Loving Leah

Too bad he hadn’t valued all that she was when he might have been worthy of her attention. Now…

Now John hoped she didn’t plan to make herself too comfortable in his house, especially since she wasn’t going to be staying long. There were too many things he’d rather she not know about him, things he would have much too hard a time hiding from her if he allowed her into his life again on a regular basis.

He was more than capable of taking care of Gracie on his own. He’d have to pull himself together of course, but it was time he finally made the effort. The alternative—having Leah around for the next three months, a constant reminder of the lie he’d been living and would continue to live—was just the spur he needed.

“Daddy, you didn’t turn on the lamp,” Gracie chided gently as she joined him in her bedroom.

“I didn’t expect you to be ready for a story so soon.” With a flick of his wrist, John closed one set of blinds, crossed to the other window and closed the second set, then faced his daughter with a teasing smile. “Are you sure you gave your face and hands a really good wash?”

“A really, really good wash.” She smiled back at him as she turned on the nightstand lamp, then hoisted herself onto the bed. “I even put my clothes in the hamper. I brushed my teeth and my hair, too.”

“Need help with the brace?” he asked, striving for a casual tone.

“No, I can do it myself,” she replied as she worked at releasing the first of several Velcro straps that held the brace firmly in place around her left leg.

“Then I guess I’d better get busy and choose a story.”

Gracie had been good about wearing the ungainly brace, or at least she’d put up a good front in her own matter-of-fact way. She’d also worked hard during the daily, then weekly physical-therapy sessions following the surgery to mend the broken bones and torn ligaments, and she’d been rightfully proud of every small achievement she’d made.

She had been able to walk on her own in the bulky, metal contraption for a couple of months now. And according to the orthopedic surgeon’s most recent prognosis, she would soon be able to dispense with the brace altogether.

Gracie had also worked toward accepting the finality of her mother’s death, aided by a skilled psychologist and her loving grandparents. Slowly but steadily, she was returning to the happy, healthy and adventurous little girl she’d been a year ago.

John wished he could say that he’d had a hand in her recovery, but in truth, he had been too busy wallowing in his own brand of self-pity—one laced with self-contempt—to be of much help to anyone, even his beloved little girl. No more, though, he promised himself. The time had come for him to get past the anger, bitterness and pain and try to be the kind of father Gracie deserved.

Time, too, he acknowledged, to try to forget the words Caro had spoken to him those last moments they’d spent together, and what he had done to make her say them. Those awful memories only reinforced the cycle of unhealthy emotions that couldn’t change the past, but had already come much too close to destroying his future.

“How about Goodnight, Little Bear,” Gracie prompted softly, reminding John of why he stood in front of the bookcase that filled one entire wall of her room.

“An excellent choice,” he said as he reached for the slender volume. “I can read another one, as well, unless you’re feeling too sleepy.”

“Too sleepy tonight, Daddy.”

“Then it’s Goodnight, Little Bear and good night, little Gracie. How does that sound?”

“Oh, Daddy, you’re so silly sometimes.” Snuggling into her pillow, she giggled as he stretched out beside her atop the pretty, pink-and-white patchwork quilt.

“Sorry, I meant to be serious,” he teased, opening the book. “Guess I’d better use my growly voice again.”

“Oh, no, don’t do that. I don’t like your growly voice at all.”

“Then I’ll lock it up in a box.”

“And throw away the key?”

“Well, I might need the growly voice again sometime. I might have to use it with other people.”

“But not with me, right, Daddy?”

“Right, Gracie, not ever with you.”

“Not with Aunt Leah, either,” she instructed, then yawned and closed her eyes.

John said nothing for several seconds, unable to lie to the little girl in any way. More than likely, he would have to use his growly voice and then some to get Leah Hayes out of his house. But he’d make sure Gracie wasn’t within hearing distance when he did. In fact, he had every intention of dealing with Ms. Hayes just as soon as Gracie was asleep.

“Hey, are you sure you’re going to be able to stay awake for even one story?” he asked, putting his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and giving her a quick hug.

“Mm, yes, I can stay awake.”

“Okay, then…”

Focusing on the words of the story, words he practically knew by heart after reading the book to Gracie so often, John set aside all other thoughts. Content just to be in the present moment—at home with the little girl he loved more than he could say—he began to read.

In one hand, Leah carried the suitcase that held items she’d need most her first night in John’s house, in the other, Gracie’s bag filled with the clothes, books and a favorite stuffed animal she’d taken to her grandparents’. Trudging back up the brick walkway, she saw a light go on above her, shining through two of the front-facing windows and adding to the glow of the porch light.

Gracie’s room, she thought. John was probably putting his daughter to bed. By the time she had dumped the suitcases and taken a few minutes to freshen up in the bathroom, her niece should be tucked away for the night, perhaps already asleep. There was no reason she couldn’t get a few things straightened out with John then, except her own dread of squaring off with him. It wasn’t a happy prospect, by any stretch of the imagination, but an immediate, top-of-the-list must-do nonetheless.

Once inside the main entryway, Leah dropped Gracie’s bag at the foot of the staircase, then, turning on lights as she went, proceeded in the direction of the room she’d be using during her stay.

The formal living and dining rooms, one opening onto either side of the entryway, obviously hadn’t been used in a long time. Nor had they been cleaned recently. Dust clung to the furniture and balled up in the corners of the polished oak floors, and a cobweb hung among the crystals on the chandelier over the dining-room table. Not that bad, though, when compared to the mess she found in the kitchen and den.

Her bewilderment quickly turning to dismay, Leah halted in the center of what could have been a very cozy kitchen. With a delicate shudder, she gazed at the stacks of unwashed dishes on the countertops and in the sink and grimaced at the empty pizza boxes and Chinese-food containers piled high in the trash bin. Books and papers were scattered over the kitchen table, much as they were over the coffee table and end tables in the den.

Needless to say, this slovenliness—and that was putting it kindly—had to have been one of the reasons her father and stepmother had asked for her help. Dealing with the disarray in other people’s lives—usually emotional, but occasionally physical, as well—then fading quietly into the background had become something of a specialty for her the past couple of years, she acknowledged. Longer than that, counting the lonely days she’d looked after her father following her mother’s death, and the times she’s sat without speaking while John poured out his heart during his parents’ bitter divorce.

Then her father had met Georgette, and knowing her help was no longer needed, Leah had willingly stepped to the sidelines. She’d done the same when she realized it was Caro that John loved enough to marry. And she would do the same once more when her father and stepmother returned at the end of summer and could again keep a watchful eye on Gracie.

But August was a long way off, and she had work to do in the meantime, Leah reminded herself as she continued on to the room off the den that she assumed would be hers during her stay there.

She’d thought she’d seen the worst possible mess in the kitchen and den, but the so-called nanny’s room, a fair-size bedsitting room with its own private bath, had even more horrors to offer. The bed had been left with sheets, blankets and pillows in disarray, as if the prior occupant had tumbled out, packed her bags and gone. Empty drawers gaped open in the chest and dresser, and in the bathroom used towels hung stiff as boards on the racks.

“What has been going on around here?” Leah demanded angrily of no one in particular, then answered with a twinge of sarcasm, “Apparently not much in the way of housekeeping.”

Dropping her suitcase on the serviceable gray carpet, she noted that it, at least, appeared to be clean.

In the bathroom, she opened cabinet doors until she found a stack of clean towels, then washed her face and hands. Feeling a little better, she retraced her steps to the staircase, grabbed Gracie’s bag and headed upstairs to the little girl’s bedroom.

On the landing, Leah saw that the first two rooms on either side of the hallway stood with doors closed. The room facing the back of the house was John’s study, she recalled from the photographs Caro had sent her, while the other was a guest room Caro had used mainly for storage. Farther along, two more rooms stood with doors open—the master bedroom and Gracie’s room, from which the faint illumination of a night-light glowed.

Postponing her confrontation with John just a little longer, Leah walked down the hallway and peeked into her niece’s bedroom. With her blond curls tumbled on the lace-edged pillow and her long eyelashes dark against her pale skin, Gracie looked like a princess peacefully sleeping under the canopy of her bed.

Leah set the bag on the floor, then tiptoed across the room. But as if sensing her aunt’s presence, Gracie stirred, opened her eyes and smiled sleepily.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Leah said, sitting on the bed beside her.

“You didn’t,” Gracie replied. “I was waiting for you to come and say good-night.”

“Well, then, good night, Gracie.” Leah smiled as she gently stroked the little girl’s curls, then bent to kiss her cheek.

“Good night, Aunt Leah.”

“Sleep tight…”

“…and don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Gracie finished with a giggle. Then, her sweet smile fading, she added more seriously, “I had a little talk with my dad.”

“Oh, you did, did you?”

“He promised not to be growly anymore.”

“Well, that’s nice to know.”

“I thought so, too.” Gracie closed her eyes again and snuggled more deeply under the quilt. “See you in the morning?” she asked softly.

“Count on it,” Leah said as she tucked the covers around the little girl’s shoulders.

She might not have had a warm welcome from John, much less a clean bed in which to sleep, but she wasn’t going to desert her niece under any circumstances.

Out in the hallway again, Leah paused. She was tempted to go back downstairs and set to work making her room habitable for the night. It was a perfectly good excuse to put off talking to John until the following day. But she knew that the sooner she faced him, the better it would be for all concerned.

She didn’t want him thinking she was going to creep around his house, giving him a wide berth and staying out of his way like a frightened puppy. She’d stood up to him often enough in the past without any serious repercussions. Granted, they had been children rather than adults then, but surely their maturity would work in her favor now. After all, he’d promised Gracie he wouldn’t be growly anymore, she told herself with a slight smile. She hoped the promise had included conversations with her, as well as his daughter.

Leah rapped firmly on the door to John’s study. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she walked in without waiting for an invitation. The room was as dark as the rest of the house had been. Only a glimmer of outside light coming through the blinds at the windows delineated the placement of the furnishings—a large desk and chair, bookshelves, a small leather sofa. Surprisingly well ordered, she noted, considering the condition of the rest of the house.

John stood by one of the windows, his back to her, making no effort to acknowledge her presence. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped, he gazed out at only he knew what.

Leah had been determined to stand up to him, to speak her mind about his earlier behavior and lay some ground rules. But the sight of him looking so…forlorn stole away the words she’d been prepared to say. Instead, she moved toward him quietly, wanting only to put her arms around him, to hold him close and assure him that everything would be all right.

Yes, his beloved Caro was dead, but he had Gracie to consider. And now she was there—his once and always friend—to help him begin to heal.

“Get out of here, Leah.”

Though pitched low, John’s voice lashed like a whip across the room, halting her in midstep. Momentarily stunned by the depth of his animosity toward her, Leah gripped the edge of his desk to steady herself. She saw in an instant how his shoulders had straightened, how he now held his hands at his sides, clenched into fists.

He was ready for a fight. More than that, he wanted one. But why? she wondered. She’d never been his enemy—

“Are you deaf, Leah? I told you to get out,” he repeated, this time honoring her with a pointed glance over one shoulder.

“John, please, I’ve come here to help,” she began, trying to get him to be reasonable.

“I don’t want or need your charity,” he muttered darkly, turning away again.

“I’m not sure what you mean by charity.” Truly puzzled by his comment, she eyed him silently, waiting for some further explanation. When he offered none, she ventured softly, “You obviously need some help around here and I’m more than willing to provide it. I thought you understood. More than that, I thought you agreed—”

“Me, agree? Not likely, Leah. And as for you being willing?” He laughed softly without any humor. “You’re only here because Cameron and Georgette played on your sympathy.”

“How can you say that?” she demanded, unable to hide her dismay. “Surely you know how much I care about you and Gracie.”

Her father and stepmother had played on her sympathy, but John had to know that that alone wouldn’t have brought her home again. Why, then, was he treating her like an adversary?

“Right, Leah. You care about us so much that you’ve only now come back to Missoula after eight years away. You didn’t even bother to come home for Caro’s funeral.” He paused for a moment, as if only then aware of what he’d revealed, then forged on with surly determination. “Now you want me to believe you’re here out of the goodness of your heart and you expect me to be grateful? No way in hell—”

“I was traveling in Southeast Asia when Caro died. I didn’t even know about the accident until two weeks after it happened,” Leah reminded him, realizing at last what had caused him to be so upset with her. She’d thought he knew and understood why she hadn’t been able to be there for him during those weeks immediately following Caro’s death. But it seemed he hadn’t, and he’d held it against her ever since. “I wrote to you then, John. A long letter you never answered. If you needed me, why didn’t you let me know? I would have come.”

“Because I didn’t need you then, just like I don’t need you now. Simple enough, isn’t it? So why don’t you grab your suitcase and just get the hell out of here,” he said again with a quiet emphasis that almost had her scurrying to obey.

Only the realization of how deeply he’d been hurt by her absence made her stand firm. Now that she knew how badly she’d let John down after Caro died, she wasn’t going to let him down again. There was Gracie to consider, too, and the awful disorder downstairs. Regardless of what he said or did, he needed her here, and here she was going to stay.

“I’ll get out of your study…for now. You’re obviously in the midst of a self-indulgent wallow of some sort, and I might as well leave you to it,” she stated with surprising self-possession. “But I’m not getting out of your house, not tonight or tomorrow or the day after that. Somebody needs to clean up the mess you’ve made downstairs before your daughter sees it. And somebody certainly needs to look after Gracie until Cameron and Georgette return in August. Since you seem too busy feeling sorry for yourself to even take out the trash, and since you’ve already succeeded in running off two nannies in the past nine months, you’re stuck with me. Like it or not, I suggest you get used to it,” she finished with a defiant tip of her chin.

“I didn’t run off two nannies in nine months,” he snapped back, glaring at her. “The first one left to take a higher-paying job in Seattle. I caught the second one in bed with a man in the middle of the day while Gracie was alone in her room under orders not to come out. Despite what you’ve obviously been told, I’m not quite the ogre I’ve been portrayed as being.”

“No one has portrayed you as an ogre, and I don’t consider you one, either. But by the same token, I’m not the enemy here,” she insisted, hoping to mollify him enough that he would give her at least a little cooperation.

“You did say you’d get out of my study, didn’t you?” he asked almost conversationally, obviously choosing to ignore her attempt to soften his mood. “Anytime now would be good for me.”

Both angered and exasperated by his callous dismissal but trying hard not to show it, Leah spun on her heel and crossed to the doorway, then paused.

“I never knew you could be such a jerk, John Bennett,” she tossed back at him, unable to keep the hurt she was feeling from echoing in her voice.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Leah,” he warned softly, turning to face her fully for the first time since she’d entered his study. “A lot you don’t want to know, believe me.”

There was a new element in his tone, a self-loathing that caught Leah completely by surprise. But she was too caught up in her anger with him to do more than file the thought away for future consideration.

“Right now I’d have to agree with you,” she shot back.

Her head held high, Leah quietly left and closed the door behind her. She paused in the hallway to take a deep, calming breath, then suddenly realized that Gracie could have overheard their every word. With a sense of dread, she hurried down the hallway, then sighed with relief. A glance in the little girl’s bedroom assured her that Gracie was sleeping soundly.

While Leah had no intention of allowing John to treat her badly, she didn’t want his daughter witnessing the kind of exchange they’d just had. She didn’t think John would, either, but she couldn’t be absolutely sure. His emotions seemed much too volatile.

She could only hope that in the days ahead the diplomacy she’d developed dealing with the more overbearing parents she’d come up against as a teacher would work to her advantage with him, as well.

Obviously John was still grieving deeply for Caro. That alone gave her good reason to make allowances for his behavior. And although he hadn’t said as much in so many words, he’d also been hurt by her absence after Caro’s death.

Leah had thought about coming home many times in the months since the accident, but she’d always found excuses to stay away. Not because she hadn’t cared about John, she admitted. In fact, she’d cared about him too much and hadn’t wanted him to know it.

During all the years John had been married to Caro, Leah had never really stopped loving him. Selfishly, she had sought to avoid the one situation guaranteed to cause her heartache, and in the process she had lost what friendship they’d once shared.

Well, so be it, she thought as she headed downstairs to strip the linens from the bed in her room and put them in the washing machine. It wasn’t necessary for them to be friends for her to take care of Gracie. Nor was their friendship necessary for her to scrub pots and pans, carry out the trash, load the dishwasher and wipe down countertops, she added as she surveyed the kitchen with her hands on her hips.

But it would have been so much easier being there with John if she could have counted on him treating her kindly. She deserved at least that much from him without having to demand it. She still hadn’t given up completely, at least not yet. He couldn’t ignore indefinitely the past they’d shared. He might try, but she wasn’t going to let him.

Eventually, he would realize she was there for his benefit as well as Gracie’s. All she had to do was be patient, and she had gotten very good at that over the years, she thought, as she grimly set to work filling the sink with hot, soapy water to soak the crusty pots and pans left on the stove.

Chapter Three

They were at it again, John thought, eyeing the clock on his nightstand with bleary eyes. Not quite seven in the morning, and for the third day in a row, the sound of feminine voices—light, bright and much too cheerful, at least to his way of thinking—drifted into his bedroom from the kitchen directly below.

He had never been an early riser, nor had Caro. But Leah and Gracie seemed to delight in waking up with the birds, then waking him up, as well, with their airy chatter, the bang of pots and pans, and the scent of breakfast cooking.

With a low groan, John sat up and scrubbed his hands through his shaggy hair. Somehow, in the days since her arrival Sunday night, Leah had quietly and efficiently taken over responsibility for his home, as well as his daughter. Not that he’d put up much of a fight. He hadn’t yet stayed in the house with Leah long enough for that to happen.

Monday morning he had gone downstairs, totally uncertain of his reception. His behavior toward Leah the night before had been abominable, but he had no intention of apologizing to her. He didn’t want or need her in his home, and any nicety on his part would only make it that much harder to get rid of her, as he kept telling himself he had every intention of doing very soon.

Shifting in his bed, he remembered how he’d walked into the spotlessly clean kitchen that first morning to find Leah and Gracie at the table, empty plates pushed aside, their heads bent over the comics in the daily paper.

“Daddy?” Gracie had looked up at him with a surprised smile. “You got up early today.”

“Couldn’t sleep with all the racket down here,” he’d replied, not sounding nearly as gruff as he should have under the circumstances.

Leah, too, had acknowledged his presence, but her smile hadn’t quite erased the wary look in her eyes.

“There’s bacon in the oven,” she’d said. “It won’t take me long to scramble a couple of eggs for you if you’re hungry, or I can put some bread in the toaster….”

“Thanks, but I’ll just have coffee.” He’d filled the thermal mug he used, then dug in a drawer for paper and pen. “Here’s the telephone number for my office at the university. I’ll be there all day if you need me. Don’t bother to wait dinner.” He’d set the note on the table, then added by way of explanation when he’d seen the crestfallen look on Gracie’s face, “I have a meeting with the dean that I’ve put off for a couple of weeks already. There’s no getting out of it today.”

“Can we come see you at your office?” Gracie had asked, her voice filled with hope.

“Maybe another day,” he’d replied, then hesitated, not really as anxious to get away as he’d been initially.

“We have to go to the grocery store this morning, Gracie, and we haven’t even begun to put together our list yet,” Leah reminded the little girl gently.

“Oh, yeah, you’ll need some money.”

John had frowned as he dug in his back pocket for his wallet, afraid that he didn’t have enough cash on hand to cover all the things he imagined Leah would probably have to buy. He had gotten in the habit of keeping only a minimal amount of perishable food in the house.