Their Secret Child Page 2

  Oh, yeah. From what he'd heard through the gossip mill in the two days he'd been back, she was a woman of independent means. And a loner.

  Looking at her across the gym, he could imagine that stubborn tilt to her chin. The one that said, I'm here for Coach, not you.

  Finally the applause died. Skip said a few words of gratitude and appreciation, then the ceremonies were over. Time to work the crowd, chat up his goals for the upcoming year and hope to introduce his daughter around.

  And meet Addie. Before all else, introduce Becky to Addie.

  His daughter waited at the bottom of the stage steps. "You were great up there, Dad. They're gonna love you as coach."

  Her confidence bowled him over, never mind how easily "Dad' slipped into her sentences. When he explained his relationship to her ten months ago, Becky—desperate for family— had taken the news and change with a faith that had broken his heart. Skip hoped that same faith would withstand the test when he told Addie about her daughter.

  He put a hand on his child's shoulder. "We'll see, honey. I didn't leave here on the best of terms, remember?" In small increments over the past months, he'd explained as much as he could about himself. But not about Addie. No, that part of his history he hadn't the guts to disclose. Yet.

  "So you've said." Becky's smile was the moon. "But, hey, once you win a game, the town'll be so happy to have you."

  Skip chuckled. "We can only hope. Want a hot dog?"

  They headed for the side doors. Over Becky's dark head, Skip searched the room for Addie. for that pretty yellow dress, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had he imagined her in the rear crowd? Probably. She'd been on his mind for months.

  Since he'd found Becky.

  Admit it, Addie's been in your head since you left thirteen years ago.

  For half his life, she had been in his nightmares, and his dreams. Well, it was time. Time to come full circle.

  Determined, he touched his daughter's elbow. "Let's go scrounge up some food."

  They walked into the island's sea-scented sunshine.

  Sometimes, it amazed Addie that five people had once slept, ate, laughed, opened birthday and Christmas presents, fought over bathroom privileges and closets and clothes.. .and survived in the cramped six-room structure in which her mother still lived.

  Pulling the truck into the dirt lane of her childhood home on the outskirts of town, she thought of her sisters Lee and Kat living elsewhere on the island. Of the three, Addie visited their mother almost daily; Lee was frequently off island in her plane and Kat was tied up with the Country Cabin, her bed-and-breakfast.

  As to their fathers, well, they were another story.

  Addie's died two years ago and Lee's had left when she was a child. And Kat's... No one knew who or where Kat's daddy was, or if he even lived.

  Mom's closet secret. That's what Kat called Charmaine's unwillingness to reveal the past.

  "What's the point? It's done and gone." Their mother's favorite battle cry whenever one of them pressed for the name.

  Done and gone. Well, Mom, Addie thought, here's a news flash. Sometimes done and gone comes back to bite you in the butt.

  Skip Dalton was a living example.

  Standing at the back of the gym, seeing him for the first time in more than a decade, hearing that smooth, deep voice... God, she'd been a teenager again and he the school jock, the team quarterback, the college student come home for Christmas. The boy kissing her under the school bleachers, touching her in places no one had touched, taking her virginity in his pickup truck on the shore of the island's Silver Lake, and finally... making a baby with her. In this house, in her old bedroom, thirty feet from where she sat this minute in her aged truck.

  Pushing off the memories, she opened the door and jumped down. Time to get her child and go home and let Skip Dalton go to whomever wanted him. Which likely would be half the women on the island.

  Addie released a soft snort. He'd best take care because those women now had husbands.

  And that stopped him before?

  Climbing the steps to her mother's door, she shook her head. Not according to the sports commentators. Wasn't it four years ago that Skip dated a woman recently separated from her husband—not divorced, separated—and the man had come after him with a shotgun?

  Yes, Addie remembered Dempsey talking about it while he watched a game, and laughing about Skip Dalton looking a "little green around the gills" when he was interviewed about the incident. Addie hadn't watched the interview: instead she'd walked into the kitchen to clean out the dishwasher. The last thing she needed was Skip Dalton's face filling the TV screen and Dempsey giggling over the whole tasteless affair.

  So goes the life of the rich and fabulous, she thought, knocking on her mother's door.

  A moment later, it opened. Charmaine stood on the threshold and Addie blinked back Skip Dalton's image.

  "Hey, Mom." She stepped into the familiar entranceway with its cabbage-rose mat and wooden bar of coat hooks on the wall. The scent of chocolate-chip cookies permeated the air; grandma and granddaughter had been busy the past hour. "How's my baby?"

  "Fine." Closing the door, Charmaine scrutinized Addie's face. "You look as if you 've seen your father's ghost."

  "I wish." She moved down the tiny hallway and into the living quarters where Michaela crawled under a blue blanket held in place by several books between the sofa and coffee table. Three Barbies and a Ken lay on the carpet near the "house" entrance. Addie tugged gently on her daughter's leg. "Hey, button. Ready for home?"

  Michaela peeked from under the coverlet. "C-c-can I s-s-stay?" Brown eyes pleading, she crouched farther under the blanket tent. Addie understood. Her child had built the house and now wanted playtime.

  Kneeling on the floor, she took her daughter's hands. "Speak slowly, honey."

  "Can... I... stay?"

  "Gram has some stuff to do this afternoon, Michaela." Addie wasn't sure of her mother's commitments, but she needed to feel the security of her own house. She needed to know that her world wasn't about to turn upside down now that Skip Dalton was back.

  Michaela pouted. "But...I want...to...play."

  "I know, button. Maybe we'll come back tomorrow, okay?" Addie held out a hand, signaling the matter was done.

  The child gathered the dolls into her pink knapsack and climbed to her feet. "'B-bye, Gram."

  Charmaine tucked a packet of cookies into her granddaughter's small hand. "These are for you. but Mom will give you permission when you can have one."

  '"Kay."

  She kissed Michaela's hair. "See you later, darlin'."

  As Addie ushered her daughter out of the house, Charmaine whispered, "What happened at Harry's retirement party that's got you in a dither?"

  "Nothing. The new coach was introduced and Harry got the token plaque and gold watch. End of story."

  "Was Skip Dalton there?"

  Addie turned to Charmaine as Michaela scrambled into the truck. "Don't act as if you didn't know, Mom. The paper carried the announcement twice."

  Charmaine's eyes narrowed. "Did you talk to him?"

  "No."

  "But you saw him."

  "I saw him."

  Questions burned in Charmaine's eyes. What did he look like? Is he still handsome? Were people impressed? Has he changed? Ten thousand questions that meant nothing—and everything.

  "I have to go." Addie moved down the steps.

  "Addie... Your father didn't mean for you to be so hurt over... it."

  It. A tiny word for the life-changing events that occurred the second Cyril Wilson began brainwashing his daughter to give up the man she loved, and then later to give up their baby.

  She turned, faced her mother. "Do not go there, Mom. I know why Dad pushed so hard. He didn't want his precious daughter dragged into the trailer trash bin."

  Charmaine's eyes widened, her mouth fell open. "Oh, Addie. That wasn't it at all. He wanted you to have a chance, he wanted—"

  "Exactly.
He wanted. Whatever he wanted he got."

  Her mother came down the steps. "That's just not true."

  "Isn't it?"

  "Your father did what he thought was best—"

  "For who? Me? You? Our family? Don't kid yourself. Dad was into saving face in this town. You know it, I know it. Lee and Kat know it. Everyone knows except you. When are you going to own up to that fact?"

  "You're letting Skip get to you, Adelina, and he's not worth it."

  Addie scoffed a laugh. "He must be worth something. At one time he was the best quarterback in the league."

  Her mother cast a sideways glance. Guilt probably. Well. Addie no longer cared how Charmaine felt. Throughout the past decade she'd grown a prickly spine, one Dempsey had walked into a time or two.

  "Were your sisters there?" her mother asked.

  "I didn't see them. I left the second Coach got his gold watch."

  Charmaine sighed.

  "What? Did you expect me to hang around, bump into Skip and then throw out a welcome mat?" Her eyes narrowed. "God, Mother. You did." Addie opened the truck's door. She couldn't get away from this conversation fast enough.

  "You'll be teaching at the same school," Charmaine pointed out.

  "Which I do not look forward to."

  "Why don't you try breaking the ice first? Maybe talking to him will help with the issues you've kept inside."

  "Issues? When Dad pushed me to sign those papers, I wanted to die. Die, do you understand?" Issues, indeed.

  "M-M-Mommy," Michaela called anxiously from inside the truck.

  "Look, I'll see you later."

  Charmaine hurried forward. "What're you going to do about—"

  "Absolutely nothing. The man means zilch to me." She got in, turned the ignition—and left her mother in the driveway.

  Nothing, zilch, nada. Remember that, Addie.

  Skip Dalton was a pebble in the road of her life. Easily kicked aside. Then why are you so annoyed? And worried.

  Chapter Two

  The following Monday, Skip drove his Toyota pickup down the wooded driveway leading to his new home and parked beside his Prius. Yesterday, the movers had brought all the furniture: today he and Becky would arrange and unpack the boxes.

  Standing in the morning sunshine, he grinned across the truck's hood. "Well, Bean. This is it. This is home now." Skip hoped the girl would like the house, the island, the school she'd be attending after the Labor Day weekend in a few weeks. He watched her gaze at the structure gleaming in the morning light, her mouth slightly open, eyes as round as pizzas.

  "It's amazing. I've never been in a house this big. Is it just for us?"

  "Just us." For now. He couldn't predict the future, but he hoped he and the lady across the road could eventually become friends for Becky's sake. After that...who knew?

  "Look," he said, embarrassed suddenly by her awe. It was, after all, just a house. One of three he owned, and not the biggest. "If you want to scout around, I'll start inside. Come in when you're ready."

  Her expression was grateful. "I'd like that. It's so quiet here. I never realized it, but I like the sound of..."

  "Nature?"

  "Yeah." The word blew out on a little huff as she observed an American goldfinch pick at the bark of an old Garry oak in the front yard.

  Skip smiled. "The island may be small, honey, and a good portion may have burned to ashes in 1892, but it's all grown back, including the wildlife, so enjoy it." Happy to let her explore the premises, he walked up the porch steps to open the front door.

  For the first time in over a decade he had come home.

  Becky wandered around the property. The air was so fresh and clean and the trees were incredibly green and grand and gorgeous. As if she stood in Narnia during summertime.

  She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Was it only ten months ago that her dad found her?

  It seemed like yesterday. And forever.

  Man, her real dad...

  He was so cool. Kind and patient and just plain nice. And he occasionally called her Bean 'cause she was growing like a bean sprout, he said. When she thought of her other dad... Skip was so different than...him.

  She was glad Jesse, as she'd begun to think of him, was in the Walla Walla prison. She swallowed back the ache in her throat at the thought of her mom. Becky couldn't believe she'd been gone almost four years. She tried to picture the woman she'd loved so much.

  Mom, with her soft blond hair and sweet smile.

  Mom, reading to her just before bedtime.

  Mom, helping with her homework.

  The images swam across Becky's mind... Except her mom seemed hazy, the way a person looked standing in a really thick fog. And when she tried to remember her mother's voice, there was nothing, not a single word.

  Maybe it was best this way. Maybe forgetting her mom's face would help her forget the horror of that day.

  She swung around and realized she'd almost walked into the forest. Jeez, Becks. Focus on this life. Your new life. Don't think of then.

  Hurrying to the front yard, Becky saw the road they'd traveled coming from the village. Across it, up a long dirt trail was a green cottage, and on its stoop sat a child.

  They had to be the neighbors. Maybe the family had kids her age. Like one of the girls she'd met last week at the retirement ceremony.

  Eager to begin new friendships, Becky walked down her dad's driveway and across the road.

  "Hi," she called as she went up their lane.

  The kid wore a pink top and shorts. Above each ear was a dark pigtail that hung down her skinny arms. She looked about six or seven. And a little scared. As she got closer, Becky said, "I'm Becky, your new neighbor."

  The girl had big brown eyes. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. Becky plopped on the stoop next to a row of Barbie dolls.

  "Hey." She picked up a queenlike version. "I had a Princess Barbie a long time ago. But then my mom died and I had to move and I lost Princess." Becky rocked the doll, humming a little tune. The child gave her the sweetest smile she'd ever seen. "What's your name?" she asked.

  "M-M-Michaela."

  Becky acted as if she heard stuttering all the time. "Pretty name."

  The kid's smile showed two missing front teeth. "M-M-Mommy n' me are g-g-gonna check the b-b-bees. Wanna c-c-come?"

  Bees? Becky looked around. "There's a hive somewhere?"

  "Uh-huh. Mom s-s-sells the honey."

  "Ohhh. You mean, she has those white bee boxes?"

  Sunshine dipped into the girl's eyes, making them as gold as honey. "I can...ask...Mom...if you...can...come see them."

  "Hey, that'd be cool."

  The door behind them opened. "Michaela?" A skinny woman in jeans and blue t-shirt looked down at them.

  The child scrambled up to grab the woman's hand. "Mom, this is B-B-Becky. She's our n-n-neighbor." She pointed. "Over there."

  Becky got to her feet. "I didn't mean to trespass, ma'am."

  "You didn't." The woman had a soft voice. Her hand stroked her daughter's curly pigtails and for a second Becky remembered her own mother's fingers sifting through her hair in the same way.

  "B-B-Becky likes Princess best, j-j-just l-l-like me."

  "Slow down, button."

  Becky smiled. "I get nervous meeting new people, too."

  The alertness in the woman's face eased. "I'm Addie Malloy."

  "I'm Becky Dalton."

  Ms. Malloy's eyebrows crashed. "You're Skip Dalton's daughter?"

  "Yes." Was that bad? "Do you know him?"

  The woman stared at her for so long Becky shuffled her feet. Then Ms. Malloy looked toward their house and her eyes got really cold. "Yeah," she said. "I know Mr. Dalton."

  Oh, man. Their neighbor didn't like her dad. Why? She started to back away. Had she heard about her past? Becky wondered. No, her dad would never tell. "I should go. My dad's probably wondering where I am. It was really nice meeting you. 'Bye, Mick."

  "It's M
ichaela." Frost hung in the woman's voice. "She doesn't like Mick."

  "Oops." Becky couldn't stop a nervous giggle. "Sorry." Leaving the pair standing on the sunny stoop, she hurried down the path among the trees.

  Sheesh. Wasn't that always the way? A cute kid with a mean mother... Poor girl. Becky knew what it was like to live with a parent who wasn't kind or friendly. Yet, Ms. Malloy had seemed kind, patting the girl's hair. But maybe that was for show. Maybe she was why Michaela stuttered. Maybe the girl was dying for friends, but Ms. Malloy didn't want people hanging around. Becky peeked over her shoulder.

  The steps were empty.

  She broke into a run.

  Skip put his shoulder into the shove that slid his sleigh bed into place. He wanted the bed facing the windows across the hardwood. That way, first thing every morning he'd look straight into the stand of evergreens circling his property. Almost done with arranging the bedroom furniture, he heard the front door open.

  "Dad?"

  Dad. A shiver darted through Skip. He still had a hard time accepting how easily his daughter had taken to him. Twelve years she'd been under someone else's care. His own flesh and blood. What an idiot he'd been to allow such a precious commodity to be handed over to strangers. What had he been thinking to listen to his father's rants about one-in-a-million chances and how Skip needed to stop feeling sorry for something that wasn't his fault?

  Except it had been his fault. He'd been nineteen, Addie only seventeen when he'd gotten her pregnant that Christmas. Much as he hated the truth, he had forfeited his child for a mere chance. He could push the blame onto his father until the cows came home, but the fact was. at the end of the day, he'd made the choice.

  If he could erase the past, if he could just begin again, give Becky a new childhood, one with him and possibly Addie...

  All the ifs in the world won't change a damn thing. Skip.

  "Dad?" She thundered up the stairs.

  "In here, Bean," he called. He started the nickname within days of seeing her for the first time, a tall, gangly girl with his dark hair and long, narrow feet.

  She flung around the doorjamb, her cheeks flushed. "I met the neighbors across the road. Ms. Malloy and her girl, Michaela."