A Daughter's Story (9 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

F
OR
ALL
C
HRIS
KNEW
Emma Sanderson worked second
shift. Or nights. Or didn’t work at all. Her name and address were all his
called-in favor had netted.

Sitting in his shiny black pickup across the street from her
house Monday night, he wondered if ten o’clock was too late to pay her a
visit.

He’d just pulled up and a light was still on behind the big
front window. One she left on when she was away? Did she even live alone?

He’d been by three times. The light had been on two of those
three times. He didn’t relish the idea of making the half-hour trip back over
here anytime soon. And he didn’t want a repeat of the previous sleepless night,
either. Better just to get it over with.

While he was sitting there, debating what to do, a blue car
pulled into Emma’s drive. The garage door opened and the car pulled in, the door
closing behind it even before the engine had stopped.

Chris had failed to notice if she’d been alone.

Still, there was no decision to make here.

* * *

T
HE
KNOCK
ON
her door startled Emma,
stimulating a rush of adrenaline, followed by dread.

Rob.

He knew how she felt about answering the door at night.

Rob was intimately acquainted with the fears she battled every
day of her life. Fears that her mother had implanted in her at a very young age,
telling her that those fears would keep her safe.

His antics were escalating if he was trying to scare her into
believing she needed him.

Going to the door, Emma grabbed the handle with one hand, the
dead bolt with the other, ready to undo the latter and pull on the former. At
the last second, she put one eye to the peephole that had been installed at
exactly her height.

And fear of a new breed took root inside her. It wasn’t Rob at
the door.

But it was a man she had to deal with once and for all.

“Chris?” she said as she opened the heavy wooden door just
enough to speak to him, leaving the screen door firmly closed.

“Yeah. I’d have called but I don’t know your number.”

“How did you know my address?” Was he more of a creep than she
had thought? Had he been following her?

It was a ridiculous thought. She’d spent the night with the man
in the most intimate way possible. She knew he wasn’t a creep.

Just a fisherman who lived a lifestyle so far removed from hers
that she couldn’t understand it at all.

How could a man put his job above his family? Above a wife and
children? It wasn’t as if the ocean would take care of him in his old age.

“I know some cops,” Chris said. “Saved me from having to hire a
private detective.”

His words didn’t help the tension holding her rigid. “You had
me investigated?”

But if he knew cops, he couldn’t be all bad. Unless they
were…

“Nope. They ran a check on your license plate and gave me your
last name and address. If you sue them for it, you’ll win. They trusted that
you’d want to see me.”

He’d made an effort to find her. He’d have called if she’d left
her phone number for him.

Emma’s heart fluttered. And her lower region started to
dance.

“What did you want to talk about?” Emma leaned against the
door, clinging to it, exhausted from a day spent dealing with myriad emotions.
And she found herself liking Chris anew.

Because he’d tried to contact her, after all.

“I’d…kind of like to come in to discuss it, if I may.”

If he was going to kill her, he’d had plenty of opportunity a
few weeks ago when he’d had her alone and naked in his hotel room.

“I had a rough day,” she blurted. To explain whatever she might
do next? Put him off? Send him away?

“This won’t take long.”

Nodding, Emma unlocked the screen door, and stood back, letting
him into her foyer. She led the way into the living room. The couches were brown
leather—chosen with Rob in mind. So was the recliner.

Her hand-carved rocking chair was adorned with a brightly
colored quilt she’d made during her senior year of high school. With her
mother’s blessing she’d used fabric from some of Claire’s old clothes.

Tonight, she headed straight for security, settling into the
chair and pulling the quilt onto her lap.

Chris, a very different-looking Chris than the one she’d made
love with, settled back onto the couch with the ease of a man who planned to
stay awhile. Or who had the ability to make himself comfortable wherever he
happened to be. She’d always admired that trait.

“What did you want to talk about?” Had he seen her at the dock?
Was that when he’d seen her license plate?

Cody had probably told him she’d been to Citadel’s, too.

How embarrassing. The man probably thought
she
was stalking
him.

With a sick feeling, she realized he probably hadn’t been
looking for her because the night they’d shared had meant as much to him as it
had to her. He’d come to let her down gently. To ask that she quit following
him.

“What was so rough about your day?” His voice was quiet and
deep, laced with indiscernible emotion.

Not trusting her composure, she shook her head.

“Were you at work?”

“No. I was at the police station.” The words sounded factual.
Unemotional.

“The police station? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

He could have sounded put off. Horrified. He didn’t. Which was
comforting.

But, then, he came from a rough part of town.

“Do you need help?”

How could she still be affected by that voice, those eyes,
after what she knew of him? After he’d left her alone in that hotel room with no
way to connect again?

Emma’s lips started to tremble. She thought of her students.
Her classroom. She took a deep breath—assuming the authority figure—and
proceeded to give him an abbreviated version of her day.

“Your sister was abducted and no one ever found her?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She never got used to the shocked reaction.

“I’d go nuts.”

Momentarily disarmed by his matter-of-fact tone, she paused,
and then said, “Yeah, I do.” He’d nailed it completely. When the pain became
more than she could bear, she went nuts. Drove herself nuts. Drove anyone around
her nuts.

Just like Rose did.

“How long until you find out the DNA results?”

“I’m not sure. A week or two. The Comfort Cove DNA lab is small
so they’re sending it to Boston, but they take current cases first.”

She had no real idea how long it would take.

“That’s crap. To make you wait.”

She shrugged, and started to rock slowly and steadily. “I’ve
been waiting twenty-five years. I’d rather they use their resources to try and
prevent current crimes first.”

“It’s going to be hard. Knowing.”

“If this guy’s the one, yeah.”

“As hard as the not knowing is, there’s comfort in the chance
she’ll show up someday.”

Hugging her quilt, Emma tilted her head and smiled. “You know
someone who’s gone through this?”

“Hell, no!” His smile was empathetic. “Just seems obvious—the
knowing and not knowing would both be hard.…”

“You know what’s crazy?” she asked. “Tonight while I was
sitting there, I realized that somewhere along the way, not knowing became safe.
I know I can deal with not knowing. I know
how
to
deal with it.”

“Why is that crazy?”

“Because from the time I was four years old, the main priority
in our lives has been to find Claire. At whatever cost.”

“Your reaction doesn’t make you crazy.” Chris’s gaze was warm,
but there was no pity in it. “It makes you normal. Change is hard,” he said,
“even when it’s good change. It’s normal to resist.”

Emma offered him a glass of tea. He accepted. And somehow an
hour passed as she told Chris about Cal Whittier, too.

But he still hadn’t told her anything about himself.

“What do you do for a living?” he asked, cradling his nearly
empty glass of tea in his hands.

“I teach American History.”

He quirked one eyebrow. “Really? What level?”

“High school. All four grades.”

“I quit school before I graduated.” His admission surprised
her. He didn’t seem the type to have quit school.

“Where did you learn to play the piano?”

“Home. My grandmother had a piano. I’m self-taught. I play by
ear.” He had enormous room for ego. Yet he spoke as though he’d just told her
he’d taught himself to make grilled cheese.

She complimented him on his talent.

And then there was silence.

It was after eleven and she had to teach in the morning.

“You said you had something to talk to me about.” A brush-off
wouldn’t be fun, but if it was coming, she might as well get it over with.

In fact a brush-off would be good. It would be easier than
having to tell her piano man there was no way she could get involved with a
lobsterman. Ever.

“I have a question to ask.” His hesitance set her heart racing
again.

He was going to ask her out.

He couldn’t.

She’d have to tell him no.

She didn’t want to. She wanted to be loved by a man who loved
her so much that that love changed him.

Her journal was in the drawer less than three feet away from
Chris. He didn’t need to be changed. He was perfect as he was.

Just not for her.

He was a man of the sea.

She had to be brave.

“You said you had a question to ask?”

“Did I get you pregnant?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“W
HAT
?”

A little taken aback by Emma’s reaction, Chris repeated his
question. “I asked you if you’re pregnant.”

“No! Of course I’m not!”

Her conviction was good, but his gut wasn’t satisfied.

“You’re on the pill, then?”

“No.”

“Have you had a period?”

Emma stared at him openmouthed, and then said, “I don’t think
that’s any of your business.”

“I disagree. Considering the circumstances, it’s my business as
much as it is yours.” He’d apologize for his harshness later. Maybe. Right now
they had to get this done.

“The circumstances?”

Damn him for remembering what those arms, currently strangling
that blanket, had felt like wrapped around his neck. His waist. His legs.

Damn him.

“We had sex two weeks and three days ago. I ejaculated inside
of you. Twice.”

And, Lord help him, he wanted to be inside her again. Right
then. Right there.

He watched the expressions chase themselves across her face.
Horror. Fear. Discomfort. And something else. Something that reminded him of
that night at Citadel’s when her eyes had met his across the room.

What in the hell was the matter with him?

He was petrified of letting this woman ruin his life and he
wanted her again, too.

“You wore a condom.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“They’re only good for one go.”

Watching Emma suck in her lower lip, as though she was biting
it from the inside, Chris felt her pain. He’d been drunk and high on her, and an
absolute ass.

Emma stood, leaving the chair rocking at full force. “I am not
pregnant. Rest assured I am absolutely certain of that fact.” Standing in the
archway, her back to the foyer, she watched him, as though waiting for him to
leave.

“You’ve had a period, then?”

He had to hand it to her, she didn’t lower her gaze. She
flinched, but she didn’t look away.

“No.”

“So you don’t know for certain that you aren’t pregnant.”

“I do know.”

“How?”

“Because I know my body. I’d know if I was pregnant. There’d
be…changes.”

“When were you due?” His mom and dad might have up and died on
him, but they’d taught him a thing or two besides how to fish before they left
him. Such as how to clean the toilet bowl. Wash darks with darks and lights with
lights. Make an omelet. And the basics of a woman’s cycle.

“I’m irregular.”

Not the free pass he was looking for.

“There’s only one other option, then.”

“What?”

“You have to take a pregnancy test.”

“I—”

“We can go right now and pick one up. They’re only a few bucks
and available in any all-night drugstore. You pee on a strip and in a few
minutes we’ll know.”

She took a big breath, but he didn’t get to hear what she’d
been about to say because she started to choke. Tears came to her eyes.

Chris went to the kitchen, found a glass, filled it with water
and carried it in to her.

He couldn’t be a father. He couldn’t go out on the ocean
knowing that he was leaving behind someone whose life depended on him. And he
couldn’t not go out on the ocean. He’d rather be dead. He’d tried to explain his
feelings to Sara and the honesty had netted him a broken engagement.

By the time he returned to the living room, Emma had quieted
and took the glass, swallowing half of the liquid without a word.

“I know what a pregnancy test is, Chris,” she said, sounding
the calmest she had since he’d arrived.

He wanted to ask if she’d taken one before, but forced himself
to stay focused on the present. Her past—her future—were none of his
concern.

Until he confirmed that he was not about to be a daddy.

He stood and yanked his keys out of the front pocket of his
jeans. “Then let’s go.”

She stood, too, but shook her head.

“I can’t accept a ‘no,’ Emma,” he said, trying to be firm, but
starting to panic. Some men could fish five days a week and go home and be with
their families. Some men could put family first. Chris’s father hadn’t been one
of them. And neither was Chris.

His mother had suffered. Ultimately, everyone had suffered.

“I need to know if there are consequences from our night
together.” He tried to speak calmly. “I know we’re talking about your body at
the moment, but if we created…if you’re pregnant, then our lives are equally
changed. I have to know.”

Her dark eyes took on that glow again, or the simmer or
whatever the hell it was that they did that messed him up inside and made him do
things that were completely out of character. Like reach for her hand. Bring it
to his lips. Kiss the palm.

And meet her gaze. He stopped short of promising her he’d do
whatever she wanted him to do. But only barely.

“Please,” he said.

Leaving her hand in his, she said, “I understand. And…you’re
not being unfair. I just can’t do it tonight. Meeting Cal…taking in those
ribbons…my mom… I just… I’m on emotional overload. I can’t take the tension of
waiting for an answer tonight. I guess this doesn’t make any sense.” Her
expression pleaded with him. “I know I’m not pregnant, so there shouldn’t be any
tension, but—”

“How about tomorrow?” he asked. It was late. They were both
tired. News sat better on rested souls. “I can pick up the test and meet you
here around six.”

“Okay.”

He stepped closer and took her other hand. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not going to.” But she was. He could see the moisture
gathering in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. It’s not you. It’s just…everything is closing in
on me. But I’m strong and I can handle it. I’m a survivor.”

Her chin trembled. And her gaze didn’t drop at all as tears
spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks.

Just as openly as she’d given him her passion, she gave him raw
emotion.

And Chris did what he had to do. He took her into his arms, sat
down with her and held her.

She didn’t say a word. Eventually her breathing evened and
Chris realized she’d fallen asleep. He thought about ways to put her down
easily. To slide out from beneath her. He considered carrying her upstairs. It
shouldn’t be too hard to find a bed to place her in up there.

Feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks, he ran through his
options. He slid down to a more comfortable position while he decided what to
do.

At some point, all those sleepless nights caught up with
him.

* * *

E
MMA
WOKE
UP
slowly. She was usually
an easy riser, a person who didn’t lollygag around in bed, who got right up, but
today she didn’t want to give up the coziness of sleep.

Since when was sleep cozy for her?

A heart was beating beneath her cheek. Suddenly, she was
wide-awake, listening to the even breathing of a man she’d slept with but never
seen asleep.

Dawn was just creeping in through the living-room curtains,
making it between five and six in the morning. She had to be in the shower by
six-thirty. She had to take a pregnancy test less than twelve hours after
that.

Weird how, lying there on the couch against the warmth of
Chris’s chest, the idea didn’t seem so completely alarming. She really didn’t
think she was pregnant. And imagining Chris with her, maybe even holding her
hand, while they waited for the results that would reassure him, made the
activity seem less like an ordeal and more of an inconvenience that she could
handle.

When she was pretty certain she was out of time, she carefully
disentangled herself from him, covered him with the quilt made from Claire’s
clothes and quietly climbed the stairs.

Back in the living room half an hour later she wrote a note,
telling Chris to lock up after himself, folded it as he’d folded the one he’d
left for her in the hotel room and propped it on the table beside the couch.

She left the house with a smile on her face.

* * *

C
HRIS
GOT
TO
work
late. Very late. If he hadn’t had to pull Trick’s traps, too, he might not have
gone out at all. He hadn’t slept so many hours in a row since puberty.

Late to work meant late coming in. He’d hoped to finish
installing the engine in his boat that night and be driving her by Wednesday—and
he could have, if he hadn’t had to be all the way on the other side of Comfort
Cove by six. He had no way of contacting Emma Sanderson.

She still hadn’t given him her cell-phone number.

Damn. He’d spent the night with her twice now, but he still
didn’t know her number.

He’d hoped to have time to shower after work. He didn’t even
get a chance to stop at home. Changing into an old, ripped pair of jeans and a
gray T-shirt he had stored on the
Son Catcher,
he
exchanged his deck shoes for flip-flops and jogged toward the truck.

The woman was messing up his life. He had to be done with
her.