Nathan's Child - By Anne McAllister Page 0,11
think he was happier on his own.”
“Me, too,” Lacey said. “I mean, I’m like that, too.” She slanted a glance up at him from beneath a fall of long dark hair. “Are you?”
Nathan considered that, then nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
Lacey nodded. She ran her tongue over her lips. “Then…do you think you’ll mind being part of us?”
The question caught him off guard.
But before he could even hazard an answer, she went on. “Because I was thinking you might wish you didn’t know…about me.”
“No,” Nathan said flatly. He sat down on the bed beside her and looked straight into his daughter’s big blue eyes. “Don’t ever think that,” he said firmly. “Not for a minute. I’m glad I know about you.”
Their gazes locked. Seconds ticked by. It was like being weighed and measured, judged for his intentions. And Nathan knew, however long it took, he had to hold her gaze.
Finally a smile spread slowly across Lacey’s face. “I’m glad you know about me, too,” she said, then sighed. “I didn’t think you wanted to.”
“Why not?”
“Because you didn’t come. After Uncle Dominic and Aunt Sierra were here the first time, I mean.”
Nathan looked away, wondering how to explain what he wasn’t sure he understood himself. When Dominic had first told him about finding Carin again, he’d been astonished at his reaction. He’d so determinedly “forgotten” her that he was completely unprepared for the sudden clench of his stomach and the flip-flop of his heart at the sound of her name.
And he’d felt awkward as hell about those feelings in front of his brother. Dominic’s old pain was fresh enough in Nathan’s memory to make all his guilt flood back. And even though Dominic was happy now and glad to understand at last why Carin had jilted him, Nathan hadn’t been able to come to terms with the new circumstances that quickly.
He’d resisted all thought of renewing his relationship with Carin.
And then Dominic had mentioned Lacey.
He’d been deliberately vague, mentioning her name casually, hinting at a possibility that had frankly taken Nathan’s breath away.
He had a daughter? He’d been poleaxed by the idea. It had reordered his reality and had paralyzed him at the same time. He’d prowled the beach near their Long Island home for hours afterward, had driven miles. Had tried to think. But his mind had been a blur.
There was no way he could explain to Lacey the roller coaster of emotions he’d ridden that night and for weeks after he’d learned of her existence. A part of him had wanted to grab the next plane to the Bahamas. A saner, more rational part had refused to let him.
He needed to get his house in order, to weigh the implications, to decide what would be best for his daughter. And while he did that, he went on with his life.
He fulfilled the assignments he’d already committed to, wrote the articles he’d agreed to, took the pictures that would go in his next book. And all the while—no matter where he was—his mind was grappling with the knowledge of his daughter.
“I had commitments,” he said finally. “Things that I’d agreed to do before I knew about you. Photo assignments. Articles. People were counting on me.” And your mother definitely was not. “So I did my job. When I came I wanted to be ready to stay. I didn’t want to have to leave again as soon as I got here.”
Lacey nodded happily. “That’s what Grandpa said.”
The old man had certainly been sticking his oar in, Nathan thought. But in this instance he was glad. “He was right.”
“I’m glad you’re staying.” She gave a little bounce on the bed. “For how long?”
As long as it takes, Nathan thought. He wasn’t sure what the answer was. But he wasn’t leaving until he and Carin and Lacey were a family.
“I’ve got a book to write. Pictures to choose. I’ll be doing that here. You can help.”
Lacey’s eyes lit up. “I can? Really?”
“Well, you can’t make all the decisions, but you can have some input. You said you were taking pictures, right?”
“Right. I brought some. An’ I brought my camera. They’re in my backpack. Want to see them?” She looked eager, and then just a little nervous, as if she might have overstepped her bounds.
But Nathan was delighted. “Of course. Show me.”
They went back downstairs and Lacey opened her backpack. Her camera was a good basic single-lens reflex, not a point-and-shoot. Every setting had to be done manually.
“Grandpa said you’d want me to start the