Impossible Dreams (6 page)

A sopping little face soaked his stiff shirt collar, and the
scent of baby shampoo filled his nostrils. He didn’t know what to do with
her. Axell wondered when he’d held his daughter last. As an infant? A
toddler who’d scraped her knee, maybe? Angela had always been there,
running interference for scraped knees and childish tantrums.

Axell glanced anxiously at the heavily pregnant woman trying
to pull herself upright from the floor. Shifting Constance to one arm, he held
out his free hand to haul her up. The schoolteacher’s hand curled in his,
and he thought he caught the fragrance of sandalwood as she used his strength
for leverage, but she drifted away as soon as she stood upright. For a moment,
he felt oddly protective toward this unorthodox young woman. She was much more
delicately built than he’d realized.

The sympathetic moment dissipated the instant she opened her
mouth.

“I believe you and your daughter have a good deal to
talk about, Mr. Holm,” she snapped in a crisp California accent.
“Perhaps you’ll reconsider your offer about the school and stop by
the shop a little later.” Her frosty tone spoke her opinion of his
parenting skills.

He almost panicked and begged her to stay, but the little
arms clutching his neck decided the matter. Still completely at a loss, Axell
nodded and watched a shaft of sunlight spill over the teacher’s fiery
cascade of hair. She looked almost as lost as his daughter as she turned her
head away and slipped into the hall, gently pulling the door closed.

A woman that pregnant should be tucked comfortably on a soft
couch with her feet up, not traipsing up and down stairs and streets, Axell
thought irrelevantly, before his attention reverted to his daughter. Holding Constance
tightly, he collapsed into the nearest chair and prayed he could pry some
answers out of her. How did one know if an eight-year-old’s answers were
the best ones?

Cuddling his daughter, listening to her heartbroken sobs,
Axell experienced pure fear-filled panic.

He’d thought Constance’s silence had been a
natural reaction to grief, something she would have to get through as he did.
What if she couldn’t get over it by herself? What if it wasn’t just
grief? What if it was
him
?

It had to be him. Constance was a different person with
Maya. How could he do what Maya did so he could keep Constance?

He panicked again as he realized he hadn’t a clue.

***

The chanting monks greeted Axell as he entered the gift
shop. Sunlight sparkled through newly washed windows, but the narrow, crowded
interior looked no less musty than before. The wind chimes sang a merry tune in
the breeze he let in, and he hastily shut the door while searching for some
sign of the red-haired proprietor.

“Anyone home?” he called. He’d like to
tell her this was no way to run a business, but he had a sneaking suspicion
there wasn’t much business to run and she really didn’t care.

“Down here.”

He leaned over the counter. To his shock, he discovered Maya
lying flat on her back, eyes closed, hands covering her distended belly.
“Are you all right?” he asked, hearing the panic in his voice.
Twice in one day. They’d have him in an insane asylum within the week.

“That’s a matter of relativity,” she
replied in a vague voice. Her eyes popped open, and Axell could see the
mischief in them. “But if you’re asking if it’s time to call
the ambulance or get out the forceps, the answer is no. You’re safe for
now.”

Damn, but she’d scared him. He didn’t like being
scared. Stepping back, Axell stared politely at the black-and-white cat
sleeping on the shelf while she righted herself. The cat was probably the only
thing in here that wasn’t a rainbow of color.

Sunset curls and a wicked smile suddenly blocked his view of
the cat. “Well, Mr. Holm, has the domestic crisis been resolved?”
she asked cheerily.

“I returned Constance to school,” he answered
stiffly, uncomfortable beneath her beaming gaze. A woman who lived in this slum
had no business being so damned happy. “She wouldn’t tell me how
she got to the office.” He threw her a look of suspicion. “I
don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

“Sorry, much as I always wished for a fairy godmother,
I’ve never had one and I’ve never been one. Someone else must have
spirited the child there. Or she walked. It’s less than a mile, you
realize. And Constance is a very resourceful child.” She lifted the
steaming pot of water from the hot plate and poured it into the teapot
she’d prepared.

The idea of his waiflike daughter traipsing a mile of
highway through traffic and mud and all the modern-day horrors of civilization
boggled his mind so thoroughly that Axell didn’t have to be told to take
the cups and sit down at the table. Setting the china down, he collapsed into
the ugly little chair and propped his head against his hand.

She patted his shoulder as she leaned over to set the teapot
on the table. He didn’t even
know
this woman, but she was always
touching him.

“Did you reassure her that you won’t send her
away?”

Axell heard the condemnation behind the question. It was none
of her damned business. He resisted spilling his guts, but he had no one to
confide in. Katherine had no concern for his family life. He had friends like
Headley all over town, people he’d grown up with, people who had
frequented the restaurant all their adult lives, but he’d been taught to
keep his troubles to himself. They no more knew his problems than they knew his
bank account. This woman was a near stranger and she already knew more about
him than he did himself.

“I can’t do that,” he announced heavily,
leaning back in the chair while she poured the tea. If he came here any more
often, he’d have to bring a coffeepot.

She lifted her arched cinnamon-brown eyebrows, and Axell
could swear the turquoise of her eyes shot daggers. He winced.

“What kind of father lets an eight-year-old roam a
highway?” he demanded. “I can’t be there to watch over her
all the time. I’m
never
there,” he admitted. “She goes
from school to your place to whatever baby-sitter I can find in the
evenings.”

Before she could shoot the first verbal bullet, he defended
himself. “I pick her up at your place and take her out to dinner, but I
own a
bar
. I have to be there in the evening and I can’t take her
with me.”

“Did I say anything?” she asked innocently,
sipping at her tea, staring at him with big eyes over the edge of her cup.

His gaze inadvertently dropped to her mouth as she sipped,
but he jerked back to his senses at his first reaction to the moistness of her
lower lip.

“I didn’t notice that your mother-in-law kept
Constance from roaming the highway,” she continued, as if his attention
hadn’t strayed. “Did she cook Constance’s breakfast? Will she
pick her up at school this afternoon? Fix her dinner tonight?”

Axell drew his hand over his face and tried to rearrange his
thoughts, but nothing fit. He might as well ask her to gaze into a crystal
ball. It couldn’t be any more useless than his confused arguments with
himself. “Sandra’s just visiting. I can’t ask her to do those
things. I imagine she’ll do them when she takes Constance home.”

“You
imagine
?” she asked in outrage.
“You
imagine
she’ll take care of your child? Isn’t
that the same thing as saying you really don’t care? That once
she’s out of sight, you don’t have to worry about her
anymore?”

Heat rushed to his head, and Axell almost leapt out of his
chair before he realized she’d driven him to rage. He’d spent a
lifetime cultivating impassivity. It worked well when tempers flared in the
bar. Yet it had taken this California hippie less than five minutes to explode
his ironclad control.

He clenched his fists and took a deep breath before meeting
her gaze. “I love Constance enough to do what’s best for
her.”

“Which is why you’re here,” she prodded.

Right, he’d forgotten. He’d had an ulterior
motive in coming here. He didn’t hold out much hope of achieving it, but
desperation led a man to do things he wouldn’t do otherwise. He had to at
least try to find some means of keeping Constance home. Logic said his
mother-in-law would be a much better parent for Constance than he was. But
dammit, his daughter belonged with him.

He didn’t operate just on protective instinct though.
If Constance’s reaction this morning was anything to judge by, she
didn’t want to go with Sandra any more than he wanted her to go. If
Sandra wasn’t the best path to Constance’s happiness, then he had
to find another one.

Axell dropped his gaze to the unappealing cup of tea and
forced out his plea. “I don’t suppose you would have any interest
in taking on the job of nanny?”

A gurgle of laughter reached his ears, and he looked up in
suspicion. Maya beamed from ear to ear, presenting him with the picture of soft
pink lips and a slightly tilted tooth. She had a mole the size of a speck just
on the edge of her delicate chin. Fascinated, his gaze lingered there, blocking
out his hearing and probably his brain. He didn’t recover until she
tapped his hands.

“Don’t you think I’m just a trifle
overqualified?” she asked in amusement.

Groggy from the spell she cast, he didn’t respond
immediately. His gaze drifted downward to her creamy skin above the
lace-trimmed, collarless pullover she wore beneath her jumper today. He thought
maybe it was the same iridescent reddish-brownish-purple dress she’d worn
the other day, only with a different blouse, but that didn’t lessen her
potent feminine allure. A little voice in the back of his mind told him she
probably didn’t have money for clothes. He clung to that thought as he
finally met her gaze again.

“Can you afford to turn down the offer of free room
and board and handsome salary?” he asked blandly.

She blinked, disconcerted.
For a change
, he thought
maliciously. The woman had kept him unbalanced since their first meeting. He
was older and considerably more experienced. It was time he took charge of
matters around here. From the looks of things, she needed someone to take
charge. Which made him wonder how she’d formed the school so quickly
after arriving here, but that was a matter to be pondered another time.

“As long as the shop makes enough money to pay the
rent, I have my own apartment, Mr. Holm. If I’m to pay off my
sister’s bills, I need to keep the shop open. And the school is a dream
of a lifetime. I’ll not trade it for the offer of comfort. I’m
aware I do not appear to be the most ambitious person in the world, but
I’m capable of supporting myself.”

He nodded. He hadn’t held out much hope that
she’d accept his offer. “Then I don’t have much choice, do I?
Unless you happen to know someone who can give Constance the mother figure she
needs, I’ll have to send her home with Sandra.”

“That child needs
you
.” Rage quivered in
her voice again. “Do you have any idea at all how it feels to be
abandoned? To feel unloved, unwanted, shoved from place to place, never knowing
the rules, never knowing where you belong? It’s
hell
, Mr. Holm.
I’ll do whatever I can to prevent that happening to another child within
my reach. Bring her here after dinner in the evenings. I’ll be her
mother. It’s scarcely a palace, but I can offer her a home and the love
she needs while you polish your bar and pat the backs of strangers.”

She may as well have smacked him. Trembling with fury, Axell
stood up. He’d had this or a similar argument once too many times with
his wife. He had no good reason to listen to it from this woman who meant
nothing to him.

“I’m not abandoning my child, Miss Alyssum. I
love her enough to do what’s best for her, and dumping her in the arms of
a complete stranger is not best for her.” In his anger, he ignored his
inconsistency. “I think it may have been a mistake to allow her to grow
so attached to you. I’m withdrawing her from the school.”

The baby kicked hard enough to hurt as Maya watched Axell
storm out. She probably deserved the kick, although it should have been a swift
one to the rear.

With all his powerful connections, Axell Holm could easily
influence the wealthy parents of tuition-paying students to abandon her school,
leaving them with only the non-income producing scholarship students.

It looked like her dream of settling in Wadeville was
dissolving faster than anticipated.

Support bacteria, they’re the only culture some people
have.

“I would like to buy a gift for my
granddaughter.”

At after two in the afternoon, Maya had expected the ringing
door chime to represent the arrival of her afternoon clerk. She’d
considered closing at two to save the expense of salary and taxes, but the
teenager Cleo had hired to handle the after-school browsers was desperately
proud of her job, and Maya didn’t have the heart to lay her off.

Recognizing the haughty, rounded tones of Southern
aristocracy, Maya sighed and returned her feet to the floor. She’d
painted dragons to match Matty’s on her own inexpensive Keds. She thought
they’d turned out rather fine.

Standing up to the counter, she smiled a greeting at a woman
with a helmet of blond hair. “How old is your granddaughter?” she
asked cheerfully. Cleo had a lovely assortment of imaginative gifts for
children. When not lost in drugs, her sister had a brilliant, creative mind.
Admittedly, the whimsy of a New Age shop was out of character, but Cleo would
have sold bent nails if it meant the independence she craved.

“She’s only eight. I cannot imagine how anything
in here could be suitable, but she insists this is her favorite place.”

Maya bit her lip and held her tongue — not a pretty sight, she
figured, but the best reaction she could summon. Very few children returned
here on a regular basis. Even fewer were younger than ten. Constance Holm was
one of them.