Another Chance for Daddy. Patricia Knoll
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he’d made no effort to locate his mother or any member of her family.
- When Jimmy was a baby, she had tried to convince Clay to contact his mother, but he had refused. He wanted nothing to do with her. Becca had been very disturbed by his adamant denial that his mother had any rights to know her grandson. He’d refused to discuss his reasons or listen to her arguments.
That had been only one of the many things wrong with their marriage, she thought sadly. They hadn’t discussed things. When a problem arose, Clay either took care of it on his own or clammed up about it. She was accustomed to a family who talked things over—often at loud volume—and he was used to handling everything himself. Neither of them had been able to change.
She knew when he woke up, he was going to be difficult. When they had been married, he had rarely been sick and if he was, he had wanted only to be left alone. He hated being dependent on anyone, especially her, now that they were divorced.
Watching him in his helplessness, she felt a flurry of emotions she couldn’t quite sort out. She had long ago come to accept the reality that a small part of her would always love him. After all, he was the father of her son. Jimmy’s self-confidence and perseverance were traits he had inherited from Clay.
Jimmy had always been the kind of child who liked to do things for himself. In fact, his first words had been “By myself.” Clay was the same way—complete unto himself.
She often worried that the closeness she now shared with Jimmy would change over the years until he was closed off to her as Clay was. She dreaded that day.
Along with the love she still felt for Clay, she experienced sorrow and regret, but overriding it all was relief that their battles were over. She had a new life now and soon she would be sharing it with calm, predictable Barry in a permanent home of her own.
She cast Clay a guilty glance. She knew she should have told him about her engagement to Barry, and she certainly should have told Jimmy. It was pure cowardice on her part that she hadn’t done so, but she hadn’t wanted to argue with him again. They’d argued anyway, and look what had come of it.
Becca started when the phone rang and she grabbed it quickly so it wouldn’t wake Clay. He stirred, though, and she picked up the phone and moved as far from him as possible. Cupping the receiver close to her mouth, she answered in a near whisper. “Hello?”
“Rebecca?” Barry Whelker’s voice came over the line.
“Barry,” she said in relief. “I’m so glad you called. How did you know where to find me?”
“I couldn’t get you at your house, and there was no answer at your mother’s, so I got your neighbor’s number from directory assistance. They told me what had happened. How are Jimmy and Clay?”
Becca smiled, feeling steadied by the even tone of his voice. Trust Barry to show his resourcefulness in tracking her down and his thoughtfulness by calling her right away. Such thoughtfulness was one of the things she found most appealing about him, both as a boss and a fiancé.
“They’re going to be all right,” she said. While Barry listened and made concerned sounds, she rapidly ran through a description of Jimmy’s and Clay’s injuries.
Immediately, Barry offered to come home and help out, but Becca convinced him that her mother and sisters were on hand. There was no need for him to cut short his visit to his family and return before Monday.
“But you’ll need my help,” he said.
“No, really, Barry,” she said, casting a glance at Clay. She could just imagine what her ex-husband would have to say if her fiancé showed up to help her and her family care for him. “It might be better if I don’t see you until I’ve decided what I’m going to do. Clay will need someone to take care of him for a few days at least, and I don’t know where that’s going to be....”
“But he won’t want me around,” Barry finished for her.
“Yes, I’m sorry, but it’s true,” she admitted. “Clay isn’t the easiest of men,” she said, dropping her voice even more, though her ex-husband still showed no sign of waking up.
“Which is why you’re marrying me.”
Barry’s tone wasn’t smug, or triumphant, merely matter-of-fact, which bothered Becca somehow. “Yes, well, that’s true,” she answered. “But it’s not the only reason I’m marrying you.”
Barry was silent and she knew that he was thinking about what they both knew—that she didn’t love him the way she had loved Clay. She also knew he was too tactful to point that out. She could think of no reply.
Barry finally broke the silence by saying he would call again later and that he would be home in two days.
Becca hung up and sat for several minutes staring at the phone. She felt as though she had somehow disappointed him, but what she had said was true. At the best of times, Clay wasn’t an easy man. With multiple fractures and a concussion, he was going to be impossible. She and Barry would soon be sharing the “for better or for worse” of marriage. As far as she could see, there was no reason to start out “for worse.”
Quietly setting the phone on the nightstand, Becca turned to look at Clay. It seemed as though she could barely see the movement of his chest as he breathed and she thought of all the times she had worried and feared he was going to be injured on a job site. He’d never received so much as a scratch. Now he’d nearly been killed backing out of her driveway. Shakily, she sat down beside the bed and resumed her vigil.
As she watched, his eyes fluttered open, skimmed over her blankly, then closed again. After a moment, they opened again and stared at her for several seconds. A chill of fear washed through her. It was as if he didn’t recognize her, she realized as he drifted off again.
She thought suddenly of how he’d greeted her when he’d momentarily regained consciousness after the wreck. He’d called her “babe,” though he’d never been one for endearments. It touched her now and tears filled her eyes.
When he stirred again, she stood, bent over him, and rested her fingers lightly on his cheek. This time his eyelids snapped open and he focused on her with a clear and lucid gaze. Recognition leaped into his eyes, then joy such as she had never seen filled his face as he looked at her, studied her expression, then seemed to delve deeper into her eyes. Then he gazed at each of her features, lingering on her mouth, the hair loosening from her French braid and falling around her face, and then the curve of her cheek. For an instant, it was as if he had been stripped of all pretense.
The pleasure and relief on his face made her think of a time they’d gone exploring in a cave that Clay had sworn was safe. She had twisted her ankle and he’d had to carry her out. They’d both been overjoyed when they had stumbled outside and found light waiting on the other side.
Becca shivered at the memory. She didn’t know exactly why she had connected that with the look on Clay’s face just now.
Heat washed through Becca, flooding her with the same joy she saw in him.
She was reaching for his hand when something in his gaze seemed to click into place. All expression faded. His eyes swept the room and came back to her.
“Becca,” he said in a voice that cracked. He tried to clear his throat. “Can I have some water?”
“Of course.” She hurried to get him a glass of water, then eased his head up so he could sip it from a straw.
Satisfied, he turned his lips from the drink and said, “What are we doing here?”
She opened her mouth to answer him, but unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes again. Her lips trembled and the tears poured out. “I’m...I’m sorry, Clay....” She didn’t know if she was apologizing for crying or for being responsible for his injuries.
“Are those tears for me?” he asked in a faint voice. “I haven’t seen you cry since you....”
Becca’s