Storybook Dad (Harlequin American Romance) (12 page)

“C’mon, Geronimo,” he whispered as he crept around the house
and onto the street, his feet taking him in the same direction Daddy’s car
always went. “It’s our turn to say goodbye.”

Chapter Twelve

Emily propped her elbows on her desk and stuck her
fingers in her ears in a futile effort to drown out the steady
whump whump
of the helicopter flying back and forth
over Bucket List 101.

She tried to concentrate on the course description she was
composing for the upcoming fall calendar, but the incessant noise made writing
difficult at best. No matter how many times she consulted the list of skills her
students would learn during the four-day extreme camping expedition, she forgot
them the second she began typing, her thoughts, derailed by the persistent
feeling that something wasn’t right…

She knew it was silly, paranoid even. It was a helicopter, that
was all. Its very nature was to push down air, thus putting pressure on a
person’s eardrums. Pulling her fingers from her ears, Emily rose from her chair
and made her way to the window, the maddening
whump
whump
of yet another pass overriding her need for fresh air.

“Hey there, boss.” Trish breezed into the room, her slim legs
making short work of crossing to the desk. “I compiled a list of twenty former
clients who expressed an interest in a survival-style camping trip when they
filled out their comment cards at the end of class. Gives us a nice solid base
to start with, don’t you think?”

Emily turned away from the window. “That sounds like a great
idea. Nice work, Trish.”

She rounded her desk and dropped back into her chair,
repositioning her hands atop the keyboard. “Now, if Mr. Helicopter Instructor
would just take his student a few miles east, I might actually get the darn
course description written and ready for you to paste into the fall program
guide.”

Trish strode over to the window and peered out. “That’s not a
flying lesson, boss. It’s a search team.”

“Search team?”

“Uh-huh. According to my mom, they’re looking for some little
kid who was missing from his bed this morning.”

Emily’s stomach tightened with fear at the mere notion of what
that would be like for a parent. “Boy or girl?”

“A little boy.”

“How old?” she asked.

“I think my mom said he’s four, maybe five, but I’m not exactly
sure. I
do
know he’s not school-aged yet.”

Jumping up, Emily joined Trish at the window. “Call the local
police station. See if they’ll fax you some information on this little boy. If
they can do that, tell them I’m willing to call in some of our more seasoned
hikers and see if we can get together a search team to go out into the woods on
foot.”

Ten minutes later, Trish was back, fax in one hand, pink sticky
note in the other. “Got the info you requested, boss. A picture, too.”

“Tell me.”

Consulting the note, Trish began filling in the blanks. “Okay,
the kid’s name is Seth Reynolds and—”

Emily’s gasp echoed against the walls, only to be drowned out
by an eighth helicopter pass and Trish’s voice relating, “He’s four and—”

“A half,” Emily cried. “Four and a half. Oh my God, Trish, I
know him.”

Her assistant’s eyes widened. “You do?”

She reached out, grabbed the fax from her hand and stared down
at the face of the little boy who’d smiled so sweetly at her across the dinner
table at Sam’s. “This is Mark’s son.”

“Mark?”

“Yes. You remember Mark.”

Trish looked questioningly at her. “I do?”

“He’s the guy who came to my orienteering class late the other
day! The one who…” She let the words trail off. There wasn’t any other
meaningful correlation to be made for Trish or anyone else. Not now. Not
ever.

Looking back down at the paper in her hand, Emily read the word
for word quote Mark had given the police department’s dispatcher: “My son isn’t
the type to wander off, but he’s been through a lot lately, losing his mom and
all. I mean, I thought he was doing okay—as okay as he can be, anyway, but maybe
I was wrong. Maybe I missed something. But he’s a sweet little guy who loves his
toys and dreaming about fairy tales and castles.”

“Dreaming about fairy tales,” she whispered. Suddenly she was
back on the beach at Lake Winoka. Seth’s sand castle was to her left, while Seth
himself played in the sand, wide-eyed and happy. In her hand was the flag she’d
crafted out of a stick and a leaf. She was glued to the spot by Seth’s tales of
royalty and secret hideaways....

“Secret hideaways,” she whispered, before grabbing Trish by the
arm. “Oh my gosh, Trish, that’s it!
That’s it!
” She
released her assistant’s arm, only to grab for her purse and keys. “I’ve gotta
go. Cancel my class for this morning and the one this afternoon, too. Tell
people we’ll reschedule for next week—same day, same time. If they can’t make
it, give them a refund.”

* * *

D
ESPITE
THE
TEARS
that had clouded her vision on the drive home
from Mark’s twenty-four hours earlier, Emily was able to find her way through
downtown Winoka and out the other side with little to no effort, her hands
instinctively turning the wheel down one side street after another until she was
back on Crystal View Drive. Any hesitation she entertained as to which house was
the right one was quickly wiped away by the smattering of police cars parked
outside the fourth bungalow on the left.

She pulled alongside the curb behind the last of four Winoka
police cruisers and cut the engine, her heart thudding in her chest. All the way
there she’d second-guessed her decision to come, her worry over getting Mark’s
hopes up unnecessarily almost making her turn around. But every time she slowed
the car to do just that, Seth’s voice had gotten louder in her head.

If she was wrong, she was wrong. But if she was right, and she
did nothing…

Dropping her keys into her purse, she stepped from the car and
crossed the street to Mark’s house, a huddle of police officers quickly
disbanding as she approached. “Can I help you, miss?” one asked her, not
unkindly.

“I’m a friend of Mark’s. I’d like to see him if it’s okay.”

The officer hesitated a split second before waving her through.
“Yeah, okay. But he’s in bad shape right now. Might be helpful if you can get
the poor guy to eat something. He’s gonna need his strength if this drags
on.”

She nodded and continued up the driveway, her feet guiding her
to a door she’d vowed she would never step foot in again. But this was
different. Her being here had nothing to do with her and nothing to do with
Mark.

This visit was about Seth and only Seth.

When she reached the front porch she knocked, only to be
instructed to enter by the same police officer who’d given her permission to
pass.

Was she crazy for being here? For pretending she actually knew
Seth in a way that made her privy to his thoughts?

Maybe.

But it was worth the shot.
Seth
was
worth the shot, she reminded herself.

This time, when she entered Mark’s home, she didn’t linger in
the hallway looking at pictures. She knew they were there, knew Seth’s eyes were
on her as she nodded toward the officer standing there and turned her focus to
the living room and the man with the chocolate-brown hair who sat slumped in a
chair, staring at the carpet beneath his feet.

She hesitated, for a moment, his private pain slowly thawing
the anger she held for him. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through—the
raw fear he must feel, wondering if he’d ever seen his precious little boy
again.

But before she could muster the courage to speak, before she
could settle on just the right sentiment to offer, a board creaked under her
feet. At the sound, Mark’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. “Emily?” he
choked out. “What are you doing here?”

Pushing aside all residual anger for the man, she crossed the
room and stood awkwardly beside his chair. “I heard about Seth.”

Mark’s head pitched forward once again, his shoulders caving
inward. “He was in his bed when I went to sleep last night. I kissed his head
and tucked him in bed with Geronimo. And then…this morning…he was
gone.
They both were.”

Gathering her courage along with her breath, Emily put words to
the scenario that had played itself out in her thoughts again and again
throughout the drive. “Did you check his tree house?”

Mark’s head moved from side to side. “Seth doesn’t have a tree
house.”

“Yes, he does,” she said. “He told me all about it at the beach
the other day.”

In a flash Mark’s eyes were on hers, penetrating, questioning.
“What are you talking about? What tree house? Seth
doesn’t
have a tree house.”

Slowly she lowered herself onto the couch across from Mark and
reached for his hand, the feel of his skin against hers and the subsequent
thumping in her heart something she’d have to chastise herself for later, when
she was alone. “The other day, at the beach, before you came over…Seth and I
talked about the castle he was making and which room he’d live in if it was
real.”

Mark’s eyes closed and he gave a tired shrug. “Seth is big on
fairy tales. Has been ever since he was old enough to sit on Sally’s lap at
bedtime and follow along with the pictures in a book while she read the story
aloud. Something about her voice when she read the princess stories left an
impression on him. By the time he was two, those had become his favorite, and
that hasn’t changed.”

Emily shook his hand ever so gently until his focus was on her
once again. “Please, Mark. I need to tell you this. After he showed me his room
in the castle, I told him that I used to dream about living in a castle when I
was little, too.”

“Emily, I don’t see why any of this matters. My son is
missing!
Don’t you get that?” Pulling his hand from
hers, he raked it through his hair. “He could be wandering around lost, or be
with someone who intends to do him harm.”

She continued on, undaunted. “I told him that just because my
dream didn’t come true, there was no reason to think his couldn’t…because dreams
are good and special, and no one can ever take them away from us unless we give
up on them ourselves.”

Sensing Mark’s growing frustration, she plowed on, desperate
for him to see the tree house tidbit the way she did—as a viable place for
finding Seth. “That’s when he told me about his tree house. He said he found it
in the woods.”

Mark straightened in his chair. “Woods? What woods?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. I think he called it Gem’s Woods or
something like that,” she recalled, unsure of whether she was saying the right
name. “I suppose it could be a place in his imagination, but he talked about it
like it was real. Like it’s a place he’s gone before.”

“Say the name of the woods again,” he prompted.

“Gem…Gum…Gam… Something close to—”

He drew back. “Did you say Gam?”

“That’s the closest I can remember. I’m sorry....”

“No. No. Don’t be. That’s what he calls my mom. It’s a
carryover from when he had a hard time saying his
r
s
when he was first learning how to talk.”

“Are there woods behind your mother’s house?” Emily asked.

“There are, but her house is easily a mile away from here. He
couldn’t walk that by himself. He’s only four.”

She nodded, even as she relayed the rest of the conversation
she’d had with Seth. “He told me he liked to climb the ladder and sit there. He
said he liked to go there and dream with his eyes open.”

“Dream with his eyes open?” Mark repeated in confusion.

“He said that he likes to dream that way best because then
they’re not as scary as the ones he has at night in his bed.”

This time, Mark brought both hands to his face and peered at
Emily across the tips of his fingers, clearly trying to absorb everything she
was saying. After a few seconds, he jumped to his feet so forcefully his chair
tipped over backward. “Oh my God, do you think that’s where he went?”

She rose in turn, finding the hope on Mark’s face both
encouraging and frightening at the same time. “I don’t know. I really don’t. But
if there’s even a tiny chance that’s where he went, it’s worth trying to find
it, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely!” he shouted as he ran toward the door, with Emily
at his heels. “Anything is worth a shot at this point!”

Chapter Thirteen

The police car had barely come to a stop in his
mother’s driveway before Mark was out of the front seat and opening the back
door for Emily. “Come on, let’s go! Hurry!”

Together, they took off in a sprint around the neatly kept
house where Mark’s mother lived, and headed into the woods, their path slowed
from time to time by a downed tree and the occasional large rock that posed a
tripping hazard to anyone not paying attention. With unspoken agreement, they
split off in opposite directions when the trail they were following did the
same, one branch leading toward a rushing creek, the other farther into the
woods.

Emily turned left and darted around an old rusty fence that
marked some long-ago property line at the base of a steep hill. Without breaking
stride, she ran to the very top, her gaze flitting from side to side for any
indication of the tree house Seth had spoken about that day at the beach.

He hadn’t given her anything to go on, no concrete description
of the path he took to get there that could now serve as a map. What she did
know was that the tree house had a long ladder, which meant the structure was
elevated a fair distance. From the perspective of a four-year-old, anyway.

Running through the woods was something she was good at. Emily
could weave her way around trees and toppled limbs like a football player tasked
with the job of getting the ball down the field and into the end zone. But that
was when she was looking straight ahead, not up, as was currently the case.

Everything she knew about missing children pointed to the
importance of time. The longer a family went without finding their child, the
less likely they ever would. So the urgency to locate Seth’s tree house and rule
it out as a possibility was critical. With that in mind, she lowered her head
and began searching for the ladder rather than the tree house itself, enabling
her to run faster.

And that’s when she saw it—a rotting, weathered affair that
looked as if it could barely support the weight of a curious squirrel, let alone
a human. But Seth was light and compact.

Without altering her stride, Emily stuck her fingers in her
mouth and gave a long, low whistle to alert Mark to her find. The ladder she’d
spied grew closer and closer, until she could just make out the bottom of an old
tree house that had clearly seen better days. When she reached the actual tree,
she said a silent prayer, hoping against hope that her gut was right—that Seth
was inside, dreaming, safe and sound and completely oblivious to the massive
search now under way in his honor.

With barely a pause to collect her breath, she began climbing,
the second board of the makeshift ladder giving way beneath her feet and
prompting her to grab hold of the fifth board and pull herself upward. Two more
big pulls and she was emerging through the floorboards into a dank and dusty
place that smelled vaguely of strawberry Pop-Tart. Squinting into the darkness,
she choked back a sob of relief at the sight of the little boy and his stuffed
giraffe sleeping peacefully beneath a blue-and-white baby blanket, a framed
photograph of Mark’s late wife peeking out from under the soft fleece.

Slowly but surely, a parade of tears made its way down Emily’s
cheeks. “Seth? Seth, wake up, sweetie. It’s me, Emily. From the beach and the
pizza parlor the other night.”

“Emily?” the little boy repeated in a voice heavy with sleep.
Slowly, he sat up, furiously rubbing his eyes, then peered at her between the
ears of his giraffe. “Emily? Is that really you?”

She heard the crunch of leaves on the ground below as Mark
reached the tree, prompting her to move away from the hole in the floor to
afford him access to his son. “Yes, Seth, it’s really me.”

“But how did you come back?” he asked, his eyes round with
confusion.

“Come back?” she echoed. “Come back from where?”

“From God’s house!”

She moved aside as Mark pulled himself into the tree house and
lunged across the floor, drawing his son into the fiercest bear hug she’d ever
seen. “Seth…Seth…
Seth!
You scared me half to death!
What were you
thinking
by leaving the house like
that in the middle of the night?”

The little boy pointed over his father’s shoulder. “Daddy,
look! It’s Emily! She came back from dying!”

She looked from Seth to Mark and back again, the child’s
bizarre statement throwing her for a loop. “Dying? Seth, I didn’t die. I’m right
here, perfectly fine as always. See?”

Wiggling out of his dad’s arms, Seth turned a questioning eye
on Mark. “Daddy, you told me we wouldn’t be seeing Emily anymore, remember? You
told me that last night, when you were kissing me and Geronimo good-night.”

Mark’s mouth gaped. “Is that why you ran away, little man?
Because you thought I meant that Emily had died?”

Seth nodded solemnly. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. So I came
here…to say goodbye in my wake-time dreams. Just like I did when Mommy
died.”

“Oh, little man, come here.” As he gathered his son in his arms
once again, Mark’s shoulders began to shake, an indication of the tears Emily
suspected were streaming down his face and onto Seth’s head.

Mark was right.

Seth cared about her way too much. Especially for someone so
young, who had been through so much already. He’d grieved enough for one
lifetime.

Swallowing painfully, she made her way back across the
floorboards to the ladder. She’d done what she’d set out to do. She’d found Seth
and reunited him with his dad. It was time to go home.

* * *

S
ECONDS
TURNED
TO
MINUTES
and minutes
to half an hour as Mark sat there in the tree house, holding his son close,
grateful for the chance he’d been so sure he’d lost.

When he was convinced the moment was real rather than a cruel
dream from which he’d soon waken, he brushed a hand across his eyes and released
Seth for a long-overdue once-over. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when
I woke up this morning and you weren’t in your bed? Or how scared I was that
someone had gotten into the house and taken you? Or that I’d never get to hold
you in my arms again?”

Seth’s cheeks turned crimson and he cast his eyes downward.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I was afraid you were all alone and waiting for me to find
you.” He heard the words as they left his mouth, the fear, relief and anger in
his tone shaking him to the core once again. Now that Seth was safe, Mark
realized just how terrified he’d been while he’d sat waiting for some word. It
was a feeling he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

Seth raised his stuffed giraffe in the air and waved it around
for Mark to see. “I wasn’t alone, Daddy. Geronimo was here to keep me safe.
Mommy, too.”

“M-Mommy?” he sputtered.

“I talk to Mommy here. And she listens to me.”

Mark sucked in a breath as he searched for the right words.
Clearly, it was time to bring in a professional—someone who was trained to help
his son through his grief. Raking his hands through his hair, Mark asked, “What
do you say to Mommy when you’re here?”

Seth rocked back on his knees, and smiled. “The first time,
when I just found my tree house, I got to tell her goodbye. And then I made sure
to tell her that I love her very, very, very, very, very much. Because she
needed to know that, Daddy. She really did.”

“Mommy knew how much you loved her, little man. It’s why she
smiled like she did all the time.” Shifting slightly, Mark reached for Seth once
again, this time pulling him onto his lap. “There wasn’t a day that went by when
Mommy didn’t know how much you loved her and how very special she was to you.
And you know what? That was the greatest gift you could have ever given
her.”

“But I wanted to tell her goodbye
before
she went with God. Just like you got to, Daddy. Only you and
Gam didn’t let me. You said I was too little. But little people can say goodbye
just as good as big people. Geronimo thinks so, too.”

Mark considered his son’s words and compared them with the
decision he’d made as Sally’s death neared by hours rather than days. “I’m sorry
you didn’t get to say goodbye to her, Seth. I really am. It’s just that…well,
all I can say is that sometimes big people have to make a decision they think is
right. And I thought it was more important for you to remember Mommy the way she
was the day before she died—when you were able to cuddle up next to her, looking
through the pages of your favorite storybook together.” He heard his voice give
way under the weight of the memory, and he worked to compose himself so he could
say what needed to be said. “I didn’t want your last memory of Mommy to be one
where she could no longer say anything to you. Because that’s what it was like
for me, and it was really sad.”

Seth nestled against Mark’s chest, his hand wrapped tightly
around Geronimo. “It’s okay now, Daddy. I said goodbye to Mommy in my wake-time
dreams. And she heard me, because she made a rainbow right out there—” he lifted
his giraffe and pointed it toward the square opening that served as the tree
house’s lone window “—as soon as I told her. It was big and had lots and lots of
pretty colors. Even purple!”

Mark wanted to ask about the rainbow, but opted to leave the
topic alone. If Seth needed to see a rainbow to make peace with his mom’s death,
then he needed to see a rainbow. Telling him that such a sighting in thick woods
was nearly impossible served no real purpose.

Sometimes being right didn’t matter. And this was one of those
times.

Instead, he lifted his hand to Seth’s head and smoothed back
the crop of blond hair that was so like Sally’s. “How did you find this tree
house? Because I know you couldn’t have gotten Gam out here all by
yourself.”

“I found it the day Mommy died.”

“I get that,” he said. “But how did you find it?”

Seth shrugged. “I found it all by myself.”

He swallowed. “Gam let you go out in the woods by
yourself?”

“No. Gam didn’t know. She was crying in her room. But I knew
why. I knew God had given Mommy her wings so she could fly like the rest of his
angels. ’Cept she’s extra special because she’s a princess angel.”

Mark gave the nod he knew Seth needed, but stuck to his line of
questioning. “So how did you end up all the way out here? By yourself?”

“Gam fell asleep. She didn’t mean to, Daddy, but sometimes
crying makes you sleepy. So I asked Geronimo if he wanted to help me find the
hospital, and he said he did. But we found this tree house instead. When Mommy
made the rainbow, we went back and woke up Gam.”

Mark shook his head at his lapse in parenting. His own pain had
been so raw when Sally passed that he hadn’t thought to go home for Seth until
his own tears were in check. “Did you tell Gam about the rainbow?”

Seth grew quiet on his lap.

“Seth?” he repeated. “Did you tell Gam about the rainbow?”

This time, his son shook his head and whispered, “No.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the rainbow was
my
goodbye, Daddy.”

Seth’s goodbye.

A goodbye that could have proved disastrous if Emily hadn’t
remembered Seth’s mention of a tree house.

“Emily,” he mumbled under his breath, before glancing toward
the ladder for the first time since finding Seth. “Where’d she go?”

“She climbed back down the ladder a long time ago, Daddy. Right
after she winked a big wink at me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you were crying, Daddy. And Emily put her finger to
her mouth, like it was a secret.”

“I was crying because I thought I’d lost you.” Leaning his head
against the wall of the tree house, Mark thought back over everything he’d
heard. “And I can’t ever lose you, little man. I love you too much for that,
okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Seth gestured around the tree house. “So do you
like it?”

He let his eyes follow the path indicated, and nodded. “Did you
at least tell Gam about the tree house?”

Again Seth shook his head. “Gam wouldn’t like the ladder. She’d
tell me I’m too little to climb it. Then all my dream time would be the scary
nighttime kind again.”

Opting to bypass the notion of nightmares temporarily, Mark
asked the one question that still remained. “Seth? If you didn’t want to tell
Gam or me about the rainbow or this tree house, what made you tell Emily about
it that day at the beach?”

“Because she wanted to live in a castle when she was little,
just like me, Daddy. And just like Mommy did.”

His breath hitched. “Your mommy wanted to live in a castle when
she was little?”

“Uh-huh. And she got to!”

Mark smiled despite the tears that pricked his eyes once again.
“She did?”

“Yupper doodle. And she lived in it with you and me, Daddy. She
told me her castle was our house.”

“She did?” he asked, blinking rapidly.

“Uh-huh. Every night when she kissed me and Geronimo
good-night!”

It took everything Mark had not to break into wrenching sobs,
the sadness he felt nothing short of overwhelming. “I’m sorry, little man. I’m
sorry you had to lose Mommy when you’re still so little.”

With a lopsided shrug, Seth tossed his beloved animal into the
air and caught him with a giggle. “That’s okay, Daddy. It was better to have a
special mommy for a little while than no special mommy at all.”