Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) (2 page)

He tucked the compass into his pants pocket and swept his gaze
across the woods, nodding. “I can’t believe how good it felt to be out
here…playing.”

Her laughter echoed around them. “Welcome to my job. Where I
get to play—and help others play—all day long.”

“Sounds like heaven to me.”

“Really? Because the last time
I
checked these woods were in the middle of Winoka, Wisconsin,” she joked, before
beckoning him to follow as she wound her way back through the trees. “If you
don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to take this class, Mr.
Reynolds?”

He considered the best way to respond. If he shared too much,
the lift in his heart from stepping out of his reality would be gone. If he
didn’t give her any kind of answer, he’d come across as rude. He opted for the
safest reply he could find. “First of all, it’s Mark. Mr. Reynolds makes me feel
as if you’re talking to someone much older than I want to be. And as to why I
came today, I guess you could say I’m looking for something that’ll help me
unwind.”

“Sounds like a good reason.”

They emerged from the woods side by side, then cut across the
clearing toward the old converted barn that served as the offices for Bucket
List 101. When they reached the front door, Mark tried to think of something
else to say, something to allow him even a few more minutes in her orbit, but he
came up empty.

“Well, thanks for today. It was really great.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Mark,” he reminded her gently. At her nod, he turned and
headed toward his car, the sound of the door opening and shutting behind him
making it both easier and harder to breathe. Never in his recent and
not-so-recent memory could he recall a woman who affected him quite the way
Emily did.

Except, of course, for Sally. And even then, it was for very
different reasons....

When he got to his car he reached into his pocket for his keys
and froze.

“Oh, no…” He wrapped his fingers around the circular object and
pulled it out, denial quickly morphing into self-recrimination. “What an idiot I
am!”

Shaking his head, he retraced his steps to the barn and went
inside, his feet guided down the hall by the sound of music and a pinpoint of
light streaming through the crack under a door.

He knocked and heard Emily say, “Come in.”

Pushing the door open, Mark peeked inside, to find her hunched
at a desk, poring over some sort of outdoor catalog. “I’m sorry to bother you,
but I forgot to actually
give
you my compass after
tracking you down in the woods. I’m a head case, I know.”

Her laugh echoed off the walls and brought his body to
attention. “Considering the fact that you showed it to me twenty minutes ago and
I didn’t take it, I think it’s safe to say your state of mind isn’t the only one
in question at the moment. But no worries. I happen to believe momentary
insanity is par for the course after running through the woods for two hours the
way we did. It rattles brains, I think.”

He took a few steps into her office and leaned against the
wall, her sincerity and her genuineness speaking to him on some unexpected
level. “Do you ever get tired, running around like that?”

The sparkle in her eyes dimmed. “No, never.”

“Wow.” Despite his best intentions, he found himself glancing
around the room, looking for any excuse to stretch out their time together. It
was as if by being there, talking to her, he could almost forget the
unforgettable. He pointed at the illustrations on the wall behind her desk.
“Looks like you’ve got a budding artist on your hands.”

The sparkle returned. “Nope. Just a dreamer who happens to have
a very sentimental friend.”

“You lost me.”

She grinned. “I drew those when I was ten. Kate, my sentimental
friend, just uncovered them in her hope chest a few weeks ago, and felt the need
to share them.”

He took a step toward the pictures. “And this is you in all of
these?”

“Minus the freckles, of course. I hated my freckles when I was
ten.”

“You shouldn’t have.” He pointed at the first drawing. “Trail
riding?”

“That’ll start back up in the spring.”

Stepping to the right, he considered the second. “Nice rapids
in this one.”

Her laugh sent a skitter of awareness down his spine. “If I
took my customers white-water rafting without helmets today, I’d lose my
license.”

“Artistic liberties, that’s all.” He matched her laugh and took
in the third picture. “Something tells me I didn’t look quite as confident in
the woods just now with
my
compass.”

“You did great.” Emily swiveled her chair a hairbreadth to
study him. “Everyone did.”

Aware of her gaze, he pointed to the final picture. “I’ve
always wanted to rock climb.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

He stared at the drawing, his lips forming the words he’d only
recently come to acknowledge. “Procrastination, I guess. I figured there’d
always be time. “

“And now?”

“I know better.” He cleared his throat of its sudden gruffness
and gestured toward the line of framed pictures. “Looks to me like the dreamer
who drew these hit a grand slam.”

Her silence made him turn just in time to see her open her eyes
and force another smile to her lips. “Considering my sentimental friend
uncovered a fifth, which I opted not to hang, I’ll settle for a home run.”

“Oh? What happened to
that
dream?”

She waved his question aside. “To borrow your words, Mr.
Reynolds—I mean
Mark
—now I know better.”

Momentarily unsure of what to say, he shoved his hands into his
pockets and reclaimed his spot against the wall opposite her desk. “Well, four
out of five is nothing to sneeze at. Hell, when I was ten, all I thought about
was being a firefighter and trying to kiss the redhead who sat behind me in
math.”

“And how’d you do?”

“One for two.”

She laughed. “You’re a firefighter, then?”

“No. An accountant.”

“So the redhead inspired your academic path?”

“She inspired me to quit putting off until tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Emily’s eyebrows rose. “Does she need a job? We could use
a spokesperson.”

“No. No, she doesn’t need a job.” With his good mood rapidly
spiraling, Mark tipped his head forward and pushed himself from the wall. “I’d
better get out of here. Lunch-making duties await.” He took two steps toward the
door and stopped, a flash of color out of the corner of his eye hijacking his
attention to the floor. “Oh…hey, you dropped something.”

Squatting down, he retrieved a tattered pamphlet from the
carpet beside the trash can and turned it over in his hands, the headline,
Multiple Sclerosis, catching him by surprise. “You know someone with MS?”

When she didn’t answer, he reached into his back pocket and
pulled out a business card. “I volunteer with an organization called Folks
Helping Folks. We help people with disabilities by building wheelchair ramps,
installing handrails in bathrooms, funding specially equipped automobiles, and
that sort of thing. You know, whatever can make their day-to-day life a little
easier.”

Placing the card on top of the pamphlet, he held them out to
Emily. When she didn’t respond, he held them out farther. Again, she didn’t take
them, her hands remaining on top of her desk as if glued to its surface. And in
that instant he understood why she sat there and said nothing, why she looked at
the pamphlet and business card as if they were poison capable of seeping through
her skin and into her soul.

He understood because he’d been where she was. He’d loved
someone who was sick, too. He knew the fear. He knew the sense of denial that
came on the heels of such a bitter experience. And he knew the gut-wrenching
pain that came with pulling back.

Leaning across her desk, he set the paperwork in front of her,
his heart aching for this beautiful woman who’d allowed him to shed his
well-worn cloak of regret and live in the moment for three glorious hours. “I
understand where you’re at, Emily. I really do. But please, take this anyway.
Pass it on to whoever it is you know that’s sick. By denying what’s going on,
all you’re doing is hurting yourself and your loved one. Trust me on this.”

Then, without realizing what he was doing, he gave her shoulder
a gentle squeeze, the warmth of her skin beneath his hand lingering in his
thoughts long after Bucket List 101 had faded from his rearview mirror.

Chapter Two

Tossing her paddle to the shore, Emily maneuvered her
way out of the kayak and tugged it onto the sand, the satisfying soreness in her
upper arms a welcome relief. No matter how hard she’d tried to bury herself in
work the rest of the day, the images spawned by Mark’s words had risen to the
surface again and again, gnawing at her convictions like a beaver hell-bent on
toppling a tree. She’d resisted, of course, but the doubts had claimed a
foothold, reappearing throughout the remainder of her workday.

When she’d been teaching her introduction to rock climbing
course, she tried to imagine dangling over the side of a cliff in a
wheelchair.

When she’d taken a call inquiring about an upcoming white-water
rafting trip, she envisioned herself piercing the raft with the end of a
cane.

And when she’d locked up her office for the evening and
actually considered the notion of wallowing in pity from the confines of her
bed, she knew she had to do something. Fast.

Now, two hours later, she felt like herself again. Ready to
conquer anything and everything that crossed her path.

Raising her arms in the air, she stretched, the faintest hint
of a smile tugging at her lips as she spotted the pint-size towhead feverishly
digging in the sand some thirty feet from where she stood. Curious, she closed
the gap between them to take a closer look at what the child was doing.

“That’s a really nifty castle you’re building,” she said.

The little boy’s hand stilled long enough for him to look up
and smile, the deep, penetrating blue of his eyes bringing a momentary hitch to
her breath. “Thanks, lady.”

She forced her attention back to the castle. “I like all those
turrets you built onto the corners.”

His cheeks lifted farther as he dropped his shovel in favor of
directing Emily’s attention toward the tower on the back left corner of his
creation. “See that one? That’s the princess’s room. She’s real nice. And this
one here—” he shifted his finger to the right “—that’s where my room would be if
I lived there, too.”

Dropping onto the sand beside the boy, Emily retrieved a stick
from the ground and secured a nearby leaf to the top. When she was done, she
spun it between her fingers while he eyed her across the top of his sand pail.
“When I was little, I used to dream about living in a castle, too,” she told
him. “Only instead of a princess, mine had a handsome prince who would sweep me
off my feet every morning and carry me around the castle all day long.”

At the child’s giggle, she, too, cracked a smile. “That sounds
funny,” he said.

“Now it does, but when I was young, I thought it sounded
romantic.” Shaking her head free of the images that threatened to ruin the
innocence of the moment, she poked her makeshift flag into the sand by her feet
and scrunched up her face. “But don’t worry, I don’t intend to be carried around
by anyone. Ever.”

The little boy rocked back on his heels, then jutted his chin
in the direction of her stick creation. “That sure would look nice on my castle,
don’t you think?”

She plucked it from the sand and handed it to him, the
answering sparkle in his eyes warming her from head to toe. “But just because my
dream was silly doesn’t mean you can’t share a castle with your princess one
day. In fact, I hope you do. Dreams that come true are mighty special.”

When he’d positioned the flag just the way he wanted it, the
child nodded. “I found an old tree house in the woods behind Gam’s house. I like
to climb up the ladder all by myself and dream with my eyes open. That way they
don’t get scary like the ones in my bed.”

She studied him for a moment, guessing him to be about four.
Maybe just turned five. Either way, he was too young to be alone on the
beach....

“What do you dream about in your tree house?” she asked, before
squinting down the shoreline.

“Smiles. Lots and lots of smiles.”

Startled, she brought her full attention back to the little
boy. “Smiles?”

He nodded. “Happy ones. Like the ones me and Daddy used to
smile before my mom got sick and went up to heaven.”

Emily cast about for something to say, but he didn’t give her
much of a chance.

“I want us to make great big smiles like that again one
day.”

“That sounds like a special thing to dream about,” she
whispered.

“It is.” Jumping to his feet, the child surveyed his castle,
deeming it a success with a clap of his small hands. “Wow! This is my very
bestest castle ever!”

She swung her focus out toward the water and noted the absence
of any swimmers or fellow boaters in their immediate vicinity. “You seem awfully
little to be out here by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself. I’m with my dad.” Shooting a pudgy index
finger over Emily’s shoulder, he pointed toward a man fishing from a line of
rocks that led into the lake some twenty or so yards away. “See? He’s right
there. Fishing.”

Shielding the last of the sun’s rays from her eyes, she
strained to make out the outline standing on the rocks—the tall stature, the
broad shoulders, the gray T-shirt and black shorts, the brown hair…

No. It couldn’t be.

She looked back at the boy. “That man over there is your
dad?”

“Yupper doodle.” He dropped to a squat and stuck his finger in
the sand. Then, slowly but surely, he drew a snake that nearly reached her toes.
“My daddy is so smart he taught me how to make my name. See?”

Stepping back, she looked again at the wiggly line and
recognized it as an
S.
Three additional letters
later, he was done. “Your name is Seth?”

“Yupper doodle.” His broad smile reached his bright blue
eyes.

His Ocean Wave Blue eyes…

She glanced from Seth to the man and back again, the
confirmation she sought virtually certain. But still, she asked, “Do you know
your last name, Seth?”

“Of course I do, silly. But I can’t write that name yet. It’s
too big and kinda tricky. Especially the first letter.” Seth cupped his left
hand to the side of his mouth and tipped his head upward. “Gam says I just need
to pretend the circle at the top changed its mind and is runnin’ away from the
line.”

Squatting down beside the boy, she left a space between Seth’s
efforts and her own, talking him through the letter he’d just described. When
she was done, she nudged her chin in its direction. “Is this the letter?”

“Yupper doodle.” He leaped to his feet and came to stand on the
opposite side of Emily. “
R
for R-R-R-Reynolds!”

* * *

M
ARK
CRANKED
THE
REEL
slowly, hoping the slight movement would be
enough to capture the attention of even one member of the fish population that
inhabited Lake Winoka. If it did, at least he’d have something else to think
about besides Emily Todd.

From the moment he’d left Bucket List 101, his thoughts had
continuously returned to the attractive woman, earning him more than a few
curious looks from Seth throughout the afternoon. Mark understood the fear she
felt, sympathized with her need to pretend her loved one wasn’t ill. He’d been
there and done that throughout the entire year leading up to Sally’s death.

It had been a mistake. A mistake he’d undo in a heartbeat if
given the chance.

But there would be no more chances. He couldn’t rewind time no
matter how much he wished he could. Instead, he had to find a way to live with
the guilt of choosing his job over his dying wife over and over again. At the
time it had made such sense. Work was how he coped. The more he worked, the less
time he had to think, and to feel.

But it had been wrong. For Sally. For Seth. And for him.

No. Mark wasn’t going to let Emily make the same mistakes.
Somehow, some way, he was going to help her realize that by facing her loved
one’s illness head-on, she’d be saving herself the added torture of guilt at the
end.

Determined to help, he reeled in the rest of his line and made
his way across the rocks. Once he had Seth settled in bed for the night, he
could go about putting together a packet of information for Emily. Maybe with
more information, she wouldn’t feel the need for denial.

And maybe, just maybe, helping Emily would enable him to shed
some of his own insomnia-inducing guilt.

He stepped off the last rock and onto the sand and looked
toward the castle he’d left Seth to finish while he fished. But instead of
finding his son elbow-deep in sand, he spotted him standing beside a kayak and a
petite blonde woman.

Mark quickened his pace, only to slow it again as the identity
of the women became clear.

“Emily? Is that you?”

“Hi, Mark,” she answered.

Eagerly, he jogged forward, fishing pole in hand. “Can I help
you get in your kayak?”

A look of something resembling irritation flashed across her
face. “If I can lift a kayak on and off my car, and carry it from the parking
lot to the lake all by myself, I’m quite certain I can get into the water,
too.”

He drew back at the animosity in her voice. “Oh, okay. No
sweat. We’ll leave you to it, then.” Cupping his son’s shoulder, he tried to
steer him in the direction of the parking lot, but Seth wiggled free and ran
back toward Emily.

“Take me with you. Pretty, pretty please? I’ve never, ever,
ever
been in a boat like that before.”

“Seth!” Mark stepped forward, waving his fishing pole. “You
can’t just invite yourself in someone’s boat like that, little man. It’s
rude.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I
didn’t mean to be rude, Daddy. I really didn’t.”

Emily dropped to her knees in front of Seth, her black-and-gold
bikini top and black spandex shorts evoking a rapid swallow or two on Mark’s
part. “Maybe your dad can take you out for a few minutes and let you see what a
kayak is all about.” Peeling her attention from his son long enough to make eye
contact with Mark, Emily gestured toward the kayak with her chin. “I’ve already
been out once this evening. Why don’t you take him out for a little while?”

“I can’t take your boat,” Mark protested.

“Sure you can. Have you ever been in a kayak before?” she
asked.

He willed himself to focus on her face, to refrain from looking
back at her sweet curves, but it was hard. “Kayaks, no. Canoes, yes.”

“Then a crash course is in order. Though, since I wasn’t
expecting this, I don’t have a life jacket that’ll fit Seth.”

“That’s okay.” Seth raced toward a bag several feet from his
castle and tore through its contents, returning with a pair of inflatable
armbands. “See? I’ve got my Floaties!”

Emily made a face. “Not exactly the same thing, I’m afraid. But
if you don’t go out too far, they’ll be okay this one time.” Turning to Mark,
she said, “And you? What kind of a swimmer are you?”

“Solid.”

She considered his response, then gestured toward the boat.
“When you sit in a kayak, you need to keep your legs together and your knees
slightly bent. Keep your weight over the center line. Remember that and you
won’t flip.”

She retrieved the paddle from the sand. “Now, for locomotion,
you grip this with both hands, see?” Placing her hands slightly wider than
shoulder width apart, she demonstrated the correct way to hold it and move it.
“The blade of the paddle can also be used as a rudder, for steering, if there’s
somewhere in particular you’re trying to go or trying to avoid.”

Ten minutes later, Mark knew enough about the boat and the
paddle that he was out in the lake with Seth as Emily watched from the shore.
“Wow, Daddy! The next time I play castle with my blocks at Gam’s house, I’m
gonna give my prince and princess a boat just like this.”

“You don’t think they’d prefer a sailboat or maybe a regular
rowboat?” he teased. “Kayaks are kind of narrow and might not fit your
princess’s dress too well.”

“The princess will be fine. She has short dresses, too, you
know.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” Mark paddled about, glancing back at
Emily more than he probably should.

“I like my new friend, Daddy. She’s really nice. And she likes
castles, too!”

He forced his focus back on his son, noting how the
late-afternoon sun was haloing his head. “Oh? You made a new friend at
preschool? What’s her name?”

“Not at school. Here.” The motion of Seth’s body as he tried to
turn and point toward the shore made the kayak rock. “Whoa! Did you feel that,
Daddy?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“I did. And it’s because you’re moving around. Remember what
Emily said about staying in the center?” Mark tilted his chin toward the shore,
but knew it was futile, considering Seth was facing forward, his back to him.
“So you were talking about Emily just now when you said you made a new
friend?”

“She made a flag for my castle!”

Mark had to grin at the enthusiasm in his son’s voice. “Wow,
you’re right. She
is
really nice, huh?”

Seth’s head bobbed up and down. “How did you know her name,
Daddy?”

Because once she told me, I couldn’t get
it out of my head....

Surprised by the thought, he willed himself to find a more
appropriate answer, one that wouldn’t get the kayak rocking again. “Remember how
I went and played that big-boy game in the woods today? Well, Emily was the
teacher.”

What Seth said in response, Mark didn’t catch, as the mere
mention of the beauty on the beach had him glancing over his shoulder once
again. She was sitting on the sand, watching their progress. When she spotted
him looking, she flashed a thumbs-up.

“Daddy, Daddy, look! Look at that fish!”

At the sudden jerking movement, Mark swung his head back
around, but it was too late. Before he was able to reprimand the boy for leaning
too far to one side, they were in the water.