Instant Daddy (9 page)

She hit Reply and stared at the blinking cursor for who knew how long. But words just wouldn’t come. Finally, she switched off her laptop and breathed a heavy sigh. It looked like another sleepless night lay in wait.

Her gaze rested on the phone, then the clock. It was 1:00 a.m. already? Too late to call Peter. Besides, what
would she say? She could only hope the right words would come to her when she heard his voice.

Before she could change her mind, she grasped her little directory and found the cell-phone number he’d given her in case of emergency. If she woke him, too bad. Her own sleep deprivation was reaching the emergency stage, wasn’t it? She punched in his number. The phone rang three times, four…

“Sheridan.”

His deep voice sent a ripple along her nerves. She almost hung up but managed to stop herself. “Peter?”

“Jessie?”

He recognized her voice? Unprepared for the warm flood of emotion, she scooped her hair off her neck.

“Is Jake okay?”

She heard the alarm in his tone. “He’s fine. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

Did he have trouble sleeping, too? “I read your email.”

A pause. “I mean every word, Jessie.” He sounded sincere enough.

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “I hope so.”

“And I’m so sorry.”

She bit her lip. “I won’t let you hurt Jake,” she warned.

“I know. You were right to protect him.”

She sniffed, not knowing what to say. Words weren’t coming much easier on the phone than when she’d tried to write to him. “I’m sure you’d like to see him.”

“Very much. When?” he said in a rush.

She wasn’t ready for him. “This weekend won’t work. When I’m not at the diner, Jake and I will be picking
strawberries Saturday. And we have a church fundraiser Sunday.”

“Okay.” He sounded disappointed.

She swallowed guiltily. “The berries are ripening too fast for my aunt and uncle to keep up, so we’re all helping out whenever we can.” True, but a lame excuse nonetheless.

“Will next weekend work?”

Could she make him wait another whole week to see Jake? Of course she could.

No. She couldn’t.

He was being real. The fear and defeat on his face when Jake fell was real. So was the laughter in his eyes when he played with his son. And his rusty monotone singing “Happy Birthday” along with Jake’s sweet hum wasn’t an act, any more than his dedication to his research, his loyalty to his friend Scott or his determination to be the father to Jake that Peter never had.

How could she make him wait another week? He was sacrificing having his son live with him, wasn’t he? She had to compromise, too. “You can come out to my aunt and uncle’s place Saturday to play with Jake if you like.”

“Tomorrow? I’ll be there with bells on,” he said hoarsely.

Swiping at a pesky tear winding its way down her cheek, she gave him directions to her aunt and uncle’s farm.

“Jessie…”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

She forced her trembling hand to set the phone in its cradle, then stared at it as if it were a living thing. Hear
ing his voice, his words, she was sure he meant what he said in his email.

It was the ache in her heart that worried her. That and the way she was suddenly looking forward to seeing him far too much.

A
yellow Labrador retriever loudly welcomed Peter to Jessie’s aunt and uncle’s strawberry patch—a misnomer if he’d ever seen one. Anybody but Jessie’s family would call the patch a field. He’d never seen so many strawberries. And the patch/field was scattered with people picking the berries. Jessie’s parents gave him friendly waves. He returned them, glad they seemed okay with him being here.

But it didn’t take him long to hone in on a rainbow-striped umbrella. In its shade, a small boy played with trucks in the dirt. And near him, his mother picked strawberries under a wide straw hat.

The sensation of coming home after a long absence hit him just as it had that day at the beach. He’d missed his son even more than he’d realized. And no denying, he’d missed Jessie, too. Feeling like his chest might explode, he strode for them as fast as he could cover ground.

She sat in the dirt, her red-stained fingers deftly plucking berries. The hat shaded her face, cutoffs exposed her long legs and a blue tank top with seahorses
all over it bared her creamy shoulders. He couldn’t take his gaze from her.

She looked up, her eyes going wide when she saw him, almost as if she was as glad to see him as he was to see her. But she shuttered her gaze just as quickly. “Look, Jake. Peter’s here.”

No mistaking the reserve in her voice. Obviously, the invitation to the strawberry field didn’t mean she trusted him automatically. He needed to watch his step. He had to show her that his son was his first priority, that he finally got it. And that he’d learned a lesson he’d never forget. Dragging his gaze away, he ducked under the umbrella and dropped to his knees beside the boy. “Hi, Jake.”

Jake squinted at him. “Truck.”

“I see it. Are you having fun?”

“Mommy.” He pointed at Jessie.

Peter raised his hand in greeting. “Hi, Mommy.”

Jessie raised her hand, but looked at Jake with concern. “Peter drove all this way to play with you. Will you share your trucks with him?”

“No.” Jake’s bottom lip puckered in a pout. “Mommy mad.”

Wow. The little guy remembered that day at the beach? Or had he picked up on the wariness in her voice today?

“No, sweetie. Mommy’s not mad anymore.” She shot a fake smile Peter’s way. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Peter?”

Friends? The way he felt when he first saw her somehow made friends seem…inadequate. He’d missed her more than he’d miss merely a friend. But keeping it real, he gave her a nod. “Friends.”

Jake studied Peter, then reached for the blue semi and handed it to him. “Pedo play?”

“I’d love to play with you, Jake.” He gave Jessie a thumbs-up.

She went back to picking berries, still wearing her worried look.

Peter settled in to play trucks with Jake until the little guy sacked out in the dirt mid-haul. Watching the boy sleep, the rise of his tummy as he breathed in and out, Peter’s throat closed. Being a father was an amazing thing. Full of awe and wonder but tempered with so much fear of not measuring up. He looked to Jessie. “Looks like my pal is done playing for now.”

“He’s all worn out. Will you carry him over there?” She pointed to a truck with a small wagon attached. “I spread a blanket under that big tree for his nap.”

“Will he wake up if I move him?”

“No, he’s a sound sleeper. He’ll be out for a couple hours.”

Gathering Jake’s warm little body in his arms, Peter stood and carried him to the giant bur oak Jessie had pointed out. He bent and carefully laid the boy on the black-and-red-plaid blanket. Jake didn’t stir. Looked like he was out for the duration, just like Jessie said. Peter walked away, grabbed an empty pail from a stack beside the truck and strode back to Jessie.

Her gaze stayed riveted on the berries under her flying fingers.

He watched, mesmerized. She looked like a woman in an ad for strawberries. Problem was, he wanted to remove her hat, unfasten her ponytail and sift her hair through his fingers to see if it was as silky as it looked.

She glanced up at him. “Do I have strawberries on my face?”

He scrutinized her flawless face. “Not that I can see.”

“Then why the grin?”

Uh-oh. “Uh, I was thinking you should model for the strawberry industry.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Modeling would be right up my alley,” she said sarcastically.

“Too much sitting around for you?”

“That’s one of a million things, including the fact that I weigh twice as much as any model.”

She didn’t have an extra ounce anywhere that he could see. “You hide it well,” he teased.

She gave him a look laced with surprise, then dropped her gaze to the berries again.

Watch it, Sheridan.
Either he’d embarrassed her or she thought teasing her was being too familiar. Either way, he needed to remember he was treading on thin ice. Letting her take the lead might be a good idea. He staked out a place near her, dropped to his knees and concentrated on picking strawberries. Slowly. All thumbs.

Her fresh lemon scent drifted on the breeze and mixed with the sweet perfume of the berries. All he heard was the murmur of other workers, the twittering of birds and an occasional drone of an insect or bee.

Not a computer or lab coat in sight. He’d never been more out of his element. But gone was the emptiness he’d felt as he knocked around in that bare condo of his. How could he feel that empty? For the moment, his son was nearby. And so was Jessie.

He wouldn’t have blamed Jessie if she’d made him wait to see Jake. But she hadn’t. Wary or not, she had a
far more generous spirit than he deserved. Noting how slowly berries were piling up in his bucket, he concentrated on picking them faster.

“How is your friend Scott?” Jessie’s soft voice broke into Peter’s thoughts.

He noticed she’d begun filling another pail. She picked berries like a pro. But then, what wasn’t she good at? “Earlier this week, his doctors started giving him the drug our lab developed.”

“That’s wonderful. I hope it works better than you ever anticipated.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll pass your words on to Scott.” No offer to pray for them this time. Apparently, she’d figured out he’d felt uncomfortable that day in the van. Today, he’d know enough to thank her. And he’d mean it, too.

“Did you cancel the nanny?”

He was surprised by her question. It appeared she wasn’t going to skirt the difficult issues. “Sitter. And I never hired her, Jessie. I wanted your input before doing that.”

She bit her lip. “What about the condo? Do you plan to sell it?”

“The condo? No. I moved in yesterday. If you call sleeping on the great-room floor in a sleeping bag moving in. But I don’t know the first thing about what to put in the place.” Oh. Hadn’t he asked her to help him buy furniture that day at the lake? He sure didn’t want to tweak those memories.

“You need a decorator.”

“I don’t want it decorated. I want it to feel comfortable. You know, like a home.”

“A home for Jake?” Her tone held a warning.

“Sure, when he’s old enough to stay with me for a
few days. But for now, I don’t want him to get used to the idea that I’m only a visitor in his life. Do you think you can bring him to Madison for a visit some time so he can get comfortable at my place?”

She squinted. “The diner is always hectic during the tourist season.”

Just how long did tourist season last? Until Labor Day? Later? He didn’t think he could bear to wait months for her to free up time for him.
Careful, Sheridan. Don’t push her.

But his relationship with his son was too important to let this drop. “Is there any way you can work something out?”

“What do you want her to work out?” Suspicion in her voice, Jessie’s chubby aunt Lou strode by, a pail of strawberries dangling from each hand.

Peter sighed. Lou looked ready to defend her niece. But he decided to lay out his problem anyway. “I’d like Jessie to bring Jake to Madison to visit, so he’ll feel comfortable in the new condo I bought.”

Aunt Lou gave Jessie a shrug. “You could use a couple days away from the diner.”

A pleasant surprise. Peter wanted to give Aunt Lou a high five.

Jessie rolled her eyes her aunt’s way and continued picking berries. “Never mind that I need to make a living, Aunt Lou.”

“Hmph.” Aunt Lou didn’t sound convinced. “Peter, carry those pails to the wagon, will you? Harold and I have to get back to the house to get berries ready for the church benefit tomorrow. And we’re hungry. Jess, you said you made sandwiches, right?” Aunt Lou bustled off.

“Sure did,” Jessie called after her. She struggled to get up.

Peter jumped up and grasped Jessie’s firm forearm to help her.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Shaking him off, she climbed to her feet.

He frowned. Why wouldn’t she let him help her?

She stretched her back as if she was stiff.

“Do you have a lot of pain from your accident?” he asked.

“Not much…if I keep moving.” She slowly limped away.

He had the feeling she was pushing through more pain than she’d admit…maybe even to herself. Noting that her parents and most of the berry pickers had already left, he grasped the pail handles and headed to the wagon. Following Aunt Lou’s example, he stashed the buckets of strawberries in the wagon with the others.

The yellow Lab who’d greeted him when he arrived lay panting in the shade of the truck, his liquid brown eyes on Peter.

“Hey, fella.” Peter walked over to him, bent and patted his head. The dog licked his hand, his long tongue like silk on Peter’s skin. Peter had to smile. Maybe he’d get a dog to keep him company in his big empty condo.

“Help yourselves to cold drinks and sandwiches.” Jessie knelt beside the cooler, snatched a bottle of cola and held it to her neck to cool off.

Peter watched, too fascinated not to.

Using the cooler for support, she struggled to her feet and limped to check Jake.

Peter grabbed a cold bottle of water from the cooler
and strolled over to stand beside her. He grinned down at Jake sprawled on the blanket. “I don’t think he’s moved since I laid him down.”

“He still needs his late-morning naps,” Jessie said.

Peter polished off his bottle of water. A small black-and-white bird twittered in the bur oak above their heads. Peter couldn’t remember ever feeling more alive.

“What do you say, Peter?”

Peter turned.

“You ready to hire on by the hour to pick strawberries?” Aunt Lou’s hefty husband, Harold, moved to stand by his wife, who’d perched on a pail turned upside down. The dog lay beside her.

Peter and Jessie walked back to them. “You’d go broke if you paid me by the hour, Mr. Phillips. My big, clumsy fingers move very slowly.”

The older man chuckled. “I haven’t told you how low my hourly wage is, have I?” Peter grinned.

Wheezing a deep laugh, Harold stiffly lowered himself to the ground. “Everybody calls me Harold except Louise when she’s mad at me.” Another deep, wheezy laugh.

Peter chuckled. Jessie’s uncle was beginning to grow on him.

Bent over the cooler, Jessie handed plastic-bagged sandwiches all around. “I hope you like sliced turkey and cheese.”

“Sounds good.” Peter accepted the sandwich and sat down in the grass beside her to unwrap it. He took a bite of the best turkey-and-cheese sandwich he’d ever tasted. “This is great. Special sauce?”

“Yes. Glad you like it.” She took a bite of her own sandwich.

He watched her chew, then realized he was staring again and looked away.

“You know, Jess…” Aunt Lou pursed her lips. “There’s no reason you can’t take Jake to see Peter’s condo. There are enough of us to pitch in and make the diner work without you for a day or two.”

Peter liked the way Aunt Lou thought.

Unfortunately, Jessie stared at the ground, obviously in no mood to entertain her aunt’s suggestion.

Harold cleared his throat. “I see you aren’t driving that anemic car anymore, Peter. Did you trade it in?”

Chewing, Peter nodded.

“Get tired of pouring that big body of yours in that little tin can?” he asked.

Peter swallowed the last bite. “I had more room in the MG than you might think, but it didn’t have a backseat for Jake’s car seat.” He looked at Jessie. “The SUV is safer, too. And it’ll be better in winter.”

Jessie nodded, the corners of her lips quirking as if they wanted to smile.

Interpreting her reaction as approval, Peter couldn’t help a grin.

Harold cleared his throat again. “I suppose the little sports job got a lot better gas mileage than the SUV does.”

Peter tore his gaze from Jessie to focus on her uncle. “Sure did. It was fun to drive, too.”

“You must be hurting for fun,” Aunt Lou interjected.

“I work long hours, so I take fun where I can find it.”

“Like picking strawberries on your day off?” Harold gave him a wink and raised his eyebrows Jessie’s way.

Had Harold picked up on Peter’s attraction to Jessie? He could only hope his feelings weren’t that obvious.

“Jake loves strawberries, so I wanted him to see where we get them,” Jessie explained. “And Peter was kind enough to agree to play with him here.” Jessie took a drink of her soda, apparently satisfied she’d set the record straight that Peter was here for Jake, not her.

And before Peter had seen her today, he would have agreed.

“Look at the little tyke, not a care in the world.” Aunt Lou gazed at Jake from her perch on the pail. “Jake and Lisa’s little Denise will have a grand time when she learns to walk,” Lou predicted.

“Playmates are pretty important to little kids, I guess.” Peter looked at Jessie.

Jessie raised an eyebrow.

Peter smiled. What was he trying to do, impress her with his knowledge about kids? Laughable.

“We’ll take a couple pails of berries to the diner for you to use or freeze, Jess,” her aunt interjected.

“Thank you, Aunt Lou. You know our customers love them.”

“It’s a good year. They’ll be delicious in that fancy, strawberry-cream wedding cake you promised to bake for Mary’s reception. She’s so excited about it. We appreciate it.”

“The cake is my wedding gift to her.”