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There was enough bristle in her tone to make it clear she had a temper but was doing her best to keep it under wraps. “You’re being very candid.”
She raised a brow. “Isn’t that what you want? Answers … and an opportunity to see if I’m respectable and responsible enough to meet Cecily?”
“I don’t—”
“And once you figure that out, Mr. Harper,” she said, cutting him off without batting a lash, “you can answer my questions.”
There’s that temper.
Wyatt might have liked her to simply back down and agree to everything he said but he didn’t really expect it. And he respected her spirit. “Wyatt.”
“What?”
“My name,” he replied. “It’s Wyatt.”
“Okay … Wyatt … so ask me another question. Ask me as many questions as you like.”
He went for the most important. “Cecily’s father? There’s no record of him on the birth certificate.”
“No record.” Visible shutters quickly came up and it waved like a red flag. “That’s right. It’s what I wanted.”
Wyatt pressed on. “Is there any chance he might make an appearance in her life?”
“No chance,” she replied hollowly. “He’s dead.”
Dead? He hadn’t expected that. “Who was he?”
“No one.”
He immediately wondered if she knew who Cecily’s biological father was, but didn’t like how the question sounded rolling around in his head. “Does he have a name?”
“Since he’s dead it really doesn’t make any difference.”
“Unless his family tries to have some claim on Cecily in the future.”
“They won’t,” she said stiffly. “No one knows about him. My mother made sure of it.”
Wyatt’s interest grew. “She didn’t approve?”
“What mother would approve of her fifteen-year-old daughter being pregnant?”
He nodded slowly. “You said you weren’t in a position to care for a child? Did you mean because of your age or something else?”
“I lived with my elderly great-uncle,” she said stiffly. “My mother was dead. I was two years away from finishing high school. I had no income and no way of supporting myself or my baby.”
It sounded like an impossible situation for a teenage girl. “If it’s any consolation to you, Karen and Jim loved Cecily very much. They’d been trying to have a baby for a long time. Cecily brought them a great deal of happiness.”
She smiled and the sparks in her eyes faded. “They didn’t have any other children?”
Wyatt begrudgingly admired how she’d seamlessly moved the questions onto him. “Just Cecily.”
“And you’re her guardian now?”
“That’s right,” he replied. “Karen was the daughter from my father’s first marriage and she was twelve years older than me.”
She nodded fractionally. “So, you and your wife care for her?”
“I’m not married,” he said but was pretty sure she knew that already from the look on her face.
Her expression narrowed. “Does Cecily live with you?”
“She spends most of her time at Waradoon, our family property in the Hunter Valley, which is just over an hour’s drive from Harper Engineering. My parents are retired and my youngest sister still lives at home. Cecily goes to the local high school and is well settled. I have a place in the city but go to Waradoon most weekends. If not, Cecily visits me in the city.”
“Why did they grant guardianship to you?”
He’d wondered it himself in the beginning. Neither Karen nor Jim had discussed what would happen to their daughter upon their deaths. Finding out he was named sole custodian of their precious child had come as a shock.
“Jim had no siblings and his parents are both in poor health,” he explained. “My mother spends as much time with Cecily as she can. But my father is over seventy with a heart condition, my sister Ellen has a four-year-old and two-year-old twins, and my youngest sister, Rae, is twenty-five and in her third year of studying veterinary medicine.”
“So you don’t actually spend a lot of time with her?”
It was a pretty mild dig, but it annoyed him anyway. “I have a business to run and I get home when I can, which is usually most weekends. Cecily understands that. She also likes living at Waradoon. She has her horse there and her friends are close—”
“She has a horse?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Something you have in common.”
Wyatt stared at her, intrigued by the way her eyes changed color. He liked the coppery shine of her hair and the way it bounced around her face. He liked it a lot. And her perfectly shaped mouth was amazing. Something uncurled low in his abdomen, a kind of slow-burning awareness. He’d met pretty girls before. Prettier even. But he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had attracted him so much and so quickly.
“So,” she said after a moment. “What now?”
Wyatt forced his focus back to the issue. “That’s up to Cecily.”
He watched as her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth for a moment. “It looks like it’s up to you.”
“I’m not about to rush into this.” In fact, Wyatt had no intention of rushing into anything ever again. If he’d shown that same sense less than two years ago, Yvette might not have had the opportunity to wreak havoc on his life and his family. “Although I understand how difficult that must be for you to hear.”
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
Wyatt didn’t miss the rawness in her voice. “There are a lot of people who risk getting hurt, and my primary job is to protect my niece.” And you. He didn’t say it, but the notion lodged firmly behind his ribs. He had what might be considered old-fashioned values … about some things. Maybe it came from having an older father. Whatever the reason, Wyatt wasn’t about to start making decisions that had the potential to turn lives upside down, without thinking them through long and hard.
“Can I see that?” she asked and reached across to finger the edges of the folder on the table.
“Of course.”
She slid it across her lap and opened the folder. Wyatt remained silent as she examined the contents. Her expression changed several times as she flicked through the pages, shifting from annoyance to sadness and then a kind of strained indignation.
“You’ve done your homework.” She pushed the folder toward him. “You’ve got everything from a copy of Cecily’s birth certificate to my sixth-grade report card. I hope you paid your investigator well for all the hard work.”
Wyatt’s spine straightened. “I needed to know who you were. Investigating your background was simply part of that process. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”
“That’s not who I am,” she said as she grabbed her small handbag and stood. “That’s a pile of paper.”
Wyatt quickly got to his feet. “Then tell me who you are.”
She glanced at the folder again. “I think you’ve already made up your mind. I think you know all about my childhood, you know my father ran off and that my mother was a junkie who couldn’t hold down a job and never had any money in her pocket. I think you’ve read about how I’ve moved nine times in as many years. And I think you’re wondering if I’m not just a bit too much like my mother and can’t quite be trusted to meet Cecily and that I might taint her in some way.”
She was close to the mark and he didn’t bother denying it. “I have to consider what’s best for Cecily.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “You do. But you came to me. You came to me because Cecily has questions about where she came from. I understand that. I know what it is to have an empty space inside. When I was fifteen, I was manipulated into agreeing to a closed adoption—forfeiting any hope I ever had of finding my daughter. I wasn’t allowed to know anything about the people who had her. And then you show up with your nice smile and ultrapolite conversation and throw a few crumbs in my direction about the possibility of meeting my child.” She took a shuddering breath. “Whatever your opinion of me, Mr. Harper, I won’t be manipulated again or walked over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some time to consider what I want.”
Without another word, she turned and strode away from him and out through the door. Wyatt stared after her through the glass windows, watching the way her hair bounced as she walked, suddenly mesmerized by the stiffness in her shoulders and the gentle sway of her hips.
He only let out a breath once she got into her car and drove off. Wyatt grabbed the folder and closed it. Nothing in the report had prepared him for that exchange. He’d expected … what? That she’d be so grateful to reconnect with Cecily she wouldn’t put up any kind of resistance? That she’d be compliant and agreeable to everything he suggested or wanted? Right now he didn’t know what to think. Had he scared her off? Did she actually want to meet Cecily? Fiona Walsh had gumption and he liked that about her. She wasn’t a pushover. She was strong. He’d give her some time to settle into the idea, and then he knew he had to ask her straight out if she wanted to meet Cecily. Wyatt pulled his cell from his pocket. Glynis picked up on the third ring.
“Change of plans,” he said.
“Which means?” his assistant asked.
“Cancel my flight for tomorrow.”
There was a moment’s silence. “I see. Do I rebook?”
“I’ll let you know.”
Glynis tutted. “How long are you staying?”
Until I fix this. “I’m not sure,” he said and ended the call.
Fiona couldn’t drag herself to work the following morning and called in sick. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. She did feel genuinely unwell. Her head ached. Her heart ached. She never took time off. She kept herself in good health and loved her teaching job.
I just can’t face all those happy little faces today.
She blamed Wyatt Harper for it, of course. Since he’d entered her life, she’d become an emotional mess. Crying … for Pete’s sake, she never cried. When she opened the front door to Callie that afternoon, it took all her strength to not collapse in a heap at the other woman’s feet.
“I was worried when the kids said you weren’t at school today,” she explained as she crossed through the door. “With good reason by the look of things.”
Fiona sniffed and pushed up the sleeves of her dressing gown. “I’m sick.”
Callie’s perfect brows rose sharply. “Try again. And this time include what it has to do with that tall drink of water you were talking with yesterday.”
Fiona hesitated for a microsecond. But this was Callie, her best friend and one of the few people she trusted, and the only person she’d told about her teenage pregnancy. “Remember how I told you I had baby when I was fifteen?”
Callie’s eyes popped wide. “Absolutely.”
Fiona quickly explained how she’d agreed to a closed adoption and who Wyatt Harper was.
“Are you sure he’s telling the truth?” Callie asked once they were settled on the sofa, each with a coffee cup between their hands.
“Yes. He has Cecily’s birth certificate and he says she looks just like me.”
Callie looked at her over the rim of her cup. “Did you ask to see a picture?”
Fiona shook her head. “No … I wasn’t sure I could bear seeing her photograph. In case I never get to see her for real. Does that make sense?”
Her friend nodded gently. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Fiona shrugged. “I’m not sure. That’s to say, I’m not sure what he’s going to do about it.”
“You have rights,” Callie said. “She’s your child.”
“A child I gave away. Wyatt Harper is the one with all the rights. He’s her legal guardian. He’s who her parents entrusted to care for her.”
“But you said she doesn’t live with him?”
“She lives mostly with her grandparents. But from what he said, I’m guessing they’re a close-knit bunch. He runs the family business, and his parents are retired, so they’d have more time to look after her. His younger sister lives there also.”
“Must be a big house.”
“It’s a hundred-acre property,” she explained. “His father runs a small herd of Wagyu cattle—his mother dabbles in showing orchids. They’re squeaky-clean and look like the perfect family.”
“And he’s what, thirtysomething and single and now a part-time parent to a teenage girl?” Callie rolled her big eyes. “Nothing is that perfect.”
“He seems like one of those annoyingly self-sufficient men who can handle everything. I’m sure one little teenager wouldn’t bring him down.”
Callie smiled. “He is very nice-looking. Not that you’d ever be swayed by a handsome face.”
“Er … no.”
“Maybe you should see a lawyer?” Callie suggested. “I mean, he hasn’t contacted you since yesterday—for all you know he’s gone back to Sydney.”
“I don’t think so. He wanted something and he didn’t get it. I don’t think he’s the kind of man who retreats easily, and I didn’t exactly leave him on friendly terms.” She smiled when she saw her friend’s look. “Yeah, I lost my temper.”
Callie’s expression softened. “So, how do you feel about it? I mean, how do you feel about reconnecting with your daughter after so long?”
Fiona sucked in some air. “Confused and shocked. I always had hope but I tried not to get swept away with the idea of meeting her one day. It was too painful. But now it’s a reality … and I’m scared. Because I’m still the person who gave her away.” She expelled a heavy breath. “What must she think of me?”
Callie made a reassuring sound. “You were young—not much older than she is now. She’ll understand once you explain. She’s come looking for you, Fiona. That’s a positive sign.”
Fiona hoped so. But she had doubts. Reservations. What if Cecily didn’t understand? What if all their reconnecting did was to upset her daughter? She didn’t want that. Cecily had lost her parents, and Fiona didn’t want to do anything that might add to her pain.
When her friend left about ten minutes later, Fiona, tired of looking like a washed-out rag, took a long shower. Once done, she finger-combed her hair, changed into comfy sweats and fed the dog. She had some assignments to grade and curled up on the sofa with her work and a fresh mug of coffee. She was about halfway through her pile of papers when Muffin started growling and rushed toward the front door after the bell rang.
When she pulled the door back, she found Wyatt Harper standing on the other side of the screen.
“Hello,” he said casually, belying the sudden awareness that swirled between them.
She stepped back on her heels and ignored the way her heart seemed to be beating a little faster than usual. “What do you want?”
