A Father For Zach Read online

  “Yes, it is.”

  The woman stepped beside Catherine and examined the canvas. “There’s a lot more to that piece than meets the eye.”

  “I agree.” But she didn’t want to discuss Nathan’s painting. The owner might mention to him that someone had expressed an interest in it—and she didn’t want him to know she’d stopped in. Because now that she’d seen his work, felt its power, sensed it came from deep within his soul, her visit did seem like an invasion of privacy. “Well, thank you for letting me look around. I’ll try to stop in again some day when I have more time.”

  “You’re always welcome.”

  Returning to the foyer, Catherine snagged Zach’s hand and led him out the door, into the sunlight. She spotted a trash container nearby, and disposed of the empty cardboard cup.

  “What was that place, Mom?” Zach trotted along beside her as they headed up India Street toward their car.

  “People who have things to sell bring them there, and that lady you saw tries to find other people to buy them.” Vague but true, she rationalized.

  “How come you didn’t buy anything?”

  “I didn’t see anything I wanted.”

  That was true, too, Catherine reflected, as they crossed the street, Zach’s hand firmly tucked in hers. For while she’d admired Nathan’s painting, its menacing undertones had disturbed her. As the gallery owner had suggested, there were layers to his piece. It wasn’t just about an approaching storm. It was about looming, unseen threats. And endangered innocence.

  But what did it all mean in relation to Nathan?

  That question burned in Catherine’s mind—and in her heart—as they headed out of town on Surfside Road. Somehow, she sensed this painting held the key to Nathan’s past. And she wanted to know more.

  But she doubted her curiosity would ever be satisfied. Because no way did she intend to tell him she’d visited the gallery. It would suggest she was interested in him beyond their employer-employee relationship. And she wasn’t.

  Was she?

  As that disturbing question echoed in her mind, a horn blared to her right, and she jammed on her brakes. Too late. She was already halfway across the intersection. Accelerating, she got out of the way. Fast. And hoped there weren’t any cops nearby.

  “Hey, Mom, weren’t you supposed to stop at the corner?” Zach twisted around to look back at the crossroads.

  “Yes, honey. I should have been paying more attention.”

  “Nathan says you should always pay attention when you’re doing something important, or you can make mistakes. Maybe even get hurt.”

  The man was right. Those were the exact things she wanted to avoid in her car.

  And with him.

  “That’s true, honey. I’ll be more careful next time.”

  About everything, she resolved. And that meant avoiding any situation that could put a more personal slant on her relationship with the man she’d hired.

  Like visits to art galleries.

  Three days later, as Nathan was reattaching a loose baseboard in one of the guest bathrooms at what would soon be Sheltering Shores Inn, a woman’s scream pierced the air.

  Catherine’s.

  Dropping his hammer, he vaulted to his feet and took off running.

  He met her in the breezeway as she stumbled out the screen door, her eyes awash with terror.

  “Catherine, what is it?”

  She pushed past him, heading for the door that led into the backyard. “Zach’s hurt. Oh, God, please! I can’t lose him, too!” The anguished cry was torn right from her heart.

  He was on her heels as she choked out the words, and once past the door, a quick survey of the yard told him she wasn’t overreacting. Zach lay on his back on the ground beside the split-rail fence, an overturned bucket beside him.

  And he wasn’t moving.

  Leaving Catherine behind, Nathan sprinted toward the child, doing his best to rein in his own panic.

  But it was a losing battle.

  Partly because he hated to see any child hurt.

  And partly because he was the one who’d sent Zach out to the backyard—unsupervised—to empty a bucket of dirty water he hadn’t wanted to pour down the newly cleaned porcelain in the bathrooms. If anything happened to her son, Catherine would never forgive him.

  Nathan got to Zach first and went down on one knee beside him. The little boy stared up at him, wide-eyed, struggling to breathe.

  The immediate problem was easy for Nathan to diagnose. Zach had had the wind knocked out of him. You got to know a lot about that kind of stuff from street fights.

  He hoped that was all that was wrong.

  Catherine dropped to the ground beside him. He could feel her shaking as she reached out to her son. “Zach, honey, lay still, okay?”

  At her shaky words, Zach looked at her. The alarm in his eyes ratcheted up another notch.

  Her panic was exacerbating the situation.

  “Catherine, let me deal with this.” Without waiting for her assent, Nathan took Zach’s hand, refocusing the little boy’s attention on him. “Hey, Zach. You’re fine. You just knocked all the wind out of your lungs when you fell, and they’re surprised. But they’ll start working again in a minute.” He strove for a calm, soothing tone and forced his stiff lips to curve into a smile.

  “I…can’t…”

  Nathan pressed a gentle finger to Zach’s lips as the little boy tried to gasp out a few words. “Don’t talk for a minute, okay? Let your lungs concentrate on breathing instead of making words. I bet you feel like a whole bunch of bricks are sitting on your chest, don’t you?”

  The youngster gave a nod and clung to his hand, his fingers small and trusting. Nathan swallowed past the lump that rose in this throat. “I bet you decided to climb up on that fence to check out how far you could see, didn’t you?”

  Another nod.

  “I did that once. I slipped and fell on my back, too. I couldn’t breathe, either, at first. It was real scary.” Nathan didn’t tell him it was a tall chain-link fence. Or that he was an adult up to no good. Or that the cops were closing in on him. “You know, I was thinking that before I come out tomorrow to finish up in the bathroom, maybe I’ll swing by Downyflake and pick up a few doughnuts. Would you like that?”

  “Yeah.”

  The youngster’s respiration was beginning to even out, Nathan noted, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

  “Okay. Sugar?”

  “Yeah. They’re the best.”

  “You got it, champ.” He smiled and stroked the little boy’s hand. “You breathing better now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Does anything hurt? Your arms or your legs?”

  Zach wiggled the extremities in question. “Nope.”

  “Then you can get up. But slow, okay? Until we make sure everything else checks out.”

  Slow wasn’t in Zach’s vocabulary, as Nathan had learned early on, so he kept a firm grip on him as the boy stood. Then he gave him a swift but thorough appraisal. His color was good, he didn’t appear to be in any pain and his eyes were clear and focused.

  Crisis averted.

  The tension in Nathan’s shoulders eased.

  Until Zach suddenly frowned. “Hey, Mom, are you sick?”

  As Nathan shifted toward Catherine, his tension returned in a flash.

  She was sitting on the ground beside him, her whole body quivering. All the color had drained from her face, and a thin film of sweat had beaded on her upper lip. Her respiration was shallow, her eyes glassy. She looked like she was in shock.

  The crisis with Zach might be over, but it was clear he now had another one on his hands.

  Gripping her upper arms, he spoke in the same calm, gentle tone he’d used with Zach. “Catherine, it’s okay. Zach’s not hurt. Take a few deep breaths. Catherine?”

  When he exerted a bit of pressure on her arms, she blinked and transferred her attention to him.

  He tried for a smile as he put one a
rm around Zach and drew the boy close beside him. “Zach’s right here, Catherine. He’s fine. Come on, sweetheart, take a few deep breaths for me, okay?”

  She blinked again. Drew one shuddering breath. Another. Some of the glassiness in her eyes dissipated.

  “Good girl.”

  “Is she sick, Nathan?”

  At Zach’s worried question, Nathan hugged him. “No, champ. She was just worried about you. When you love someone a lot, you get scared if you think they might be hurt. Your mom loves you a whole bunch, so she got really scared when you fell.”

  “But I’m okay.” He leaned over and touched Catherine’s cheek. “I’m not hurt, Mom. You don’t have to be scared.”

  She grasped his hand. Closed her eyes as she pressed it against her cheek. Sucked in a lungful of air. Then pulled him into a fierce, tight embrace.

  “Hey, Mom, you’re squeezing me to death!” Zach protested, squirming to free himself.

  In the end, Nathan had to gently pry her hands off her son. “You need to let him go, Catherine, so he can breathe,” he said softly.

  When she at last relinquished her grip, Nathan smiled at the little boy. “What do you say we all go inside? I bet you wouldn’t mind having a cookie before you take your nap.”

  “I had one after lunch.”

  “I think I can talk your mom into letting you have another.” He winked at the youngster.

  “Yeah?” His expression grew hopeful. “That would be good.”

  “Okay. Let’s head in.” He stood, then took Catherine’s hand and drew her to her feet. Tremors continued to course through her, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders as he turned toward the house. Instead of protesting, as he feared she might, she leaned against him. On his other side, Zach reached for his hand.

  Flanked by a vulnerable, trusting little boy and a shattered woman who were both counting on him for support, an unfamiliar emotion tightened Nathan’s throat. He’d never been anyone’s anchor. Nor felt so needed. Or valued. Or worthy.

  Warmth spilled from his heart, radiating throughout his body.

  And in that instant, he knew that this moment was a sample of what he’d been yearning for his whole life. He wanted to be part of a circle of love. Not just in a traumatic time of need, but for always.

  When they reached the breezeway, he gave Zach’s fingers a squeeze. “Could you open the door for us?”

  “Sure.”

  Releasing his hand, Zach pushed through and held it open.

  Nathan scrutinized Catherine again as they eased through the door. She still hadn’t spoken, nor had she stopped quivering. But a little color had seeped back into her cheeks.

  “Why don’t you sit here in the breezeway while I get a cookie for Zach and put him down for his nap. Okay?”

  She gave a barely perceptible nod as he guided her to the wicker settee. Sinking down, she wrapped her arms around her body as if she was trying to hold herself together.

  “I’ll be right back,” Nathan promised.

  Again, she dipped her head.

  “Come on, champ. Let’s round up that cookie.”

  Nathan took care of the cookie business as fast as he could, setting it on a plate and pouring a half glass of milk. To Zach’s delight, he suggested they take it upstairs so he could enjoy it in his room.

  “Wow! Mom never lets me eat in bed. Except when I’m sick.”

  “We’ll make an exception today.” Nathan handed the plastic cup to Zach and led the way up to his bedroom. Once he’d settled the child in with the snack and a picture book, he hotfooted it back to the breezeway. Zach’s trauma was over.

  But he had a feeling Catherine’s was still in full swing.

  In the five minutes he’d spent with Zach, Catherine hadn’t changed position. She was sitting as he’d left her, arms wrapped around her body, still trembling, still too pale. But the numbed shock in her eyes had given way to an almost palpable distress.

  As he approached, he also caught the glimmer of tears. The woman who’d said she never cried looked as if her control was finally about to break.

  Joining her on the settee, he entwined his fingers with hers. She clung to them, her grasp painfully tight.

  “Thank you for t-taking care of Zach.”

  “He didn’t need much taking care of. I’m more worried about his mom.”

  Her lips twitched as if she was trying to summon up a smile. Instead, they began to tremble. A tear slipped past her lower lashes and began to creep down her cheek. She didn’t seem to notice…and he resisted the temptation to wipe it away, not wanting to call attention to it.

  “Yeah. His mom’s a mess, isn’t she?”

  “I wouldn’t use that adjective.”

  “Why not? It’s true.” She blinked and shook her head. “I t-try so hard to keep him safe. That’s why I moved here. My family v-visited Nantucket once, when I was a teenager, and I remembered it as a quiet, sheltered kind of place. I wanted Zach to g-grow up in that kind of environment so I wouldn’t have to worry about him all the time. But I couldn’t even keep him safe in our own yard. He could have b-broken his neck.” The last word caught on a sob.

  He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Accidents happen everywhere, Catherine,” he said gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I feel like it was. I should have been watching him.”

  “You can’t watch him every minute.”

  “But I’m so afraid of losing him, too! He’s all I have now. If anything ever happened to him…” Her face crumpled, and she dropped it into her hands, trying to stifle the sobs clamoring for release.

  “Oh, Catherine.” His stomach contracted, and he touched the silky strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek. Tucked them behind her ear. Then he followed his instincts and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest. Close to his heart. “Let it out, sweetheart. You’re overdue for a good cry.”

  “I—I don’t cry.” Her broken protest was muffled against his shirt, but she didn’t try to pull away. Nor could she stop the sobs that began to wrack her slender body. They shuddered through her in waves; harsh, ragged sounds that disrupted the quiet Nantucket air and expressed more eloquently than words all the grief, anguish and anger that been building inside her for the past two years.

  At some point, Nathan shifted enough to fish a handkerchief out of his pocket. She took it without a word and continued to cry.

  He had no idea how long he held her in the shelter of his arms, but when at last her tears subsided, she eased back. Keeping her head bowed, she blew her nose.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. After all you’ve been through, you deserve a good cry.”

  “Tears don’t solve problems.”

  “No. But they can help dispel strong emotion.”

  She lifted her tear-stained face. Even with blotchy skin and red-rimmed eyes, she looked beautiful to him. “You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.”

  “I’ve shed my share of tears.” Some long ago, in the darkness of the terrible nights. Others over the past two years, as he fought his way back from the black abyss that had become his life.

  “Most men wouldn’t admit that.” She studied his face.

  He lifted one shoulder. “That’s their issue.”

  Dabbing at her eyes with his handkerchief, she continued to watch him. “You’re a different sort of person, Nathan Clay.”

  “Yeah.” He tried to smile, but all he managed was a small quirk on one side of his mouth. “An ex-con.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s true, though.” He was glad that hadn’t been top of mind when she’d made her comment. But his background did set him apart. And it always would. If there was to be any future for the two of them, his history couldn’t be swept into a dark corner. It had to be recognized and accepted.

  “I was thinking more about your kindness and sensitivity and patience.” She looked down, balling his handkerchief
into her fist.

  A little seed of hope sprouted to life in his heart. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very good with Zach, too. A lot of guys would consider him a nuisance—like the short-lived remodeler I hired after you left. I like that about you. You’ve been a great blessing in his life. In both our lives.” Her shoulders drooped. “I’ve tried my best to be all things to him these past two years, but it’s hard going it alone.”

  She’d called him a blessing.

  Incredible.

  “You’re not alone.” His words rasped and he cleared his throat. “The man upstairs is always just a holler away. And I wield a mean hammer if you ever need anything repaired.”

  “I’m not on the best of terms with God. And as for repairs…” She sighed. “A hammer and nails can’t fix loneliness. Or a broken heart.”

  Disregarding the red alert that began to flash in his mind, Nathan angled toward her. With a gentle finger, he lifted her chin until her gold-flecked eyes were looking into his. “I’m sorry for all your losses, Catherine. I can’t fix those, but I can return some of the compliments you just paid me. In the weeks since we met, I’ve come to admire your ability to pick up the pieces of your life and move on. I’ve been impressed by your strength. And by your commitment to Zach. You’re a different sort of person, too, Mrs. Walker.”

  “In spite of my meltdown today?”

  “You had good reason for it.”

  His finger was still under her chin, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to take the next step and cup her face with his hands. Her skin was smooth against his calloused palms, and as he stroked his thumbs over the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the sudden surge of longing in her green irises blindsided him.

  Because it mirrored the yearning in his heart.

  Kissing Catherine hadn’t been on his agenda for today. But all at once, it was the only thing that mattered.

  No matter the risk.

  Drawing in a steadying breath, he bent his head and tenderly pressed his lips to hers.

  More than ten years had passed since he’d kissed a woman. Longer still since such an embrace had involved tenderness and caring. But as he claimed Catherine’s sweet lips, he felt as if he’d been transported to a different realm. To a world where affection and warmth and gentleness ruled. Where devotion and commitment were more than words. Where honor and vows and love wove a beautiful tapestry.