A Better Father (Harlequin Super Romance) (4 page)

Her cheeks were probably flaming redder than a sugar maple in
fall, but she would not let him get to her with his reference to the sheltered
spot where they used to hide away and grab some privacy. And, not incidentally,
each other.

Luckily, Myra jumped in before Libby could say anything she
would regret as much as she now regretted the things that had happened at the
inlet.

“You want to put a pavilion down there? Libby, all these years
and you’ve never mentioned that. What a splendid idea.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Sam practically overflowed with enthusiasm.
“It’s something that’s stuck with me. Can’t you just picture it? A log
structure, open to the water on one side and the forest on the other...maybe a
fireplace made from local stone...space for picnic tables or chairs so we could
have meetings or whatever down there... It would be perfect. Right down to the
brass plaque on the front that says In Honor of Myra MacLean.”

“Oh.” Myra pressed her fingers to her lips and blinked. “Oh,
my. Libby...Sam. This is too much.”

Libby had to hand it to him. He was smooth. He’d just set
himself up to be Mr. All-Star in Myra’s books forever.

Did she buy the act? Not for a minute.

“Well. Sam. That’s a lovely gesture. But let’s say something
happens. You push me too far and I decide I’m going, promise or no promise. What
happens to the pavilion?”

“The minute you walk away, construction stops. Like that. No
matter how close it is to being done.” His voice dropped. “A permanent reminder
of what might have been.”

Oh, he was up to something. Of that she had no doubt. But she
had given her word. And the longer she was here at camp, the easier it would be
to make sure Sam didn’t destroy the place before he threw in the towel the way
she knew he would.

“Fine.” She gave him a tight nod. “I’m in.”

Even as she said it, she made a promise to herself: at the end
of the summer, she would still be here. But Sam Catalano would be long gone.

CHAPTER THREE

T
HE
REST
OF
S
AM
’
S
DAY
passed in enough
of a blur that he was able to put Libby out of his mind.

But not without serious effort.

After leaving the camp, he raced into town to conduct
interviews with the three final candidates for the position of Casey’s
child-care provider. He mulled the choices while piloting his rental car back to
the airport in Ottawa, called his favorite to make his offer during his layover
in Toronto and got her affirmative answer when he landed in Windsor.

Two hours later he was sitting on his bed in the home he had
recently sold, laptop propped on the mattress, smiling as he watched Casey laugh
and wave at his cousins via video cam.

“Hey, Casey!” Ten-year-old Jody stuck her fingers in the
corners of her mouth, stretched it wide and stuck her tongue out while crossing
her eyes. Not to be outdone, her little brother, Andy, held his hands to his
ears and flapped them, prompting Casey to dissolve into deep belly laughs.

Sam had been taking advantage of Casey’s biweekly video call
with his cousins to go over some of the never-ending paperwork that accompanied
a change of home and jobs, but he found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his
son. God, he loved it when Casey laughed. The way his eyes wrinkled, the way his
double chin quivered, the slight hitch in the laugh as he chortled to an
end.

He’d missed so much in Casey’s first year of life. Sure, he’d
visited whenever he could, but it hadn’t been enough. Never enough. He hadn’t
expected to leave hockey for a few years yet, had never thought he’d end up
doing the single-parent thing, and God knew he would never have asked for things
to end the way they had with Casey’s mother. But he wasn’t going to pretend that
a part of him didn’t light up every time he remembered that his kid would be
waiting for him at the end of every day.

There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone steal that
light away from him.

His phone chirped, pulling his focus back to business. It was a
text from Casey’s aunt Sharon, mother of the cousins currently on the screen and
the Woman Most Likely to Threaten Sam’s Existence. How could someone so frickin’
misguided and pigheaded and just plain wrong have produced such great kids?

I’ll be sending the kids to bed in a minute and then I will talk to
Casey. I’d appreciate it if you weren’t hovering in the background the whole
time.

Oh, for the love of...

He’s 18 months. Not leaving him alone.

Is your sister there?

Sam didn’t dare curse out loud, not with Casey in the room and
the cousins able to hear everything, but his thoughts were certainly tinted blue
as he moved his papers, rolled off the bed, quickstepped over the dog and called
for Brynn.

“You bellowed, big brother?” Brynn was already in her pink
elephant pajamas—a day on Casey duty would do that to a person—but her smile was
serene as she entered the room. Though as he showed her the texts from Sharon,
the smile took a fast dive south.

“What is her problem?” Brynn’s whisper was fierce as she handed
back the phone. “I can’t tell you how glad I’ll be when this custody suit is
behind us and we don’t have to deal with her again. September can’t get here
fast enough.”

“She’ll always be his aunt. She’s always going to want to see
him.”

“But will we always have to be so damned accommodating?” She
raised a hand before he could answer. “I know, I know. It’s what’s best for
Casey, not what’s best for everyone else. I get it.”

And she did. Brynn had put her life on hold for the past few
months to help him with Casey while he was flying around the country rearranging
his own existence. He hated to ask more of her, especially when it meant pulling
her from her dearly earned downtime, but he did anyway.

“You’ll hang with him for a few minutes while Sharon talks to
him?”

Brynn rolled her eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“Thanks.” He gave her a quick squeeze around the shoulders.
“You’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she mumbled as she went to sit
beside Casey.

“Watch the dog,” he warned. “He’ll go for the bed the minute
I’m out of sight.”

“Stay down, Finnegan,” she said, but there was no strength
behind the words. Sam groaned inside. Dog dander on the pillow was only slightly
less disruptive to his sleep than a conversation with Sharon. And lucky him—he’d
probably get to experience both in one night.

Sam leaned against the wall and sent another text to
Sharon.

Brynn is in place. But I need to update you on some things so
please stay on the line after you say goodbye to Casey.

Send me an email.

He rolled his eyes.

This will
be faster for both of us.

Email.

Sharon, you’ll have questions. If you want answers, you’ll stay on.
This is a limited-time offer.

Waiting...waiting...

Fine.

He shoved the phone in his pocket and leaned back against the
wall. Two women giving him grief in one day was about five too many. Though at
least Libby had cause.

Libby. Oh, God.

Alone in the hall, surrounded by packing boxes, he remembered
the moment in the office when she let down her guard and laughed with Myra over
a private joke. Her hurt and anger had slipped away and for a second she had
looked happy. Relaxed. Confident.

And so much like Casey’s mother that he’d had a hard time
breathing.

It had passed quickly. So fast, in fact, that he could almost
convince himself it had been nothing more than a trick of the light. When he’d
cornered her in the chair and really looked at her, he’d taken note of all the
ways they were different—Libby’s eyes were darker, Robin’s nose had been wider,
Libby’s mouth was fuller—and assured himself that the resemblance wasn’t nearly
as strong as he’d thought.

But damn, he hoped it didn’t happen again. It left him
unsettled in too many ways, raised too many questions that he was pretty sure
would have no good answer.

“Hey, you. Lunkhead.” Brynn elbowed him in the ribs, her arms
full of a squirming, giggling toddler with a smooth gray rock in his hand. “I’ll
wrestle this guy into his pajamas. Her Majesty awaits.”

Live the goal,
he reminded himself,
then returned to the bedroom feeling as though he should be strapping on a
helmet and pads for protection against the blows he was about to take.

“Hello, Sharon.” He lifted the laptop to his desk and settled
himself in his softly squeaking leather chair, adjusting the screen to allow him
to see the carefully coiffed blonde. “It sounds like Andy and Jody are excited
about the start of summer vacation.”

“Their time talking to Casey is supposed to be private.”

For the love of... He bit back the curses pushing to be blurted
out. Getting into a war of words with Sharon sure would feel good, but even he
knew it wasn’t justified in the long run. “Fine. Sorry. I’ll cut right to it,
then. Casey and I will be moving in a couple of weeks. Well, I’ll go first to
get things ready, then Brynn will bring him a few days later. I’ll email you our
new contact info, but I thought you might have questions.”

“Moving?” For a moment Sharon seemed too flustered to speak,
for which Sam gave thanks. “But he just— You just— Where?”

“I bought a camp.” He stretched his legs, trying to ease the
stiffness that lingered after too many hours in meetings and not enough time
moving. “The one I used to go to when I was a kid. It’s in the Thousand Islands,
outside a place called Comeback Cove. A bit closer to you than we are now.” Not
that he thought she might be appeased by that fact.

Sure enough, Sharon’s reaction was about as warm as he’d
expected.

“Are you insane? After all the changes that child has been
through in the past six months, all the upsets and relocations on top of losing
his mother, and now you’re going to drag him someplace new again?”

He could remind her that it wasn’t his fault Robin had died. He
could easily remind her that he had been grateful to leave Casey with her in
those first weeks after Robin’s death, and that Casey could have stayed longer
if she hadn’t decided to sue him for custody. But Sharon had this habit of
developing a hearing problem when he tried to explain himself, so he simply
said, as mildly as he could fake, “This is the last change. This will be
home.”

Sharon’s bitter laugh told him she didn’t believe him any more
than Libby had. And he used to be so convincing.

“It’s a great place.” Maybe he could skate around her scorn by
talking up the camp. “It’s right on the St. Lawrence. There’s forests and
fields, and all the usual camp activities. Most of the year it’s used as a
retreat center, but six weeks every summer it’s just for kids. He’ll grow up
exploring the woods and playing in the river and learning how to do archery
and—”

“Archery? You’re going to hand a bow and arrow over to a
toddler?”

“Of course not. I—”

“And what’s going to happen when he’s off exploring and he
wanders onto the archery field? You seriously think a bunch of ten- or
twelve-year-olds will stop to look for a tiny little boy before they—”

Her voice broke. He watched her press a hand to her mouth and
breathe deeply, the way he was sure she’d read about in some women’s magazine,
and then she continued. “As for the river, and the forest and—dear God, are
there bears up there? If anything should happen to him...”

She finally lost her battle with her tears. Sam tried to be
sympathetic. Casey was Sharon’s last link to Robin, the sister she’d lost so
unexpectedly. He knew why she was desperate to hang on tight to the child. He
really did.

But Casey was his.

While Robin found out she was pregnant, he had understood why
she turned down his offer of marriage and chose to move back to Nova Scotia,
near her sister, even if he didn’t like it. He was on the road so much it had
made sense. And after Casey’s birth, Robin had given their child so much love
and stability and security that Sam knew there was no way he could upset things.
If she hadn’t died they would have continued on that way until he retired.

But she
had
died. And Casey
was
his. And even though Sharon had been Casey’s
child-care provider for most of his life, even though she had begged Sam to let
Casey stay with her while he finished the season and made arrangements for his
abrupt retirement, he had never intended for his son to be with her
permanently.

Sharon had had other ideas.

“I will take care of him,” he said as soon as he thought Sharon
had regained enough control to listen to him. “You know I don’t want anything to
happen to him any more than you do.”

“What are you planning to do there, Sam? Are you going to spend
your days walking the woods with him?”

“Of course not. I did some interviews today and hired a woman
with great references and experience to look after him while I’m working.”

“And what qualifies her to look after him? What can she give
him that I can’t?”

Well, for one thing, she understood that a kid should be with
his parent.

He knew that if he answered her question, he would be treated
to a long list of reasons why Casey should live with her, including a two-parent
home, cousins who were like siblings and no need for hired child-care providers.
For one thing, he’d heard it all so many times that he could recite it from
memory, like the chorus of a song he hated but heard too often to avoid.

More than that, though, was the fact that deep down, part of
him couldn’t help but wonder if she had a point. That maybe leaving Casey with
her would have been the right thing to do. That maybe, no matter how much he
loved and wanted his child, he really had made things harder for Casey by taking
him away from the aunt and cousins who had been a more constant part of his
little life than Sam himself had been until recently.

No. He couldn’t start down that road. He had enough legitimate
fears and doubts without adding to them.

“I already contacted the folks doing the home study and
explained the situation. They’ll come to the camp in August. Casey and I will be
settled in by then, but there will still be plenty of time for you and your
lawyer to see the report before the hearing.”

Sharon sniffed. “I don’t like this. It’s too fast.”

“Sorry, Sharon. I can’t do anything to change the calendar. The
summer sessions start at the end of the month, and I need to be moved in and
ready to work before then.”

“I don’t see how this can be good for him. It’s too much, too
soon. Robin always said that once you got an idea in your head there was no
stopping you, and now I see what she meant. It’s all about what you need, isn’t
it, Sam?”

His toes curled into his sneakers. “It’s about what Casey
needs,” he snapped, and hoped to hell he was telling the truth. That being with
him really was what was best for his son. That he wasn’t being a selfish bastard
like his own father, doing what he wanted and letting others pay the
consequences.

Stop the doubts and move on,
Catalano.

“Watch for my email with the address,” he said tightly. And
then, because he really did like her kids, he added, “Give Andy and Jody a hug
from me.”

He ended the call before she could answer and leaned against
the back of his chair, blowing out his frustration. His lawyer said there was no
way Sharon could win custody, that her suit was pure desperation and no judge
would take a child away from a loving, competent biological parent. But he
worried anyway.

And no amount of positive self-talk could make him stop
wondering how he was supposed to go on if he lost his son.