Page 23 of You'll Find Out
“What? I . . . I don’t understand.”
“Sure you do.” His rough voice was flavored with honey. “All you have to do is give me the right to claim my child!”
“I will, you know that,” she said, letting her forehead drop to her hands. “I just need a little time . . .”
“You’ve had four years!” he snapped.
“And you gave them to me, didn’t you?” His arms, crossed rigidly over his chest, as if to ward off her words, dropped to his sides. His gaze softened slightly, and he pinched his lower lip between his fingers as he regarded her thoughtfully.
“All right, Mara. You win. I’ll give you a little more time to let everyone adjust to me . . . but not much!”
“I . . . we . . . don’t need much . . .”
“Good. How about one week, is that enough?”
“Two would be better . . .”
“Fine! Two it is.” His smile was nearly genuine. “But that’s it—no more stalling!” His dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction, as if a particularly savory thought had occurred to him. “Now,” he suggested, “why don’t you get dressed and we’ll get going. I’d like to meet Angie as soon as possible.”
The elation that Mara should have felt escaped her. There was something almost too pleasant about Shane’s change of mood—something too practiced and smooth, and it continued to bother her as she hastily took a shower and pulled on her clothes.
Chapter 6
The drive toward Asheville was quiet and fast. Shane seemed to concentrate on his driving, his brooding thoughts keeping him silent, while Mara feigned interest in the view from the car as it sped through the mountains and toward the city. The countryside of deep rolling hills, ancient wooden fences, and bright splashes of wildflowers passed quickly out of Mara’s range of vision as the sleek sports car hurried northward on Interstate 26, across the clear waters of the French Broad River and into the city limits of Asheville.
Mara felt the usual rush of pride that always captured her as she entered the city. Nestled in the heart of a million acres of natural mountain wilderness and the tallest mountains in the eastern United States, the Asheville plateau and the city that bore its name seemed to reach out to her. Tall, stately modern office complexes stood proudly against older, more finely detailed turn-of-the-century buildings, and the entire city was graced with tall mountain trees—pine, oak, chestnut . . . Mara took in the familiar scenery that never failed to awe her. The clear mountain air and the bright morning sunlight only added a deepening intensity to the grandeur of the busy town.
Shane pulled the car into the parking lot of one of the older, nineteenth century inns near the center of the city and helped Mara out of the car. With his arm hooking persuasively under her elbow, he gently pushed her into the elevator and tapped impatiently on the paneled walls as it ascended to the fourth floor. Mara sat mutely, somewhat amused, as Shane raced around his hotel room, changed, and shaved, as if every second was being wasted. Secretly she was pleased with his anxiety and nervousness at the prospect of meeting Angie, and yet, she still couldn’t shake a feeling of wariness and tension about the meeting. How would Angie react to Shane? And what about June? Why did Mara feel that there were serious undercurrents of tension that seemed to take hold of Shane at the mention of her mother-in-law’s name? Was it jealousy of the woman’s relationship with his child, or was it deeper than that?
“Come on. Let’s go,” Shane called to her, interrupting her thoughts. He was racing to the door, fumbling with his tie, and reaching for his keys all in one movement.
“Slow down,” Mara cautioned good-naturedly. She got up from the bed, where she had been sitting, and reached up to help him with the knot on his tie. “We’ve got the rest of the morning . . .”
“Can’t you see that I’m in a hurry, damn it!” Shane muttered, jerking on the tie impatiently.
“Too much of one,” she said chuckling and touched his cheek, where he had obviously nicked himself with the razor.
A crooked, lazy smile stole over his lips as he noticed the amused twinkle in her eye. “You’re enjoying all of this aren’t you? You’re actually taking pleasure in watching me fall all over myself as I try to hurry to meet my daughter.”
Mara couldn’t help but blush. “I guess you’re right,” she conceded, avoiding his gaze. “It’s heartwarming to see your more human side surfacing. And—” her eyes locked with his “—it’s an incredible relief to realize how important Angie is to you.” Her voice caught for a moment. “I . . . I was afraid that maybe, when you found out about her, you wouldn’t want her . . .”
A pained expression crossed his features. “How could you think anything of the kind?”
“It’s been a long time, Shane.”
“Too long,” he agreed and wrapped his arms around her. He brushed a kiss across the top of her forehead. “You know that I’d love to stay here and make love to you all morning,” he murmured, his eyes sweeping over to the large, comfortable wooden-framed bed, “but I really do want to meet my child. I’ve waited much too long, already.”
* * *
No one answered Shane’s impatient knock, and so after several awkward moments, Mara let herself into June’s apartment with her own key. She called out to her daughter and mother-in-law, but there was no answer, only a dull echo from the empty rooms.
Shane followed Mara through the entry and into the living quarters of the tidy, modern apartment. Other than a few pieces of Angie’s clothing draped unceremoniously over the back of a floral couch, there was no sign that the child was about. Without Angie or June inhabiting it, the apartment seemed cold and sterile, the cool blue tones of the carpet and furniture austerely precise and impractical.
Shane eyed the living room with obvious contempt, his dark eyes only softening when he observed Angie’s tattered blanket tossed carelessly on the floor. He stooped to pick it up, and smiled to himself as the worn pink blanket unfolded to reveal a nearly naked and slightly dirty doll. “Can’t you afford something a little bit . . . cleaner?” he asked, eyeing the doll’s tousled frizzy hair and lazy blue eye.
“I’ve tried, believe me,” Mara laughed. “But she prefers Lolly.”
“Lolly?” Shane repeated uncomfortably. “But . . . you manufacture toys. Isn’t there something you could find to replace . . . Lolly?”
