Never Again Good-Bye (9 page)

He opened the door, leaned against it, and stared down coldly at the woman who was ruining his life. But the fear shimmering in her eyes was the last offensive he expected, and the sad way she slumped against the casing pulled at every instinct to comfort that he possessed. That instinct made him angry, more at himself than at her. Silently, he stepped back from the door and let her in.

L
aney had cried for hours after they left, realizing the hopelessness of what she was trying to do. When she had finally wept to the point of being physically ill, she had taken a shower and tried to calm herself down. She was not going to give up her daughter again. Maybe the plan they had worked out wasn’t the best way. But there had to be other ways. And she was going to figure them out.

It had finally come to her, miraculously renewing that fragile bubble of hope that should have deflated long ago. She had dressed carefully, set ice cubes on her eyes to make the swelling go down, and applied her makeup. And then she had gone to see Wes.

He stood staring at her in the tiny foyer, his tired, angry eyes boring into her, telling her without words that she was the last person who was welcome in this house.

“I told you I’d call you,” he said, abandoning the door and heading for the kitchen.

“I wanted to talk to you in person,” she replied, following behind him. “Where’s Amy?”

“In bed,” he said. “She cried herself to sleep.” He got a sponge and wiped the counters that were sticky from the dinner that had gone uneaten, then stared down at it with the slumped disillusionment of a man whose world teetered on the edge of a cliff.

“I’m not surprised,” Laney said. “She was miserable.”

He gave a mirthless laugh at her admission.

“What did you expect?” he asked, propping a shoulder against the wall as he watched her. “Did you think she’d just bubble over with joy that she was going to be living in two different places, one with a woman who popped into her life only a few months ago? A woman who used her money to make the court system disrupt her life?”

Laney tried to shield herself against the blows. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“I’ll tell you what you expected.” His voice was gravelly, its control only accenting the emotion that lurked beneath the surface. “You expected me to be such a lousy father that Amy would jump at the chance to have some real parenting for a change.”

“I didn’t think that,” she said, finally aware that Wes was probably much more capable than she was.

He sighed and tossed the damp rag on the counter. “You told me a few weeks ago that your father wasn’t equipped to raise a little girl. You thought I was—no, you thought all men were just like your father, that we couldn’t feel and love and hurt. You thought a little girl couldn’t really be happy being raised by a man because you were so miserable as a child. That’s the whole reason for the lawsuit.”

Laney swallowed back a new well of tears. “Wes, that’s not true.”

His eyes were brightening with his angry indictments, and he straightened and stepped tauntingly closer. “And since you were so miserable, you came back here determined to force everyone to make it up to you. You thought you could do it by taking Amy and manipulating her to be with you, so you could change things and make them right. You thought—”

“I thought wrong!” she exclaimed in a stage whisper. Her body wavered with the strength of her defenses, and she brought her glistening eyes to Wes’s. “I was wrong. It can’t really work that way.”

For the first time since she’d walked in, Wes’s mind went blank. For the love of God, he hadn’t expected her to
admit
it. Was she giving up and going on her way, just like that? “You admit it?”

“Yes,” she replied, closing her eyes against the tears. “I admit it. I admit it.”

The defeated way she uttered the words reminded him of a wounded child cowering and pleading not to be hurt anymore. Suddenly he felt very small.

He stood looking down at her pained face, damming the surge of sympathy that rose inside him.

“Then … you don’t plan to see her anymore?” he ventured. “You’re giving up on this?”

Her chin came up, and she shook her head. “No, Wes. I’m not giving up. But I need your help.”

“
My
help?” he asked, astounded.

“Yes,” she said. “I need some ideas. Some support. You know Amy better than I do. What will make her open up? What will get through to her?”

He sank down onto the couch with a dry, mirthless laugh and stared incredulously at her. “You’re kidding. You’re really asking me to help you take her away from me?”

“That’s not what I’m doing! I’m her mother, Wes, and the court said that we had a right to get to know each other. I’m asking you to make it easier for
her!
Have I asked for anything unreasonable? All I want is to keep her while you’re at work, instead of some baby-sitter who doesn’t have any stake in this. I want to take her shopping and fix her hair and teach her to cook … I want to give her the things that Patrice can’t give her anymore. All I’m asking is for you, as her father, to help.” “She doesn’t want to be with you, Laney. I can’t force her to want that.”

“She liked me before she knew who I was,” Laney pointed out. “It’s not me she hates. It’s that feeling that I’m going to take her away from you. Maybe if you came, too, when I have her for the weekend, she wouldn’t feel like we were enemies. She’d feel more secure.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re out of your mind. You take me to court and force me to share my daughter with you, and then you ask me to come along and give you moral support while you play mom with her?”

“Don’t you see, Wes? She feels disloyal to Patrice and to you if she likes me. You have to make her understand that it’s not a betrayal. I’m
adding
something to her life, not taking it away. If you could just pretend you didn’t hate me …”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Of course you do.” She wiped at the tears on her face. “Maybe I would hate me, too, if I were in your shoes. But that’s because you don’t understand. If I thought for a minute that Amy would be better off without me, I’d leave town and never come back. But in my heart I know all that I can give her, Wes.”

Wes’s eyes settled on a spot on the wall as he tried not to feel the truth in what she was saying. She wasn’t demanding to rip Amy out of her home, uproot her, and force her to get used to the joint custody arrangement. She really was thinking of the child. Maybe more than he was.

“If I say no?”

She looked even more crushed than before. “Then … then it only hurts Amy. Her confusion, her worry … it won’t be relieved. She’ll stay in pain.”

“And you think that our playing this as a team will end her pain?”

“I think it’ll help.”

He set his elbows on his knees and stared down at the floor between his feet. “I don’t want to spend time with you, Laney. I don’t want to pretend we’re pals. I don’t want my daughter to like you.”

“I know you don’t,” she whispered. “But will you do it anyway? You might find out that I’m not the monster you think I am.”

He looked up at her again and thought that he had never considered her a monster. She was pretty and sad and even when he was most angry with her, he’d never been able to work up enough contempt against her to hate her. A big part of him understood why she was doing what she was doing.

It just didn’t make it easier.

“All right,” he said finally. “Tomorrow. We’ll hang out like we’re great friends, and I’ll put on an Oscar-winning performance. But I have one condition.”

“What?”

“I want to take her to church first.”

She hesitated for a moment. “Why church?”

“Because I want my daughter in church on Sundays.”

The idea seemed to disturb her. “Well, I don’t think I would feel comfortable going to your church. Your friends all probably know about the lawsuit. The idea of sitting there with people judging me doesn’t really appeal to me at all.”

“Then I’ll take her alone, and we’ll come to your house afterward.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go, you understand. I mean, I don’t have anything against church. I haven’t been in years … My father didn’t worship anything that didn’t first worship him. But I’m glad you take Amy. The values they learn there are good. I realize that.”

“It’s not about values to us. It’s about worship. Amy doesn’t like to miss it.”

“OK, then,” she said. “I’ll cook lunch. You can come over afterward. We can swim, go to the park, maybe take in a movie …”

“All in one afternoon?” he asked.

She swallowed. “I have a lot of catching up to do, Wes.” He followed her to the door and watched as she pulled out of his driveway. Tomorrow they would be pals, he thought. Or they would pretend to. Was it the right thing, or was he just selling out?

Lord, I don’t want to be her friend
.

But that wasn’t an option, he realized. He had to be her friend. Amy needed him to. And maybe, deep in his heart, he needed it as well.

Chapter Eight

N
ormally, being around a beautiful woman in a swimsuit put Wes in a great mood. But he didn’t want to notice Laney, so he kept his eyes off her for most of the afternoon. And that resulted in what seemed like brooding. Which fed Amy’s brooding.

Laney tried to engage them in a game of Marco Polo, but Amy refused to play. Then she strung up a volleyball net in the pool, but Amy wasn’t interested. Quickly, she took it back down.

When the child got out of the pool and dried off, Laney swam over to Wes as he sat on the edge of the pool, making every effort to focus on something other than the woman who attracted him more than he dared admit.

“You’re not trying very hard,” Laney accused in a whisper.

She had no idea how hard he was trying, he thought. “Laney, I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

“Pretend to have fun,” she said. “Pretend you like me, at least a little. Play, splash around, flirt, for heaven’s sake. Just do something! Amy’s not ever going to relax as long as all this tension is between us.”

He finally allowed himself to look at her. It wasn’t that her swimsuit was inappropriate. It actually bordered on prudish. But there was something about her today … “Flirt?” he asked. “You’re crazy.”

“Why? I’m just asking you to be playful, like you were at the playground with her. Laugh a little. Pick her up and throw her around. Dunk me. Help me get something going here.”

Sighing as if it took every bit of effort he had, he slid into the water and forced a smile on his face. Halfheartedly he splashed her.

Halfheartedly, she splashed him back.

He glanced at Amy and saw that they had her rapt attention. He glanced back at Laney.

Wes didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly he felt injected with a mischievousness that had to be played out. He turned away from Laney, dove underwater, and swam away from her. Then doing a quick U-turn, he headed back.

She had turned away and was heading for the ladder.

Wes rammed her legs from behind, flipping her up. She screamed and went under and came up sputtering, determined to get even.

She grabbed his head, pushed him under, but he caught hold of a foot and dragged her across the pool. “Bull-headed woman. Thinks she can push me under!” He lifted her and threw her several feet in front of him as she screamed and struggled.

Amy was at the side, smiling grudgingly.

Laney got her bearings and swam toward him, grinning, intent on payback. “This is war, Grayson.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, diving under and grabbing her feet again before she could reach him. She was laughing when he came up, and he shouted, “What was that you said it was? War?”

“Do me, Daddy!” Amy shouted.

Wes swam to the ladder and quickly got out. “Do you?” he asked Amy. “Is that what you said?”

She screamed with glee as he picked her up and tossed her in, then dove in behind her. When she came up, he laughed wickedly. “I can take both of you women.”

“Let’s get him, Amy!” Laney shouted.

Together, they swam toward him, and Wes allowed them each to grab a foot and flip him over.

When he came up, they were both rolling in laughter. It was a small step, seeing them laugh together, he thought. A step he had given to Laney though his heart had advised him not to.

He didn’t know whether it had been the right thing or not, but he did know that it was good to see his little girl laughing and playing again. Acting indignant, he went after them both and shoved their heads underwater.

T
he mock war in the pool loosened Amy up considerably, giving Laney hope. When they were all exhausted from the fierce water wrestling, they changed clothes and ordered a pizza. But Amy was asleep on the couch with her head in her father’s lap before the pizza even arrived.

“She must have been tired,” Laney said, smiling as she gazed down at the sleeping child. “Do you want me to get her a blanket?”

“No, I think she’s warm enough,” he said softly. He looked up at Laney. Her hair was still damp and stringing around her shoulders, and she didn’t have an ounce of makeup on. But she was still beautiful. It was something about her he almost dreaded, for it made it more difficult to remember reality. He wished she wasn’t Amy’s mother. If she had just been a beautiful woman he had met somewhere, if he could have asked her out to dinner, spent time with her, gotten to know her, things would be so much different.

She got down on her knees in front of them and stroked Amy’s hair back from her face, gazing at her with a tenderness that he’d seen so often in Patrice’s eyes. She did love Amy; he had no doubt about that.

So why did he resist her so? he asked himself. Wasn’t the fact that she was a built-in part of their lives more of a reason for him to get to know her?

No, he told himself. It was a reason to stay away, to keep his feelings harnessed, to continue holding his contempt for her like a shield over his chest. She was the biggest threat in his life.

She got back to her feet and sat down on the couch next to him. “I really appreciate what you did today,” she said. “It was a dream come true. Maybe tomorrow when I pick her up from school, she won’t shut me out.”

He had forgotten about tomorrow. “She was OK today because I was here, Laney. But tomorrow, it’ll just be you and her again. Maybe it’s too soon.”

“I have to try,” Laney said. “But what if I cook you supper? She could help, and knowing that you’re coming, she might relax more.”

He looked at her, the tension on his face deepening his tired lines. “I can cook her supper. You didn’t say anything about that when you asked to keep her after school.”

Her face fell at the tone in his voice. “Well, no, but she has to eat. So do you. And I just thought—”

“She should probably eat at home,” he said.

She compressed her lips and looked down at the sleeping child. For a moment, there was silence between them, and finally she asked, “What if I cook you a casserole or something and you can take it home?”

He looked up at her. What was she trying to do? Win his heart through his stomach? Or did she harbor some fantasy of being responsible for both of them, as if he were as much her family as Amy was?

But just as suddenly as he’d entertained those thoughts, he realized he could be wrong. She had no family. And as far as he could tell, no friends. Not here, anyway. Maybe she was just desperately lonely.

Wes understood loneliness.

Sighing, he finally said, “Look, if you really want to cook, I guess there’s no harm. I’ll come over after work and eat with you, but then I’m taking Amy home.”

“Fine,” Laney said, her eyes brightening again. “I’ll see that she gets all her homework done, so you don’t have to worry about it tomorrow night. And I’ll take her to the park, so she can play with her friends.”

He nodded. She was trying so hard that it was growing more and more difficult to see her as a negative in Amy’s life … or his, either, for that matter. But he had to, he thought. He couldn’t let himself see her as anything else.

“I think she’s out for the night,” he said. “I’d better take her home.”

Laney’s eyes betrayed her disappointment, but she got up and began gathering the clothes Amy had changed from after church, the little stockings and the Sunday shoes. Wes lifted her and let her head rest on his shoulder.

Laney followed him out to the truck and fastened the child’s seat belt around her hips, then helped her to lie down in her father’s lap as he cranked the engine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said quietly.

“Yeah.” He knew he should thank her for the afternoon, but something stopped him. She closed the door and stepped back, and he pulled out of the driveway.

When he glanced in his rearview mirror, she was still standing in the yard, watching with a poignant expression as they drove out of sight.

W
es had just finished the bid for the buildings at the new amusement park going up across town and was gathering his things to go pick Amy up at Laney’s when Sherry burst into his office, waving a letter in her hand. “It’s happened! Oh, Wes, this is from the bank!”

He snatched the letter out of her hand and scanned the contents. The bank was foreclosing on his house, and he had two weeks to get out.

For a moment, he just stared at it, too numb to react. “This can’t be happening. They’re not taking my house.”

“Read on! They’re also taking this building, the computer, all the equipment, everything anybody owes you …”

He flung the letter down and kicked his desk. “I’m finished with the bid for the amusement park! If we get this job, I can pay off the debts, and I’ve got a great chance. I’ve known Andi Sherman for years, and she’ll be the one to decide. I’ve got to hold them off!”

“But, Wes, it could be weeks before they decide who gets the contract. You haven’t got time!”

He grabbed the telephone and dialed the number for his lawyer. “This is Wes Grayson. I need to speak to Bert Hampton. It’s urgent.”

“I’m sorry,” his secretary said. “He’s left for the day.”

Wes checked his watch. He was supposed to be at Laney’s already. He’d promised Amy this morning when he’d explained why she had to go back today.

“Is he at home?”

“I think so.”

Without thanking her, Wes hung up, then searched his Rolodex for the man’s home number. Finally he found it, dialed, and waited.

“Hello?”

“Bert, this is Wes Grayson. You’ve got to help me, man.”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re giving me two weeks to get out of my house. They’re taking everything.”

“All right, Wes. Meet me at my office in fifteen minutes. I’ll head back over.”

Wes hung up and grabbed the letter off the floor. Too preoccupied to say good-bye to his sister, he hurried out the door.

W
here’s my daddy?” Amy asked, sitting at the front window of the house, where she had been for the past hour. “He said he’d be here at five-thirty.”

“He’s just a little late,” Laney said. “He’ll be here. Why don’t we go ahead and eat, and then we can warm up a plate for him when he gets here?”

“No,” Amy said. “I’m not hungry.”

From the window, the child could see the end of the street and every car that turned into the neighborhood. She watched and waited, tense and expectant.

“Why don’t I get us some construction paper or something and we can make something while we wait? Would you like that?”

“No.”

Laney sat down next to her, trying to hide her disappointment. The afternoon hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped, but it had been tolerable. Though Amy had ignored her most of the time, she had managed to have fun at the park, and she had grudgingly allowed Laney to help her with her homework. She hadn’t been interested in helping her cook but had sat quietly on the couch watching
The Little Mermaid
as Laney worked in the kitchen.

Now she could see the distress rising in the little girl’s face as she waited for her father. Laney had tried to call his office, but there had been no answer. She was sure he’d be here soon, and then she hoped the child would relax again, like she had in the pool yesterday. If she could just get Amy away from this window.