A Weekend Getaway (14 page)

“I can’t blame him.”

“Damn it, Mom.” She never cussed in front of her mom, but it
felt right. “I’m your daughter. How about you try to be on my side for once?”

“For once? What do you mean? I’m always on your side.”

Beth shook her head and looked down at the checkered
tablecloth.

The papers dropped out of her mother’s hand. “Why didn’t you
come to me? I would’ve helped.”

Beth plunged her straw nervously up and down in her drink.
“You were busy.”

“Busy?” Her mom paused. “I was taking classes but. . .”

Her mom had dealt with her empty nest by getting her
bachelor’s then a law degree. That was fine, except that it meant Beth had to
take out even bigger student loans to finance her own schooling. Loans she was
still paying off.

Her mom reached her age-spotted hand across the table and
clasped Beth’s. “When you left for college, I thought you didn’t need me
anymore. I would’ve loved that baby if only you’d given me a chance.”

Trying to maintain her steely resolve, Beth shrugged.
“Maybe. But what about dad? What about the church? The congregation? Dad values
their opinions more than mine.” Her dad had stopped speaking to her ever since
she’d moved in with Drew. An illegitimate child would’ve infuriated him. He
probably would’ve disowned her. Not that she cared. Everything she’d done had
been for her baby’s sake. And that baby deserved parents and grandparents who
adored her, not resented her.

“I can’t speak for your father. He’s
more.
. . rigid than I am. But a
grandchild.
. . that’s
precious. I’ve longed for one. That’s one reason why I didn’t want you to
settle for living together. It’s like pretend marriage. I wanted better than
that for you.”

The waitress’ earrings jingled as she stepped up to their
table and delivered the pizza and Beth’s sad bowl of iceberg lettuce. Their
conversation paused until the young woman walked away, the rubber soles of her
tennis shoes squeaking slightly.

Removing her glasses, her mom spoke in a soft tone. “So
where is my granddaughter? Can I meet her?”

Beth rubbed the knot in the back of her neck. For the first
time in her life, she’d lost her appetite. “She lives in Texas. And you can’t
meet her because I haven’t even met her. I mean, I want to, but she doesn’t
feel the same.” As usual, she stifled her emotions.

“How do you know she doesn’t want to see you?”

“Because I asked. She wants to meet Parker, but not me. I
assume she wants to meet him. She asked about him.”

“So she and Parker have connected?”

“No. I told him about her, but he doesn’t know any details
about how to find her. Now that he’s served me with papers, I’m not sure what
to do. It’s not like him to be so vindictive.”

“You denied him his own child.”

“Mom, maybe I shouldn’t have. I don’t know. I thought I was
doing him a favor.”

“You should’ve thought about his point of view. My point of
view. My only grandchild is in Texas.”

“This isn’t about you.” Her words were sharp. Involving her
mother might’ve been a mistake. “This needs to be about me. Can you help or
what?”

Her mom furrowed her brow. “You have thirty days to respond
to the charges. I’ll handle that. What I need from you is to know if you admit
or deny the allegation.”

Beth flinched. She’d never thought of herself as the one
doing wrong. She’d always felt like the victim in this. She’d been the one
who’d been alone throughout her pregnancy and in the delivery room. Except for
her friend Sarah, she’d had to carry the burden of choosing adoptive parents
and then following through with giving them her baby. Even then, she’d felt
alone. No one could understand what she’d gone through. What she was still
going through.

Her own daughter didn’t want to see her and now Parker was
suing her. Clearly, Beth was the victim here. She squeezed a slice of lemon
into her water. “I deny all responsibility.”

When Beth got home, she sent an e-mail to her daughter.

To:
[email protected]

From: [email protected]

You asked about your biological father. His name is Parker
DuBois and this is his phone number: 219-555-6800. He never knew about you.

If you’d like to talk again on the phone, please call me.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Parker rang the bell of the adobe house and shoved his
still-twitching hands in his pockets. Adrenaline pulsed through his system as
he anticipated meeting his daughter for the first time. Unable to stand still,
his feet shuffled side to side.

Hurry up, hurry up!
He’d flown to Dallas as soon as he could book a flight. Hannah had called him
and he came. He couldn’t possibly wait one minute longer!

A moment later, a teenaged girl opened the door. Brown hair,
brown eyes, a perky nose—she looked a little like Bethany and a little like
pictures he’d seen of his mom when she was young. He bit the inside of his
mouth to stop the flood of emotion.

Dressed in denim shorts and an Olympic T-shirt, she smiled
hesitantly, revealing silver braces. “Parker?”

Staring at her fresh face, he nodded. Should he hug her?
Part of him wanted to, yet they’d just met. That would be awkward.

She opened the door wide, then waved him inside where Taylor
Swift’s “We are Never Ever Getting Back Together” echoed down the hall.
Instinct kicked in and he offered a handshake. The scrunched-up look on
Hannah’s face and her limp wrist let him know that he’d done the wrong thing.
Damn!

An auburn-haired woman not much older than him, wearing a
floral dress, stepped from behind Hannah. “I’m Connie Taylor.” She shook his
hand, then addressed her daughter. “Go turn down that music, so we can hear
ourselves think.” She chuckled nervously as Hannah complied.

Parker studied the room decorated with Native American
blankets and pottery. So this was where his child grew up. Very different from
his glass house at the beach. Texas middle-class. He wasn’t quite sure how that
sat with him, but he remembered his manners. “Nice place you have here.”

“Thank you. Have a seat.” She remained standing while the
music shut off. “Would you like some sweet tea?” Before he could answer, she
headed for the kitchen.

“Sure.” Just then Hannah returned and they sat across from
each other on a matching couch and loveseat upholstered in Southwestern colors.
The girl watched him, but didn’t speak.

Carrying a tray with three glasses of iced tea, Connie broke
the silence. “Did you find the place okay?” She set the tray on the coffee
table and offered him one of the tall glasses.

Leaning forward, he took it from her. “Yes. No problem.
Thanks for inviting me.” Everyone sipped their tea and the ice cubes clinked.

He’d been cheated. He wished Hannah had grown up with him, wished
he were the one to tell her to turn down her music, to stop chatting on the
phone, to be home by midnight. Assuming she went out at night. He didn’t know.
Taking into account her big brown eyes, she probably had plenty of dates. And
it should’ve been his job to scare the guys into behaving like gentlemen.

Parker watched as Hannah picked at the hem on her denim
shorts and Connie kept touching the heart-shaped locket around her neck. He
wondered if it held a picture of Hannah. Parker cleared his throat. “Hannah,
what do you do for fun?”

 
She stopped
fidgeting and looked him in the eye. “I swim.”

“Competitively?”

“I’m on the school’s team.” Her posture grew straighter, more
confident. “We won state last year.”

“Wow. Congratulations!” Excitement buzzed inside of him.
Swimmers were a unique breed. They didn’t compete for the glory of it like
football players. Photos of swimmers rarely made the newspapers. Swimmers did
it for the feel of slicing through the water, the thrill of edging out the guy
in the lane next to them or for cutting a second off of their best time. Hannah
shared this passion, too. “What’s your best stroke?” He’d always dominated with
his front crawl.

“I like butterfly.”

“That takes a lot of strength.” He watched her squirm at the
compliment. He’d nearly forgotten how much he’d enjoyed the sport in high
school. Practicing seven days a week, riding the bus to meets, slapping his
teammate’s legs with rolled up towels—those were good times. It was
amazing that this person connected only through his DNA shared his love of the
water.

DNA. They shared the same genes. Did she carry the gene for
Huntington’s then? Sadness washed over him. He’d have to tell her…eventually.

As if trying to get more comfortable, Hannah tucked one leg
underneath her. “My dad used to take me to all of my morning practices before
work.”

Parker felt the weight of the words “used to.” He sensed
that it was a recent loss. A stone formed behind his ribs because he’d never
get the chance to meet and size up his replacement.

Connie thumbed her locket. “We moved to Texas when he was
diagnosed with cancer. To be closer to his family.”

Hannah piped up. “He was the best father. All of my friends
were jealous. So many of their parents divorced and their dads checked-out of
their lives.”

How could a dead-beat dad look himself in the mirror each
day? “That’s too bad.” Parker wondered if she blamed him for checking out of
her life at birth. If only he’d known about her. Anger filled his chest. “It
breaks my heart that I’ve missed seeing you grow up. I’m so mad at Bethany.”

Hannah swallowed. “I’ve had a good life. My dad was amazing
and my mom is, too. Although I’d deny it if she ever brought it up in front of
my friends.” She smiled slyly at her mother, her braces twinkling again.

“I’m happy for that, at least,” he said. “Do you have
pictures of when you were little? I’d love to see them.”

Hannah sprang to her feet. “They’re hanging in the hall.”
She waved for him to follow.

As Parker rose, Connie pointed at his still-full glass.
“Don’t you like it? I could get you a Pepsi.”

He shook his head and stepped closer to Hannah. “This is
fine.” He didn’t need caffeine to add to his jitters. He balled his fists to keep
his hands from twitching then hid them in his pockets. Was this just nerves or
was this the beginning stage? He worried it was the latter.

Wooden 8” x 10” frames lined both sides of the hallway.
Wedding and family photos were on the right side and individual shots of a baby
started on the left side. Hannah pointed at each photo and told him her age. As
a toddler, she’d had chubby cheeks sprinkled with freckles. Once her hair was
long enough, it looked as if pig tails were the hairstyle of choice. Until the
teenaged years when she let the brunette waves rest on her shoulders. He tried
to find solace in the fact that her smile appeared sincere in every shot, but
it was difficult. She would’ve been happy in his home, as well.

The photos stopped when they reached a bedroom with light
purple walls. He stood in the doorway, as if he didn’t have the right to step
inside. He pointed at shelves above a white painted desk. “Are those all swim
trophies?”

“Yep.” She closed the door before he had a chance to look
around more. Maybe she was embarrassed that clothes and books were scattered
across the floor.

They walked back to the living room where her mom had
drained her glass. “I’ll give you two some privacy so you can talk.” She headed
for the kitchen, her floral dress flowing gracefully behind her.

Before the woman disappeared from sight, Parker cleared his
throat. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d mind if Hannah showed me around the
city. I’d love to see where she goes to school. And I want to get her a little
memento of our visit.”

Connie looked at Hannah and hesitated to make a decision.

He realized she didn’t know him well enough yet. “You’re
welcome to come with us.” He appreciated the sign that this woman took her maternal
role seriously. His mom had been a worrier, too. That’s what moms did.

“Mom, it’ll be fine,” Hannah said, sounding a little annoyed
at her mother’s protectiveness. Connie’s green eyes studied her daughter’s
face. “If Hannah wants to, I suppose it’s all right.”

Hannah shrugged. “There isn’t much to see, but it would be
nice to get out of the house. Mom is such a homebody.”

Parker walked her to his rental BMW and opened the passenger
door for her. Avoiding eye contact, she seemed flustered, climbing in quickly
and struggling with her seatbelt. Didn’t guys open doors for girls anymore? His
daughter shouldn’t settle for some guy who sat at the curb honking his horn.
Shaking away the thought of his daughter dating, he took his place behind the
wheel. “Tell me how to get to the nearest jewelry store.”

“You don’t have to buy me stuff. I just wanted to meet you.”

He ignored her. “Left or right?”

She directed him through the subdivision. As they made their
way into a commercial district, he felt her eyes studying him. “You really
didn’t know I existed all of this time?”

“Beth never told me.” He shook his head, gripping the wheel
tighter.

“It’s weird to think about.”

“If I’d known about you, I never would’ve signed away my
parental rights. I would’ve been there for you.”

“Would you have asked Bethany to marry you?”

He cleared his throat. How to explain things? He certainly
didn’t want Hannah to feel her conception was a drunken mistake. “I’m not sure
what I would’ve done. Perhaps my wife, Ivy, and I would’ve raised you.” Even as
he said it, he couldn’t picture it.

“So you cheated on your wife? No wonder.”

“That’s not what happened. I got married soon after. . . .”

His cell phone rang and he actually appreciated the reprieve
from this confrontation. When he saw that it was the office, he turned to
Hannah. “No such thing as a day off when you’re the owner and president.” He
clicked the “answer” button and gave advice to his second-in-command. Just as
the call ended, he pulled up to a jeweler’s with the name Whitman’s written in
cursive on the window.

They exited the car and waited to be buzzed into the store. Glass
cases circled the room, which grouped together similarly colored stones. Rubies,
emeralds and topazes. Pearls had their own section, as did watches. After locating
the diamonds, Parker leaned over the display case. Earrings, bracelets, and
charms sparkled up at him, but one piece in particular grabbed his
attention—a necklace that said “Sweet Sixteen” in diamonds.

A woman wearing a form-fitting dress and too-much makeup
pulled it out of the case for him. Looking over his shoulder, he waved for
Hannah to come closer. “How about this? Do you like it? You’re sixteen, right?”

“Really, Parker. I don’t want anything.”

“But diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” He smiled at her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the saleswoman smile back.

But Hannah crossed her tan arms. “I don’t wear much
jewelry.”

“Nonsense.” Every Christmas Ivy registered her wish list at
Smithton Jewelers. Tokens of his affection made of precious stones were also
requested on every anniversary and vacation. For Ivy, jewelry was the best
souvenir. If he bought Hannah something special, then she’d remember him after.
. . .

He stared at her smooth skin, the turned-up nose,
her
bronze cheeks. He ground his molars. It wasn’t fair. He’d
just found her; he wasn’t ready to leave her.

His cell phone rang, saving him from his internal demons. The
office again. He made eye contact with Hannah. “Sorry. I’m in the middle of
negotiating a land deal in Wisconsin.” He answered it, signaling for the clerk
to wrap up the necklace he’d selected. Balancing the phone against his shoulder
and ear, he reached into his wallet and pulled out his American Express card.
He mouthed to Hannah, “Can you finish this?” A moment later, he exited the
store to continue his business conversation.

While he paced outside, Hannah joined him. She didn’t have a
jeweler’s box in her hand, only his credit card. He tried to handle the call
quickly. When he hung up, he tucked the phone back into his pocket. “Where’s
the necklace?”

She squared her shoulders. “I told you I didn’t want it.
Take me home please.”

# # #

Around two a.m. Parker quietly unlocked the door to his Lake
Michigan home while his mind whirled. Hannah had asked him to leave. Demanded
it, actually. He’d booked a flight right away to appease her, but something
told him she wouldn’t be forgiving him any time soon. Why hadn’t he silenced
his phone so he wasn’t tempted to answer it?

To add to his misery, his flight had been delayed and he’d
been stuck in the airport for hours. At times like these, he wondered why he
didn’t just buy a corporate jet.

He walked quietly through the house so he wouldn’t wake Ivy.

In the moonlight streaming in from the wall of windows, he
made out an odd shape on the grand piano. It looked like a fedora. He tiptoed
toward the bedroom, and his shoe caught on something in the hall. He leaned
forward and pulled Ivy’s black thong off of his toe. His stomach clenched.

He heard Ivy’s giggle from behind the bedroom door. “Oh,
Rick. You know what I like.”

Parker pushed open the door and flicked on the lights.

A naked man with dark, wavy hair jerked away from Ivy. “What
the hell?” He looked at her across the satin sheets. “I thought you said he
wasn’t coming home until tomorrow.”

Parker grabbed stuff off of the nearby mirrored dresser and
threw it at the man. A watch, earrings, a perfume bottle. “It’s not enough that
you’re screwing my wife, but you do it in my house?”

The muscular twenty-something with the too-long hair jumped
up.

Sizing the other guy up, Parker figured, despite his medical
condition, he could give the younger man a run for his money. Instead, the
coward pulled on his jeans and ran out the bedroom door. Turning toward the
hallway, Parker continued pummeling him with found objects until the man fled
out the front door.

Parker pivoted to see that Ivy remained in bed with the
sheets pulled up to cover her breasts. What was she hiding for? He clenched his
fists. “What a welcome home. I suspected you might be cheating on me, but I
didn’t realize you’d screw him in my bed!”