Delivered with Love (26 page)

H
er eyes bore through Claire like daggers. "What are
you
doing here?" Julia stepped out of the house. "Do you have any idea what you've done to my family? I'm getting married in a couple of months. And you've ruined everything."

Julia knows the truth.
Claire took a step back. She wasn't prepared for such an attack.

Julia threw up her hands. "Why did you move here?"

Claire slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket. If Julia read the letter, maybe she'd understand. "I was fired from my job as a server and kicked out of my sister's house. I had to make a life for myself somewhere, so I came here. It made sense at the time." Claire pulled out the envelope and pointed to the upper left corner. "The return address is your father's rental."

"You mean
our
father," Julia spat.

The thought tightened her gut. "Listen, I didn't come here to fight." Claire attempted to keep her voice even.

"Why show up at all?" Julia folded her arms across her chest. "Do you expect to waltz right in and become part of the family?"

"No, I—"

"I've been consoling my mother all night."

Claire gripped the letter. "I'm sorry. I never meant for anyone to get hurt—"

"We are hurt." Julia flopped down on the flagstone steps.

Claire sat down beside her. No words would come.

"While my mom was delivering
me,
my father was in L.A. with
your
mother." Julia lowered her head, her arms resting on her knees.

Claire pressed her fingertips to her forehead. "At least you still have a mother.
My
mother's dead."

Julia turned her head. Her voice softened, "Can I read it?"

Claire handed Julia the letter. For a split second, Claire changed her mind. "Maybe you shouldn't. It's from—"

"My dad, I know." Julia's eyes darted from Claire to the letter. Her lips moved as she read silently.

Dad.
The endearment slipped easily from Julia's lips. Would Claire ever call him that? She stared at Julia's face. Their noses were alike—small and slightly upturned, but they were totally different in every other way. Julia's dark features contrasted with her lighter ones. Her half sister was definitely Sandy's daughter.

Julia handed Claire the piece of paper. "It's a sweet love letter written by a teenager. Why couldn't you leave it at that?"

"My mom never wanted to tell him I was his daughter because she knew he had a family, but Michael would've found out sooner or later. She wrote him a note when she was dying of cancer."

"So, you weren't the one who told Dad?" Julia's brows furrowed.

"No. In a way, my mother did." Claire slipped the letter back into her pocket. "My sister Haley was supposed to give the note to Michael at the memorial, but she held on to it. I guess she felt I had a right to know. I wouldn't purposely do anything to spoil your wedding."

Julia pushed herself to standing and wiped her hands together. "I need time. You're a good companion to my grandmother. She needs you. But don't expect a wedding invitation. Look, I've got to go. David is waiting for me."

"Is Michael home?" Claire twisted a strand of hair.

"No, he's not. Neither is my mom." Julia stepped into the house and held on to the doorframe, her knuckles turning white. "On second thought, maybe you should go back to L.A. where you belong." The door closed with a bang.

With stooped shoulders, Claire walked to her car. "Where do I belong?" she muttered under her breath. Her car crept out of the driveway as her heart sank.

The note on the door said she'd be right back. Michael raked his hand through his hair as he sat on the porch steps waiting for Claire to return. Where was she? He'd been sitting there for a good half hour contemplating what he'd say.

Michael never thought he'd have more than one child. For years he and Sandy tried for another baby, with no success. They came close to filing papers to adopt, but life always seemed to get in the way. It was an excuse. Michael didn't know if he could love a child that wasn't his own flesh and blood contrary to what many adoptive couples said. But it was all about him. Always had been.

And now, he had another daughter. What about Sandy? Where did that put her in all this? Michael's stomach clenched. It didn't seem fair.

The night before, Sandy had made it clear that she needed time to wrap her mind around all that he had told her. Michael tried to put himself in her shoes. He'd be patient. His mother was right. The hard part was telling Sandy. He needed grit and determination—and humility. Michael's pride had gotten in the way many times in their marriage, but last night he needed to admit his mistakes. And by God's grace, he did. Sandy was the love of his life, and he vowed to prove it to her—whatever she wanted or needed.

"Hi. Can I help you?" A brunette approached.

"No, thank you. I'm waiting for my daughter." The words rolled off his tongue easier than he imagined.

The woman nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm Samantha. Claire's friend." She extended her hand.

Michael stood. "Nice to meet you. Michael Thompson."

"Do you want to wait inside?" Samantha reached into the potted plant and produced a key.

Michael's eyes widened.

Samantha glanced at the key in her hand. "I'm only visiting. Claire wanted me to be able to get into the house if I beat her home."

"Ah," Michael nodded. "You go in. I'll wait here."

"All right. But let me know if you need anything." Samantha disappeared behind the door.

Michael sat down on the porch steps and glanced at his watch. Sandy would be home in half an hour. She wanted to check on his mother at the rehab center. That gave him time to speak with Claire before meeting her back at the house.

Claire pulled up to the curb in her VW. He watched his daughter get out of the car, her coloring so much like his own. What would he say? His heart felt as if it were in his throat. Would she accept him?

Claire's shoulders drooped. Tears streamed down her face. When she looked up and saw him, she froze.

With hands on his knees, Michael stood. He shoved his fingers in his pockets and took a few steps. "Hi, Claire."

She continued to stare.

He inched closer. Michael could hear Claire's rapid breathing. Was she going to run away?

"I know what you're going to say." Claire's voice squeaked. "I'll go pack my bags."

"Wait a minute. Hold on." Michael held out his hand. "Join me. On the porch. Please."

With tentative steps, Claire moved toward Michael. He placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her to a place next to him. Claire clasped her hands in her lap, her back completely straight.

"I know this is hard for both of us. But I need to talk to you." Michael swallowed hard, then took a deep breath. Claire hadn't said more than a few words since she arrived. He decided to skip the small talk.

"At seventeen, Emily was one of the prettiest girls I'd ever met. She was full of energy, loved to drive her VW and go to the beach. She was something. All the boys had a crush on her, Martin and I included." Michael noticed Claire's posture relax a little. "Emily was a regular around here for two summers, and I looked forward to seeing her. You could say she was my first love. I kept in touch with her throughout the year. One time I sent her a picture." Michael chuckled. "My mother was so angry that I took one of her picture frames." He rested his elbows on his knees and glanced at Claire.

"Then what happened?" Claire leaned forward.

"We grew apart. I went to college, your mom to beauty school in San Diego. We decided to date other people."

"Why did you find her again?" Claire shrugged her shoulders, her brows a straight line.

"I found out she lived in my mother's apartment building." Michael raked his hand through his hair. "I was in L.A. for a Realtor's convention. One thing led to another . . ." He hung his head.

"You had a wife. And child. So did my mom. Didn't that matter to either of you?" Claire's voice shook.

"Emily and I both knew it was wrong. But we couldn't change what had happened between us. We agreed never to contact each other again." Michael kept going. "I've made many mistakes in my life. But hurting my wife was inexcusable. "He picked a leaf off the ground and twirled it between his fingers. "Claire, I can't say that I wish I'd never spent time with your mother. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. But I can tell you that if I had it to do over again, I wouldn't. And now I have to prove to Sandy that our marriage is worth saving. I want her to learn to trust me again. Julia too."

"Where do
I
fit in the picture?" Claire's gaze fell away.

"Sandy and Julia may take a while to warm up to you." Michael reached over and touched Claire's shoulder. "But I want us to get to know each other. As father and daughter."

"Haley wants me to move back to L.A. I haven't decided what to do."

Michael felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. Now that he'd found his daughter, she might leave. "I want you to stay. Please tell me you'll think about it." He stood and held out his hand. "I promise, we'll take our relationship slowly. I'll let you call the shots."

Claire placed her hand in his, and he pulled her up. He reached around her shoulder and gave her a sideways hug. "I'm your father. And I want to take care of you."

He felt her body relax against him. It was a start.

T
he smell of Michael's aftershave mixed with the clean, fresh scent of laundry soap. A warm rush of emotions came to the surface of Claire's mind. Her father wanted to get to know her. Now, in his embrace, she saw hope for the future.

"I need to go, but please consider what I've said." Michael gave her shoulder another squeeze. "I want you here, Claire. And my mother needs you."

Claire still hadn't been able to visit Geraldine. Would she be as open as Michael to a relationship? According to what she said the other night, Geraldine knew Claire was her granddaughter. "I plan on visiting her this afternoon."

"Good. She loves you. Blake too." Michael took a step back. "Speaking of your neighbor, how are you two getting along?"

A smile hovered at the edges of Claire's mouth. She glanced to her left. "Okay. Fine. Really good."

Michael laughed. "Which one is it?"

Claire let out a sigh, her voice low. "One part of me wants to jump in with both feet and see where our relationship takes us. And the other part wants to run."

"I understand. I felt the same way when I met Sandy. She challenged me to be a better man like no other woman I've known. And yet, I was scared. I knew that once I committed my life to her, there was no looking back."

"But you stumbled." Claire brought her hand up to shade her eyes from the sun.

"I did." Michael shifted. "The problem was I took my eyes off God and kept them on myself. You can learn from my mistakes. If you love Blake, trust him. And keep your eyes fixed on God. He's the one who'll keep your paths straight."

Claire's insides warmed. She was receiving advice and encouragement from her father. "Thank you for listening."

"That's what fathers are for." Michael smiled. "See you soon. Keep in touch." He turned and walked toward his car.

Funny, she didn't notice his BMW parked across the street when she first arrived. It was probably a good thing. She might have kept going—all the way back to L.A.

Claire burst through the doorway. "You won't believe—"

"I can't wait to tell you—" Samantha turned, her ponytail flying through the air.

Claire flopped on the couch next to her friend and burst into laughter.

"You go first," Samantha tapped her on the arm. "I want to hear all about your visit with your dad. It surprised me to see him sitting on the porch when I came home."

Claire kicked off her flip- flops and hoisted her feet on top of the coffee table. Cali sprung onto Claire's lap, circled around a couple of times, and settled into a ball. "He told me about his relationship with my mom. It was a little hard to hear, but he answered my questions. The best part is that he wants to get to know me as his daughter. It's almost too much to handle, especially after my visit with Julia this morning." Claire rested her head back against the couch. "She doesn't like me."

"She probably doesn't like the situation. It has nothing to do with you." Samantha was the voice of reason. She was methodical, organized,
and
discerning.

"Well, it may take time for her to accept me as part of the family." Claire stroked Cali's back.

"So, you're staying?" Samantha leaned in.

Claire's mouth hung open. "How'd you know I might be moving back to L.A.?"

"You were mumbling to yourself during the movie." Samantha straightened her collar.

"I love that movie, but I admit I've seen it at least a dozen times. I didn't want to tell you. After all, you had just arrived." Claire pressed her lips together, then chuckled. "I was mumbling, huh?"

"I sure learned a lot about you . . . how much you care for Blake, how worried you are about Haley and Geraldine, how much you care for Blake . . ." Samantha teased as she listed them off on her fingers.

"Oh, you." Claire grabbed a throw pillow and playfully hit Samantha on the arm. Cali leapt off Claire's lap and scurried down the hall. "I want to hear all about your interview. You look great, by the way." Samantha's gray suit and green blouse were a perfect complement to her complexion. "Professional through and through." Claire tugged on her plain white T-shirt that hung a few inches over her skirt.

"
HCP Resources, Inc.
wants me to come back for a second interview." Samantha stood and glanced at her watch. "And I've got another interview in twenty minutes. Who knew food and nutrition services were so big here in Santa Cruz."

"Oh yeah, we like to eat."
Especially with Blake.
Her mind drifted to the man who had stolen her heart. Claire glanced wistfully at her kitchen. Blake had looked so tired and defeated this morning. His job meant the world to him. And apparently so did she. The three little words he said to her had a huge impact on her decision. He loved her.

Samantha cleared her throat. "Earth to Claire, come in, Claire." She waved a hand in front of Claire's face. "Girl, you need to come back down. Something tells me you've got it bad for your chef."

Claire smirked. "Good one. My chef. I get it." She walked Samantha to the door. "I hope you get a job. It'd be nice to have such a good friend close by."

"Thanks. But before I agree to work here, you're staying, right?" Samantha's brows shot up. "Because
I
want to have at least one friend in this town."

"I'm staying, no worries." Relief flooded her at the admission. The decision felt good, right.

"Great. Now I can go." Samantha twisted her ponytail into a bun, her purse dangling on her arm.

"If I'm not home when you get back, you know where to find the key. I need to make a visit to Geraldine." Claire shut the door behind her.

Her familiar ring tone chimed. Claire scrambled to find her phone inside her purse. She glanced at the screen. Haley. It was time to tell her of her decision. Claire was staying in Capitola. She flipped her phone open. "Haley, what's up?"

"So, when are you moving back?" Haley's anxious tone unnerved Claire. Ever since they were little girls, her sister had acted like a mother ordering her around and assuming Claire would do whatever she wanted.

"No hello? How are you?" Claire rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry. How're you doing?" Haley's voice softened.

Now Claire felt like the heel. She wouldn't want to be pregnant and living with an alcoholic. "No, Haley,
I'm
sorry. I'm fine. More than good. Michael and I talked. He wants to have a relationship with me."

"I'm happy for you."

Claire heard sniffles in the background. "How are you doing?" Claire didn't know if she was prepared to hear her sister talk about Mark and how much he'd changed, when it was clear the other day that he hadn't. Haley took a ragged breath.

"I kicked him out."

"You did?" Claire sat down on a dining room chair. "When?"

"The second we got home. I told him that until he went to Alcoholics Anonymous he wasn't welcome here. He moved in with his uncle." Haley sobbed. "I miss you so much, Claire. I can't do this on my own. I need you to help me be strong
. Please
come home."

The words wouldn't come. Claire had barely reconciled with her father and recently found the man of her dreams. And now she was being asked to let them go. "Haley, please. Pull yourself together." Who was the mother now? "You are stronger than you think." Her eyes drifted to Geraldine's recliner. She needed to talk with her grandmother. Geraldine would know what to do. "Can I call you back tonight? I'm on my way out the door."

Haley hiccupped. "Don't forget. Okay?"

Claire stood and grabbed her purse. "How could I forget my sister? I love you and your baby."

"Thanks, Claire. Talk to you later."

Claire clicked her phone shut. She had heard words of wisdom from her father today, and now she needed to talk with her grandmother. Claire sagged against the door. She remembered telling herself she'd consider moving back to L.A. if Haley kicked Mark out. She'd done it. Now what? The last thing Claire wanted to do was move.

God, what are you trying to tell me?

The smell of the antiseptic turned her stomach. Claire hurried down the hallway of the rehabilitation center to Geraldine's room. She was excited about visiting her grandmother. The nerves she had felt the other night were gone.

The doctor had ordered daily physical therapy to improve Geraldine's muscle strength. Claire was now eager to help Geraldine get strong enough to come home—and soon.

"Come on, Betty, you need to eat something." Geraldine's voice drifted into the hallway.

Claire chuckled. Her grandmother was busy helping someone else. So typical. That woman had enough spunk for the both of them.

Claire walked in holding one of Geraldine's favorite teddy bears. "I thought I'd bring Mr. Teddy to cheer you up."

Geraldine's eyes lit up. "Claire! Come here, dear, and give this old woman a hug."

Claire gladly went to her. With Geraldine's arms around her, she took in her grandmother's baby powder scent. She was related to this woman. It felt good. Comforting. A sudden urge to get to know her grandmother—from her childhood until now, welled up inside of Claire. She knew bits and pieces, but she wanted to know the whole story of this woman's life.

"Thank you for bringing Teddy. He'll cheer me on so I can get out of here."

Claire sat down on the edge of Geraldine's bed and looked around the small room. Two twin beds, two nightstands, and a small bathroom filled the space—adequate for recovery, but her grandmother needed her home and the fragrance of the salty ocean air. "How long will you be here?"

"Depends on how much trouble I give the physical therapists." Geraldine chuckled while fixing Teddy's bow. "They want me to be able to walk without my walker. 'Stand up straight, Mrs. Thompson. Stop shuffling your feet, Mrs. Thompson.' " Geraldine glanced at the old, frail woman next to her. "Oh, how rude of me. Claire, this is my roommate, Betty." She gestured to the other side of the room and lowered her voice. "Poor thing. She's blind and is recovering from pneumonia. Can you believe she's ninety-seven?"

Betty's breathing deepened.

Claire peeled her eyes away from the old woman. "I think she's asleep, Grandma."

Geraldine grabbed Claire's hand. "You called me Grandma." Her eyes softened. "Michael told you, then." She smiled. "Good boy. I knew he could do it."

"Actually, Haley told me . . . the same day she gave Michael the note from my mother." Claire gently squeezed Geraldine's hand. "I was completely shocked. Then the realization that
you're
my grandmother dawned on me. I was so happy . . . and scared."

"Scared of what, dear?" Geraldine hugged the teddy bear to her chest.

"That you wouldn't want me. And that my presence here would ruin your family," Claire whispered, her words wavering.

"Oh, pooh. This family has been needing someone like you with your carefree spirit and spontaneity for a long time." She cupped her hand around her mouth, "If you haven't noticed, we're a tightly wound group."

"Not you!" Claire shook her head. "If there's anyone in this family who is full of energy, Grandma, it's you."

"You and I are made from the same mold." Geraldine smiled.

The time was right. Claire needed to speak to her grandmother about her sister. "Haley wants me to move back to L.A." Claire looked down. "With Mark going through AA and living with his uncle, she says she can't make it on her own. "Claire brought her eyes to meet Geraldine's. "She needs my help to keep her strong."

"Do you believe that?" Her grandmother cocked her head.

"Haley has always needed someone. When my mother was sick, Haley needed Mark. When my mother died and Mark started drinking, she needed me."

"Sounds to me like Haley does need someone in her life." Geraldine pressed her lips together, her brows forming a straight line.

"I know. That's the hard part. I don't want to move away from you, Michael, and Blake." Her voice quivered, and she looked down.

Geraldine touched Claire's arm. "Oh, no, dear. Haley doesn't need
you
right now. She needs a Savior."

Claire tilted her head and met Geraldine's gaze. "You mean God?"

The edges of Geraldine's mouth turned up. "Yes, dear. She needs Jesus."