From Father to Son Read online

  Rowan was watching his approach long before he reached her. She’d lifted her feet up one step so that she could wrap her arms around her knees. She didn’t say a word, even when he was right in front of her.

  “I wondered if Anna has seen the specialist yet. What you learned.”

  For a minute he thought she wasn’t going to answer at all. Finally, she said, “Did you.”

  He felt a pang and half turned away from her. “I think about the kids. I just…” Man. What did he say?

  She didn’t make it easy for him. Didn’t try to finish his sentence for him. Didn’t even say, “You just what?” No, she waited. Like Duncan, who knew that patience was more compelling than the most gifted of tongues.

  “I don’t relate well to people.”

  She made a scoffing sound.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, stung.

  “You’re great with the kids. If you weren’t, they wouldn’t be making such a nuisance of themselves. They wouldn’t think you were their friend.”

  “I thought maybe it was better if they didn’t get the idea I was.”

  “Why?” Her voice held genuine puzzlement.

  “I’d end up letting them down.”

  “Why?” she asked again.

  “I don’t have long-term friends. I don’t know anything about kids.”

  After an unnervingly long silence, she shrugged. “Okay.”

  Why that easy acceptance aggravated him, Niall couldn’t have said. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She seemed to be gazing off into the purple dusk shadows of the yard. “What question?”

  “Anna.”

  Her gaze flicked to him, narrow enough he couldn’t read what she was thinking. “Yes, we were lucky to get in quick to see the ear, nose and throat guy. He wants to take her tonsils and adenoids out. Surgery is scheduled for a week from Friday.”

  He felt a stab of alarm. “Is it risky?”

  “You didn’t have your tonsils out?”

  Niall shook his head. “I think my younger brother did, but I guess I was too little to think much about it.”

  “It’s outpatient surgery. It’s not like…like they’re cutting her open, exactly. But they do knock her out and…it’s scary for me, okay?”

  He nodded. After a moment, he sat on the bottom step, his back to the newel post. “Does she know?”

  He thought Rowan’s arms had tightened around herself, as if to contain the fear she’d admitted to. “Not really. She’s four. I’m not making a big deal out of it.”

  “Desmond?”

  She shook her head.

  “What will you do with him while…”

  “We’ll manage something,” she said shortly.

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t even know why he’d come over here to talk to her, why he was saying any of this. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he thought, at war within him.

  “For?”

  “Being such a jackass.” He hesitated. “Hurting Desmond’s feelings.”

  “I’m glad you’re human enough to have noticed you were.”

  “I’m human.” Maybe. He wasn’t always sure. He didn’t feel what most people did.

  Didn’t used to feel what other people did.

  The realization came out of left field, stunning him. He couldn’t deny it, much as he’d have liked to. Lately, he’d been a mess. The shift had begun a while back, when Duncan got involved with Jane and his and Niall’s relationship changed. But the day Niall had found Enid dead then had been involved in the shooting had been a sort of watershed. Or maybe that wasn’t it at all; maybe it was the day Rowan and her children moved into the house and gave him an up-close-and-personal view of something unfamiliar and disconcerting.

  Tempting.

  As loving as their small family was, it had an obvious vacuum. Daddy was missing. He’d tried a couple of times, however awkwardly, to fill the vacancy. An experience that scared the crap out of him.

  So why are you over here talking to her? he had to ask himself again, and was unnerved by the answer.

  I’m still tempted. I liked the way Desmond looked at me. The feel of his hand in mine.

  He’d liked more than that. He’d liked easing the strain on Rowan’s face. He’d liked the warm, trusting weight of the children in his arms. He liked seeing the softness of Rowan’s eyes close up, studying the fine texture of her skin, imagining her small hands on his body and his big ones on hers. He liked her smell, the sight of her hair slipping out of the ponytail, the delicate shell of her ears and the very female swell of her breasts. The love and patience in her voice when she talked to her kids.

  She made him feel things he didn’t trust. They all did. I can’t go there, he thought desperately. But he also knew he couldn’t keep hurting them the way he had.

  “Desmond hasn’t given up on me,” he heard himself say.

  “Give him time,” Rowan muttered.

  “No. I…” He almost choked on it. “I’ll try.”

  He felt her scrutiny; for once, couldn’t meet it.

  “Why?”

  Damn it, why did she have to keep asking that? He didn’t know why.

  “Because it seems to matter to him.” At first he thought that was the best he could do. But then more words came to him, ones that felt strange in his mouth, like a food he’d never tasted. “Because…I needed someone when I was a kid.”

  He couldn’t even hear her breathing. She spoke at last, very softly. “Did you have someone?”

  “Duncan. My brother.”

  “That was him who just left, wasn’t it? I’ve seen him on the news.”

  “Yeah.”

  This silence all but made him squirm. He looked down to see that his fingers were beating an uneasy rhythm on his jean-clad thigh. He stilled them, waiting for her judgment.

  “All right. But if you hurt Desmond, I’m going to hurt you.” Her voice was lioness fierce. “Is that clear?”

  He looked at her finally. She was glaring at him. What could he do but nod?

  She did the same, hers sharper and not very friendly. Then she stood, went up the steps and into the house. She eased first the screen door then the door closed quietly, probably to avoid waking the kids. But he heard the lock snick, and next thing he knew the porch light went out, leaving him in darkness.

  He might have smiled, except he felt too weird, as if he was having an out-of-body experience.

  Why did I open my big mouth? But he knew. He would have broken the next time the kid came up to his back door and knocked, then stood there waiting instead of going away. Each time he’d done that, Niall, sitting rigid on the other side of that door, had been able to feel the intensity of his hope and then his disappointment.

  This was payback, he decided. Duncan could have abandoned him and Conall and didn’t. He sensed some similar need in the kid, even though he didn’t altogether understand it. He couldn’t be a father, but maybe he could be a friend.

  He stood and made his way back across the dark yard, glad that Rowan, in her snit, had forgotten to take the dog in with her. Sam bumped companionably against his leg with each step he took. Amused at himself, Niall wondered what would happen when Super Sam’s tunnel finally made it under the foundation and into the crawl space. Would he keep digging, or would he turn his attention to gnawing his way up through the floor instead?

  The picture he had of the dog’s head popping up in the middle of the room brought a low laugh from his throat. He told himself that was why he felt…lighter. Why when he went to bed he thought he might actually sleep tonight.

  THE ROAR OF THE MOTORCYCLE heralded Niall’s arrival home from work Friday afternoon. Wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt, tie and slacks,
he strolled over to say hello. Already tugging the tie loose, he might have been any other guy grateful to be freed from a hard day at work, except most of those other guys didn’t wear a gun in a holster at their waists along with a badge clipped to the belt. Desmond’s face lit at the sight of Niall, which made Rowan anxious. He had already asked a whole lot of questions about that gun and badge. Did he have some idea of Niall as superhero? Darn it, she thought—as if Niall didn’t make her anxious on plenty of levels already.

  She said hello, hoping he hadn’t noticed the dark circles she got under her eyes whenever she had one of her migraines. His gaze seemed to sharpen on her face, but they were both distracted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway behind Niall’s Harley. Recognizing the sound of the engine, Rowan groaned under her breath. Neither of the kids heard her, but Niall did and gave her an inquiring look.

  “Grandma and Granddad,” she said resignedly. Boy, did they know how to pick their time. Here she was, in grubby shorts and T-shirt, sweaty, trying to dig out a flower bed despite the distant thud behind her right temple. A few feet away, Anna was contentedly making mud pies thanks to a wet circle provided by the water hose. Des, boylike, had spent the day rolling on the grass with Sam, climbing the old apple tree and pedalling hard in an attempt to learn to ride a two-wheel bike while she raced along holding him up. He was even dirtier than his mom.

  The past little while, he had been attempting to train Sam to sit. The dog had somehow conned him out of a whole bunch of treats despite the fact that his butt had never descended to the ground. Desmond, sitting on the grass, had begun explaining his plan to Niall, but now he swiveled to face Rowan. “They’re not taking me swimming, are they?”

  “No. For goodness sakes, I don’t even know if either of them can swim.” Rowan frowned. “I suppose they can. But Des… I don’t know if I can take you tonight, either.”

  “What?” He shot to his feet. “But you said!”

  “You know I had a headache earlier.”

  “But you said you feel better.”

  She wouldn’t have come outside if she hadn’t, but the headache had been creeping back. “Yes, but we have that potluck tomorrow so the kids and parents in Anna’s new preschool can meet. I have so much to do tonight.” She glanced at Anna to realize she was getting soaked. “Oh, honey. Let me turn the water off.”

  Her daughter’s lower lip stuck out. “No! I want more mud.” She grabbed the nozzle, and the trickle ran over her bare, muddy legs.

  Des crossed his arms and glowered. “Mo-om!”

  None of them had heard the gate opening and closing. Now, Donna stared from one of her grandchildren to the other. “What on earth is going on here?”

  “We’re having fun, that’s what,” Rowan snapped, feeling as sulky as her kids.

  She heard a choked sound and leveled a look at Niall, who had conditioned his expression to bland. His eyes, though… She’d have sworn his eyes smiled.

  Desmond ignored his grandparents. “It’s not fair! I don’t want to go to some dumb potluck tomorrow. It’s not my friends. You said you’d help me swim so I could be in the same class as Zeke. Anna always gets everything she wants,” he exclaimed.

  “I do not!” his sister shot back.

  Donna, stout and permed, wearing blue polyester slacks and a crisp blue-and-white striped blouse, reached for Desmond’s hand. “These children need to get clean,” she announced.

  With a sense of impending doom, Rowan saw that Glenn hovered with an expression of distaste aimed at her.

  Sure enough, bad went to worse. Desmond wrenched away from his grandmother. “I don’t hafta go get clean! Mom didn’t say I hafta. Mom, I want to go swimming.”

  Anna must have suddenly noticed how cold the water coming out of the hose was, because she threw it away from herself and the stream caught her grandfather’s legs. He hopped back, a bellow escaping him. And Rowan realized that her migraine was no longer creeping back—in fact, despite the medication she’d taken earlier, she felt as if someone had taken a mallet to her head. The tableau in front of her was oddly sharp and yet unreal. Her stomach took an unhappy roll and her temple throbbed.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said to Glenn and Donna, desperately trying for politeness when she really wanted to say, Why are you here when I didn’t invite you?

  After a sharp glance at her, Niall spoke up quietly. “I told Des I’d take him swimming one of these nights. Why don’t we make it tonight? In fact—” he smiled at the boy “—if you’ll give me a minute to change clothes—and you’ll go get cleaned up like your grandmother suggested—we’ll have dinner, too. Just you and me.”

  Desmond’s face lit with hope. “Can we get a burger? I really want one. And French fries?”

  “Sure.” He raised his eyebrows, his gaze meeting Rowan’s. “If that’s okay with your mom.”

  “Please.” She bit her lip, making herself add, “Are you sure?”

  “Why don’t you let Grandma and me take you instead?” Glenn said. “You can come home with us and we’ll grill cheeseburgers on the patio. In fact, you can both spend the night if you want. Your mother doesn’t look like she can take care of you right now.”

  Desmond all but flung himself at Niall. “I’m going with Niall. I can, can’t I, Mom? Please?”

  Anna scrambled the couple of yards to attach her muddy self to Rowan. “I wanna stay with Mommy. I don’t wanna spend the night at Gramma and Gramp’s.”

  Glenn snorted. “Anna, you’re too old to be clinging like that. And who, may I ask, is this?” He apportioned his glare between Rowan and Niall. “Do you have any idea who you’re trusting your son to?”

  “Detective Niall MacLachlan.” Niall held out a hand. “And you are?”

  “I’m these children’s grandfather. I’m not sure I appreciate your interference, Detective.”

  Rowan had seen Niall’s gray eyes remote; now she saw how chilly they could become.

  “I wouldn’t call befriending a nice kid interfering. And I’m not what you’d call a stranger. Enid knew and trusted me.”

  Oh, Lord, I’m going to be sick, Rowan thought, but from sheer willpower looked her father-in-law in the eye. “I know and trust Niall, too.” In a different tone, she added, “Des, go get cleaned up and grab your swimming stuff. Don’t forget the towel. Glenn, you’re closest to the faucet. Would you mind turning the water off? Thank you. Anna, honey, I think you and I need to take a nice shower together.” With all the steel in her, she once again looked at her parents-in-law. “Glenn and Donna, I don’t mean to be unwelcoming, but this really isn’t a good time. Perhaps you’d come to dinner one night next week? I’ll be sure to call when I figure out the best night.”

  Both of their faces froze. No one else moved, either. That weird clarity of vision continued for Rowan and she wanted, quite desperately, to go inside, take another pill and lie down with Anna cuddled up next to her.

  Could this get any worse? Sure, why not? she thought semihysterically, Mom or Dad could show up, too.

  “Well!” Donna said, her voice small. Glenn put his arm around his wife.

  With a sinking sensation, Rowan realized she really had hurt their feelings. She had to try to make this better. “You know I get migraines,” she explained. “This hasn’t been a great day....”

  “Wouldn’t it be natural to turn to us for help?” the other woman said stiffly.

  Yes, it would be, she thought guiltily. And maybe she should have. It wouldn’t have killed the kids to have spent the day with Grandma and Grandpa.

  “You’ve helped so much.” That sounded weak. “I don’t like to keep asking.”

  “They’re all we have left of our Andrew.”

  Her grip on the shovel seemed to be all that was keeping her upright. “I know.”


  Niall strode over, lifted Anna into his arms and turned Rowan toward the house. “Excuse us,” he said brusquely to Glenn and Donna. “It’s obvious Rowan doesn’t feel well.” His voice was a shade huskier than usual; angry, she realized in surprise.

  As far as she knew, her parents-in-law were still standing there when Niall swept her and the kids inside. “Upstairs?” he asked, and she nodded. Carefully, afraid her head might disconnect from her body. “Are you sure you’re okay with Anna?” he asked.

  “You’ll nap with Mommy, won’t you, sweetie?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh. I like to nap with Mommy.”

  “Okay.” He all but deposited her and Anna in the bathroom, made sure she didn’t need anything, then followed Desmond to his bedroom. Within minutes, man and boy were gone, leaving the house in blessed silence.

  She had the feeble thought that he couldn’t possibly have wanted to take a six-year-old boy swimming during a crowded public session at the city pool after he’d worked an eight-hour or longer shift doing…whatever detectives did, when they weren’t having shoot-outs in bank parking lots. But he’d volunteered. I’ll try, he’d said, and he had been the past couple of days. She only hoped tonight’s effort wouldn’t wear out whatever altruistic urge that had him, as he put it, befriending a nice kid. Because if tomorrow he ignored Desmond again, well, she might have to steal his gun and shoot him, even though he’d been a lifesaver when she needed one.

  A moment later she stood with her eyes closed under the beat of hot water in the shower, the small slippery body of her daughter held close, and wondered if Niall MacLachlan, with those large, strong hands, had ever given a woman a massage.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NIALL HADN’T SEEN hide nor hair of either of the kids or Rowan today since he got home. Feeling restless, he prowled the small confines of his cottage. Was she embarrassed by yesterday’s scene? Mad because he’d intervened?

  He hadn’t been able to tell when he brought Desmond home at nearly eight o’clock. She’d been waiting at the back door, her face pale and pinched, her few freckles standing out in sharp relief. Niall’s mother had gotten migraines; he hadn’t thought of them in years, hardly ever thought about her. But now he remembered the expression on her face and the way she’d disappear into a darkened bedroom for up to two days at a time after saying, “All I ask for is quiet.”