His Daughter...Their Child. Karen Rose SmithЧитать онлайн книгу.
so many hours lately, and she changed her mind every couple of months.
His mother’s voice came from the rocker across the room. “Try that bear with the blue bow on the shelves. That seems to be her favorite lately.”
Clay took it from the shelf and handed it to Abby. She tucked it under her arm.
Celeste asked, “Do you think you and your bear can go to sleep now?”
Abby’s little hand settled on Celeste’s cheek. Then she nodded and curled into a ball on the bed.
Oh, so gently, Celeste covered her with the sheet as Abby smiled sleepily, tucking the bear tighter into her side, then closed her eyes, gave a soft sigh and seemed to drift into sleep.
Celeste looked as if she never wanted to move.
Clay went to her and touched her elbow. She reluctantly stood and accompanied him out of the room, but not until she glanced over her shoulder for a long last look at the sleeping child. His mother followed them into the great room, and once there the three adults seemed stymied as to where to begin. Clay could decipher the look in his mother’s eyes that said she still didn’t approve of the Wells twins, and she certainly didn’t approve of Celeste coming here like this.
“It has been a long time, Celeste.” Violet Sullivan patted her sedately coiffed ash-blond hair as if she needed something to do.
“Yes, it has,” Celeste responded, still glancing down the hall to Abby’s room. Then her full attention focused on his mother. “I haven’t seen you since the Christmas before Abby was born. That was a wonderful holiday.”
“Yes, it seemed to be.”
Clay didn’t like the censure in his mother’s voice, didn’t like the way it had been there all through his marriage to Zoie. Celeste, moreover, didn’t deserve it. Just because his family had descended from the founding fathers of Miners Bluff, just because his family had always been well-off, was no reason for his mother to look down on Celeste—especially after what she’d done for him.
“Mom, could you sit with Abby while Celeste and I talk? She might wake up again.”
After a long worried look, his mother returned to his daughter.
“Let’s go outside,” he said gruffly to Celeste, and headed for the front door. He knew what had just happened between Abby and Celeste had to be addressed and addressed now.
Because Celeste Wells was more than a concerned aunt.
She was Abby’s surrogate mother.
Chapter Two
Outside on Clay’s front porch, a motherly fervor rose up in Celeste she’d never experienced before. If Clay thought she was going to walk away from her daughter this time, he was wrong. Even though his sperm and Zoie’s egg had made Abby, Celeste had felt a motherly bond from the moment of conception, though she’d denied it for years.
She squared her shoulders and met Clay’s turmoiled gaze head-on. “After Abby was born, it practically broke my heart to give her to you and Zoie. But that’s what I’d promised to do. I know I signed release forms and still don’t have any rights. But having rights and doing what’s right are two different things. You’re her father and you have sole custody. I understand that. But I carried her for thirty-eight and a half weeks. I felt her move inside me. I looked into her little face after she was born and felt … connected. I came back here to get to know her, to spend some time with her, and I hope you’re compassionate enough to understand why I have to do that.”
Clay didn’t look moved and his silence troubled her. So she asked, “How often does Abby have bad dreams?” Celeste remembered the feel of her daughter in her arms. Abby had looked up at her as if she’d known her!
Finally Clay reluctantly admitted, “Every few weeks. She hasn’t had one for a while.” He ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. “I talked to her pediatrician about them but he believes they’ll pass.”
Clay’s eminent virility was difficult to ignore. And the regret in his voice tugged at her heart. Still, she probed for more information. “The dreams will pass when Abby feels secure again?”
“She is secure,” Clay assured her firmly. “She’s a happy little girl.”
“Until she goes to sleep at night … until she plays with other children and realizes she doesn’t have a mommy,” Celeste pointed out, unwilling to let this go.
“She was too young to remember Zoie. She was only eighteen months when Zoie and I separated.”
“Zoie came back to get the divorce a year later,” Celeste reminded him.
“She didn’t stay with us,” he protested. “She and I met at the lawyer’s office and she only saw Abby once.”
Celeste could clearly see on his face the turmoil her visit had caused. “Abby looked at me as if she knows me. She remembers Zoie.”
Swearing under his breath, Clay swung away from her and stared into the dark night, the mountains and the sky above. Finally he asked again with resignation, “What do you want?”
She wondered if he thought this time her answer would be different … if her answer would let him go back to the life he’d been leading before her email.
“For now, I’d just be happy to spend some time with Abby under ordinary circumstances.”
Clay came a couple of paces closer, the intensity in his eyes edging his words. “What’s this going to be, Celeste? You’ll be here a week then go back to your life in Phoenix? You want to spend holidays now and then with Abby? You intend to be a favorite aunt and come in and out of her life as it suits you?”
Celeste was stung by Clay’s anger, though deep down she knew some of it was justified. He’d been hurt by the divorce. He’d ridden out his turbulent marriage, tried to do the right thing and ended up as a single dad with a child to raise on his own. How could she tell him what she wanted when she didn’t know herself? She’d been hurt by love, too, not so long ago. But one thing was certain—she wanted a place in Abby’s life.
For a few moments, Clay’s closeness stole her breath. She remembered the strength of his fingers around hers as they’d danced, his hand splayed across the small of her back, the musk-and-pine scent of him that now stirred a sleepy need inside her.
Gathering her wits, reclaiming her senses, she tried to detach herself from Clay, the man, to talk to Clay, the father. “I’m here to stay if that’s what will be best for Abby.”
Shock deepened the brackets around his mouth, the lines at his eyes. “You’re willing to commit to staying in Miners Bluff to watch Abby grow up?” His voice held wariness and disbelief.
But Celeste had already spent many sleepless nights deciding what to do. “Yes. I think of her as my daughter. But I won’t disrupt her life and I’ll do what’s best for her.”
Clay was shaking his head, widening his stance. “You’ve got to give me some time to think about this, to figure out the best way to handle it.”
Trying to let him absorb her intention, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. “My cell phone number’s on there as well as my number at Mikala’s. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
When she handed him the slip of paper, their fingers brushed. Awareness rushed through her and the flicker in his eyes told her something jarred him a little, too. High school memories? A history they couldn’t refute? The way their lives were converging once more?
As Celeste descended Clay’s porch steps, she remembered how she and her mother had watched movies together when she was a teenager and Zoie was out with friends. Her favorite movie had been Raiders of the Lost Ark. Clay had always reminded her of Indiana Jones—intelligent, adventurous and too sexy for words.
Now