The Man Who Would Be Daddy

Tyler laughed as he hugged her. “I’ll drive the van,” he told his partner. “Follow me back.”

His partner, Elliott, nodded and started up the squad car. The other two cars had gone directly to the police station with their prisoner in custody. The man would be spending the night in a holding cell courtesy of the city, and tomorrow, after charges were pressed, he would find himself with another mailing address.

Not waiting for the policeman to go first, Malcolm turned his LeMans around and headed straight toward the minimall.

It surprised him that the incident could have stirred so many memories within him. It was like someone poking a stick at the embers of a fire that hadn’t quite managed to go out.

It was all because he’d held the child, he thought. Holding her had made him remember. And yearn.

And regret.

He blew out a breath, wishing there was some effective way to permanently anesthetize himself so that he didn’t feel anything anymore. Feeling nothing was preferable to feeling pain.

He took the yellow light automatically and turned down the street that fed into the minimall. And saw her. Even some distance away, he knew it had to be her, the woman who had screamed. The woman whose child he’d saved. She couldn’t have been anyone else. The woman, her hair as blond as her daughter’s, was standing on the northernmost curb of the minimall, frantically searching the thoroughfare for some sight of her van.

The way she stood, alert, poised, hopeful, made him think of a portrait of a woman from the old seafaring days. Days when women stood watch upon the widow’s walk of a Cape Cod house, looking at the sea for some sign of their husbands’ ships on the horizon.

As soon as she caught sight of the van, Malcolm saw a smile break out over her face. Even at a distance, it was nothing short of radiant.

So radiant that he found himself caught up in its brilliance. It made him feel good for the first time in years. It felt like sunshine seeping through the pores after months in the gloomy mist.

Malcolm saw the woman hurrying past his car, reaching the door of the van before it had come to a full stop. As she ran by, he saw the tears streaming down her face, tears that were in direct contradiction to the smile on her face.

“You got her back!” Christa cried.

Disbelief, joy and relief all tangled together in her voice. Her hands trembled as she opened the door and quickly climbed inside. They shook even more as she snapped open the harness that held Robin in place. She was certain that her heart was going to crack through her ribs as it pounded hard in relief.

“Not me,” Tyler told her as he got out of the vehicle. “He did.” Tyler jerked his thumb at Malcolm’s car.

Daughter pressed against her, Christa sobbed her relief into Robin’s hair. Then, pulling herself together, she stepped out of the van. With Robin in her arms, Christa turned to look at the man her brother had pointed out, the man whom she had seen tearing out after the carjacker.

The man who had given her back the life she saw flowing away from her only fifteen minutes earlier.

“I have no idea how to thank you,” Christa cried. Emotion choked her words away, and she threw her free arm about his neck and hugged him.

Caught in an emotional embrace between the woman and the child in her arms, Malcolm was temporarily at a loss. The last time he’d been standing like this, it had been Gloria and Sally whose embrace he’d shared. Sally with her perpetually sticky fingers, and Gloria, who had smelled like roses. This woman smelled of wildflowers. Memories battered at him, threatening to overwhelm him completely.

They assaulted him even harder as the woman brushed a kiss on his cheek.

He swallowed, separating himself from both of them. “I think that’ll do just fine,” he told her.

Christa wondered why she saw a hint of longing in his eyes as he looked at Robin before stepping away.

“Glad I could help,” he murmured. “Take care of her. Every day is precious.”

And then, just like that, he turned and walked away.

Chapter Two (#ulink_9dab0c20-9ad0-5192-8c16-7b88613ef967)

It took a minute before the image of the retreating back registered. He was walking away. The man who had given her back the very meaning of her life was walking away, and she didn’t even know his name.

Holding her daughter pressed close to her breast,

Christa hurried after Malcolm. Behind her, she heard her brother calling after her.

“Christa, you all right?” Bewilderment tinged his question.

She didn’t turn around. Instead, she held Robin a little tighter as she increased her stride. The little girl squirmed and wriggled against her in protest, but after what she’d just been through, there was no way Christa was going to set Robin down. At least, not yet.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered.

Her Good Samaritan, almost a foot taller than she, had a long stride that took him farther and farther away from her with every step. The only way she could catch up was if she ran. Weighed down, she couldn’t, but her eyes never left her target.

Why had he walked away from her just like that, as if he’d only picked up a pencil she’d dropped and returned it to her? Surely the impact of the situation had to have registered. Without even knowing her, he’d risked his life to get her daughter back. Why wouldn’t he let her thank him?

Feeling the weight of the huge debt she owed him, that she would always owe him, Christa couldn’t allow this moment to pass as if it were nothing.

“Mommy?” Robin whimpered, squirming again.

Christa kissed the top of her daughter’s head, but she didn’t slow down. “In a minute, honey. Mommy has to see someone.”

Her arms were locked tightly around Robin. She wished she could make a haven out of them, a haven that would keep Robin safe forever.

But she was safe now, thanks to him.

If nothing else, Christa needed to know what his name was.

Perspiration dripped into Jock Peritoni’s eyes as he looked up from the hot, uncooperative engine he’d been struggling with for the past half hour. The test drive he’d just taken the vehicle on had told him nothing. He didn’t have his father’s or Malcolm’s ear. He couldn’t just listen and be able to narrow down a problem.

He’d been only vaguely aware of the squealing tires and the life-and-death race that had taken place in the far end of the minimall. The engine had absorbed all his attention. He’d wanted to fix it before Malcolm arrived at work.

So far, all his efforts had been wasted.

Relief highlighted his grease-streaked face as he saw Malcolm approach. He’d begun to worry that something was wrong and his boss wasn’t coming in today. Malcolm was never late.

It was only ten minutes shy of nine in the morning, but Jock already felt himself overwhelmed. Wiping his hands on the back of his permanently stained jeans, the nineteen-year-old noticed the woman with the little girl in her arms. It looked as if she was hurrying to catch up to his boss, but Malcolm seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was being followed.

That wasn’t unusual. Working here over the last year, Jock had noticed that Malcolm Evans had an ability to shut out everything around him when he wanted to.

Circumventing the front end of the car, Jock nodded a greeting at Malcolm. “Hi, boss. You had me worried. I thought maybe you weren’t going to come in.”

Malcolm hadn’t missed a day since he’d opened, though a lot of days he’d wanted to. He knew if he gave in to that feeling, he’d never stop. He’d done that once, and it had taken him almost two years to crawl out of that black hole. “I would have called you if I wasn’t going to be in.”

The voice was solemn, even. Jock’s father had told him that Malcolm had been the life of the party during their racing-circuit days, but Jock found it really hard to believe. He had yet to see a smile on the man. When he had once gathered enough courage to ask him about it, Malcolm had pointed out to him that Jock grinned enough for both of them.

Jock nodded toward the woman who had almost caught up to Malcolm. “Don’t look now, but you’re being followed.”

Preoccupied with memories that had suddenly assaulted him, memories he’d been working so hard to lock away, Malcolm hadn’t heard anyone walking behind him. He stopped and turned around abruptly.