A Father's Promise Page 6

  Her father had changed with the sunrise.

  It was as though Thomas St. Claire had awakened to the world around him and decided it was time to get on with his life. Someone, or something, had snapped some spirit into him. Her instincts were telling her it had been Ellis. But how? What in the world could Ellis have said that she hadn't already? She knew her father better than anyone. What could a stranger have said or done that would have pushed one of her father's buttons?

  All morning long she had been suffering from this really queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it had been Ellis's presence that had motivated her father into rejoining the living. But why? There had only been one reasonable explanation. Ellis was her father's son and Thomas knew it. Thomas had discovered his real son, his real flesh-and-blood child, and decided life was indeed once again worth living.

  Made perfect sense to her, except for one small fact. This morning while they were at the medical lab giving their blood samples, her father had requested that Ellis also give a small sample so that a test could be done to prove he was not Ellis's father. She had a feeling Ellis's reluctant agreement came more out of fear her father wouldn't have gone through with the blood sample needed for his son than from his own curiosity.

  So she was back to square one, standing on the sidewalk outside the police station, where she had just escorted her father so he could visit the "guys." It was the first time he had stepped foot into the brick building since the accident. She had seen the shocked yet smiling faces of men who were not only former colleagues but friends as well. Everyone had greeted Thomas with open hearts, offers of coffee and the teasing refrains about the world coming to an end. She had felt her father's momentary surprise at such a greeting and then she had seen his smile. Satisfied, she had left him sitting in a place of honor, surrounded by friends and cradling a cup of coffee.

  She should be delighted. So why wasn't she? Her gaze shot up the street and landed on the dark green Mercedes. Ellis's car. Ellis had insisted on driving to the medical lab, three towns over. He had then offered to drop Thomas off at the police station and hang around town to do some shopping while her father visited with his friends. But she had declined his offer, feeling as if she were being pushed farther and farther out of her father's life.

  Instead of taking the few unexpected free hours to catch up on some work, she had insisted on coming to town with them. She was Thomas St. Claire's daughter and if anyone was going to help him negotiate the sidewalks of Main Street it was going to be her, not Ellis.

  She headed in the direction of Ellis's car and noticed it was empty. He hadn't waited for her to come back out of the police station. She hadn't expected him to, so why did she feel so dejected? Ellis surely didn't need her to show him where everything was in town. Everything a person could want or need was on Main Street. From the local bank, to Marclay's Market, to the beer distributor. It was all there on one tree-lined street.

  With a heavy heart that knew monumental changes were once again happening in her life and that she was helpless to stop or alter them, she entered the pharmacy to do her own shopping. She grabbed a red plastic basket and headed for the aisle containing shampoo.

  She got as far as the second aisle. Her feet faltered at the sight of Ellis staring at a rack jam-packed with coloring books. The look of anguish on his face pierced her heart and touched her soul. It was the look of a father missing his son, his critically ill son. She watched as his hand slowly raised and touched the glossy cover featuring Winnie-the-Pooh. The trembling of his fingers tore at her anger and shredded it to pieces. How could she hold whatever was happening in her relationship with her father against Ellis? He was only trying to save his son's life.

  Her feet barely made a sound as she walked down the aisle and stood beside him. Ellis didn't hear her as he continued staring at the coloring book. She could tell he wasn't even seeing the brightly colored books. She had to say something to dissolve the sadness of his memories. "My favorite has always been Tigger."

  Ellis blinked, as if coming out of a dream, and glanced at her. A sad little smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Trevor received a stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh from Santa when he was two. He still has the bear, and most nights Winnie's one of the lucky ones who gets to sleep in his bed. The rule is, no more than three animals in bed at the same time."

  She smiled at the picture of a little boy snuggled under the blankets surrounded by an army of his favorite stuffed animals. "I'm sure it must be a hard decision for him to make every night."

  "It's near impossible most nights." Ellis reached and picked up the coloring book. "He now has a time limit on how long he has to decide." The coloring book behind the one he had just taken had a picture of Tigger and some sad-looking donkey, whose name she couldn't remember. Ellis reached for that one too. "Why Tigger?"

  "Why not Tigger?" She wasn't really up to date on the adventures of Pooh and his friends in the hundred-acre woods and knew she couldn't compete with the parent of a five-year-old. In some distant corner of her mind she just knew she had always liked Tigger better. A couple of her friends who had children were walking encyclopedias when it came to cartoon characters and television shows.

  "I've always been partial to Eeyore, myself."

  Her memory kicked in; Eeyore was the name of the sad-looking donkey. "The grumpy donkey who eats thistles? Now that's a strange choice." She glanced at the two books in his hand. "Are you buying them for your son?"

  "I'll stop at the post office and overnight them to him. It will give him something to do instead of driving Mrs. McCall crazy all day. Trevor likes to keep busy." Ellis selected a box of crayons and added them to his basket. "Did your father have any trouble getting settled in with his friends?"

  "No, he's over there acting like he's been crowned king for the day." She noticed that Ellis had called Thomas her father and not their father. She was dying to know what had gone on in the den after she left last night. It had been around eleven when she heard both her father and Ellis come upstairs. The room Ellis was using was directly next to hers and she had heard him moving around for hours after he shut the bedroom door. Ellis obviously didn't require a lot of sleep. "Can I ask you a question?"

  He gave her a curious look. "Sure, ask away."

  She noticed that he didn't say he would answer it, just that she could ask. "What did you and my father talk about last night after I left?"

  "Different things." Ellis took a couple of steps to his right and studied a shelf of children's books. "My mother mostly."

  She studied his hands as he flipped through the books to the ones at the back. He had strong, capable-looking hands. His fingers were long and slender with neatly trimmed fingernails. He had the hands of a pianist. He had the hands of a lover. She wondered what they would feel like sliding over her skin. With an involuntary gasp at such an outlandish vision, she jerked her gaze away from his hands and down to the bottom rack of books.

  Ellis gave her a strange look before turning back to a book about the circus he had uncovered. "Why do you ask?"

  She willed the blush staining her cheeks to fade. "I couldn't help noticing my father has a different outlook on life this morning. He hasn't been in town since the accident. After six months of refusing all visitors at the house, he decides he wants to visit his friends at the station. Seems a little sudden to me."

  Her gaze caught the edge of a book hiding behind a copy of Auto Mechanic Monthly. She pulled it out and smiled at the cover. It was titled The ABC's of Jungle Animals. From Apes to Zebras. It sounded perfect for Ellis's son. She hugged the book to her chest. "Did you happen to say anything to my father that might have motivated him to go visiting today?"

  Ellis's gaze landed on the book she was clutching to her chest. His gaze seemed to linger there for an awfully long time before he raised it to her face. "There might have been something said."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

  "Your father seemed a little concerned about how you are
treating him."

  "Treating him! What do you mean, how I am treating him?" As far as she knew, she hadn't mistreated her father. She had been bending over backward to make sure his life was as comfortable as humanly possible. Thomas St. Claire didn't even have to think about something before she had gotten it for him. "What exactly did he say?"

  "Relax, Sydney, your father just felt as if you were treating him like an invalid."

  "An invalid?" She hadn't been treating him like an invalid. She had been handling him with love, a daughter's love. "What did you tell him?"

  "I told him if he didn't want to be treated like an invalid, he should stop acting like one."

  "You didn't!" Who did Ellis think he was, telling her father he was acting like an invalid? Thomas St. Claire was an invalid. He could act any way he wanted. If anyone ever had just cause for acting a little needy, it was her father. "Who gave you the right to say such a thing to my father?"

  "He did, when he asked for my opinion. Your father doesn't leave the house, except for an occasional doctor's appointment or when you force him to sit out back on the patio. He refuses to see any visitors or to talk on the telephone. All he does is shuffle from bedroom to kitchen to den all day long. Your father acts like an invalid, thus you treat him as such."

  "He's blind! How would you treat him?" It was obvious that her father and Ellis had done some serious talking last night. Talking that hadn't included her. She was angry about being excluded from their conversation, but more importantly she was hurt. Her father had talked to Ellis, a complete stranger, about how his daughter treated him.

  Ellis replaced the circus book and frowned at the pitifully small assortment of children's books. "If I had a father who I loved as much as you obviously love yours, I would probably treat him the same way you are treating Thomas. I would be overly protective and afraid to allow him to take any chances in case he got hurt."

  "Is that how you treat your son?" She had heard his words, but she had also heard the experience behind them.

  "Your father is a full-grown intelligent man. He's not a five-year-old little boy."

  She heard the truth behind his words. Her father and Trevor were two totally different people, with totally different needs. Her father obviously wanted her to stop being so protective. She could do that. It would be hard, but she could do it. His first step toward independence was this trip to the police station. She was sure there were going to be more to follow. It was time for her father to regain control over his life.

  The book she clutched to her chest dug in at a tender spot. She lowered her gaze. "My father needs to start facing life again while little five-year-old boys need to learn their ABC's." She smiled and handed Ellis the book. "I believe your son would enjoy this one."

  Ellis reached for the book, read the title and smiled. "Thank you, Sydney. Trevor will love it."

  His smile did strange and frightening things to her heart. A small spark of warmth had started in the middle of her chest and slowly spread its way outward. How was it possible for the flexing of a few facial muscles to affect her heart so?

  "Of course you realize that he will compare these animals to the ones he already has cluttering his room."

  Ellis waved the book at her, but he continued to grin.

  "Lord help me if there's an animal he doesn't already have. I could be spending months tracking down a stuffed warthog or some other ghastly beast."

  The heat in her chest spread farther. "Speaking of tracking down animals, do you want some company on your maiden voyage into the ark? The Two-By-Two shop can be a frightening experience for those weak at heart." She had seen more than one poor parent or grandparent struggling out the door weighted down with creatures twice their size.

  "My heart's not weak, but you're invited to join me." He tossed the ABC Jungle book into his basket. "If the shop is as good as you and Thomas said, I just might need your help carrying Trevor's haul."

  "It's as good as we said." She shook her head at his basket that was already half-full of stuff for Trevor. "I just hope your MasterCard is gold."

  * * *

  Ellis stood in the middle of the Two-By-Two shop and stared at the display that took up half of the left side of the store. Six fake trees, surrounded by twice as many stuffed animals, crowded the area. The bark and branches of the trees were made out of brown plastic and the leaves were mostly silk, but a few appeared to be plastic. Hanging by one hand from a large branch of a fake mahogany tree was the reason for his visit. A hairy reddish-brown orangutan with shiny black eyes stared back at him.

  He was the perfect orangutan.

  Trevor would go nuts when he added this magnificent specimen to his collection.

  There was only one problem. Next to his son's perfect present hung his Mrs., complete with a darling little baby orangutan clinging to her back. He didn't know if he had the courage to break up the family.

  He glanced around the shop. Surely a place that appeared to contain every animal known to man would have another orangutan. A single fellow without the added responsibility of a wife and baby. His gaze skidded over the animals and landed on Sydney. She was standing by the front door slowly running her hand up and down the long slender neck of a giraffe. The silent, lucky fellow stood a good foot taller than Sydney's five-and-a-half-foot height.

  Sydney had surprised him when she invited herself along to the toy store. She had been surprising him a lot. He knew why she had insisted on corning along into town; she was afraid he was pushing her out of Thomas's life. But she was wrong. The only reason he had offered Thomas the lift was that he had to do some shopping anyway, and by the fatigue bagging beneath Sydney's eyes he figured she could use the break. Sydney had been upset with him, and by her thinking, rightly so. So why offer to accompany him to the toy store? Why start up a conversation with him in the pharmacy in the first place? She could have done her shopping and he might not even have known she had been there.

  Last night, after he retired to his room, he had listened to her move around in her room for hours. The faint sounds coming from behind the wall that separated their two bedrooms had played havoc on his concentration. He had booted up his laptop and started working up a proposal for a major manufacturer when the first muffled sounds had reached his ears. He had stared at that cream-colored wall of the guest bedroom for a long time, wondering what she was doing. His imagination kicked into high gear as he started to think about what a woman like Sydney would wear to bed. His brain told him it was none of his business while his libido screamed "nothing." Needless to say, the proposal he was supposed to be working on never made it past the first page.

  What little sleep he did get had been filled with dreams of a mahogany-haired beauty with soft green eyes and a welcoming smile that promised a man paradise. Sydney St. Claire had even controlled his dreams. The last thing he had needed this morning was to come down the stairs and find her filling out a pair of jeans to perfection and flipping delicious-smelling pancakes. He had felt himself start to drool, and for the life of him he hadn't been sure which sight had caused that reaction. After a near-sleepless night he had been primed to devour something, and food hadn't been his first priority.

  Thomas's presence at the kitchen table had prevented him from making a fool of himself by seeing if Sydney's mouth tasted as good in person as it had in his dreams. The pancakes, on the other hand, had been light, fluffy and delicious. As for her kisses, he had made a silent vow that he would taste at least one before he headed back to Jenkintown and his son.

  He walked over to Sydney and nodded at the giraffe. "Found a friend?" He watched as her hand trailed once more down the slender neck. Sydney had the shortest fingernails he had ever seen on a woman. They were rounded, clean and coated with clear polish that reflected the sunlight streaming in through the window. They were the kind of nails a man would want his lover to have. Two-inch bloodred claws made him nervous. He wanted the skin on his back to stay there and not be shredded off in the heat of passio
n.

  "The tag says his name is Gerald." Sydney gave Gerald's rump a friendly pat. "I would kill for eyelashes like his."

  He glanced at Gerald's thick, long and dark eyelashes. He chuckled. "They might complement his big dark eyes, but they're sissy lashes." He turned his head and studied her green eyes, which were filled with laughter and surrounded by dark lush lashes of her own. "I like your lashes better. They don't look like spider legs."

  Her "Oh" sounded breathless and slightly confused as if she wasn't sure if she'd just received a compliment or not. It took her a moment to recover, and then she blinked rapidly and pulled her gaze away from his. "Did you find your orangutan?"

  He grinned. He liked making her flustered. She was beautiful when she was flustered. She was beautiful even when she wasn't flustered. "Worse."

  "Worse?"

  He nodded in the direction of the mahogany tree and its swinging primates. "I found a complete family of orangutans." He gave a shrug. "I'm not into breaking up families." He hoped his words put her at ease. He wasn't in Coalsburg to break up her family and take Thomas away from her. He was here looking for a miracle.

  Sydney followed his gaze and smiled at the swinging trio. "They're adorable. Your son would love them." She walked closer and stroked the baby orangutan's back. "Of course you can't split them up. They're a family."

  Ellis noticed that her hands did more talking than her mouth. Syndey was a "touchy" kind of person. He had to wonder what kind of lover she would make. His gut told him a fantastic one. Sydney's hands alone would drive a man over the edge, time and time again. He forced his gaze away from her stroking fingers and took a deep breath.

  "Help me look for a single orangutan. One that wouldn't take up an entire seat in the car." Two-By-Two seemed to carry its share of huge, nearly life-size animals. There was barely any room left in Trevor's room for a beanie-baby orangutan, let alone a daddy orangutan who looked to be a good forty inches tall.