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Be My Babies
Kathryn Shay
Be My Babies
Kathryn Shay
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u1967c0af-5225-5c07-967c-8ce925ad45ef)
Title Page (#u1e19cf95-33fe-5a08-91b5-c13e6d453fcf)
About The Author (#ud9924d96-8957-5993-b078-b6a79d6ce31c)
Dedication (#u691be062-ed2c-53be-8d8e-2f65f01224cc)
Chapter One (#ubfece935-5033-56b5-b796-f65cebd71600)
Chapter Two (#u5f102d04-4f18-5377-88bf-33121c669068)
Chapter Three (#u7aac5ca5-536a-5a4b-b659-2fcdd011301f)
Chapter Four (#u87786986-8c03-5000-a2b1-3a3489a60bfa)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Kathryn Shay is a lifelong writer. At fifteen, she penned her first “romance,” a short story about a female newspaper reporter in New York City and her fight to make a name for herself in a world of male journalists - and with one hardheaded editor, in particular. Looking back, Kathryn says she should have known then that writing was in her future.
Kathryn has become known for her powerful characterisations - readers say they feel they know the people in her books - and her heart-wrenching, emotional writing. (Her favourite comments are that fans cried while reading her books or stayed up late to finish them.) In testament to her skill, the author has won five Romantic Times BookClub Magazine Reviewers’ Choice Awards, three Holt Medallions, two Desert Quill Awards, the Golden Leaf Award and several online accolades.
She lives in upstate New York with her husband and two children.
To Patrick Hoff. May you grow up to be the kind of hero in this book.
Chapter One
STANDING OUTSIDE the Sentinel, Lily Wakefield slid the crumpled yellowed article from her purse and held it up in front of the old brick edifice. The newspaper office looked more or less the same as it had when her mother, Cameron, clipped the picture just before she left Fairview, New York, carrying a suitcase containing practical clothes, serviceable shoes and one hundred dollars. Now, Lily stood before the building in her Prada sandals, DKNY slacks and tailored jacket, with about the same amount of cash in her wallet. The Louis Vuitton bag at her side held a few more outfits, but only as many as she could carry.
Someone bumped into her, said, “Excuse me,” and kept going.
Lily nodded and stayed where she was.
About five feet away, the man turned back. “Are you all right?”
“What? Oh, yes.”
Glancing up at the sky, he frowned. “Looks like we’re in for one of those April showers.” His comment was underscored by a draft of wind that lifted and swirled her dark chin-length hair around her face. He pointed to the office. “There’s a pot of coffee in there and some homemade cookies that Mrs. Billings made. Want to come in?”
“Um, yes, I guess I do. Thanks.”
Bending down, he picked up her suitcase before she could take hold of it and walked alongside her toward the front doors.
It’s a beautiful place. It used to be an old home, and then it was converted into the newspaper offices. In the front reception and waiting area, there’s a fireplace, a comfortable couch and chairs, and a worn desk like the kind you’d see in reruns of the old TV show, Superman. I used to love to go there after school and wait for Daddy to be done with work.
What Lily’s mother hadn’t told her, and what she only figured out years later, was that Cameron would have done anything to delay going home to her own mother.
Once they were inside, the man motioned to the couch. “Please, sit down.” When she’d seated herself, he added, “I’m Simon McCarthy.”
“Lily Wakefield.”
“Nice to meet you.” Again, he smiled. His hazel eyes did, too. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I—I can’t have that.”
“Oh.” When Lily said no more, he asked, “How about tea?”
“Decaffeinated would be okay. Lovely, really, but don’t fuss.”
“No problem.” He went into the back room, and while he was gone Lily studied her surroundings. The windows let in the afternoon breeze, along with the chirping of the birds in the leafy maple trees outside. Engraved plaques hung on the wall before her, citing the Sentinel and its editor for various good works. Pictures were interspersed with the awards describing the accomplishments of the paper and its reporters. A few minutes later, Simon returned with a steaming mug. Lily took the cup and sniffed. Mmm. Cinnamon. “Thank you so much.” It had been a long time since a man had waited on her.
When she said nothing more, he sat down on a chair opposite her. “Is there a reason you were out there just staring at the building?” He nodded to the suitcase. “With that?”
Her stomach churned. She prayed she wouldn’t get sick all over this total stranger. “Yes.” She glanced up at one of the pictures she’d noticed earlier. Its headline read, Gardner Garners The Gold—Best Of Small-town Newspapers. From other photos she’d seen, she recognized the man. “I’m looking for him, Gil Gardner.”
Simon tracked her gaze. “I’m not quite sure where he is today.”
“Is he out on a story?”
“No, he doesn’t cover the news anymore.” Sandy eyebrows were raised. They matched his short, dark blond hair, which had a bit of curl. “He’s at the office sometimes, but he doesn’t do much reporting.”
“Doesn’t he own the paper?”
“Yeah, he’s still the owner. But I run the place. I’m editor in chief.” He chuckled self-effacingly. “And a lot of other things. Our staff is small and the tasks are many.”
Because she still wasn’t ready to explain herself to him, she dodged his question about why she was here and said only, “I’m sure newspaper work is taxing.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “Do you know Gil?”
“I’ve never met him, no.” Her hands began to tremble. Steaming tea sloshed over onto her fingers.
“Here.” He handed her a handkerchief pulled from his pocket.
“Thanks.”
“Why are you shaking?”
“I’m fine. Listen, could you call my…call Gil? I need to see him.”
“I guess I could.”
She noticed he had Gil’s number on speed dial. Who would be in Lily’s top five these days? A paltry few. But it was her own fault for letting her life unfold as it had. And now when she needed help, she was going to have to turn to strangers. The thought scared her to death.
Simon was frowning as he spoke into the phone. “Yeah, Gil, it’s me, Simon. I need you to come to the office as soon as you get this message. I’ll explain why then.” He clicked off.
“Thank you, Mr. McCarthy.”
“A lot of cloak-and-dagger,” he said easily.
“I suppose. But I have my reasons.”
“What are they?”
“I’d rather not say.” Lily was a private person by nature, and she was particularly embarrassed by her present circumstances. And though he seemed nice enough, who knew what this man’s relationship was with Gil?
The bell over the door sounded and Simon and Lily looked toward it. A teenager stepped inside. “Dad?”
Even if the girl hadn’t uttered the word, Lily would have known immediately that she was Simon’s daughter. Same tawny hair, although hers hung almost to her waist. Same hazel eyes. Nose, a feminine version of his. She had an aura about her, too, making Lily want to sketch her.
“Hi, honey.” He introduced her to Lily.
“Grandpa Gil’s coming in behind me. Katie and I were walking home and he picked us up. It’s starting to drizzle.”
The cup jerked and tea sloshed again. “Grandpa?” Lily asked.
Jenna smiled. “Not my real grandpa, but he’s like one.”
Lily got the drift. In other words, Gil had found a replacement. Well, why not? So had Derek.
Again, the door opened, and in walked a tall, lanky man with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes just like Lily’s mother’s. And her own. Lily felt her heart thump in her chest at finally seeing Gil in person.
“Hi, everyone.” He focused on Lily. “Who’s our gu—” Before he could finish his statement, Gil’s complexion paled and he grabbed on to the high table just inside the door.
Jumping up from his chair, Simon rushed over to him. “Gil, is it your heart again?”
“Grandpa?” Jenna sounded afraid, too.
Gil’s mouth was slack-jawed as he stared at Lily. Finally, he said, “Not like you mean.”
“What, Gil?”
“It’s my heart, but not like you mean.” Letting go of Simon, he crossed the room. “Who are you? You look just like my daughter, Cameron.”
“I know I do. I’m her daughter, Lily.”
SIMON WATCHED IN AWE—and with a little bit of horror— as tears filled Gil’s eyes. In the almost thirty years he’d known the man, he’d never once seen him cry. “Gil, are you all right?”
“Grandpa?” Jenna’s tone was even more worried.
“You’re Cami’s girl?”
Lily stood. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him, either. “Yes, I am. I’m sorry to spring myself on you unannounced.”
His face was still ashen. “I know…I know Cami died. We found out through a lawyer. But…she had a daughter? The only thing she ever wrote to us was that she hadn’t gone through with her pregnancy.”
Now, Lily Wakefield’s face paled and she reseated herself. “That’s new information to me.” She bit her lip. “I realize this is a shock, Mr. Gardner.”
After a moment, Gil, also, took a chair. Simon followed suit, while Jenna sat on the opposite end of the couch from Lily. “I—I didn’t know,” Gil repeated.
Lily glanced nervously at Simon. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk privately?”
“What? Oh, no need for that. Simon and Jenna are like family. I want them to hear what you have to say.”
Frown lines around the woman’s mouth told Simon that she wasn’t pleased by Gil’s answer. Who cared? No way was he leaving Gil alone with this stranger who claimed to be his granddaughter. She could be anybody.
Sighing, she drew a sheaf of papers from her purse. “I have documentation to verify who I am.”
When Gil didn’t take what she offered, but just stared at her, Simon snatched the papers from her hand. Birth certificate for Liliana Clarkson. Mother, Cameron Gardner Clarkson. Father unknown. There were also pictures. Photocopied drivers’ licenses, social security cards for Lily and her mother, a passport. And a picture of a young girl with Gil in his youth. “They seem in order.” Simon would have his sister, Sara, a lawyer in town, check them out, though. Documents could be forged and stories made up. He’d arrange a background check on this woman, at least.
“Do you have any idea what a gift you’ve brought me?” Gil finally asked her.
“Have I?” Lily’s gaze hardened almost imperceptively. “You didn’t stay in touch with your own daughter.”
