Blackbird Lake (14 page)

She wished he didn’t seem so concerned about her. That upset her more than anything.

“You doing okay now? Better?”

“Please don’t be nice to me.” She closed her eyes and wished she hadn’t said that aloud.

“Why shouldn’t I be nice to you? I like you. And right
now,” he added, rubbing her fingers with a gentleness that stunned her even through the haze of panic, “I’m plenty worried about you.”

“No…reason to be. I’m fine. You should leave.”

“Carly, I’m not leaving. Not until I’m sure you’re all right. Let me drive you home.”

She looked up into his eyes. They were the same vivid blue as Emma’s and her throat closed up again, and she felt all the air evaporating from her lungs. He wouldn’t give up. Not him—not this towering, quietly powerful cowboy.

He wasn’t wearing a Stetson, but in his Wranglers and black polo shirt and boots he looked rugged, exceedingly muscular, and ready for anything—to ride a bull, to herd cattle for days on an open range, to unload fifty-pound bags of feed off a truck—or to find out that he had a daughter he’d met for the first time last night, a daughter who was almost two years old.

He was crouched beside her, watching her as if he expected her to pass out at any moment and he needed to be ready to catch her and rush her off to the ER. It made her feel worse than ever. If only he was yelling at her, demanding she tell him the truth, she wouldn’t feel so guilty.

It didn’t mean he was giving up, she told herself. He could turn to his brother, to Travis. Travis Tanner was former FBI and now owned a security business in town. He could trace Emma’s birth certificate, learn the date she was born.

And then Jake would know…. Everyone would know….

Who was she kidding? He somehow already knew. Or suspected. There was no putting this genie back in the bottle.

She swallowed. Gasped in a little more air as the nausea skimmed through her again.

She wasn’t a coward. She had to face facts. It was going to come out. Whatever had made Jake come here in the first place to ask if Emma was his daughter wasn’t going away.

If the truth was about to burst over her like a dam, she’d rather have it come from her than from anyone else.

Take control of the fear,
Dr. Worthing had always told her.
Don’t let it control you. You can control
it.

Through the tightness in her chest she peered up at him. Bit her lip. “I want you to know…I don’t expect or want anything from you. Not now, not…ever. And I’d appreciate it if you never tell…Emma.”

She felt him go as still as a Sunday morning. She could feel his gaze burning into her and forced herself to look directly into his eyes.

“Are you saying…?”

“You’re…right. She’s yours. Your…daughter.” The nausea began to recede, just a little
. Take control.
She ran her tongue across her lips. “So…if you want to see her…now and then…you can. I’ll think of an excuse. We’ll tell her you’re a friend—”

Jake surged to his feet. “What kind of a man do you think I am?” He rocked back on his heels, staring at her in stupefaction.

“The kind who doesn’t…want a family.” She pushed herself out of the chair, stood erect, as the tightness in her throat mercifully eased a fraction. “The kind of man who doesn’t want…obligations. Commitments. I understand. I’m assuring you that you don’t need to worry about Emma.” She stopped to suck in a breath of air. “Or about me. We don’t need you. We’re fine. We’re…g-great, actually, and—”

“I want to see my daughter.
Now.
”

Carly felt the slightest flutter of dizziness wash over her again. It was unnerving hearing him say “my daughter.”

“
No
. Not…today. I need to figure this out and—”

“Listen to me. I need to see her.” His jaw was set. There was hard determination in his eyes—and something else. Something that looked like anguish.

“I’m not saying this to upset you, Carly.” He kept his tone low. “If you need a doctor, we’ll go there first. But I’ve lost nearly two years.” Suddenly he raked a hand through his jet-black hair. His expression was grim, set. Those blue eyes so like Emma’s stared into hers.

“I need to see my daughter. Where is she right now?
Where’s Emma?
”

Carly noticed the frown on Martha’s face as she swung up Carly’s driveway and parked her car behind Jake’s truck.

Okay, here we go,
Carly thought. Her heart pounded as she rose from her perch on the edge of her porch swing. Turning her head slightly, she studied Jake, standing on the porch behind her.

He was lounging against the wall of her house, his powerful arms crossed, trying to look relaxed, but she sensed the anger and tension coiled in his body. She watched him straighten and drop his hands to his sides as his gaze sharpened on Martha’s car. Or rather, on the little girl—Emma—strapped in the car seat in the back of Martha’s car.

“Just don’t tell her, Jake. Not yet. Please, I don’t think Emma would understand, but just in case—” she muttered for the fourth time as she started down the steps, not looking back at him.

“I won’t say anything. Not yet.” He spoke quietly, but firmly. “I just want to meet her. I have a lot of time to make up for.”

Jake’s brain still hadn’t stopped spinning. He had a
daughter. A little girl he’d seen the previous night for the first time while she was asleep.

He’d never even gazed into her eyes. She’d never peered into his.

He’d never held her. Touched her tiny fingers and toes.

And she didn’t know him from the garbage collector.

There was a hard knot of anger in his gut because Carly hadn’t told him about Emma. Just the opposite. She’d cut him coldly and completely out of the first year and a half of his daughter’s life. Still, a part of him had to acknowledge that despite the panic attack he’d witnessed today, she must be one hell of a strong woman to have taken on single parenthood all alone. One thing was clear—she was fiercely protective of their daughter and obviously loved her deeply.

But she sure as hell wouldn’t be raising Emma all alone anymore. He felt a huge weight of responsibility settling like iron weights on his shoulders. Nearly two missed years’ worth of responsibility. There was no way he was walking away from it.

But his brain was still reeling, which sucked right now, because there was so much he had to figure out. And a full schedule he needed to quickly rearrange.

He was supposed to leave for Wyoming and the Bighorn Bull Rodeo in a few days. And he had a commercial shoot coming up soon after that. He’d thought all he had to do was hang around Lonesome Way for Zoey’s birthday party, get Brady a job and back on track, draw up some plans with Denny McDonald for his antibullying project—and then he could take off again next week.

He had a month’s worth of rodeo competitions and guest appearances ahead of him after the new ad was filmed, but now it was all on hold. He wasn’t going anywhere.

At least not for a few more weeks, he decided, his brows drawing together in a frown. Two weeks probably—that ought to do it. He’d have to push everything back that long and then he’d need to return to Lonesome Way again, a whole lot sooner and a lot more regularly than he’d thought.

He intended to try to see Emma at least every other week. There’d have to be a way to make that work. And he’d need to sit down and plan a schedule with Carly.

There were tons of details to work out. Like financial support for his daughter—for Carly, too, if she wanted it. But most of all, he needed to get to know that little girl, to make up for the time he’d lost.

He had to start building a relationship with this tiny red-haired stranger Carly was now unbuckling from the backseat of Martha’s car.

His heart felt like it was going to shoot out of his chest as he gazed at her. Was she really his? This impish little curly-head? She had Carly’s red-gold hair and it tumbled in fluffy unruly ringlets around a flushed, happy little face. For the first time he saw her eyes. Blue. Intensely dark blue. The same exact color he remembered from his own baby pictures. She had amazingly long eyelashes, dimples, small wisps of pale eyebrows.

She looked so fragile. So beautiful.

Something strange and unfamiliar clenched tight and deep inside his heart.

Emma’s arms were stretched out toward her mother, eager and entreating. The way she smiled at Carly…

How will she react to me?
he wondered tautly, stepping down off the porch.

“So what’s this all about?” Martha raised her voice to be heard over the sounds of Emma’s excited squeals after she caught sight of Carly. Then the older woman shot Jake a curious glance.

“Well, now, Jake Tanner. I heard you were in town. All the single ladies who came in for manicures or cuts today are in a tizzy, thinking maybe you’ll still be in town for the auction and might bid on them next week. What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you, Martha.” Jake sidestepped her question and was relieved when she apparently forgot about it as Carly lifted her daughter out of the car seat.

“You know, I was supposed to keep my little miss
overnight,” Martha sniffed, peeved over her interrupted Emma time. “Why’d I have to bring her back so soon? We were just going to the park.”

“I can’t explain right now, Martha.” With Emma’s arms entwined around her neck, Carly started up the walk. “But I’ll bring her back to you in a little while, I promise. She can still spend the night.”

For the first time, the older woman noticed the strained tone of Carly’s voice. She whipped a glance at her face.

“Heavens, what’s wrong with you? You’re pale as winter sun, child. What’s this all about? Here, let me bring this big old diaper bag inside for you—”

“I’ve got it, Martha.” Taking the bag easily from the older woman, Jake forced a smile. “Everything is fine.”

But his words only drew a stare—a long one. Martha studied him, then turned sharply toward Carly, who, Jake reflected, didn’t look so good. She was pale and was giving off uneasy vibes in spades. Martha’s gaze shifted to the little girl in Carly’s arms, then darted quickly back to Jake’s face.

She drew in a breath.

“Well, I’ll be going now.” She spoke more faintly than Jake had ever heard her speak in his life. “What time should I come back for Emma?”

“I’ll bring her to your apartment in about an hour.” Carly glanced at Jake, as if expecting an objection, and when none came, she straightened her shoulders. “I’ll give you a heads-up when I’m on my way.”

“Whatever is going on—” Martha’s voice trailed off, her gaze locking on Carly’s with concern. “You know I’m here if you need me.”

“Thank you. I know.” Somehow she managed a wan smile before she turned toward the steps with Emma babbling in her ear, gesturing with her little arms.

It’s the one thing I do know right now,
Carly thought as she held Emma close. Martha would be here for her. Even if the world—meaning Lonesome Way—discovered that Jake was Emma’s father and that she’d never told him he had a daughter.

Even if the Tanners and half the town turned on her for having kept such a secret from one of their native sons.

For a moment she wished with all her heart that Annie was here, too. She was going to need all the friends she could get.
If,
after this came out, she even had any friends left.

“Down, Mumma, down,” Emma ordered, squirming as they neared the porch. “Me walk. Me!”

Setting her daughter gently on her feet, she held Emma’s hand and helped her up the steps. When Carly reached for the screen door, Jake was somehow there first and pulled it open.

“Hi there, Emma,” he said softly. There was a smile on his face, but Carly thought it looked strained.

He wants this like a hole in the head.
Her resolve tightened.
Jake has no use for a child, but he’s a Tanner and he’s been brought up never to run away from his responsibilities. Maybe that’s why all of his life, he’s avoided taking any on.

“Emma, this nice man is Jake.” Too late she realized her tone sounded forced: overbright and much too cheerful. Phony baloney, as Annie would have said. She flinched in-wardly. “Jake is Mommy’s friend. Can you say hi?”

Emma shot Jake a lightning-quick smile and a distracted wave, then tugged her other hand free of Carly’s, darted around Jake into the house, and took off for her little playroom down the hall, just beyond Carly’s sewing room, running with a toddler’s wobbly gait.

“Bug!” she yelled, followed by a giggle. “Bug!”

Jake stared after her, looking dazed as she disappeared into the playroom.

There was a brief silence except for the sounds of Emma’s babbling. Carly closed the front door, leaned her back against it.

“Bug is her stuffed dog. She likes the word ‘Bug.’ She even calls her lamb Buggy. And her doll, too. Go figure.”

Every vestige of a smile had disappeared from Jake’s face. He looked shell-shocked. Even more so now than he had at the quilt shop. He deposited the diaper bag on the floor.

“We have some things to discuss.”

“Of course.” She forced herself to move calmly, deliberately to the sofa, where she sank down. “I know that we have a lot to figure out.”