A Father's Promise Read online

  But not anymore.

  “So much better.” Fortunately, the exposed brick walls had remained untouched everywhere except for the bedrooms, and the original wood floor still spread throughout the entire apartment.

  Now his sister had an updated space that was bright and inviting. At least, she would once he got things cleaned up and added a fresh coat of paint, anyway. After all he’d put Rae through, it was the least he could do. There weren’t many young women who would put their college experience on hold to raise their sixteen-year-old brother. Yet that’s exactly what Rae had done.

  Regret hit him in the gut, the way it did every time he thought about Craig and Jane Bishop’s untimely deaths. He was the reason they’d been on the road that night. All because he hadn’t thought before he acted.

  With a shake of his head, he willed the unpleasant thoughts aside, knowing he had a job to do. He’d promised Rae he’d get this done, and he would not disappoint her.

  Trading his hammer for the shovel he’d tucked into the corner beside one of the windows, he started scooping up the pieces of Sheetrock that littered the tarp-covered floor as memories of Laurel again pelted his brain. At this rate, he was going to drive himself nuts. He may as well just find out where she lived and apologize already.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice echoed from the back of the apartment where the stairs were located.

  “In here.” Turning, he saw Laurel pushing past the plastic sheeting he’d hung over the hallway to prevent dust from leaching into the bedrooms. And his heart skidded to a stop.

  While she was dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, her honey-blond waves swayed around her shoulders as she tiptoed through the chunks of Sheetrock that littered the kitchen floor. She sure was beautiful, but it was more than her physical appearance that made her so attractive. In their brief time together, Wes had been privileged to get a glimpse of Laurel’s heart—a heart that yearned to love and be loved. So, given that she had a child, he was kind of surprised she wasn’t married. Unless she was divorced, or the father was a deadbeat. Both were things that happened far too often in today’s world.

  “Hi.” She stopped in front of him, biting her lip as though she was nervous.

  He longed to say something profound, something that would put her at ease, yet all he managed was “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good.” She poked at a broken piece of drywall with the toe of her short boot. “Maybe a little achy, like Paisley said.” Peering up at him, she added, “But don’t tell Rae I said that.”

  Fully aware of just how bossy his sister could be, he couldn’t help smiling. “Your secret is safe with me. That is, so long as you promise to let someone know if it gets any worse.”

  “I promise.”

  He knew what he should say next. That he should apologize and let her know that, by the grace of God, he was a different man now. Yet instead of saying that, all he could muster was “Where’s your baby?”

  “She’s with Rae.” She poked a thumb over her shoulder. “I, uh, wanted to talk with you alone.”

  Alone? Sounded more like God was giving him a kick in the pants, urging him to say those things Wes had rehearsed in his head for the past two years each and every time Laurel crossed his mind.

  Sucking in a breath, he said, “Laurel, about that night—”

  “Sarah-Jane is your daughter.” Shoulders squared, she looked him in the eye.

  As his brain struggled to comprehend what she’d said, he simply stood there for the longest time, leaning against his shovel. He must not have heard her correctly. “I’m sorry. Could you, please, say that again?”

  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry.” Shaking her head, she looked suddenly frazzled. “I’m saying this all wrong.” She drew in a deep breath and exhaled before tentatively meeting his gaze. “My daughter, Sarah-Jane. She’s your daughter, too.”

  Thoughts of the frightened infant he’d tried to console yesterday sifted through his mind, stealing his breath. “But, she’s so...small.”

  “She’s fourteen months old.”

  That old, huh? With all the chaos, it wasn’t like he’d really gotten a good look at her. And then at the restaurant, he’d been so focused on Laurel. “So you mean your—my—” He stared at the woman before him, laboring to comprehend. “We have a daughter?”

  Laurel nodded. “I would have told you, but I didn’t have any idea how to contact you.” Her words seemed to tumble out.

  Half wandering, half stumbling, he dragged the shovel behind him as he moved toward the windows and lowered himself onto the top of a five-gallon paint bucket. He had a child? How could this be? Okay, he knew how, but why? God, You know I never wanted a family. I don’t deserve a family.

  Laurel remained where she was, her hands clasped tightly together. “Look, I know this is a shock. And to be clear, I don’t expect anything from you. I just—” one shoulder lifted ever so slightly “—thought you should know.”

  Half a dozen feet away, Wes just sat there, feeling as though he’d been run over by a tank. What did he do now? He didn’t know the first thing about babies or being a father.

  Thoughts of his own dad and the intensity with which he’d loved Wes and Rae played across his mind. Was Wes capable of that kind of love? What if he let his child down? What if he failed?

  “Can I see her?” He stood, sending the shovel crashing to the floor in the process, and wondered why he’d asked that particular question. Babies had never interested him.

  This is your baby.

  Maybe so, but he wasn’t sure he was worthy of her.

  A slight smile touched Laurel’s lips as she nodded. “She’s downstairs.”

  He followed her out of the apartment and to the café, uncertainty knotting his entire being. Laurel had a baby. His baby. And he hadn’t been there to help.

  The realization made him wince. Laurel was alone. A single mom. That couldn’t have been easy, and it was his fault. He’d been weak, and Laurel had been forced to live with the consequences.

  The café was empty when they reached the bottom step, something he was more than a little grateful for. Rae held the child—his child, he reminded himself—in her arms and was dancing among the tables, swaying to and fro.

  She stopped when she saw them. “Aw, who’s that, Sarah-Jane?”

  The beautiful little girl with hair the color of honey and the same blue eyes as his smiled as her mother approached. A moment later, that smile shifted to him, flipping his insides and his entire world upside down.

  Mesmerized, he continued across the wooden floor, not knowing what to do or say.

  When he stopped beside the pair, Sarah-Jane reached out her hand and offered him her cookie. How could he refuse? He pretended to nibble. “Yummy, thank you.”

  The grinning child seemed pleased with herself. Or him. And for some reason, that mattered. Because despite having just met her, he was smitten with this pint-size charmer. Sarah-Jane was everything good in this world—innocence, pure and simple. Her only expectation was that he would accept the cookie she’d offered. In exchange, he’d offered up his heart, and she’d snatched it without question.

  And in that moment, Wes knew his life had been changed forever.

  Chapter Three

  Laurel had told Wes that Sarah-Jane was his daughter. Now what?

  She’d hung around the café for a while, allowing Wes and Sarah-Jane to interact until Sarah-Jane got fussy and the lunch crowd started to move in. Still, Laurel would never forget the look of complete awe on Wes’s face when Sarah-Jane offered him her cookie. It was a moment Laurel would cherish forever.

  Where did they go from here, though? And how would Wes feel further down the road when the euphoria wore off and reality set in? Sarah-Jane had been on her best, cutest behavior this morning. However, she wasn’t afraid to voice her displeasure of things, ei
ther. What would Wes think when he witnessed an all-out hissy fit?

  The more Laurel thought about it, the clearer it was becoming that she hadn’t thought this scenario all the way through. Instead she’d been so enamored with the thought of Sarah-Jane knowing her father, not to mention overwhelmed by yesterday’s hullabaloo, that she’d simply acted.

  Because you thought you were doing what was best for your daughter.

  “Mah!” Sarah-Jane hollered from her playard in the living room.

  Laurel looked up from the potatoes she was peeling for dinner and peered over the kitchen counter to see her daughter holding on to the side of the hexagon-shaped enclosure with one hand and a set of toy keys in the other. “What is it, baby?” At fourteen months, Sarah-Jane had mastered pulling up, but she had yet to show any real interest in walking.

  Her daughter jabbered, a smile teasing at her slobber-covered lips as she watched Laurel.

  “Let me get these potatoes on to boil and I’ll come play with you, okay?”

  The meat loaf Drenda had dropped off earlier was already in the oven, and it smelled divine. However, the green beans and corn she’d brought to accompany it weren’t quite enough to properly round out this meal. With the stress of these last two days, Laurel needed some serious comfort food. And potatoes always topped that list. Mashed, with lots of butter and a little bit of cream cheese, just the way Grandmama used to make them. Besides, they were Sarah-Jane’s favorite, too.

  Her daughter chattered some more before plopping down on her bottom and moving on to the next toy.

  Laurel felt beyond blessed to have so many people thinking of her. Last night’s dinner had been courtesy of one of the ladies at church, and another friend had dropped by with a big ol’ chocolate sheet cake. Laurel was almost ashamed to admit that she’d polished off nearly a third of it already. Perhaps she should consider putting the rest of it in the freezer. Less tempting that way.

  She swapped her peeler for a knife and cut the russets into chunks, her thoughts drifting back to Wes. She’d done the right thing in telling him about Sarah-Jane. Unfortunately, the move had left her with a lot of uncertainty, too. Something she hadn’t anticipated.

  Suddenly there were so many things to consider. Things that had never crossed her mind before. Until yesterday, she’d never expected to see Wes again. Throw in the fact that he would be leaving soon to go to Iraq, and she wasn’t quite sure how to approach this whole situation.

  She tossed the potatoes into a pot and set it under the faucet to fill. Did Wes even want a role in his daughter’s life? And how would Laurel handle that? After all, until now, it had only been her and Sarah-Jane. Yes, she wanted Sarah-Jane to know her father, but that would also mean entrusting her daughter to someone who was, for all practical purposes, a stranger. It wasn’t just about him getting to know Sarah-Jane. He and Laurel had to get to know one another, too. They’d need to discuss expectations and boundaries.

  There you go assuming again.

  She huffed out a frustrated breath, set the pot atop the stove and turned the burner on high. The only way she’d know for sure about Wes’s intentions was to ask him. And that might be even more difficult than telling him he had a daughter, because she’d probably come off sounding like a dictator.

  The jingle of her phone had her glancing toward the counter, where Irma’s name appeared on the screen. Despite the fact that Irma was old enough to be Laurel’s grandmother, the two had forged a friendship. Probably because Irma reminded Laurel of her grandmother. “Hi, Irma.”

  “Hello, Laurel. How are you feeling this afternoon?” Irma had called early this morning to check on her, too. Laurel had been tied up in knots about telling Wes and definitely hadn’t been herself, which was probably why Irma called again.

  “About five pounds heavier, thanks to that cake of yours. What were you thinking, bringing me the entire pan?”

  Irma chuckled. “Baking for others brings me joy.” As with many of the women in the church, cooking was Irma’s love language.

  “I know, but it’s just me and Sarah-Jane. And I’m trying to be a responsible parent and teach my daughter good eating habits.”

  “What about your eating habits?”

  Laurel frowned. “Completely uncontrolled when it comes to your chocolate sheet cake. I don’t know what your secret is, Irma, but it’s no wonder everyone clamors for it at church potlucks.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to hear you’re doing better. You gave us all quite a scare.”

  “Don’t blame me. It was Mildred Godwin—”

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Irma, I’ll have to call you back. Someone’s here.”

  Ending the call, she quickly added a lid to the pot before padding to the door in her bare feet. “Who do you suppose it is, baby?” Perhaps someone was bringing more food.

  Sarah-Jane abandoned the shape sorter she was playing with and pulled herself up again, seemingly as curious as Laurel.

  When Laurel opened the door, she didn’t have to pretend her surprise at seeing Wes on her front porch. And, man, did he look good. The torn, dust-covered jeans and paint-spattered T-shirt he’d had on earlier had been replaced with a pair of stone-colored trousers and a nicely fitted dark gray polo.

  “Wes.” Laurel clung to the doorknob as though it was a lifeline. If nothing else, at least it would prevent her from falling when her knees decided to buckle.

  “May I come in?”

  “Yes, of course.” Closing the door behind him, she did her best to calm her suddenly flailing nerves. Stop acting like a teenager.

  With blue eyes so much like his daughter’s, he took in the living room of her little bungalow. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

  “Thank you.” She instinctively scanned the room, grateful it wasn’t too much of a mess. “It’s a work in progress.” With Drenda’s help, she was slowly but surely getting things to look the way she wanted.

  Still standing behind the couch, Laurel could tell the instant Wes’s gaze landed on Sarah-Jane. The sudden smile that spread across his face warmed her heart.

  “Is she walking?”

  She watched her daughter. “No, not yet. But we’re getting close.”

  Shifting from one foot to the next, Wes ran a hand through his damp dark hair as he faced Laurel. “Look, I have a ton of things I want to say to you, but I guess the biggest thing is, I’m sorry. I allowed one of the best nights of my life to be tarnished with regret because of my actions.” His focus again drifted to Sarah-Jane. “And altered your life forever.”

  Laurel blinked, feeling rather dumbfounded. Yet while there was a lot to unpack in Wes’s statement, there was only one thing he needed to know. “My life wasn’t just altered, Wes, it was transformed. Learning I was pregnant brought me to my knees, and that was precisely where God needed me to be.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted as he regarded her. “Interesting. Because God used that night to set me on a different path, too. A path that led me not only to Him, but back to you.” He cast a glance toward his daughter. “And Sarah-Jane.” Drawing in a deep breath, he again met Laurel’s gaze. “There’s just one problem.”

  She studied his face. The square jawline, the barely there stubble that darkened his chin. “What’s that?”

  “I can’t be Sarah-Jane’s father.”

  The words had Laurel recoiling as indignation sparked to life, simmering in her gut. And here she’d thought he was different. That he might actually care that he had a daughter. But he was no different than Jimmy Donovan, the man who had turned his back on Laurel when she was just a baby.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she felt her nostrils flare. “Can’t or won’t?” In that instant, the reality of his words smacked her upside the head. Was he insinuating someone else had fathered her daughter?

  That simmer turned into a full, rolling
boil. “Wait a minute, are you calling me a liar?”

  * * *

  Wes had stood face-to-face with the enemy on the streets of Iraq and numerous other places around the globe, yet even then he hadn’t been shaking in his boots the way he was right now.

  Frustration coursed through every fiber of his being as he searched for a way to redeem himself. He had never been good at expressing his feelings. And his propensity for making a mess of things was on full display.

  Laurel continued to glare at him, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. The way his words had come out would have offended anyone.

  “Not that it really matters.” Her chin jutted out defiantly. “Sarah-Jane and I have done just fine without you.”

  He was certain the comment was intended to hurt him, and she had definitely succeeded.

  Lowering his head, he desperately tried to gather his thoughts and prayed he would verbalize them correctly. “Laurel, I—”

  “Why don’t you just leave?” She brushed past him and he could almost feel the steam radiating from her as she yanked the door open again. “I can’t believe you would come into my house and insult me in front of my daughter.” When she looked up at him, he saw fire flaring in her gray-green eyes. “And to think, all this time I thought you were an honorable man.”

  Wes scrubbed a hand over his face. He was going about this all wrong. “Laurel, please.” Standing in front of the open door, he stared down at her, imploring her to listen to what he was really trying to convey. “I was not trying to insult you. The only thing I’m guilty of is shoving my big, fat foot in my mouth.”

  “Congratulations, it seems to fit quite well.” With one hand still on the door, she sneered.

  He sucked in a breath. Lord, help me out here. Please? “Look, communication is not my forte, all right. What I was trying to tell you is that I don’t know how to be a father.” His heart thundered against his ribs until Laurel’s stance became slightly less rigid. “I never imagined I would ever have a child of my own. I don’t know how to care for a baby, or even how to change a diaper. I’m clueless, Laurel.”