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“She is. When I left the clinic, she was curled in a little ball, sleeping.”
Jenna smiled. She released a yawn and rubbed her left eye with a knuckle.
“Tired?”
She nodded. “I was going to go to bed, but my closet doors are stuck.”
“Stuck?”
“They slide open, and Momma says they get off their track sometimes.”
“Do you want me to take a look at them for you?”
“Yes, please.”
He opened the screen and paused in the foyer. Kait was in the kitchen to his left, her back to him as she spoke to someone while eyeing a calendar on the refrigerator.
He followed Jenna upstairs, his hand on the smooth oak banister as he moved up the wide staircase of threadbare-carpeted steps to the second floor of the old house.
“That’s my grandpa’s room,” Jenna said as they passed a five-paneled door with a crystal knob. Her voice became a hush. “We aren’t allowed to go in there.”
They passed another room, the door slightly ajar. “Momma’s. But don’t look because it’s kind of messy. She’s going through lots of boxes.” Jenna released a frustrated sigh. “She says we can’t stay.”
“I see.”
“This is my room. It used to be my mother’s when she lived here a long, long time ago.”
Not so very long ago, he mused while eyeing the simple twin bed and matching bureau. A beautiful, worn pastel quilt covered the bed. Funny, he’d known Kait since they were sixteen, and he’d never set foot inside this big old house before.
Jenna went to the closet and pushed on the door with a grunt. “It won’t open.”
She was right. The panels were off their track. He raised the outer panel and shoved it back into place, then the door slid open with ease. Inside, the clothes were arranged neatly on hangers.
“All fixed.”
“Oh, thank you,” Jenna gushed as though he’d slain dragons. She pulled a neatly folded pair of pajamas from the closet.
Ryan glanced around the room, his gaze stopping on the artwork tacked to the wall.
One large crayon drawing was of a man and a woman with a little girl in the middle. All were holding hands. For moments, he simply stared at the picture, mesmerized.
“Did you like school when you were a kid like me?” Jenna asked.
“Hmm? School?” He tore his attention from the picture. “Yeah. I liked recess best.”
Jenna laughed.
Ryan looked around the room, and his glance caught a pile of books on a desk next to the bed. “Are all those schoolbooks yours?”
“Yes. I have lots of homework while we’re here.”
“What grade are you in?”
“Second.”
Second? Why did he think Jenna was younger? Ryan frowned. Then again, Kait always did look younger than her years.
“I’m going to be eight next month.”
“November?” He murmured the word.
“Uh-huh. November 25th. Momma says I’m her ‘Thank You, Lord, Thanksgiving baby.’”
November.
A tremor raced through him as his mind began a panicked gallop backward.
Kait left in March eight years ago. Ryan could barely breathe as he slowly did the math. He gripped the bureau for support as his knees threatened to buckle.
“Thanksgiving baby.” Ryan whispered the words aloud as he looked into Jenna’s sweet face. His gaze skimmed over the dark eyes, the freckles on the bridge of her nose—a nose just like his own.
The penny fell into the slot.
Jenna was his daughter.
Chapter Four
Ryan paced back and forth on Kait’s porch. He shivered as the cool evening breeze whipped past.
November. Thanksgiving baby.
What a fool he was—eight years the fool.
Conflicting emotions pummeled him. He was as thrilled as he was heartsick. Mostly he was plain ashamed.
Closing his eyes tightly, he recalled the details of the crayon drawing on Jenna’s wall. It was of a family holding hands and looking out at the future.
All that that little girl wants is a family.
As if it was yesterday, he remembered one of his and Kait’s last conversations so long ago. They’d discussed their plans after college—graduate program, then marriage and a family.
Ryan and Kait. Forever.
He’d kissed her tenderly beneath the soft light of this very porch before leaving her at her front door at the start of spring break.
What happened? How had it all become so convoluted?
He was a father. Jenna’s father.
The words raced round and round in his head like a wild mustang desperate for a way out. Panic gripped him, choking his throat and clutching at his gut.
What did he know about being a father? It couldn’t be nearly the same as owning a cat or a dog. If he made his beast dog Jabez neurotic, well, it scared him to think about his effect on a little girl.
He ran a hand over his pounding head and slammed his fist on the porch rail as his emotions swung wildly between despair and hysterics.
There were way too many questions and not nearly enough answers. His head ached as much as his heart.
And why had Kait kept it from him? Yeah, that was the big question. Unfamiliar rage welled up inside, threatening to erupt.
As if on cue, Kait opened the screen door and stepped onto the dimly lit porch.
“I’m sorry that took so long.” She rubbed her arms with her hands. “It’s gotten chilly. Do you want to come inside? I can make some tea or coffee. I have a fresh pumpkin loaf.”
Kait’s voice disarmed him for a moment. For all his self-righteous anger, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even look at her. He turned away.
“Ryan? What’s wrong?”
He tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t obey him.
“Ryan?” she asked again. This time her voice sounded almost afraid.
Silence stretched until he couldn’t hold back the question any longer. He turned from the rail as the words burst from his lips, the pain ripping him apart.
“Jenna’s my daughter, isn’t she?”
Kait’s eyes rounded and her face paled. There was another long, painful silence. She swallowed.
“Yes.”
Ryan turned back to the rail. Eyes burning, he hung his head.
“Are you going to give me a chance to explain?”
“You’ve had eight years to explain, Kait. Eight years.” He gripped the wood tightly, blinking away emotion as he stared ahead into the settling twilight.
“Oh, Ryan,” Kait whispered. Dear Lord, this wasn’t how I planned for him to find out.
She sucked in her breath and automatically moved closer, reaching out to touch his hand. The contact started a frisson of electricity that surprised her.
Ryan jerked away. Once again, his back was to her. Several times he closed and opened his fists, finally shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Does Jenna know I’m her father?”
“Yes.”
“How can she know I’m her father when I didn’t even know?”
“It was only fair to talk to Jenna before we left Philly.”
“Fair,” he muttered the word.
Her stomach in knots, Kait watched him pace.
He came to a sudden halt and faced her. “Why did you come back to Granby now?”
“My father died, and I hoped that maybe this was the right time to talk to you.”
“Just like that.”
“Yes, just like that.”
Ryan was spoiling for a fight that she didn’t intend to give him. She could afford the luxury of being calm. After all, she’d had a long time to think about this. She understood his anger—yes, he had every right to be mad.
Finally, he raised his head and met her gaze. Kait flinched at the raw pain in his eyes. Ryan shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” The accusation lingered in the air.
“It’s not like I didn’t want to tell you. The timing wasn’t in our favor.”
“Timing?” His eyes rounded in astonishment, and his tone became almost mocking. “You’re going to try to tell me this is all about timing?”
“You were out of town for spring break sophomore year, as I recall. Some legal internship your parents had arranged in D.C.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened, and the muscle in his right cheek twitched. “It was a week and a half. You couldn’t have waited for me? The father of your child?”
“My father kicked me out.” She took a deep breath. Suddenly she had no energy to defend herself. Once again, she was convicted before she began. “I was homeless. Nineteen and pregnant with nowhere to go. I was scared, and I didn’t have any options. I had to make decisions very fast.”
There was more to the story. Oh, yes, much more. But Ryan certainly wasn’t ready to hear everything tonight. She held back to protect him, and because deep down inside she doubted he’d believe her anyhow. What chance did her word have against Elizabeth Delaney Jones’s?
For several long moments, neither of them spoke.
“Did you think I wouldn’t be a good father?”
Surprised, Kait jerked back at his words. “Where did that come from? No. I hadn’t even thought that far down the road, Ryan. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I called Molly Springer, and she helped me. Molly has family in Philly. She found a place for me to stay and was there when Jenna was born.”
Again Ryan’s face became a twisted mask of anguish. His words were raw with pain. “I missed the birth of my daughter. Dear Lord, I’ve missed so much.”
Aching for him, Kait considered his words, not sure how to comfort him. Suddenly he was very quiet, his face stony. His eyes moved from her ringless hand to her face. “You were going to let someone else be Jenna’s father before giving me a chance.”
“It wasn’t … I didn’t …” Her eyes pricked with emotion. “That wasn’t how it was at all, Ryan.”
“How was it, Kait?” He blinked and looked away. “You had years to call me. Years. That’s what hurts most of all.”
How could she ever explain? Time and again she had tried to pick up the phone. With each passing day, the bridge to her past crumbled further. It was easier not to look back and to convince herself Ryan wouldn’t be waiting anyhow.
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Kait.”
“Ryan, I—”
