Where the Heart Lies (4 page)

Clay shook his head. “I just can’t believe you’d jump into bed with someone else so quickly.”

“Is it easier to believe I’d hide your daughter from you all these years? And that I’d deprive Molly of her father? I know how it affected you to grow up without a father. Why would I do that to my own child?”

He didn’t answer at first, but stared straight ahead, his jaw working. Then he spoke slowly. “Maybe to avoid being tied to me for the rest of your life, because you didn’t really want to be married to me. If the reason you refused to go to Peru with me wasn’t that you didn’t want to leave Vancouver, but because it was an easy excuse to get me out of your life. Maybe you thought I wouldn’t be a good enough father. Maybe you feared I’d insist on an abortion, knowing I didn’t want children. There could be a million reasons.”

Wiping the moisture from her cheeks, Jordan turned to him furiously. “
None
of that is true.”

He studied her tear-streaked face for a moment, his rigid posture easing a little. “I think you’re lying to me. I think you’re afraid I’ll try to take Molly away from you. But I promise you, I won’t do that. I want the chance to get to know her. I have that right. She has the right to know me. She needs her real father. I’ve seen the pain in her eyes when she talked about hating her stepfather.”

“Clay—”

“You know I’m staying here in Victoria. I’ll be nearby to spend time with her. I’m not like I used to be, Jordan. I want to put down roots. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Jordan saw the desperation in his eyes, and the sincerity, and she understood. He believed he had missed out on knowing his own child, and it hurt him deeply. She’d never seen so much vulnerability in his face before; self-assurance had been one of his defining characteristics. Her heart aching for him, on impulse she reached out to curl her fingers around the familiar contours of his large, warm hand.

“You’d make a wonderful father, Clay,” she said gently. “But Molly’s not your daughter.”

Clay yanked his hand away and shot to his feet, his eyes hardening again. “We can settle all this very simply with a DNA test.”

Exasperated, Jordan stood as well, facing him with her fists clenched. “This is ridiculous. Come with me, Clay.”

Grasping his sleeve, she led him inside, carefully closing the door that sealed off the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Confident that Molly wasn’t within hearing distance, Jordan led him to a cabinet in the living room and slid open one of the drawers.

In a pile of old pictures, she quickly located a snapshot showing a dark-haired young man holding a fair-haired toddler on his lap, his arms wrapped around her, their cheeks pressed together as they both beamed for the camera.

“
This
is Molly’s father,” Jordan whispered fiercely as she thrust the photo into Clay’s hand. “We did get married, but the marriage lasted less than two years. I think the resemblance between them is pretty obvious.”

Silently Clay studied the photo in his hand, and Jordan could see by the shift in his expression that he recognized the similarities: the curve of Scott’s smile matching Molly’s, and the identical slope of their slightly upturned noses.

“Scott was a neighbour I’d known for some time, just as a friend,” Jordan continued. “After you left for Peru, we got together a few times, and … well, I suppose it’s obvious what happened. We got married shortly after I last saw you. We would never have married if I wasn’t pregnant, but at the time we figured we could make it work, for the baby’s sake. We were just unsuited to one another.”

“Where is he now?” Clay asked quietly, his gaze still fixed on the photo. The determined set of his muscles had eased, leaving his powerful shoulders sagging in resignation.

“He died of cancer six years ago.”

Clay’s gaze snapped up, a flash of pain touching his eyes. “Poor Molly,” he muttered, and Jordan understood with a twinge of compassion that he was thinking of the father he’d lost at the age of seven.

She released a breath. “Yeah, she took it hard. Richard tried to fill the void, but I think she resented him for trying to replace her father, so soon after his death. They became close eventually, until our marriage started to crumble.”

“The things she said make a little more sense now.” Clay handed back the photo. “But by the look on your face when Molly walked into the bookstore, I thought for sure—”

“It wasn’t the most comfortable moment for me, knowing you might find out after all these years the real reason I turned down your proposal,” Jordan explained. “Not that it matters now, but now you know that I wasn’t honest with you. And I should’ve been.”

As she finished speaking the hallway door creaked open and Molly sauntered in, making Jordan jump. She hadn’t told Clay anything that Molly didn’t already know, but still, it wasn’t the sort of conversation the ten-year-old needed to be privy to. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious to the tension etched through the two adults’ faces, as she launched into a breathless report on Alice’s just-confirmed sleepover birthday party, to take place at her grandmother’s house on Salt Spring Island in a couple of weeks.

“She’s only invited four girls, including me. And we’re going to go horseback riding!” Molly exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “And for a whole
weekend
. I don’t think I can wait until June, Mom. Alice has had to wait five months, of course, since her actual birthday was in January but she wanted to wait until summer to have her party. What do you think I should get her for a present? I think I’d like to make her a necklace, if you can take me to the bead store. How about tomorrow?”

“I should go,” Clay muttered, offering Jordan and Molly a nod and a tight smile as he headed for the front door. “I’ll see you around.”

Jordan nearly reached out to stop him, but didn’t; what could she say? He had no reason to stay. A sudden dull ache tightened her throat as the door closed behind him, and with a shudder she tried to shake off the disconcerting longing for his presence that swept through her.

“Time for bed, kiddo,” she said brightly, smoothing Molly’s long hair over her shoulder. “We can discuss bead shopping in the morning.”

Chapter Three

A week later Clay stood motionless on the porch outside Jordan’s front door, letting the rain soak his hair and jacket. As he walked up the driveway he’d seen her inside, through the lace curtain, moving past the window. Several times he’d reached for the doorbell, then let his hand fall back to his side. He hadn’t yet decided what to say, so he remained where he was, barely aware of the trickle of cold rain tracing a path down his cheek.

Finally he pressed the doorbell; moments later Jordan opened the door, her green eyes widening with surprise at the sight of him. She was wearing jeans and a sleeveless blouse, her hair pinned back at the sides, making her look years younger. Hurtled back in time to the day she had turned him away from her parents’ door, Clay felt a fierce anxiety momentarily seize his chest.

“What are you doing here?” she asked levelly.

“I’m here to apologize.”

She stared at him, not moving, but her gaze softened. “Would you like to come in? You’re soaked,” she offered after a moment, stepping back from the door.

“Thank you.” Clay shed his damp jacket as he stepped inside. “Is Molly here?” he asked, mindful that she might be within hearing distance.

“No, she’s in Vancouver for the weekend, visiting my ex-husband and some of her friends.”

Clay was pleased to hear things might not be as strained between Molly and her stepfather as the ten-year-old had implied. A long, awkward moment passed, as he and Jordan stood facing each other in the living room.

“I can’t apologize enough for the things I said to you last week,” Clay offered at last.

Jordan folded her arms across her chest, lifting her slender shoulders. “I can’t really blame you for thinking what you did, Clay.”

“I should’ve believed you from the start. Knowing how important family is to you. Knowing your sense of integrity.”

She shook her head. “But I wasn’t honest with you back then. I didn’t tell you about the baby. I took the coward’s way out.”

“I had left you,” Clay conceded. “You had every right to see other men. You didn’t know I’d be coming back. If only I’d come back sooner, things might’ve been different.”

The corners of Jordan’s soft mouth curved upward. “Well, it’s all water under the bridge now.”

“Perhaps we can start over,” Clay suggested.

“Start over?”

“As friends.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Is that a good idea?”

“Why not?” Clay plunged on before considering what he was saying. “You don’t know many people in Victoria. Neither do I anymore, outside of my family. I feel comfortable with you, Jordan. Despite the drama of the past week, it has been good seeing you again.”

Her smile broadened, a pink tinge colouring her cheeks, and Clay’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. In many ways, she was still the girl he’d met by chance at a poetry club meeting over a decade ago. She could still steal his breath without trying.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Honestly? I’m starving.”

“Come on in, I’ve just made a late supper. I’ve got plenty. Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, please.”

Thunder rumbled outside, as rain drummed heavily against the window. He followed her into the kitchen, where a bottle of red wine sat open on the counter, and next to it a glass half drunk. Jordan took another glass from the cupboard and poured some wine for Clay. A beef and vegetable stir-fry sizzled in a pan on the stove, while the table was set with a plate and cutlery for one. Taking out another place setting, she arranged it on the side of the table opposite her chair.

Clay noticed a hardcover book on the table—a worn copy of
Little Women
that looked as though it came from Jordan’s store. He picked it up and leafed through the yellowed pages.

“Do you still read the last chapter first?” he asked lightly.

Jordan glanced up from straightening the cutlery. “What do you mean?”

“You always used to read the last chapter of a book first,” he reminded her. “You were too impatient to wait to find out what would happen in the end.”

She laughed; it was the first time he’d heard that lilting sound in over a decade, and it still sent a warm quiver down his spine. “I outgrew that habit years ago. Actually, my husband—I mean my ex-husband, the second one, Richard,” she clarified clumsily, “gave me such a hard time about it I had to stop.”

“I thought it was a charming quirk,” Clay said. “A little weird, but charming.”

Jordan smiled, shaking her head as she scooped rice, beef and vegetables onto the plates. “I assume you explained to Sheryl about Molly’s father.”

“I’m not sure she quite believes it, but then Sheryl hates nothing more than being proven wrong. She’ll come around.”

Jordan didn’t reply. She sat down in her chair, taking a long swallow of wine, her face unreadable.

“Did you love Scott?” Clay ventured as he took his seat, unsure whether it was an appropriate question, but unable to stop himself.

Jordan paused before answering, keeping her gaze on her plate, her brow creasing slightly. “He was a good man, and I cared about him. After you left for Peru, I was depressed and lonely. Scott was there for me, letting me cry on his shoulder. I was grateful for his friendship. Even though things didn’t work out between us, he was always good to Molly.”

Clay found it oddly rankling to think of Jordan with another man, unreasonable as that was. “I always wondered what you ended up doing after graduation,” he remarked, picking up his fork. “When I left, you had no idea what you wanted to do.”

Jordan favoured him with an off-center smile. “I know it drove you crazy that I didn’t have a plan for my life. Unlike you. You had it all figured out.”

Clay wasn’t sure whether he heard a touch of sarcasm in her tone. “Part of my plan was that I’d take care of you.”

“I didn’t want to be taken care of,” she said briskly. “I may not have had a plan, but it didn’t mean I was helpless.”

“I know.”

“To satisfy your curiosity, I stayed home with Molly for a while, but after my first divorce I got a job with an insurance company.”

Swallowing a mouthful of wine, Clay set down his glass. “Insurance? I’m surprised. You had such an affinity for the arts.”

“Yes, well, Scott got sick, and there came a point when I had to pay the bills,” she said, spearing a floret of broccoli with her fork.

“Molly’s a great kid,” Clay said, realizing that mother and daughter had been through more than their share of struggles in the last few years. “I have to admit, when I thought she was mine I was pretty proud of how she turned out.”

A boom of thunder startled them both, and the lights in the house flickered briefly. Jordan glanced up at the globe light overhead, and then settled her gaze back on Clay, observing him thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, did you and your wife plan to have children?”