’s hard to say if she was like that all the time. I can only base it on the time I saw her.”

  “What do you mean?” Annalise straightened, and he could feel her attempting to penetrate the darkness in order to read his expression. “Didn’t your mother have custody of you?”

  “No, only Joanne. My father took me.”

  He caught Annalise’s soft gasp. “They split you up?”

  “Yes.” A wintry coldness settled over him. With that one single decision, every scrap of love and kindness had been removed from his life. He still felt the loss to this day. “My mother never spoke to me about that time, but Joanne once explained that our father threatened to take both of us and prevent our mother from ever seeing us again if she didn’t agree to his terms.”

  A strobe of brilliance flashed across the screen, allowing him to see that Annalise was visibly shaken. “Could he have done that?”

  “Considering I didn’t see either my mother or my sister again until I turned thirteen, I’d say not only could he, but he did precisely that.”

  “How…?” Her voice thickened, betraying her emotional reaction to his response. “Why…?” She shook her head, unable to formulate the questions she clearly wanted to ask.

  Jack leaned his head back against the couch cushion and stared blindly at the old Star Trek movie that was Isabella’s current favorite. “How? With some of the most powerful lawyers money could buy. Why? Because he was—and is—a total bastard who used me to hit out at my mother.”

  “But you did finally get to see her,” Annalise said on a note of urgency.

  A smile of satisfaction tugged at his mouth. “That I did.”

  “I assume he finally relented?” she asked tentatively.

  “Not a chance in hell. The summer I turned thirteen, Dad took off overseas on an extended honeymoon with his latest trophy wife. I was supposed to go to camp. Instead, I hitchhiked to Colorado, where my mother was living with her second husband.”

  “Dear God, Jack!” She reached for him, her hand clutching his arm. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? Anything could have happened to you.”

  He regarded her with a hint of amusement. “That’s what my mother said. It was worth it, though. I stayed with them for most of that summer.” A summer filled with magic and hope. A summer unlike anything he’d experienced before or since. A summer that had ended in the death of dreams. “Until my father found out, that is. But those couple of months were quite eye-opening.”

&nb
sp; “In what way?”

  His brows tugged together reflecting a hint of the bewilderment he’d experienced during that time period. “They were all so happy. They laughed almost all the time. And when they fought…” He struggled for the right words to explain. “I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did.”

  “You mean when they fought, you weren’t worried that they were on the verge of divorce.” Her hand shifted, rubbing his arm in a soothing motion. He doubted she was even conscious of her actions. “They were never nasty toward each other.”

  “Exactly. They were—” he reflected on it for a moment “—casual. As though the way they interacted—the laughter, the tears, the squabbling, the open affection—was a normal, everyday occurrence.”

  “It probably was.” She tilted her head to one side, sending a swath of curls tumbling across her shoulder. “How often did you get to visit after that?”

  “I didn’t. My disobedience that summer earned me a trip to military school. I didn’t see Joanne again until I turned eighteen and my father no longer had any say in where I went or who I saw. Unfortunately, my mother and her husband managed to drive themselves off an icy mountainside a few months beforehand.”

  “Oh, Jack! How awful.” He caught the betraying glitter of tears and felt something shift inside him, something deep and powerful. Something he wanted to protect himself from because it came from a wellspring of emotions he preferred to deny. “What happened to Joanne? Did she move back to Charleston to live with you and your father?”

  “No. She was in college by then and flat out refused to have anything to do with our father.”

  “Or you?” she dared to ask.

  He refused to acknowledge the hit. For years he’d believed just that, until Joanne had finally set him straight. But by then he’d found a way to insulate himself from the sort of emotional pain that came from sentiment and familial attachment.