Susan Mallery - Full-Time Father

“But I wasn’t sure she looked like you. She could have taken after another relative.”

“But she didn’t.” He studied the photograph again, marveling that she really existed. “When can I see her?”

Erin pushed up the sleeve of her cream sweater and glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly eleven now. What if I bring her back at two o’clock?”

Three hours. It felt like a lifetime. “Sure.”

“Great.” Erin started for the small table. She collected her purse, then nodded at the picture. “Would you like to keep that?”

His hold on the photo tightened. “Yes. Thank you.” He followed her to the front door. “Do you know how to get to town?”

“I have the map I used to find my way here. I’ll be fine.” She glanced up at him. The top of her head was an inch or so shy of his chin. “I’m glad you want to meet her, Parker. She’s a wonderful little girl. Very outgoing, friendly, she’s almost never shy. Do you want me to explain things to her before we get here?”

Things? “You mean tell her that I’m her father?”

“I-” She cleared her throat. “She’s always wanted one, a daddy, as she says. I thought it might be easier to try to answer her questions before she met you, but if you would prefer to do it yourself-”

“No,” he said quickly. “Go ahead and tell her what you think is best.”

“I’ll make sure she realizes you didn’t know about her until today.”

Now it was his turn to hesitate. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re being very understanding about this. I’m still a little stunned.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? A perfect stranger waltzes into your home and tells you that you have a child you never knew existed. I appreciate how well you’re handling the situation.”

They stared at each other. Parker knew she was wrong about one thing. She wasn’t a perfect stranger. He knew very little about her personality, but he was familiar with her looks. It was almost eerie, staring at Stacey’s face but knowing Stacey was gone. He didn’t remember her well enough to be able to pick out the subtle differences in their features, assuming there were any.

Erin’s hair was shorter, barely brushing her shoulders. Stacey’s had fallen nearly to her waist. A tactile memory flashed through his mind. The feel of silky hair being crushed between his eager fingers. He pushed it away, along with the guilt.

He studied her small nose and wide mouth. The latter curled up into a smile and the dimple formed on her right cheek. “We’ll see you at two,” she said.

“I look forward to it.”

He watched her walk to her car. It was a white four-door sedan, probably five years old. Sensible rather than flashy. As soon as she started the engine and drove away, he realized how many questions had gone unasked and unanswered. Was Erin married? He tried to remember if she’d worn a wedding ring. Had she officially adopted Christie after Stacey’s death? What was she going to tell the little girl about him?

A faint noise caught his attention. He closed the door and turned around. Kiki was standing in the middle of the foyer. Her blue eyes danced with excitement.

“So, what did she want?” Kiki asked, trying to act as if she didn’t already know.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t listening.”

Kiki wrinkled her nose as she battled her desire to protect her dignity by refusing to acknowledge her habit of eavesdropping and her need to share what she’d heard.

She clapped her hands together, then rushed toward him. Before he could step back, she’d grasped his upper arms and squeezed tight.

“This is almost as much fun as having a grandchild of my own living here. This old house needs some life and laughter, and you need something to distract you from those silly old computers.”

“Wait a minute.” He raised his hands as if to ward off her words. “No one said anything about moving in. I’m going to meet Christie-”

“Christie. Is that her name? I couldn’t hear everything you two were saying.”

“Next time we’ll talk louder,” he said dryly.

Kiki ignored him. She released his arms, patted his face, then spun away and began making plans. “I’ll make some fresh cookies,” she said, and held out her left index finger. “Then lemonade.” The second finger went out. “Maybe ice cream. Hmm, I wonder if there’s time. Maybe if I start now, it will be finished by the time they come back. What time was that?”

“Two.”

She paced in front of him, a fuchsia-colored dynamo. “All those sweets might make her sick. Maybe some finger sandwiches.” She glanced up and grinned. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. Kiki smiled a lot.

“I’ll think of something,” she said. “Trust me.” With that, she hurried toward the kitchen.

Parker watched her go. He glanced down at the picture in his hand. He was going to meet his daughter…the child he never knew he’d had. Stacey hadn’t told anyone he was the father. He couldn’t blame her, not after the way he’d treated her. No doubt she’d assumed he wouldn’t care.

Parker tucked the photo into his shirt pocket, then started for his office. The faint banging of pots and pans drifted through the house. Kiki would be so busy with her preparations, she would probably forget his lunch.

He stepped into his custom-designed workroom. He had three hours until Erin and Christie would arrive. He could work on the program that was giving him so much trouble. Instead he crossed to the wide windows and stared out at the ocean. He had the sensation of free-falling off a cliff. In a matter of moments, his whole life had changed.

For the first time in years, something stirred inside him. Interest, and maybe a little anticipation. He touched his shirt pocket and felt the flat paper of the photo. He had a child and she was coming to meet him.

“Is he really my daddy?” Christie asked from the passenger seat.

“Yes, honey.”

Christie took a deep breath and let it out all at once, curling up her lower lip so the air rushed up her face and lifted her bangs. She giggled as the delicate hairs danced before settling back on her forehead.

“But he didn’t know he was my daddy before you told him today.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Stacey didn’t tell him about you.”

“And you didn’t know about him?”

“Right.”

“Couldn’t he see me when I was in her tummy?”

“Stacey left his house before you were big enough to see.”

“How did I get in her tummy?”

Erin gripped the steering wheel tightly and resisted the urge to groan. As if there wasn’t enough going on, now Christie wanted to talk about where babies came from.

“Oh, look, you can see the ocean,” she said enthusiastically, trying to distract Christie.

It worked. The four-year-old peered over the dashboard and grinned. “It’s blue and goes forever. Does the ocean end?”

“The water doesn’t stop in one place and start in another, but it gets a new name.”

Christie glanced up at her and wrinkled her nose. “The water has a name?”

“Uh-huh. It’s the Pacific Ocean.”

Christie mulled that over for a minute. Erin gave her a quick look. Her daughter had been asking questions from the moment she learned how to string words together. Her adventurous spirit was pure Stacey. Erin liked to think that Christie had gotten her quick intelligence from their side of the family as well, but after researching Parker Hamilton, she had to admit he probably had something to do with that.

He’d also given his daughter several of her physical characteristics, including the shape of her mouth and her smile. But her dimples were a Ridgeway legacy. Erin thought she and Christie moved the same way, and her daughter had the same habit of tilting her head to one side. Of course those traits could have been learned, not inherited.

The road narrowed and Erin concentrated on her driving. Parker Hamilton lived several miles outside of town. The turnoff for the private road was sudden and not well marked. From there she had a two-mile drive to the house itself. She wouldn’t want to try to find it in the dark, or during a storm. At first she’d wondered why anyone would live in such isolation, but after seeing the house, she knew why.

Hawkin’s Point was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. The old-fashioned three-story home rose out of the grass, trees and bright flowers as if it were a magical castle. Peaked roofs topped wide windows and long balconies. The wooden structure blended with the environment, yet had enough fantasy in its design that her first thought had been she could blink and it would be gone.

Stacey had mentioned falling in love with the house in her diary and Erin understood completely. Hawkin’s Point was the kind of place the sisters had dreamed of when they’d been young and were shuffled back and forth between relatives.

“Does my daddy have other little girls?” Christie asked.

The question startled Erin. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” She thought for a moment. She didn’t remember seeing any toys around.

She knew he wasn’t married. As soon as she’d found his name in Stacey’s diary, she’d started investigating Parker Hamilton. He’d been a big shot in the computer world and the magazine article index in the library had given her a place to begin. She’d read about the start-up of his company while he was still in college. She knew about his rise to the top of his field, that he’d sold his company for a huge but undisclosed sum and that he continued to work on software.

The personal information had been scant, but she’d picked up the essentials. He was a widower and, as of the last article written about three months before, he’d never remarried. But no one had said anything about children.

Up ahead was the turnoff. Erin put on her signal and slowed the car. There wasn’t much traffic up here. When she’d checked to make sure the way was clear, she turned onto the private road and started down the long paved driveway. The car windows were already rolled down. She inhaled deeply and caught the scent of salt air.