A Better Father (Harlequin Super Romance) (24 page)

But there was no backing out now. In an hour she would be in
Halifax, with a rental car waiting for her and turn-by-turn directions to the
hotel in Lunenburg and the courthouse in Bridgewater. The one thing she didn’t
have was a way to contact Sam. No, correction: there was one other thing she
wished she had—the confidence that this bombshell hadn’t impacted the outcome of
the custody case. And that Sam wouldn’t blame her for leading Dani to him in the
first place.

Because if anything went wrong now...

She shook her head and sat higher in her seat. She couldn’t
think that way. She had to be strong and confident, certain it would all work
out. It could happen. After all, stranger things happened all the time.

Like the fact that she, Libby Kovak, was finally flying.

* * *

S
AM
FOUND
THE
CEMETERY
easily enough—the desk clerk had given him
excellent directions, and Mahone Bay, where Robin was buried, wasn’t that
big—but he surprised himself by locating her grave with very little trouble.
He’d been too numb at her funeral to register much except a few details he
thought he might want to share with Casey someday. By the time spring arrived
and they were able to have the graveside service, he’d thought he had it
together, but that was just after Sharon had dropped her custody bombshell. He’d
spent the entire service watching the woman like a hawk in case she decided to
simply grab Casey and run.

Maybe that was part of the problem, he thought as he bent to
check out the flowers around the grave. Maybe he’d been so focused on Casey that
he’d never really said goodbye.

“Hey, Robin. It’s me.” He glanced around on the off chance
someone might be within listening distance, but he was alone save for the stones
and the trees and a couple of squirrels playing hide-and-seek among the leaves.
“Sorry I haven’t been back. Sharon’s been taking care of things here, and it
looks great. Don’t know if you can see it, but she planted those little flowers
you always liked, the purple ones. The stone turned out good, too.”

He ran a finger over the lines carving out her birth, death and
the all-too-short dash that separated them. Then he flattened his palm over the
word that had meant so much to her, the one that tied him to her forever.

Mother.

“You were a great mom. You amazed me, the way you looked after
him so easily and were so dedicated to him but still made sure I was part of his
life. I know I said it all the time, but thanks for that.” His mouth quirked up
in a grin. “And I know you’re still keeping an eye on him, because there’s no
other way that he could smack that dog around so much and have nothing to show
for it without your kind of help.”

His grin faded. He squatted in front of the stone and lowered
his head.

“Babe, I want you to know, you were right to say no. When I
asked you to marry me, I mean. I was asking for good reasons, but they were
wrong. It was all about me. About me wanting to be the kind of dad I always
planned to be, proving that I was a better father than my old man. But it should
have been about you. It... I’m just figuring that out now. Because there’s
someone who...well...yeah. I think she’s the one. And when I’m with her, it
is
about her. Making her smile, making things
right for her...not that I didn’t want to do those things for you. You know how
much I wanted to take care of you and Casey. But it wasn’t the same as it is
with her.”

He drew in a deep breath.

“I shouldn’t have asked because of me. Or Casey. Or anything
else but you. I’m glad you were smart enough to know that.”

He pulled up a weed that had dared to intrude on Sharon’s
flowers and rubbed it between his fingers. “But just because it didn’t work the
way I would have liked for me and you, well, that didn’t mean you weren’t pretty
damned special. You gave me the most amazing gift anyone has ever given me, Rob.
You gave me Casey. He’s... God, I hope you can see him from where you are,
because he’s so damned funny. He makes me laugh every night at bath time. He’s
got your giggle, you know? And that dimple when he knows he’s being bad but he
thinks if he’s cute enough he won’t get in trouble—yeah. That came straight from
you.”

He tossed the weed into the grass. “Rob, I need your help.
Sharon... I know she’s your sister and I know she misses you even more than I
do, and you know I want Casey to have time with her. But she’s his aunt. I’m his
dad. I want to keep it that way, you know? And even though the lawyers keep
saying there’s no way anything could happen, that I won’t lose him, I can’t help
being scared. So, Rob, babe, if you can, could you maybe make things work for
us? You and me and Casey—we might not have been a regular family the way I
wanted, but we were still a family. And we were making it work. It’s not the
same without you and it never will be, but if you can wiggle your nose or
something and make sure Casey and I stay together, I promise you, I’ll do
everything I can to make sure he has the kind of life you wanted for him. With
lots of family and friends and love.”

He’d done all he could. There was nothing left to say. He
straightened, easing himself up, and rested his hand on the stone that felt
warmed now, as if it had been kissed by the sun.

Or, maybe, by someone else.

“I miss you, Robin. But I promise to do right by our little
boy. He’ll always know about you and love you, I promise, even if Libby and
I—”

“Da Da Da Da Da!”

Sam grinned at the headstone. “Here he is. Guess I have to work
on the proper kind of manners for when he comes to visit his mom, huh?” He
turned and headed for the path, arms already outstretched to pick up his boy,
his Casey, when he stopped and took in the sight before him. There was Casey in
his little denim shorts and his favorite Camp Overlook T-shirt. That must have
gone over well with Sharon. His hair bounced in rhythm with his steps as he half
walked, half sort of ran up the path, tugging on the hand of—

Sam squinted, sure he wasn’t seeing things right.

“Libby?”

Sure enough, even though she was too far to have heard him say
her name, she looked straight at him and gave a tentative kind of wave. She
was—here?

She was here. Still in her camp clothes, frantically trying to
keep up with Casey, and here. With him.

Somewhere deep in whatever corner of the body controlled
emotion, Sam could swear he felt a thread snap in half.

Joy and disbelief and wonder shot through him in a surge of
something that couldn’t be anything but love. He wanted to run to them, to pull
his kid and his Libby into his arms and hold them tighter than tight against
him, but he forced himself to stand perfectly still and let the feelings wash
over him. It was magic. The kind of thing that happens only once in a lifetime.
He was going to make sure he felt every bit of it so he could come back to it
whenever he needed to remember a moment when he was perfectly, amazingly,
astoundingly happy.

Libby and Casey were half jogging toward him. It must have been
too slow a pace for her because she suddenly bent, scooped Casey into her arms
and increased her speed.

Imagine that. Libby Kovak, in a hurry.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He took one step toward them,
then two, then stopped and turned back to Robin’s grave.

“If this was supposed to be a sign, I gotta tell you, kid—you
do damned fine work.”

Then, unable to wait another moment, he hit the path and ran to
Libby and Casey, practically running them over in his joy, gathering them close
and closing his eyes and filling himself with the sound of Casey’s giggles and
Libby’s choking half sobs and the feel of them both against him, soft and warm
and everything he ever needed.

At last he pulled back and took Casey from Libby, so he had his
son in his left arm while his right circled her shoulders.

“I know you didn’t do anything,” he said to her. “At least not
on purpose.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she pulled in a deep breath and
said, all in a rush as if she’d been rehearsing, “The night I found out you were
buying the camp, I went home and spouted to my neighbor, and I knew she
sometimes wrote stuff for tabloids but she said you were too boring, and I
believed her, but then her kid needed a tonsillectomy and she lost her job and
she needed money so she paid Tanya to spy on you and—”

“Wait.” He pressed a finger over her lips. “Tanya wasn’t really
hot for me?”

She laughed through her tears. “Come on, Catalano. How many
women do you need to fall in love with you in one summer?”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she stopped, her
eyes wide. He let Casey slide down to the ground in a bundle of wriggles and
squeals so he could frame her face with his hands.

“Really, Lib?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. The tiniest of nods at
first, then more emphatic, as if she had given herself permission.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I know it sounds crazy but—”

“Crazy? Are you kidding? It’s the best thing I’ve heard in
forever.” He moved to kiss her but she did a quick step backward, dancing just
beyond his reach.

“Wait,” she said.

He glanced at Casey, who was gathering stones from the path and
stacking them on top of each other. No problem there.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. But I want you to be clear...I didn’t mean for that
article to happen.”

“I know that,” he said, reaching for her, but she shied away
and pulled a file from her shoulder bag.

“This is a statement from my neighbor, the one who wrote it,
admitting that it’s a pack of lies. She signed it, Phoebe witnessed it, I
notarized it.”

He took the papers and leafed through them. “Holy crap, Lib,
how did you pull this off?”

“It was a busy morning. I’ll give you the details later. But do
you think it will help?”

“It sure as hell can’t hurt.” This time when he reached for
her, she took his hands and let him draw her close enough to nuzzle his
cheek.

“I love you, Sam,” she whispered. “I think maybe I never
stopped. I want you to go in there and win this thing. I want you and Casey to
come back to camp tonight. I want to sit down on the sofa with you and tell
Casey a story, and I want to wash the dishes while you give him a bath and put
him to sleep in his own bed. And then I want to have last night with you all
over again.”

He nodded into her palm, then grabbed it and pressed a kiss
into it. “Me, too. All of it. Except tonight, I want a bed. I’m getting too old
for air mattresses.”

Her eyes closed and she breathed in deeply, as if something
heavy had been lifted from her chest. When she smiled at him it was like seeing
everything he felt for her shining back at him.

He pulled her close and kissed her at last, burying one hand in
her hair while the other slid down her back, molding her to him, affirming for
himself that this was real and she was actually here and she wasn’t going to
disappear.

He kissed her lips, then her cheek, then her forehead before
coming back to her mouth. This time he didn’t stop until he felt a sharp tug on
his pants leg.

“Casey?” He blinked down at Libby, then at his son without
letting her go. “What’s up, bud?”

“Some.”

“Some what?”

Casey raised his arms into the air. With a laugh, Sam caught
him close and hoisted the squirming little body between him and Libby. Casey
promptly wound his fingers through Libby’s hair, let his head drop to Sam’s
shoulder, popped his thumb into his mouth and gave a wriggle of sheer
delight.

Sam kissed the downy cheek resting on his shoulder. “Love you,
bud.”

Then he tilted his head to claim Libby’s lips once more. Slowly
this time. Lingering. Letting himself savor her touch and her taste and the
rightness of her within his arms.

“In case you didn’t figure it out,” he whispered against her
cheek, “I love you, too.”

Libby inhaled, short and fast before launching herself upright
and kissing him as best as was possible with a toddler in the middle.

They stood wrapped up in each other, a knot of grins and kisses
and wiggles and whispers. But all too soon, Libby asked, “Is it almost
time?”

The warmth he’d been basking in raced away. Though, he
realized, not completely. There was a flicker of Libby-love deep inside him even
when he pulled back.

It would stay. He knew that. What he felt for Libby, what she
felt for him, was the real thing. With that inside him, he was ready to face
down anything.

“Let’s go.” He took her hand in one of his, and Casey’s in the
other. “We have some formalities to get out of the way.”

Libby laughed and snuggled against his side. “For once,” she
said, “I’m in as much of a hurry as you are.”

He squeezed her tight. “Just one more thing.” He turned so the
three of them were facing Robin’s grave. Libby made a small sound and reached to
stroke Casey’s arm.

“Say bye-bye, Casey,” Sam whispered. “Blow Mommy a kiss.”

And while his son said his farewells, Sam closed his eyes and
offered one of his own.

Goodbye, Robin. And thanks—with everything
I have.

CHAPTER TWENTY

B
Y
THE
TIME
THEY
GOT
BACK
to the hotel,
Casey was long overdue for a nap. Brynn took one look at Sam’s arm around
Libby’s waist and said that she would stay with Casey. Then she broke into a
giant grin, pulled Libby into an even more giant hug and whispered, “It’s about
time that idiot brother of mine woke up and saw the light.”

They were on Highway 3 out of Lunenburg, well on their way to
Bridgewater and the courthouse, when Sam gave a little start at the wheel.

“You can’t come in with me.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at her shorts and Overlook shirt. Just
as well she hadn’t bothered making time to change clothes. “That’s right. Family
court is closed, isn’t it? I guess there will be a waiting room or someplace I
can hang out.”

“No. I mean, you can’t come in the building. I don’t want
Sharon to see you.”

“Because you don’t want her to know you and I are...”

He slowed to make a turn, taking a second to glance in her
direction. “I kind of glossed over this the other night, but you do look like
Robin. I don’t want Sharon to see you and get freaked. Not today.”

“It’s that strong a resemblance?”

“No one would ever think you were twins. But the hair, the
build—it’s enough that it could send her for a loop. I can’t do that to
her.”

He was about to face down the woman who was fighting him for
his own child, and he was worried about playing fair? “But what about you?
She’ll have her husband with her. You’re going in there alone.”

“You’ll be waiting outside for me. That’ll be enough.”

She would have protested more, but when she asked herself how
she would feel if their roles were reversed, she knew he was right. Having Sam
beside her in a battle would strengthen her immeasurably, but just knowing he
was nearby, rooting for her, could get her through almost anything.

She patted his arm. “I’ll be wherever I can help the most. You
just say the word.”

He shot her a quick and grateful smile before focusing on the
road once more. She thought he was simply concentrating on the directions until
he said, very carefully, “If things don’t go my way—”

“They will. They have to.”

He drew a deep breath. “But just in case, I want you to know.
If Sharon— If Casey— I’ll have to give up the camp. Move down here. I can’t be
that far from him again.”

“I know.” She also knew what he wasn’t saying. If he moved, the
camp would revert back to Myra. This time, with her finances secured and her
focus on her own new life, Myra would undoubtedly offer it to Libby. Everything
she had once wanted.

No more.

“My offer still stands.” She gripped his hand. “To go
wherever.”

Surprise mingled with joy in his face. “Are you sure? What
about—”

“Nothing else matters, really. Nothing would be right without
you and Casey. The camp, my house—they’re not my home anymore.” She squeezed his
arm again. “You are. You and Casey.”

He drove in silence for a second, his fingers tight on the
wheel, staring straight ahead. Not long. Just long enough for the rules and
fears from her past to form a giant lump in her throat.

A moment later he flicked his turn signal, hit the brake and
steered the car into the turnoff for a park. She was still reeling from the
sudden shift when he was out of his seat belt and reaching across the space
between them, gathering her as close as her belt would allow.

“I love you,” he whispered against her hair.

“Me, too. So very much.” She buried her head in his chest and
felt the lump in her throat slowly dissipate, replaced by warmth and happiness
and the knowledge that she was finally exactly where she was meant to be. Then
she pulled back enough to drop a fast kiss on his lips and push him toward the
steering wheel.

“Over there and drive, Catalano. We have a court case to
win.”

* * *

S
AM
PULLED
INTO
a parking spot in the
lot behind the courthouse and pried his fingers from the wheel. He took a deep
breath and stared at the modern pink-and-cream building. Funny. He’d thought it
would be...bigger. Older. More imposing. How could such a modest building hold
the balance of the rest of his life?

Libby stirred in the seat beside him. “How can I help?”

“Be here.”

“No question about that.”

“Pray.”

“Constantly.”

He tore his gaze from the door to look at her. “God, I wish I
could see the future.”

She searched his face, then placed a hand on his cheek. One of
the knots in his stomach slipped loose.

“I can see it.”

“You can?”

“It’s one of my many talents.” Her words were light but certain
enough to fill him with confidence. “I see you walking out of the door right
there. Faster than either of us expected. You’re running, maybe even jumping
from that bottom step. You’re probably going so fast that I’m worried you’ll
fall, but you’re an athlete, so you manage just fine.”

“I like that picture.”

“Me, too.”

He sat for a second, soaking up her strength, her faith in him,
her love. She pulled him close and kissed him, long and hard, then pushed him
away with a grin.

“Go.” Her voice was thick and her eyes were too bright, but she
was smiling. “The sooner you get in there, the sooner we can make that picture
come true.”

He nodded and fumbled for the handle. No sooner had he pushed
the door open than she placed a hand on his arm.

“Wait. You need these.” She shoved the folder at him. “And I
brought you a good luck charm.” She pressed something small and hard into his
hand. He looked down and saw a tiny rock, smooth and oval, striped with a black
band that snaked across the speckled gray surface.

“It’s from camp,” she said, almost shyly. “From that pile Casey
keeps in the office. I thought, maybe, it would be a good thing to hold.”

Unable to speak, he nodded, leaned over for another fast kiss
and launched himself out of the car, hoping the momentum would carry him where
his heart didn’t want to go.

Live the goal.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of handshakes and
low-pitched conversations with Joe, who was waiting for Sam as promised. Libby’s
documents were reviewed and pronounced excellent as they walked down the echoing
halls to the waiting room. Joe made small talk. Sam nodded and grunted and kept
his hand in his pocket, curled tight around the stone that was still warm from
Libby’s hand.

A door opened. A uniformed bailiff motioned them forward.

Sam squeezed the rock, sent up a swift prayer for strength and
followed Joe into the hearing room.

He’d expected something more ornate. This room was simple and,
again, smaller than he’d anticipated—a raised bench for the judge, a couple of
tables near the front, a few rows of seats. Queen Elizabeth looked down serenely
from her portrait on the wall. Sam found her picture oddly comforting as he
seated himself beside Joe. The queen was a mother, a grandmother, a family
woman. Surely she would want this court to do the right thing and keep his
little boy with him.

Movement from the back of the room told him that Sharon had
arrived. She walked between her husband, who nodded at Sam, and another man who
he assumed was the lawyer. Sharon met his gaze for a second before quickly
looking away. Sam took in the tight grip she had on her husband, the stark
whiteness of her face, and even though he was still more scared than he had ever
been in his life, another knot loosened a little. Sharon loved Casey. Maybe not
as much as Sam did, but enough that she had mounted what almost everyone had
considered a hopeless campaign to keep him. In a perverse way, that knowledge
comforted Sam. No matter what happened with the judge, Casey would land with
someone who loved him enough to fight for him. He would always be okay.

The judge entered. They rose. Sam forced his feet to stay put
when they itched to flee.

As expected, Sharon’s lawyer immediately raised the issue of
the tabloid article, which Joe shot down just as fast. The judge examined Dani’s
statement and grunted, but gave no indication as to whether or not she was
impacted by any of it.

Sharon’s lawyer presented his case, emphasizing the huge role
Sharon had played in Casey’s life until Sam took him. Joe countered with DNA
tests, proof of flights documenting Sam’s many visits to Casey throughout his
life, and the report from the social worker, which stated that Casey was happy,
healthy and adjusting well to the changes in his life.

Sam held tight to the rock deep in his pocket, turning it over
and over in his grasp and longing to do something, anything. This was his son
they were discussing. To have to sit, silent and impotent while the legal eagles
tried to outtalk each other, was the worst kind of torture. All he could do was
rub his thumb over his good-luck charm and make himself replay Libby’s words
when she assured him that anyone who would turn his life inside out the way Sam
had, was, without a doubt, the best parent for Casey. Something about hearing
her say it, even just in memory, made it impossible for him to believe anything
else.

Then, abruptly, it was over.

The judge rose, nodded as Sam and the others pushed to their
feet, and disappeared into her chambers. Sam looked across at Sharon and saw
what he was pretty sure was a mirror of everything he was feeling, all there in
her face. For a moment he held her gaze. Not out of anger, or resentment, but
because, as twisted as it seemed, she was the only one in the room who knew.

And in that moment, he promised himself that if—
when
—the judge ruled in his favor, he would block off
time each and every month to bring Casey to Nova Scotia. Because anyone who
loved his son the way Sharon so obviously did deserved no less.

He lowered himself gratefully into the solid support of the
chair, then let his head drop into his hands and prayed.

He was on what felt like his twenty-fifth hour on the rack when
the judge returned. Joe clapped him on the shoulder as they rose. Sam had the
wild thought that if he hadn’t spent decades pushing his body to perform through
whatever he threw at it, there would be no way his legs could hold him now.

Everything he had ever been, everything he had ever done, was
all for this moment.

“I’ve reached my decision,” the judge announced, and Sam
reached into his pocket and gripped Libby’s stone with everything he had.

* * *

L
IBBY
WALKED
BACK
AND
FORTH
in front of the courthouse and looked at her
watch yet again.

She had lasted in the tiny rental car for all of two minutes
before she admitted she was going to go bonkers if she stayed there, so she
scribbled a note for Sam and went to the back of the lot. Far enough away that
it was unlikely Sharon would spot her by mistake, close enough that she would
see Sam the moment he came out the door.

And there, she paced.

Her wait was interrupted twice. First came a call from Phoebe
letting her know that everything was fine, the Tour de Camp had gone off without
a problem and Dani had actually been amazingly helpful. Oh, and everyone on
staff was waiting for either Sam or Libby to call and report that the hearing
was over and Sam had won.

Libby could scarcely speak when she hung up. With so many
people pulling for Sam, he had to win. Didn’t he?

Her second call was from a number she didn’t recognize. She
made sure she blew her nose before taking it, and was immediately glad she’d
given herself that moment. It wouldn’t have sounded very encouraging if she’d
been talking through tears when she received the offer of the teaching job.

She was still stuck in a half joyous, half frantic daze when
the courthouse door flew open and Sam barreled down the steps, taking them two
at a time, exactly as she’d pictured.

“We did it!” he shouted from halfway across the lot, then raced
the rest of the way to catch her up against him. She jumped up and down as best
as she could while he held her so close she could scarcely breathe.

“Tell me,” she said when she finally stopped laughing and
kissing him.

“It was hell.” He pushed her hair back from her eyes. “We got
through all the presentations, then the judge disappeared for a while and I
basically died a thousand deaths, waiting. Then she came back and said Sharon’s
lawyer had no grounds for trying to take Casey from me. She said she understood
Sharon was hurting, and she was sorry, but doing this wouldn’t bring Robin back
and the best thing now would be to make sure Sharon built a good relationship
with me so Casey wouldn’t feel like he had to choose sides. And then she said
she didn’t need any time to think this over, it was clearly in my favor, and
Casey is, was and always will be mine.”

“I’m so, so happy,” she said, and buried her face into his
shoulder.

“Wanna be even happier?” He kissed her lightly.

Warmth poured through her. “I don’t think that’s possible in
public.”

His chuckle sent heat straight down her spine to where it
mattered most. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But if we hustle, we can get the last
flight back to Ottawa and be back home tonight.”

“You’re right. Let me text Brynn and Phoebe with the good news
and— Oh!” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “I got the job!”

“No way. Really?” He swept her into another hug. “Damn, Lib, if
life with you is always this exciting, I’m gonna need a pacemaker!”

She laughed, free and easy, until he cupped her chin.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “About the job, I mean. Because you
know—”

“I know. And I... Yeah. I’m sure. I need—no, I want to do this.
I want to try something new and test myself. I want to be in a classroom. At
least for a while.”