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"Half a dozen," Faith agreed recklessly. She smiled and was asleep
before Faith pulled the blankets around her.
"I was afraid..." She let her hand linger on her daughter's cheek. "I was
afraid I'd never see her like this again. Safe, warm. Jason, I don't know
how to thank you for just being there. If I'd been alone " She broke off
and shook her head.
"I think we should go downstairs, Faith."
The tone made her press her lips together. She'd be ready, she promised
herself, to handle the accusations, the bitterness, the resentment. "I think
I'd like a drink," she said as they walked downstairs. "Some brandy. It
looks like the fire's gone out."
"I'll take care of it. You get the brandy. There are some things I have to
say."
"All right." She left him to go to the little cabinet in the dining room.
When she came back, the fire was just catching. He straightened from it
and took a snifter.
"Do you want to sit down?"
"No, I can't." She sipped, but it would have taken more than brandy to
steady her nerves. "Whatever you have to say, Jason, you should say it."
Chapter Ten
She stood looking at him, her back straight, her eyes burning with
emotion, her hands clasping the snifter tightly. Part of him wanted to go
to her, gather her close and just hold on. He'd found a child and nearly
lost her in the same night. Did anything else matter? But inside was a
void that had to be filled. Questions, demands, accusations had to be
answered. There had to be an accounting before there could be
understanding, and understanding before there could be forgiveness. But
where did he start?
He walked to the tree. There was a star on top that shed silver light over
all the other colors. "I'm not sure I know what to say. It isn't every day a
man turns around and finds
himself with a half-grown daughter. I feel cheated out of watching her
learn to walk, hearing her talk, Faith. Nothing you can do or say can ever
give that back to me, can it?"
"No."
He turned to see her holding the brandy at waist level. Her face was very
pale and calm. Whatever emotions she was feeling she managed to
restrain. Yes, this was a different Faith than the one he'd left. The girl
would never have been able to exert the self-control the woman did. "No
excuses, Faith?"
"I guess I thought I had them, then tonight when I thought I'd lost her..."
Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "No excuses, Jason."
"She thinks Tom's her father."
"No!" Her eyes weren't calm now but brilliant. "Do you think I'd let her
believe her father had deserted her, that he didn't care enough even to
write? What she knows is basically the truth. I never lied to her."
"What is the truth?"
She took a steadying breath. When she looked at him her face was still
pale but her voice was calm again. "That I loved her father, and he loved
me, but he had to go away before he even knew about her and he wasn't
able to come back."
"He would have."
Something rushed into her eyes but she turned away. "I told her that
too."
"Why?" The fury came back and he fought against it. "I have to know
why you did what you did. I lost all those years."
"You?" Her temper was less easily controlled than her grief. Years of
holding back bubbled inside her and burst out. "You lost?" she repeated
as she whirled around. "You were gone and I was eighteen years old,
pregnant and alone."
Guilt flared. He hadn't expected it. "I wouldn't have left if you'd told
me."
"I didn't know." She put the brandy down and pushed back her hair with
both hands. "It was just a week after you'd gone that I found out I was
carrying our baby. I was thrilled." With a laugh, she wrapped her arms
around her chest. For a moment she looked heartbreakingly young and
innocent. "I was so happy. I waited every day, every night for you to call
so I could tell you." Her eyes sobered. The smile faded. "But you never
called, Jason."
"I needed time to set things up a steady job, a place I could ask you to
live in."
"You never understood it didn't matter where I lived, as long as it was
with you." She shook her head before he could speak. "It doesn't
matter now. That part's over. A week passed, then two, then a month. I
got ill, just tension, morning sickness, but I began to realize you
weren't going to call. You weren't coming back. I was angry for a
while, acknowledging you just hadn't wanted me enough. Small-town
girl."
"That's not true. That was never true."
She studied him a moment, almost dispassionately. The lights of the
tree fell over his
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