A Time To Forgive

“More.” Jaye turned her face away and stared out the bus window. They were passing through a particularly lovely section of northwest D.C. Rock Creek Park was immediately to the west, and large colonial and Tudor-style houses lined the street, their lawns losing the dullness of winter and starting to turn a richer shade of green. Abby doubted Jaye saw any of it. “Mom and I lived in Tennessee.”

Physical distance, in Abby’s opinion, was no reason to keep emotionally distant from a child. Especially when it was your own. But she was jumping to conclusions without all the facts. She didn’t know for certain that Connor Smith hadn’t kept in touch with his daughter.

“It must have been tough living so far away from your father,” she said, leading into her question as tactfully as she could. “It’s a good thing for telephones.”

“He never called me,” Jaye muttered, her face still turned to the window.

Abby’s estimation of Connor plummeted, but then she reminded herself that he was trying to do right by Jaye now. Whatever his sins of the past, he had an opportunity to atone for them.

“He’s here now, Jaye.” She tried to dredge up something encouraging to say. “He probably wants to make up for lost time.”

Jaye’s head shook violently back and forth. Her shoulders trembled, as though she were fighting tears.

Abby laid a hand on her arm, unsure of what she’d said wrong. “What is it, honey?”

Jaye looked at her then, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “My dad doesn’t want to make up for lost time. He doesn’t want me at all.”

Emotion clogged Abby’s throat, making it tough to speak. She’d run out of words anyway, not that anything she’d said so far had made Jaye feel the slightest bit better.

The cheerful chatter of the children behind them contrasted vividly with the despair on Jaye’s face. Abby stroked the girl’s arm as resentment built inside her toward Connor Smith.

She knew his type all too well.

Her father hadn’t wanted her, either.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN CONNOR SMITH MADE UP his mind to do something, he followed through. The practice had served him well both in business and in his personal life.

As he’d listened to the symphony perform in the gilded Concert Hall, somewhere between the bull-fighter theme from Bizet’s Carmen and the finale from Rossini’s William Tell Overture, he’d set his mind on getting to know Abby Reed better.

His venue of choice would have been a quiet dinner for two at his town house, but with the addition of a nine-year-old, his home was no longer so private.

When he’d caught Abby peeking looks at him during the concert, he thought that accomplishing his mission wouldn’t be difficult. But something imperceptible had changed since the concert’s end, because the looks she’d stolen on the bus seemed more like glares.

The bus had arrived at Blue Moon Elementary five minutes ago. An hour remained in the school day, so Abby had already sent the protesting students back to their classes. Connor had called a goodbye to Jaye, but she’d given him her back. Neither of them, it seemed, looked forward to the punishment he’d mete out tonight.

He waited for the ex-military chaperone to finish telling Abby how much she’d enjoyed the field trip before he approached Abby, who was heading for the brightly colored main hall of the school. “Miss Reed, can I talk to you for a minute?”

He thought she might ignore him and keep on walking, but then she turned. It was a windy day, and her short dark hair had gotten slightly tousled in the brief walk from the bus to the school. The appealing disarray should have made her seem more approachable, but he read reluctance in her stance. “What is it, Mr. Smith?”

It had been a long time since he’d been so nervous at the prospect of asking out a woman. He cleared his throat, thinking it best if he eased into the subject. “You were right about letting Jaye stay to hear the concert. I could tell she was enraptured.”

He sensed some of the tension leaving her body and imagined she looked a fraction more relaxed.

“She was. You should look into getting her private lessons.” Her gaze sharpened. “You do let her practice, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She hesitated, then said, “No reason. As I was saying, extra lessons would help her. There’s only so much I can teach her when she’s part of a group. If you’re interested, I have a sheet with names and phone numbers of private teachers that I’ll send home with her.”

“That’d be great.”

“Fine.” She seemed to think the conversation was over and started to turn away.

“But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She regarded him so coolly, it felt as if the temperature in the elementary school had dropped. Now was probably not the optimum time for what he had in mind, but he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

One of the inspirational quotes J.D. used to spout during football season sprang to mind. The kid had a ton of them, all meant to motivate himself to become the best athlete he could be. They’d worked, too. J. D. Smith had been well on the road to athletic glory before that son of a bitch had robbed him of his life. Biting back the familiar rush of anger, Connor thrust his brother from his mind and concentrated on the saying.

“I’ll get straight to the point. Would you have dinner with me this weekend?”

If he’d asked if she’d cut off her right arm and give it to him, she couldn’t have looked more appalled. “No.”

He rocked back on his heels, surprised at the firmness of her response. He’d been refused before, but never so baldly. But maybe he’d made a mistake. Once again he checked her left ring finger. Yes, it was still bare.

“Are you involved with someone else?” he asked.

“No. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my classroom.”

She took two steps before Connor recovered enough to find his voice. “Wait.”

Reluctance written plainly on her face, she turned back to him. “What’s the matter, Mr. Smith, aren’t you used to being turned down?”

“It’s not that. It’s the way you did it.” He scratched his chin. “You could have softened the blow, said something about how it’s against your policy to date relatives of students.”

“I don’t have a dating policy,” she said. “But if it bothers you that much, let me rephrase my answer. Thank you for the invitation, but no thank you.”

He frowned. “If I’ve done something to offend you, I’d sure like to know what it was.”

“You mean besides not signing the permission slip until I came to your office and then showing up late for the bus?”

He was about to point out that technically he hadn’t been late, but they’d already covered that ground. “Besides that.”

Her chest rose, then fell. Clearly she wanted to be rid of him. “Jaye’s told me some things.”

“What things?” he pressed.

“I know you hadn’t seen her in years until recently.”

“That’s right,” he said slowly, wondering where she was going with this.

“And I know you felt like you had to take her in.”

“That’s right, too,” he said. “The alternative was foster care, and I couldn’t let that happen.”