The Gazebo

Deirdre flinched, Emma’s words digging deep. She cuddled Emma close, burying her nose in the crown of her head. A sweet, fruity scent filled Deirdre’s nose—no simple baby shampoo for Emma anymore. She’d changed to something that promised to tame the wild curl in her hair. Thank God it hadn’t really worked.

Deirdre closed her eyes, thinking about how many times she had told her baby how wonderful she was, had said her father didn’t matter. Deirdre had tried to shield Emma, protect her, give her armor against inevitable gossip, even though she knew plenty of nasty jabs would slip through. Everyone in Whitewater was aware that Emma had never known her father. And she never would.

Deirdre started, realizing Emma had kept on talking, certain her mother was hanging on every word. “That’s why I had to see Grandpa and tell him that as soon as you cooled off, you’d know it doesn’t matter who your birth father is, either. Because that’s what you told me.”

“Oh, Emma.”

“I hate that tone of voice. It’s your ‘poor little Emma can’t understand something so grown-up’ voice. But nobody in the whole world understands better than I do about this. Wondering who your father is. Wondering if he’d love you or if he’d turn away, trying to pretend you didn’t know each other.”

Deirdre swallowed hard, tried to grasp the least painful way to tell her daughter the truth. “Emma, I know this is hard.”

“Yeah, well, hard is starting over at new schools so often you don’t even bother trying to make friends anymore. Hard is getting stuck in fifth grade with kids who’d known each other since kindergarten. It’s not like I don’t know what ‘hard’ means.”

Deirdre’s eyes stung. “Emma, you’re a smart girl. You have to know things have never been great between the Captain and me.”

“It’s because you’re too much alike. You just keep butting heads and no one will say they’re sorry, even when you both are.”

“This is my decision. Can you understand that? Trust me to know—know what I need to do?”

“You can do whatever you want. But I’m keeping the family I’ve got. I’m not calling anyone but the Captain Grandpa. It would break his heart.”

And I always thought he was more concerned about his pride. Deirdre bit her lip until it stung to keep from saying the words aloud. Her daughter didn’t need to hear them.

“What are you going to do?” Emma asked. “How are you going to…well, how does a person look for their father if they don’t know him?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, thinking of Jake Stone, a knot of helplessness and frustration balling up under her ribs. “But I intend to find out.”

“Mom?” Emma hung on to Deirdre, tight.

“What, angel girl?”

“I’m scared.”

“I am, too. But we’ll…we’ll get through this together, okay? Nothing can come between the two of us, right?”

Emma gazed up at her, doubtful.

“Enough of all this gloom and doom. I want to hear about you. Tell me about the play. About rehearsals and running lines and all those things you love.”

A shadow of a smile curved Emma’s lips, and Deirdre burned at the injustice that the disastrous letter and Emma’s triumph had surfaced on the same day.

“Mom, we can talk about all that later. I know you don’t feel like—”

“Hearing how my baby turned the whole drama department on its ear? Oh, yes, I do. Come on,” Deirdre encouraged, forcing a smile of her own. “You must be excited.”

“Yeah. Most of the time. But sometimes, well, it’s scary, too.”

“You’ve never had stage fright in your life!” Deirdre said, surprised.

“All the popular kids in school want me to fall flat on my face,” Emma confided. “They say Juliet was Brandi’s part. She was so sure she was going to get it that her mom volunteered to donate costumes for the play. She had this place in the Quad Cities sew a velvet Juliet gown to die for.”

“I’m sure it will look wonderful on you.”

“I suppose. But it’s a lot of pressure, you know? I’m going to have to practice real hard. And at school, well, it’s going to be awful tense with everybody hoping I’ll screw up.”

The little jerks, Deirdre thought, wishing she could spank every one of the spoiled, undertalented brats.

“Anyway, I was thinking, well, I wanted to ask you if you’d mind…”

“Mind what?” Deirdre said, knowing she’d do anything in her power to drive the self-doubt from her precious daughter’s face.

“If Drew and I practiced here after school sometimes. Away from all the craziness.” Emma’s gaze flitted like a butterfly, landing anywhere but her mother’s face. “We could use the gazebo.”

Deirdre closed her eyes. She was always thrilled when Emma had friends over; her daughter’s close little crowd had always been a delight. But right now, with her insides churning, her mind racing, trying to think how to begin this search—for once, Deirdre just wanted to be alone.

“You’re not going to let little witches like Brandi Bates ruin this for you, are you?” she hedged, trying to sort things through.

“Of course not. I just…she’s acting so weird. All jealous. It’s ridiculous. She’s gorgeous and I’m…well…I’m me. It isn’t like she has any reason to think I could steal her boyfriend even if I wanted to.”

Deirdre’s heart skipped a beat. “But you don’t want to.”

“Mom!” Emma drew out the word in the age-old voice of teenage disgust. Deirdre tried not to worry that Emma wasn’t looking her straight in the eye. “I know things are crazy right now, but Drew and I won’t get in the way. I promise. You won’t even know we’re here.”

“All right,” Deirdre said, giving Emma one last hug. The whole Romeo and Juliet thing made her nerves twitch. But if Emma was going to be making big eyes at this Drew person, better Deirdre should be around to keep an eye on things instead of some brain-dead teacher who obviously thought all this teenage romance stuff was exquisite drama.

Deirdre knew better. She’d found out the truth the night her daughter was conceived.

DEIRDRE WOKE WITH A JOLT, a bright ray of sun squeezing between cracks in the plantation shutters sending frissons of panic racing through her. She glanced at the alarm clock, but the ringer was off. Did she forget to set it last night? Finn was going to kill her. The giant oak table in the dining room should be full of guests expecting one of March Winds’ famous breakfasts of freshbaked muffins and spinach omelets and there wouldn’t be a crumb in sight. Why hadn’t Finn wakened her when she came over to help serve?

Deirdre scrambled into jeans and a T-shirt, raked a brush through her unruly hair, swiped a toothbrush across her teeth and ran for the kitchen. She was halfway down the stairs when it hit her—the cold, clear memory of the day before. Deirdre stumbled to a halt, loss, betrayal and anger washing over her as if they were brand-new.

Her stomach turned over, and for an instant she wished it was yesterday morning again. She and Finn preparing breakfast together, laughing over one of the twins’ latest escapades.

Deirdre had never had a friend like Finn before, someone she felt completely safe with, trusted enough to let glimpse her softer side. Someone she trusted—who had been lying to her the whole time.

How long had Finn known the whole sordid story? How much of Finn’s friendship was based on plain, ugly pity?

Poor Deirdre…not her fault…She could just imagine the scene at the cabin, even without Emma’s description the night before.

Thank God no one else in Whitewater knew the truth. Only Emma and Cade and Finn and the Captain. More humiliating still was her encounter with Jake Stone. She squirmed inwardly. Never before in her life had she begged anyone for anything. But she’d begged him to help her. Probably given him something to laugh about with Miss Great Legs, Trula Devine.

Deirdre’s cheeks burned. She wished she could turn around and run back to her bedroom, lock the whole world out until…

Until she was in control again. Control of her feelings, her life, her past…but then, anyone in town could have told her a long time ago that she was out of control.

Still, dodging breakfast duty wouldn’t change any of that. She’d have to face Finn sometime. Better get it over with now.

Deirdre opened the kitchen door, but instead of chaos, an amazing serenity reigned, the kitchen smelling of cinnamon apple muffins, the antique china Finn cherished neatly rinsed, stacked and waiting to be loaded into one of the dishwashers. Finn leaned over her very pregnant stomach, settling teacups in the top rack.

“It was supposed to be your day off kitchen duty,” Deirdre said.

Finn shot her a searching look, then shrugged. “I told Emma to shut your alarm off before she went to bed.”

Was that why Emma had slipped into bed with her last night? Because she was on some subversive mission from the enemy? Deirdre wanted to be aggravated, but it was so like Finn to think about her, do something kind. Deirdre’s throat ached.

“What did you think? If I took a nap like a good girl I’d get over the crazy notion of trying to find my real father?”

“No. I thought you might be tired.” Finn poured a mug of coffee and pressed it into Deirdre’s hands. “You aren’t a morning person on the best of days.”

And she never would be, Deirdre thought. All those years of singing in clubs had thrown her body clock completely out of whack. One more way Deirdre had been out of sync with the early-bird McDaniels. But maybe Jimmy Rivermont would understand. Musician to musician.

Not that she was a musician anymore, she told herself firmly. She’d hadn’t sung anything besides “Happy Birthday” in six years.

“Finn, listen, I appreciate you coming over and playing back-up. But I’m here now, and I’m in a real barn burner of a mood, so if you have to hover over somebody, hover over Cade and the—”

A sharp knock on the door cut Deirdre off midsentence. Please, God, she thought, exhausted, don’t make this one of those “speaking of the devil” deals. Facing Finn was one thing. Cade and the Captain? That was one confrontation she just wasn’t ready for.

“The Captain and Cade have the old Porsche in pieces all over the garage. With Amy and Will ‘helping,’ they may never get it back together again,” Finn supplied, able to read her thoughts as usual.

Deirdre should have guessed what her brother would be up to. It was vintage Cade McDaniel, trying to fix the nearest engine the way he could never mend his family.

Deirdre started toward the door, but Finn cut her off. “I’ll answer it. You’ll scare the guests away glaring like that.”

Finn opened the door, but her “Welcome to March Winds” speech died on her lips. Deirdre’s heart jumped, wondering what was wrong. “M-Mr. Stone?” Finn’s voice quavered. “Did something happen to Mrs. Aronson?”

Deirdre quelled the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Trust Finn to inquire after the woman she and Cade had written all those checks to over the years.

“No, ma’am,” Stone said, so respectfully Finn might have been the Queen Mum. “Mrs. Aronson is just fine. I’ve come to see Deirdre.”

“Deirdre?”

“She visited my office last night regarding a private matter.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.” Finn shot a searching look Deirdre’s way. Finn was white as March Winds’ ghost. And what was this “I see” garbage? Why didn’t she just say, “How could you hire this man who reminds me that my father was a thief?”

Stone stepped inside. He wore black jeans, another black T-shirt and a black Stetson. Who’d he think he was? Johnny Cash? Stone removed the Stetson, cradling it in one strong hand. His gaze dipped to Finn’s impressive stomach. “You look wonderful, Mrs. McDaniel. Happy. I’m glad.”

Yeah, Deirdre thought. Her sister-in-law was so happy at the moment Deirdre would be lucky if Finn didn’t deck her later.

“Stone,” Deirdre said, trying not to hope he’d changed his mind about helping her. But then, why else would he be here? To try to talk her out of pursuing the whole thing? Deirdre grimaced—she’d just tell him to get in line.

He turned toward her, and Deirdre found herself staring smack in the middle of all that imposing male chest. “I’ve been considering your case. Talked it over with someone and decided I might have time to take it after all.”

Deirdre tracked her gaze up his corded neck, past his square, chiseled jaw and hawklike nose so she could glare right into his eyes. “Let me guess. Ms. Great Legs Trula Devine needed more cash than you had on hand?”

Finn looked as if she’d swallowed a teacup.

“Actually, another lady friend of mine convinced me to come. She’s a real looker, too, with sensational red hair. And she’s definitely less expensive than Trula. All this lady wants is a meal.”

Great. He had two cheap bimbos on the string. Jake Stone could be the poster boy for why Deirdre had sworn off men.

Stone fingered the brim of his hat. “I was hoping I could get some information from you. Interview anyone who might give me a place to start.”

“My brother. He’s the only one our mother ever spoke to about—well, about my father. He’s at the cabin.”

Finn started to object, stopped. Deirdre figured she knew better. “I could go to the cabin and send him over here.” Finn offered. “That way no one else needs to know.” She looked more McDaniel-like than ever before—dead stubborn—and Deirdre knew who she was trying to protect. The crotchety old man whose heart Emma feared might break.

Finn dodged out the kitchen door as quickly as her advanced pregnancy would allow. Deirdre could almost see her, hurrying through the garden, disappearing beyond the white picket gate as she headed home.

Deirdre should have been glad she was gone, taking her reproachful eyes with her. But the kitchen seemed to shrink with Stone’s big body in it, the intensity of the P.I. sucking all the oxygen from the room. It was too easy to remember how he’d felt those few moments when he’d held her after the fight. Powerful, dangerous. Fierce and forbidden. Hot and hard and blatantly male. He’d towered over her, making her want…

Want what? Total disaster? Jake Stone was a prime example of Mother Nature’s cunning, ready to trick an intelligent woman into spinning completely out of control. Surrendering independence to taste physical pleasure. No question Stone was temptation incarnate. Let Trula Devine and his gorgeous redhead play with Stone’s brand of fire. Deirdre wasn’t about to get burned by any man.

Again.

The word echoed through Deirdre’s mind. She started, suddenly aware of Stone’s cool, assessing gaze on her face. She could almost hear the gears in his head spinning, trying to figure her out. Her cheeks burned, an instinctive need to flee racing through her veins. She needed a few moments alone to compose herself, put herself back together. So she could face her brother, she told herself firmly.

Deirdre made her excuses, and went to fetch the letter from her room. If anything had the power to drain some of Stone’s undeniable magnetism it was the prospect of seeing her brother.

She fought down a surge of guilt. Old habits die hard, she told herself. For once, a mess wasn’t her fault. Cade was the one who’d had choices all these years. She had every right to be furious with him. All she was trying to do was find out the truth.

By the time she got back to the kitchen, Cade was standing two steps inside the door, arms crossed over his chest as he told Stone exactly what a rotten idea he thought this search was.

Deirdre cut him off. “Either tell him what you know, Cade, or don’t. It’s up to you. I intend to get to the bottom of this with or without your help.”

“I’m sure you’ll run it down to the bitter end no matter who gets caught in the cross fire,” Cade said.

“The Captain knows I’m not his daughter. So does Emma, thanks to your sending her over to the house to babysit me when I opened the hope chest yesterday. And Mom’s dead. There’s no one left to protect.”

“There’s a sick old man over at the cabin and he’s tearing himself up inside over this—”

“Over Mom’s affair. His sullied honor.” Deirdre kept her gaze carefully away from Stone. “Truth to tell, he’s probably relieved to know he doesn’t have to take any responsibility for my screw-ups anymore. He’s got the perfect out—”

“You don’t believe that,” Cade insisted.

“Don’t I?” She struggled to push down a lifetime of insecurity, hide her raw, secret places from Stone. But the words spilled out, in spite of her efforts. “If the Captain loves me so much, why didn’t he tell me so? Right then and there, in front of you and Finn? Why didn’t he say the stuff in that letter didn’t change anything?”

“God, Dee, you should have seen your face! If you had, you’d know why he acted the way he did!”

“What would you have done, Cade? If you had found out something horrendous like this about Amy or Will?”

Cade scowled. “How would I know?”

“You’d do the same thing you did when Finn was trying to be noble and call off your wedding. You’d dig in your heels and wouldn’t leave until you’d pounded the fact that you loved them into their heads. You’d tell them to hell with what that letter said. You’re their father.”

“The Captain is your father. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, damn it.”

“That’s right,” Deirdre said, excruciatingly aware of Stone watching them, weighing them, unraveling far more than the words should have revealed. “That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me. The Captain just turned and walked away.”

Cade looked like she’d punched him in the gut. She could see him scramble for excuses. “Dee, Dad is an old man. A proud one. And, damn it, he’s in so much pain he can’t even walk up the stairs to go to the bathroom. He’s feeling weaker than he’s ever been in his life. And you hit him with the fact that even when he was at his strongest, his most invincible, it was all an illusion.”

“Guess even Superman had to deal with kryptonite.” She tried so hard to sound flippant. Instead she sounded cruel. And hated it. But she’d hate breaking down in tears far more, especially with Stone’s laser beam attention focused on her. Was he trying to judge what she’d say? she wondered. Or trying to figure out what she couldn’t put into words.

“Mom lied to Dad, Dee. Can you imagine how much that must hurt?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I don’t have to imagine anything at all when it comes to being lied to by the person you trusted most in the whole world.” She glared at Cade, saw his face twist with pain. Direct hit. Score one for her side.

Cade’s voice roughened. “Mom carried another man’s child. And you’re practically rolling out a banner to announce Dad’s humiliation to the whole world?”

“That’s right! I’m supposed to be interviewed on the news at noon.”

“Damn it, you don’t think this is a joke, no matter what you’re saying. You know how painful this is, and how damaging. Not only do you throw the past in Dad’s face, but you outright reject him right there in front of Finn and me.”

“I rejected him?” Deirdre snorted, incredulous. “In case you failed to notice, I’m not the one who walked out of that room yesterday.”

“Hell, no. You didn’t have to. It was perfectly clear you had already made up your mind to track down this other guy before you set foot in the cabin.”

“Mr. McDaniel,” Stone cut in smoothly, “arguing about what happened yesterday isn’t going to get us anywhere. Deirdre’s made it clear she intends to pursue this matter. Perhaps we can agree the least painful way to settle things for all concerned is to get to the bottom of this as expediently as possible. With time—”

“My father is seventy-six and can’t even walk up stairs,” Cade snapped. “Just how much time do you think he has?”

Something like empathy sparked for a fleeting moment in Stone’s hooded eyes. “Whatever time is left, we’re wasting it right now.”

Cade paced across to the sink, leaned against the white porcelain, glaring intently out the window. Deirdre stared at his profile, catching sight of a glint of moisture at the corner of her brother’s eye. “What do you want from me?”

“Deirdre says you’re the only person Mrs. McDaniel spoke to about her relationship with the birth father. Is that true?”

“As far as I know. I hardly think she discussed it with the wives down at the officers’ club.”

“It’s not something I’d imagine you’d discuss with your son, either,” Stone observed. “So how did you come to know about Deirdre’s parentage?”

Cade’s features darkened. “There was an accident. The doctors thought Deirdre might need a kidney transplant. I overheard the doctor telling Mom that our father was not a compatible donor. It was biologically impossible that Deirdre was his child.”

“Your father wasn’t there to get the doctor’s report?” Stone didn’t manage to mask disapproval.

“No. He was gone.”

Deirdre figured Cade must have sensed some kind of censure in Stone. Cade’s temper sparked. “Dad was feeding Dee’s dog. Dad and Spot had this kind of love/hate relationship. But the old man knew the first thing out of Dee’s mouth when she regained consciousness would be asking after that damned dog. He wanted to show her he hadn’t forgotten.”

Deirdre winced.

Cade turned to Deirdre, gaze fiercely intense. “Don’t you call that love, Dee? He was worried sick, wanted to stay at the hospital, hear the first word when the doc reported in. But he knew what mattered most to you. He tried to—to put your mind at ease.”

She didn’t dare show the effect his words had had on her, or Cade would hammer her forever, hoping he could make her call this whole search off. She could handle Cade furious. But pleading, sorrowful, hurting…those were a more dangerous approach.

Deirdre tossed her head. “It’s more likely he just couldn’t stand to deviate from the schedule,” she said. “Feed dog at 0800 hours.”

Cade swore.

Stone cleared his throat and continued. “So you and your mother were alone in the waiting room, Mr. McDaniel. The doctor walks in and reveals something this explosive in front of you?”

“They both thought I was asleep. Even so, the doctor asked Mom to step out of the waiting room into the hall. But I could tell from the man’s voice something had gone horribly wrong. I…thought my sister was dead.”

Deirdre had to clench her hands into fists to keep from reaching out to Cade, touching him. The breach yawned between them, so painful it hurt to breathe. She could see Cade there, at the hospital, his body not yet filled out with a man’s muscles, his face still boyish, the scar on his chin still new. He must have been devastated, feeling responsible for anything that went wrong in the family, the way he always did. She could almost hear the litany of self-blame running through his head.

I should have foreseen she was going to fall, stopped her from being so reckless.

I should have hurled myself on the open toolbox so she wouldn’t have hit the sharp metal edges when she fell.

He’d thought she was dead. He must have been going through hell. It should have been over once the doctor said she’d live, but he’d only exchanged one level of hell for an even deeper one.

Cade blew out a steadying breath. “Mom begged the doctor not to tell our father unless it was a question of saving Deirdre’s life. She prayed Deirdre would recover without needing that kidney. Deirdre did. Mom made me promise I would never tell. I never did.”

“So, that’s the Cliff’s Notes version,” Stone said. “Think you can add anything more?”

“Cade, for God’s sake! I know you’re doing this under duress, okay? Your objection has been duly noted and thrown in the circular file. Now tell the man something useful or stop wasting his time.”

“This isn’t easy, Dee. I don’t want my family hurt.”

“Oh, yeah, and I’m just loving this. It’s so much fun,” Deirdre snapped.

“Mom said she’d had an affair with a man named Jimmy Rivermont. He was selling band instruments in the area, or something. She would leave me with another army wife while she…” Cade shrugged. “I don’t know the woman’s name. She lived next door to our parents.”