Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments) (18 page)

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Authors: Pat Warren

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“I’ll test the steps and building with my own weight, then we’ll know it’ll hold his and a friend’s. All right?” He knew how skeptical women were about such things.
“I guess so.” Shuffling to a tree stump, she sat down to watch.
It took Ryan and Alex another fifteen minutes to get the last board in place. Alex stepped back, his head cocked, mentally critiquing the finished product. But to Ryan, it was a work of art.
“Isn’t it swell, Mom?”
“Mmm.” Squinting, Megan again eyed the tree. “That spot’s up awfully high, Alex. Couldn’t you anchor it a bit lower?”
Hands on his hips, he turned to her, a look of amused patience on his face. “Are we being a tad overprotective again, Mom?”
“Maybe, but if he falls—”
“He won’t. Eight-year-old boys are agile. By the time we’re finished, you’ll feel better. There’ll be handholds along the steps, natural ones from the tree branches.” He gazed down at Ryan affectionately. “He’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, Mom, I’ll be fine.”
A conspiracy, that’s what it was. That male-bonding thing. Only what would happen when Alex went on his way? Would Ryan still be thrilled with his tree house? Or was she just borrowing trouble?
Megan checked her watch. “Time to go in and do your homework, Ryan.”
“Can’t we put the floor up in the tree now, Alex?”
“Tomorrow’s another day, sport.” He bent to return the hammer and nails to the somewhat rusty tool chest he’d found in the backyard shed. “Homework comes first.”
“Okay. Thanks, Alex. I...I love it.” Embarrassed at his own emotions, Ryan skipped off and went inside.
That was the second time the kid had really gotten to him, Alex thought. The first time had been his spontaneous hug when he’d given him the Austin Healy model.
“You really like him, don’t you?” Megan asked, her voice soft. She’d been watching the two together, first through the kitchen window, then closer up in the yard as they hammered away. She’d been worried about allowing her son to get close to a man who’d soon be leaving. Yet maybe Grace was right. Maybe some exposure to men was better than none. And she’d have to rely on Ryan to handle the goodbye scenes somehow.
“Yeah, I really do. He’s a tornado, a whirlwind, a dynamo. I’m nuts about him.”
A tornado, Megan thought. Wasn’t that what she’d labeled Alex—whirling in, taking over, devastating the calm she’d worked so hard to achieve?
Alex flipped the lid closed on the tool chest and sat back down, bracing his forearms on his raised knees. “Does that surprise you?”
“I guess, in a way.”
“Me, too. I’ve never spent much time with kids. Ryan’s terrific, but I think you already know that. You’ve done a great job raising him.” Unspoken were the words
without much help from his father.
“Thanks. You mentioned you’d been married for less than a year. No children, I take it?”
Alex shook his head. “Cynthia wanted kids.” He left it at that as his eyes got stuck on the indentation in her chin. He remembered how he’d kissed it that day in the shower, how he’d kissed her. And he badly wanted to do it again. Seated close, her scent wrapped around him, adding to the ache.
“Apparently, then, you didn’t. Is that why the marriage broke up?”
“Partly. I was twenty-two, too immature for marriage, much less fatherhood.” And too busy having fun to want to settle down. “Children are a big responsibility.”
“You can say that again. Once you have one, your whole life changes forever. In a good way, that is.” She watched the leafy shadows of the big tree limbs drift across his face. He was such a dichotomy—strong yet tender, bossy yet softhearted. “From watching you with Ryan, I’d say you’d have made a terrific father.”
Alex plucked a blade of grass and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think so, certainly not then. When Cynthia became adamant about having a baby, I asked for a divorce. I didn’t want to wind up resenting her and any children we might have for my missing out on the things in life I wanted to do that I couldn’t have done tied down to a family. She’d changed from a fun companion to wanting a house, picking out china patterns, decorating a nursery. And never wanting to go anywhere anymore. It’s a big world out there. I couldn’t imagine staying in only a small corner of it all my life.”
“And I can’t imagine wanting to keep searching for greener grass all my life.”
He sent her a sharp look. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
Megan shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you?”
“No.” He wasn’t used to explaining himself, his motives, his philosophy. But he wanted her to understand. “I just want to see all I can, to experience all life has to offer, to do everything I can before...before the Grim Reaper calls my name.”
Megan frowned. “Do you have some reason to suspect you might die young?”
“No. I’ve felt like this ever since my mother died at age thirty-two, which is the age I am now. All she’d known her whole life was working alongside my father. My younger brother was a workaholic, like both our parents. He died at twenty-seven in a stupid boating accident. He’d never even traveled farther than San Francisco. The only pleasure he allowed himself was his sailboat. Ironic that he died in a fall from it.”
“My husband was the opposite of your brother, his philosophy more like yours. He wanted to go places and do things, too. Only what I didn’t know was that he had a hereditary liver disease that usually skips a generation and is almost always fatal without a transplant. Perhaps if I’d have known sooner...well, at least I might have understood why he did some of the things he did.” She’d spent many an hour seeking an explanation for Neal’s behavior and had finally settled on that.
This was a new twist to Alex. “You mean he knew way back when that he’d die young?”
“I didn’t find out till afterward, but five years before his death, the doctors had warned him that if he didn’t stop drinking, he’d be inviting liver damage. He didn’t stop. Neal had trouble facing reality. He told no one and instead stepped up his destructive way of life. He drank way too much and didn’t take good care of himself. By the time he finally acknowledged that the disease had a stranglehold on him, he was a very sick man.” She sighed heavily. “The disease is genetic, but if a victim is aware of all aspects, so much can be done to slow or even halt its progress. Neal was his own worst enemy.”
Alex immediately thought of Ryan. “You said the disease skips a generation?”
“Yes, but I’m taking no chances. I’ve had Ryan to a specialist already and he’s being closely monitored. Once he’s old enough, we’ll have to tell him so he can be aware and take good care of himself. And, of course, his children could be affected.”
“Maybe by the time Ryan has children, they’ll find a cure.”
“I pray they do.” Megan rose somewhat stiffly. “I’d better see to his dinner.”
Alex also stood. “Is it because of Neal’s self-destructive behavior that you’ve sworn off men?”
“It’s certainly a contributing factor. I’m just better off alone with my son. Relationships lead to complications. I need to lead a simple life.”
“Don’t you miss having a man in your life? Not just in the bedroom, but in other ways?” He honestly wanted to know.
In the bedroom? Hardly. But she could scarcely explain her true feelings to Alex. “I’ll manage. Celibacy’s not so difficult once you get the hang of it.” She tried a smile to lighten her words.
“No.” Alex stepped closer, ran a finger along one silken cheek and watched her eyes darken against her will. “You’re too passionate a woman to decide to be celibate. I know. I’ve kissed you, remember?”
If only she could forget, Megan thought, flushing to the roots of her dark hair. Carefully, she sidestepped him. “I’ve really got to go. Little League night, you know.”
“Yeah, right.” Alex stood watching her make her way to the door. Her hand on the knob, she paused, turning back.
“You’re coming to Ryan’s game, aren’t you?” she asked. “I think he’s counting on your being there. Unless you have other plans, of course.” Ryan had reminded her that Alex had promised at least half a dozen times already. Although she might be uncomfortable in his presence, especially after this last conversation, she didn’t want her son disappointed.
She couldn’t drive yet with that foot, he knew. But that aside, he wanted to go. “No other plans.” He watched her smile in that hesitant way she had.
Well, Shephard, Alex told himself as he followed Megan inside, you’ve got it bad when watching a kid’s softball game in a dusty field seated on hard bleachers alongside a sweet-smelling woman is exactly how you want to spend a warm spring evening.
 
Alex turned on the powerful engine of the Porsche and headed toward Delaney’s B and B. His two morning meetings had gone about as well as he’d expected.
The feasibility study had arrived in the overnight mail and been very favorable. He’d taken it to Williams and gone over his figures with the banker. Then he’d met with the Parsons family. As before, the two daughters were all for the purchase, pleased with Shephard Construction’s offer. But the son had balked again, saying he was certain they could get more.
However, Alex thought as he turned onto the hillside road, again, one daughter had re-stated that they still hadn’t had even one other serious inquiry and their father’s nursing home bills were mounting. Watching the three of them, he was certain the son was stonewalling. But he had no intention of raising the bid to satisfy the man’s greed.
Very calmly, as was his habit, Alex had told them they had seven days to come to a decision, after which he’d withdraw his offer. That, he felt, was more than generous. Then he’d walked away.
Driving back with the sun high in the sky, he felt good. Of course, some other firm could show up and outbid him, but he doubted that. Most often, when land parcels came on the market, if they weren’t snatched up within the first few weeks, the chances of the offer increasing was minimal, all other things being equal. So the son who was holding out was likely in for a rude awakening. And Alex knew that both sisters were ready to sign on the dotted line. They’d probably give him a call even before the seven-day deadline.
Humming along with an old Beatles tune on the radio, he turned into Delaney’s lot and almost screeched to a stop. The car parked nearest to the door was unmistakable. A long gray custom Lincoln with vanity plates reading “Shephard.” His father’s pride and joy.
Parking the Porsche, Alex wondered what had brought Ron Shephard all this way. True, he hadn’t been checking in daily, but then he seldom did when he was away on acquisition trips. Had his father sensed something amiss in their last phone conversation? Or, and this was the most likely, was he worried about Alex’s health and needed to see for himself how his son was doing?
Inside the foyer, Alex noticed that no one was around. About to walk through the dining room into the kitchen where he could usually find either Grace or Megan around noon, he stopped when he heard voices coming from the lounge. His father’s deep tones and Megan’s soft answer. Squaring his shoulders, he strolled in.
Ron Shephard was seated in a cane-back chair next to a round table, where a bright red tray held a pitcher of iced tea, glasses, sugar and lemon. Standing near him, braced on a cane, was Megan, wearing white slacks and a blue top the same shade as her eyes. The same eyes that registered a wariness as they met his.
“There he is,” Megan said, her smile a little self-conscious.
Ron rose, his smile reserved. “Hello, son. Surprised you, I see. I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop in and see how things are going with the Parsons property.”
In the neighborhood, my Aunt Tillie, Alex thought. Shephard Construction had no other business up this way. Twin Oaks was a good two-hour drive from San Diego, not even in the same county. He put on what he hoped passed for a welcoming smile. “Dad, good to see you.” Stepping closer, he shook hands with his father.
“Can I pour you a glass of tea, Alex?” Megan asked, amazed at the resemblance between the two men. Although the father’s hair was more sandy than blond, his tanned face, the broad shoulders and impressive height were like mirror images of Alex with twenty-five years or so added. “Or would you two like lunch? Grace could put together a chicken salad in no time.”
“No, thank you, my dear,” Ron said, smiling down at her. “I won’t be staying long.”
She raised questioning brows at Alex.
“I’ll pour my tea, thanks.” He glanced down at her foot and saw she was wearing sandals without the air cast. “How’s the foot?” To his father, he said, “Megan sprained her ankle badly a few days ago.”
“Much better. I’ll leave you two to visit.”
“Why don’t you join us for a few minutes?” Alex suggested. At best he’d be postponing his father’s inevitable questions, but he decided he wanted Ron’s impression of Megan for reasons he couldn’t explain even to himself.
“Oh, thanks, but I’ve got things to do.” She smiled at Ron. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Shephard.” She let her eyes drift over Alex’s face for the briefest of moments before leaving, hardly relying on the cane at all.

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