Yesterday's Sins (18 page)

"I do like it. And I love that you've managed to keep its intrinsic character. But I would have hated to foot the bills on my budget."

"I can imagine." He gave her a shrewd smile. "My architect threw up his hands in horror. He suggested we tear it down."

"You wouldn't have?"

"When the estimates came in I have to confess I was tempted. The house was in a worse shape than we thought." He shook his head, expression rueful. "Only the fear of incurring your wrath saved it from the bulldozers."

Startled she looked away, not prepared to touch that comment. "Where is Sarah?"

"Sorry, here I am keeping you talking. Sarah's eager to meet you. She's in her play room."

He led the way towards the large room on the first floor. Agitated, Kate laid a hand on his arm before he could open the door. "What have you told her?"

"That an old friend of mine was coming to visit. Don't be nervous she's a loving little girl."

An old friend—I'm hardly that.

Kate inhaled a deep, ragged breath as he opened the door. Her eyes immediately fixed on the little girl sitting at a small table industriously cutting paper with scissors.

The afternoon sun burnished her hair and it seemed to Kate's fanciful imagination, the child resembled a golden angel. She glanced up, saw her father and was out of her chair, bouncing across the room into his arms.

And the image was broken.

"Daddy, you've come."

"I said I would," he said in a deep, growly voice tickling her ribs making her laugh.

This child was no angel just a normal little girl. As she watched them, sorrow etched furrows in Kate's heart. They looked so comfortable with each other.
Will there ever be a place for me in my daughter's life?

Alex turned toward her. "I've brought my friend, Kate Audley."

"Hello Sarah," Kate said gravely, worried Sarah would recognize her as the vase throwing harpy.

Sarah studied her, head on one side and then gave a gamin gap-tooth smile. "Hi Kate, Daddy said he was bringing a friend."

Sarah extended a hand, a strangely adult gesture. Kate took it in hers, resisting the compulsion to sweep the child into her arms and smother her with hugs and kisses, and never let her go.

The fierceness of the impulse shook her to her soul.

Afraid she would betray herself, she glanced at Alex, and it was too easy to be careful.

"Would you like to see my project?" Sarah was blithely unaware of the undercurrents.

"Of course." Kate fought the catch in her throat as she walked across the room in Sarah's wake. "What are you doing?"

"Homework. We have to match these animals to the skellingtons." Sarah studied the project form with its pictures of animals and different sized skeletons to be cut out and pasted in the blank spaces next to them.

"Skeletons." The correction was automatic, her gaze never leaving Sarah's face. "Is this for school?"

"We're studying animals. Mr. Owen's taking us to a farm on Wednesday." Sarah looked up at Kate with wide, curious eyes. "Do you have any little girls?"

Kate's glance sought Alex leaning against the windowsill, watching. How could she answer? He offered no help. She believed in honesty but she'd also promised not to reveal the truth.

"A long time ago I had a little girl." The rusty catch of emotion caught at her voice. "But not anymore."

"What happened to her? Did she die?"

"No." A knife pierced Kate's heart. "I left her with her daddy."

Sarah frowned as she studied Kate and then she smiled as if this made perfect sense.

"My mummy left me with my daddy." She held up a picture. "Is this a cow or a sheep?"

Kate swallowed a sigh at Sarah's abrupt change of subject. To her, the subject was of less importance than a school project, or this first visit with her mother.

"Why not try and match the length of the legs."

Sarah carefully measured the legs and then gave a whoop of delight. "You're clever Kate."

As she cut and pasted the two remaining skeletons in place, Kate watched her intense concentration with sadness. This child was the missing piece of her heart. And for the first time, she saw clearly what she'd walked away from.

She'd missed so many years, years that could never be recaptured. Tears scalded the back of her eyes and she blinked hard. A warm hand rested on her shoulder.

Alex understood.

She glanced at him and compassion stared back. He pitied her? She moved sharply, repudiating it. She neither wanted nor needed his pity.

"I've finished, Daddy," Sarah announced breaking the fraught moment.

Alex crouched down to her level, studying her project and then patted her head. "You can be proud of this. Do you want to show Kate your dolls?"

Fighting against the inconvenient rush of mother-love, Kate followed slowly. She longed to gather the child in her arms and hold her close but instead concentrated on the dolls.

Dolls of every shape and size sat in rows on chairs.

"You have to admire Sarah's dolls." Alex gave her an amused smile as he walked at her side. "She loves them all. It's a big job to remember their names."

"Daddy's always getting them wrong." Sarah bounced across to a child sized rocking chair and picked up a blonde doll, obviously well loved. "This is Cassie, she's my favourite."

"Why is she your favourite?"

"Dunno." Sarah shrugged; her small bony shoulders almost reached her ears. "She just is."

Kate looked at the array of dolls, frowning. What was it about this doll that called to Sarah above all the others?

"A real logical explanation," Alex tousled Sarah's hair, a wealth of love and affection in the simple gesture. "I certainly remember that doll. Until she went to school, Cassie was her constant companion."

"And Raffie." Sarah darted across the room and picked up a tattered and well-worn giraffe.

"Heaven help us if we couldn't find Cassie or Raffie at bedtime." He gave Kate another of those enigmatic smiles as he gifted her with this snippet of information.

The hollow ache in Kate's heart expanded. She didn't even know what toys her child loved and treasured.

She'd missed so much of Sarah's life.

So many years that would never come again.

This visit was proving to be more painful than she'd ever imagined. She glanced at Alex but gleaned nothing from his expression. She would give anything to know his thoughts. Was he upset at her being this close to her daughter?

"Men aren't very good with names and birthdays and things. I bet you have to remind him when it's your birthday?"

"Noni reminds him." Sarah laughed, the sound so like Alex's it sent a shaft of agony slivering through Kate.

"Noni was my nurse." Alex gave her a strange look she didn't understand. "She's looked after Sarah all her life."

Jealousy caught Kate by surprise.

She was the person who should have nurtured and cared for this child. Not some nurse.

When she'd run away, she'd forfeited that right.

She turned away to hide her distress.

"Why don't you go and see if afternoon tea is ready, Sarah," Alex suggested quietly. "Tell Maria well have it in the blue sitting room."

"Can I have my milk with you?"

"Of course, Kate's visiting with you too." Alex put a hand under Kate's elbow and steered her out of the spacious play room. "While you help Maria I'll show Kate around upstairs, okay."

Kate watched Sarah with hungry eyes as she skipped down the stairs. Her long hair, caught back in a practical pony tail, bobbed against her sweatshirt with each step.

Alex turned her face up to his. "Remorse, Catriona?"

"How could I not feel remorse? She's a lovely child. Thank you for allowing me to meet her."

Alex mouth tightened and his grey eyes went dark. "You must think I'm a monster."

Do I? At one time my answer would have been an unhesitating yes—now—?

She pulled away, uncomfortable with her emotions.

Unable to put into words the wrenching anguish of being so close to Sarah, and yet so far removed.

"Come and look at the rest of the house." Alex's clipped tone made her nervous. "Sarah will expect you look at her bedroom."

Kate stumbled after him wondering what she'd said to upset him as he crossed the wide landing and opened a door.

"This is Sarah's room."

It was a beautiful. All polished panelling, chintz and pale paint work. A window seat held dolls and soft toys, propped against pillows in a multitude of shapes and colours.

It was far too easy to imagine Sarah sprawled there, playing.

In one corner was a huge Bentwood rocker. Had Alex sat in that chair rocking a tiny Sarah to sleep?

Pain and guilt splintered Kate's heart.

She should've been there for Sarah. She should have rocked her child and soothed her baby tears.

Instead she'd chosen to walk away.

She dragged her gaze from that chair and saw a small wooden box on the polished dresser.

Its magnetism pulled her.

On unsteady steps she crossed the room and lifted the lid with aching fingers, closing her eyes as the melody trembled in the air.

Oh, the painful echoes of my past.

I lifted this very lid questioning if it was wise to visit Alexandros Korda that fateful morning all those years ago.

"This was mine, I wondered where it was. It's the Cullum music box."

"I found it in your bedroom." Alex watched her, his expression inscrutable. "Every child should have something of its mother. I hope you're not offended that I kept it for Sarah."

Kate was unable to meet his eyes.

This music box held her life, the very fabric of her soul.

Had Sarah been lulled to sleep at night by the same melody that had soothed her own childhood? Did Alex know how significant this box was? It held her family history.

Memories of her mother were as clear as yesterday. Kate could see her face as she recounted the legend of the box. How often she'd sat on her mother's bed and listened to these haunting notes while her mother dressed to go out with her father.

Remembered grief surfaced, hers and Chris's, as they wept in their father's arms when he told then their mother would never come home.

Kate closed her eyes on the vivid memories.

How right it was that Sarah should have had this tangible reminder of the mother who'd walked away and left her behind. It was her rightful heritage.

"This was my mother's. It's been handed down in her family for generations." Kate closed the lid when the notes died and stroked the box with reverent fingers. "My father gave Chris the Cullum Kilt pin and me the music box when she died."