His Daughter...Their Child

“And then what?”

Wasn’t that a loaded question? Would she have barged into Zoie and Clay’s life, claimed her daughter wasn’t getting the attention and love she needed? Wasn’t that why she’d chosen to make a life for herself in Phoenix, so she wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t see, wouldn’t be involved?

“Come on,” Jenny said, hooking her arm in Celeste’s. “Let’s join the party. Silas’s out-of-town friends heard about Clay and his tours and wanted to meet him in person. Silas also invited Jesse Vargas, Brody Hazlett and his dad, so you won’t be stuck in a room with Clay all night. Besides, I need a little girl company.”

Jenny led Celeste across the marble foyer, through a covered archway that opened into a high-ceilinged living room with a Remington on the wall, cowhide rugs and a suede and leather sofa long enough for a giant.

“Everyone’s in Silas’s parlor. Martha’s serving appetizers and drinks. You’re the last to arrive.”

Great, Celeste thought. That meant everyone would notice her when they walked in. She reminded herself she was no longer a shy teenager who preferred back corners to dancing under the spotlight. Holding her head high, she straightened to her full height, glad she’d worn heels instead of sandals, glad her teal dress, which had been an alternate choice for the reunion, had been a recent purchase before her trip here.

Celeste felt as if she should knock on the mahogany French doors that led into the parlor, but Jenny didn’t hesitate to grab a glass knob and open one of them. For a few moments, masculine voices circled around the group in the center of the room. Celeste recognized one deep baritone right away, but she kept her gaze from swinging to Clay. Instead she focused on the man at the center of the circle. He’d lost most of his gray hair, but his gray-black mustache seemed as thick as ever. The multitude of lines on his face attested to the fact that he’d aged since Celeste had seen him last.

“He has changed,” Celeste whispered to Jenny.

“In a lot of ways. Most of all, I think he’s just sad that he and Zack can’t talk.”

After only a few moments of hesitation, Celeste decided. “We might as well dive right in.” She tried to come up with a genuine smile.

“You’ve changed, too,” Jenny muttered as side by side they approached the closed group.

All of a sudden, one of the men Celeste didn’t know gave a low whistle and slapped Silas Decker on the back. “Where have you been keeping these two lovely ladies?”

Silas shrugged off the thirty-something man’s hand and turned to greet them. “Jenny, I’m so glad you invited Celeste.” He held her hand and then kissed the top of it lightly. “You’ve grown into quite a beauty.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

“As usual, we were talking horses. Clay was trying to explain to us why he picks the ones he does when he goes on trail rides. You were always a good picker, too, when you and Jenny convinced me to let you ride up to Moonshadow or out to Feather Peak. How do you choose?”

“It’s not very scientific,” she joked. “I look into his eyes, see if he likes my touch or pulls away from it. I give him a few ground commands and see how well he obeys. Then I take him for a little walk to get a feel for rhythm and companionability.”

Several men cleared their throats. Brody, a veterinarian like his dad, asked, “You don’t listen to recommendations from others?”

“I’ve learned recommendations from others don’t go very far if the horse and I don’t understand the same language.”

“Do you pick your dates that way?” Silas joked.

Unoffended, she shot back, “Maybe I should.”

The majority of the group laughed, but with one glance at Clay, she could see he wasn’t one of them. Even with that quick meeting of their eyes, she could still feel the desire from their kiss, the unusual undercurrent that made her body buzz, the still burned-on sensual taste of his lips on hers.

“Remember me?” a handsome, smartly dressed man asked. “I was a year ahead of you in high school.”

Jenny explained, “Jesse recently bought the sporting goods store.”

Celeste did remember Jesse, who’d been a football star in high school.

He had black curly hair, snapping dark brown eyes and a smile that could charm. “Which sport’s your favorite?” he asked.

Clay stepped in, eyed Celeste’s upswept hair, her dangling copper earrings, as well as the rest of her, in a millisecond glance. “Celeste prefers hiking. We were in the same club in high school and she can follow a trail better than anyone I know.”

“Anyone but you,” she acknowledged easily, wondering why he’d stepped in.

“You two were in the same class?” Jesse asked.

They glanced at each other and couldn’t look away. The kiss was there in Clay’s eyes—desire-filled, inciting, worrying.

Jesse cleared his throat, glanced at Clay, then asked Celeste with a bit of challenge, “Can I get you a drink?” He motioned toward the wet bar. “Silas’s bartender makes great dirty martinis.”

“Thank you. Maybe in a little while. I need to talk to Clay about something.”

“I’ll find you in a little while,” he agreed. He turned away and ambled over to the bar.

Clay led Celeste to a furniture grouping away from the others. “Lining up a date?” he asked in a serious tone.

“No, just trying not to be rude to one of Silas’s guests. Do you have a problem with that?”

Consternation crossed Clay’s face. “No, I guess not.”

Celeste glanced around and made sure nobody was within earshot. “I need to tell you something about Abby. When we were together yesterday, we played with her dollhouse.”

A smile crossed Clay’s lips. “She likes to take everything out and then put it all back in again.”

Celeste laughed. “Maybe she’ll be an interior designer someday.”

“But that’s not what you wanted to tell me.”

Her smile faded. “She played with a mom and dad and baby, but after a few minutes, she set the woman doll away from the dollhouse. When I asked her why, she said the mommy doll went away. I didn’t know how you’d want me to deal with it.”

Clay’s smile slid away, and he shook his head. “My mother never said anything about the way Abby plays.”

“Maybe your mom didn’t notice, or maybe Abby felt free to do that with me since I haven’t been part of her family circle.”

Clay rammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki slacks. “I can’t tell her Zoie’s gone for good and I can’t tell her she’s coming back. You know Zoie’s unpredictable, and I can’t pin her down. When we divorced, sole custody was my main concern. In September, she’ll be receiving the second half of her settlement. When we talk about where to wire it, we’re going to have to get a few more things clarified. Abby needs to know who makes up her world.”

Because Clay looked so troubled, Celeste regretted telling him about Abby’s play. “I didn’t mean to just throw this at you, but I thought you should know.”

After a few moments of glancing away, his attention seemingly on the group across the room, he swung back to her. “What did you tell her?” His penetrating study of her face said he wanted the truth.

“I just suggested she let the daddy put the baby to bed, then we moved on to her pet-shop toys. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, and I certainly had no answers.”

“I suppose I was naive to think she wouldn’t remember Zoie leaving.”

“Maybe. Or possibly, she’s heard you and your mom talk. Mikala has often said kids are like sponges, soaking up words and feelings and vibrations that adults can’t even intuit.”

“You’ve talked to Mikala about this?” He didn’t seem angry, just curious.

“No, but she and I had a few discussions before I decided to become a surrogate.”