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“I didn’t do anything crazy,” he said, knowing what she was asking. And because he couldn’t lie to Lydia, he said, “I’m in Maine, ma petite. I’ve seen the boy.”
She whispered a soft prayer. “Oh, Eli. Why didn’t you let us know you were going? You didn’t scare Scotty, did you? You didn’t do anything you’ll regret, right?”
“I told you, it’s cool. Everything is okay, except this infernal cold and snow. I hate cold and snow.”
But Lydia was beyond listening to his complaints and well into her interrogation mode. The woman would have made a great CHAIM agent. “You didn’t try to take him from Gena, did you?”
Skipping the part about disarming the alarm system and waiting in the broom closet, he said, “I thought about it, but Gena put me on my back and pinned me down until I cried ‘uncle.’”
“Good for her. You know, she’s trained in self-defense.”
“You don’t say? It’s all right now, though. We talked pretty for a while and now I’m as cozy as a kitten in my little cottage by the sea.” He shivered as he said that, his gaze hitting the dying embers of the fire.
“I hope so. Devon doesn’t know I’m calling you, but I’ll have to tell him. And I want to tell him you’re being a gentleman. You promised me if you ever went to Maine, you’d only go to visit Scotty.”
“I’ve been known to break my promises, oui?”
“You won’t break this one,” Lydia said in her smug, proud Lydia way. “I know you won’t.”
“You know me so well then?”
“I think I do. You want to make your son proud. You can do this, Eli. I’m praying you will.”
“You might want to save those prayers, catin. I’m not doing so good right now.” He pinched his nose. “I want my son.”
“Eli, don’t talk like that. Think about how you’d confuse Scotty. You can’t do that. He’s a little boy. He doesn’t understand. You have to take this slow.”
“He doesn’t know his father.”
“It’s hard, I know,” she said, “but…you have to be very careful. You have to give Gena time to accept that you’re there. And you have to be gentle with Scotty, okay?”
“I’m not a gentle man. And I’m not a gentleman.”
“But you can be, you big brute. You can be. Will you try, for me?”
Eli got up to pace around the bedroom. “Ah, now, don’t go laying that on me, Lydia. You know you are one of the few to sway my cold, hard heart.”
“Then consider this my way of swaying,” she said. “Do I need to call Devon and put him on you?”
“Non. I can’t take his lectures tonight.”
“Okay, then. We have an understanding. You are going to be a good father, Eli. No, make that a great father. I have faith in that. But first, you have to learn what being a father is all about.”
Eli swallowed back the pride of hearing that from such a true Christian woman. “Why do you fight for me, Lydia?”
“Because you fought for me once, remember?”
“More like, I fought against you, trying to save your life.”
“You did save my life and now it’s my turn to save yours. I’m going to say prayers for you right now. Oh, and you’d better be here for our wedding in February.”
“That is one promise I will keep. Sweet dreams, mon amie,” Eli said. “Tell Devon he is a lucky man.”
“He’s a blessed man,” Lydia countered. “There’s a difference.”
Eli hung up with a smile, thinking she always had to have the last word.
“And I’m a blessed man, too, for knowing you,” he said. But it would sure be hard living up to Lydia’s sweet expectations.
Eli went to the big window next to the bed and opened the heavy curtain. He could see a single light burning upstairs in the big cottage where his son was sleeping. He wondered what it would be like to live there with Scotty, to watch his son laugh and cry, to play catch in the backyard, to go fishing out in that deep water. What would it be like to be a real father to Scotty?
“Only one way to find out,” Eli said, smiling for the first time in a long time.
At least he knew Scotty was safe here tonight. That meant a lot to him even if he did resent his son being here. But what about tomorrow or the next day?
As he watched the house, a massive cloud moved over the water and turned the night a dark, moonless gray, causing shadows to dance against the tall trees and craggy rocks. A shudder clutched his spine like spider webs, sticky and unbreakable, trapping him with a new kind of fear. A little prickle of awareness and apprehension caused the hairs on his neck to stand up. He went from fatigued and worn out to wide awake and on full alert.
What if Eli’s worries came to pass? What if Scotty wasn’t safe here? What then?
THREE
“Look out your kitchen window.”
Eli stood in the small den, watching the house across the snow-covered yard. When Gena appeared looking wary and surprised at the window a few feet away, he waved to her. “Is the boy up yet?”
“He has a name,” she said, her voice low. “You can’t keep calling him the boy, you know.”
“Is my son up yet?” Eli retorted, his voice gravelly. He had not slept well, but then he never slept well.
“He’s getting dressed for school.”
“I’ll take him. Give me directions.”
“No, you will not take him. You’re a stranger to him, Eli. Just give me some time to figure out how to handle this.”
Eli let out a sigh, his eyes scanning the yard. In the light of a crisp white morning, this place looked serene and peaceful, as if it’d been purposely set up for a Christmas card. But it hadn’t seemed that way late in the wee hours when he’d seen every shadow and shape as something sinister and dangerous. He didn’t like this antsy feeling that had brought him here, but he was glad he’d followed his instincts.
“I’m coming over,” he said, disconnecting and moving away from the window before she could respond. He did turn in time to see the frustration on her face.
Let her be frustrated. He wanted to get to know his son, but more importantly, he wanted to protect his son. Because he hadn’t been there when his wife and child had needed him the most. That reality ate at him day and night, always. But he was here now.
Closing his eyes to the dark, swirling memories, Eli took another swig of coffee and wished he had some strong Louisiana coffee instead. This brew would have to suffice for now. He grabbed his coat and headed out across the crunchy snow, noticing the vulnerability of this quiet cove. A sheer drop of cliffs off into a frigid ocean on one side and a copse of trees that blocked the view to the road on the other. Not good, not good at all. He felt an urgent need to get his son out of here, but he reminded himself Scotty had been safe here for six years.
But that didn’t matter in Eli’s eyes. He’d heard some rumblings when he’d been down in New Orleans recovering from being shot. Since the news of his grandfather’s involvement in a South American drug cartel had come to light this summer, he’d felt deep in his bones that more trouble was on the way. His instincts had never let him down before, not even after Leah had disappeared six years ago and he’d gone off the deep end. Not even after CHAIM officials had forced him to go into confinement in Ireland for a few years to cool off and get his head straight, and not after he’d left and come home only to find out someone wanted him dead. That someone had been his own estranged grandfather. His instincts had been right on all those accounts, starting with the bad feeling he’d gotten when the team had first hit the ground in South America all those years ago. And things had gone very wrong down there. Eli had the distinct feeling that the situation still wasn’t all cleaned up and tidied.
The Peacemaker would have seen to that.
Even though the Peacemaker was dead and buried and his South American crime group dissolved, the man had probably left henchmen everywhere to carry on his dirty deeds. And if the Peacemaker’s cohorts had any inkling that he had a great-grandson…well, Eli didn’t want to think about that. What if someone, somewhere, was just biding time, waiting to make a move on him or his child?
Maybe Dev was right, he thought as he knocked on the front door. As long as Eli had been out of the picture and tucked away in that retreat in Ireland, Scotty had been relatively safe. But once Eli had reappeared on the CHAIM radar last summer, he’d also set himself up for retribution from past enemies because he’d never been one to win friends and influence people. And now that meant his son could become a target. Somehow, he’d have to make Gena see that Scotty was better off with him.
But when she opened the door hard enough to shake the bright red ribbon on the fragrant evergreen wreath, a brooding frown on her pretty oval face, Eli got the impression that Gena wouldn’t listen to any worries he might have.
Gena was fully prepared to slam the door back in Eli’s too-good-looking-for-his-own-good face, but knowing her son was about to come barreling down the stairs, she didn’t do that. This was Scotty’s father, after all. And in spite of her sleepless night, Scotty and Eli both deserved a chance to get to know each other.
“What did you tell him?” Eli said as he muscled past her, then pivoted to glare at her. “I mean, about his father? Does he even ask?”
Gena glanced upstairs, then motioned toward the kitchen. “I never lied to him, if that’s what you’re asking. I have always told him that his father had to go away and that he might not be able to come back.” She looked down at the floor. “He held out hope, I think, that one day he would see his father.”
Eli thumped his fingers on the newel post. “Well, guess what, catin, I’m here now. Time to confess all.”
Gena’s heart did a little pulsing jump. “Eli, please?”
Before she could plead her case, Scotty called out, “I’m hungry, Mom. Did you make pancakes?”
Gena stopped in the entryway, her gaze locking with Eli’s. “Not now,” she whispered.
Then Scotty appeared at the top of the stairs, backpack in hand, his hair rumpled as usual. “Who’s that?”
Gena watched as Scotty sized up the big man standing near the stairs and she also watched Eli’s face transform from a scowling mask of restraint and resolve to a genuine smile of curiosity and awe. And she saw a sudden solid terror in those usually fearless eyes, too.
“This is—”
“I’m Eli Trudeau,” Eli said, lifting a hand toward Scotty, his voice verging on shaky. “I’m a…friend…your Uncle Devon knows me.”
Scotty dropped his backpack and raced down the stairs. “Did you know he’s marrying Miss Lydia? I love Miss Lydia. She sends me things—books, CDs, candy. She’s so funny. Have you heard her accent? She talks slow ’cause she’s from Georgia. I’m gonna be in their wedding.”
Gena watched Eli’s face light up. Wow, the man could be a real lady-killer if he worked at it. Shaking that notion right out of her head, she concentrated instead on trying to decide how to explain Eli’s presence to her son. “Scotty, aren’t you forgetting your manners? Can’t you say hello at least.”
“Hello,” Scotty said, looking sheepish and shy. Then, “Do you know Miss Lydia?”
Eli bent down to eye level with Scotty, then reached out to give him a robust handshake. “Nice to finally meet you, Scotty,” he said, with emphasis on the finally. “I sure do know Miss Lydia. She is the nicest, kindest, most caring person I’ve ever met.”
Gena could tell Eli actually meant those words and that gave her a sense of hope for his bruised soul.
“She’s fun, is all I know,” Scotty said with a shrug. “Are you from Georgia? ’Cause you sound funny like Miss Lydia.”
Eli stood as Scotty rushed by, headed for the kitchen. Then he called, “I’m from Louisiana. Way down south.”
Gena inclined her head. “Better hurry if you want pancakes.”
Eli nodded, then held her arm, his head down as he spoke in a soft whisper. “He’s so…incredible.”
“I know,” she said, tears piercing her eyes. “That’s why I need you to give me some time.”
Eli put his hands in the pocket of his jeans, then lifted his chin toward the kitchen. “I’ve got lots of time. All the time in the world. And I plan on using it to get to know my son.” He stood still for a minute, his gaze moving over her face, then back toward the other room. “But not right now. I can’t…not right now.”
Then he turned and rushed out the front door. For a minute, Gena couldn’t move. She felt trapped between the duty of protecting her son and a mother’s love. And she felt trapped by the brilliant shards of happiness and longing she’d seen in Eli’s eyes right before the panic and the doubt had taken over. Thinking she should go after him, she started for the door.
Then Scotty called out to her. “Mom, I can’t find the syrup.” The phone rang, its shrill tone reminding her that she had a job to do and a son to take care of. No time to feel sorry for the man who’d come here to mess with her life.
Gena stared at the door, then turned to go and help her son, grabbing the cordless phone as she moved through the house.
Eli stood out on the craggy rocks, facing the brisk wind coming in off the gray, churning waters of the Atlantic. He was cold, a gentle shiver moving up and down his body. But the shiver wasn’t from the frigid air hitting his wet face. It was from a dark fear battering his soul.
Wiping at his eyes, he whispered to the wind. “I’m not good enough for that boy, Lord. Not nearly good enough to even lay claim to him.”
He closed his eyes, reliving those precious moments when his son had come down the stairs. Eli’s heart had pounded with pride and awe even while it pumped with trepidation.
“Help me,” he whispered, his words disappearing as the wind carried them out to sea.
Lydia had told him to turn to God when he was afraid or when he thought he might want to seek revenge or retribution. But there was no retribution here. No way to make up for the losses that boy and he had suffered. Scotty would never know his mother’s beautiful smile even though he had the same smile. He’d never hear her pretty Southern drawl. He’d never be able to hug her close and call her “Mommy.” And Eli would never have her in his arms again. Never. But he had his son now. If he could face the tremendous responsibility of that.
“Help me.”
That was the only prayer his trembling lips could form. So he just stood there, frozen and unyielding, staring out at that harsh, brutal water, tears falling like melting snowflakes down his face.
Until he felt a hand on his arm.
“Eli, come inside and let me make you some coffee.”
He jerked away, then turned to stare at Gena. Her dark hair lifted around her face, her eyes were wide with worry. She clutched his arm, her expression full of a sympathy that just about did him in.
“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’m so afraid of him.”
Gena moved closer. “He’s just a little boy. But it is scary, being a parent. It’s the kind of love that holds your heart so tightly…well…it’s just hard to imagine life without your child.”
He turned to her then, understanding piercing the cold wall of his heart. “I came here not knowing, not thinking about that. But now I get it. Fools rush in—”
“Where angels fear to tread,” Gena finished.
He touched her hand on his arm, his fingers covering hers. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Then he saw the tears forming in her eyes. “It’s okay. You have a right to know your child. I only ask that you be patient with us. And we’ll try to do the same with you.”
He faced the ocean again. “I’m normally not a patient man.”
“I can tell,” she said, her smile indulgent. “Your son has inherited that particular trait, I think.”
That made him smile. “I pray he hasn’t inherited my other bad traits.”
“Time will tell, won’t it?”
She shivered as the wind picked up.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said, turning to take her by the hand.
She nodded, following him back up the slope to the house. “I have scrapbooks—it’s a hobby of mine. You’re welcome to look at them. They show our life—from the time Devon brought him to me until now.”
