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“But you couldn’t find it in your heart to love her.”
“I didn’t say that.” His eyes lifted to meet the disgust and rage simmering in hers.
“You have never loved anyone in your life, Jeff Coleridge, except yourself.”
“That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Sheila: your sweet, even-tempered disposition.”
Sheila was shaking, but she attempted to regain her poise. If only she could look at Jeff indifferently. If only she didn’t see a man who rejected his infant when she looked into his eyes. “This argument is getting us nowhere,” she said through tight lips. The strain of trying to communicate with Jeff was getting to her. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen and wait while I get Emily. She’s just on the patio.”
Jeff hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more, but decided against it. Sheila stepped backward, allowing him to pass, and tried to calm her anxious nerves. When she found Emily, she didn’t want to infect the child with her worries about the disintegrating relationship between father and daughter.
She stepped onto the patio and drew in a steadying breath. Emily was watching Noah and Sean trying to outdo one another in a Frisbee throwing contest. Emily was giggling in excitement, Noah was concentrating on the returning Frisbee and Sean was smiling with satisfaction, sure that the plastic disc would elude his father. It was a tender scene, a family scene, and it pulled at Sheila’s heartstrings knowing she had to destroy it.
“Emily,” she called softly. “Someone’s here to see you.”
“Who?” Emily demanded, riveted to her spot and eyeing Noah’s ungraceful catch. He flipped the Frisbee back at his son.
“Daddy’s come to see you.”
Emily’s smile faded. “My daddy?”
Sheila’s grin felt as phony as it was. “Isn’t that great?”
“He’s not going to take me with him to Spokane, is he?”
“Of course not, honey,” Sheila said with unfelt enthusiasm. “He just came to see how you’re doing with that ankle of yours.” Pushing aside an errant curl around her daughter’s face, Sheila continued. “Come on. He’s waiting in the kitchen.”
“No, I’m not,” Jeff’s cheery voice called as he walked out the door. He smiled down at his daughter. “It’s been a long trip, and I couldn’t wait any longer.” It was then, when his eyes lifted from his daughter’s serious gaze, that he noticed Noah and Sean. The game had ended and Noah was staring intently at the man who had once been Sheila’s husband. “Pardon me,” Jeff announced with a wary, well-practiced smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Noah strode slowly up to the patio, his blue eyes challenging Jeff’s dark ones. Sheila could see that every muscle in Noah’s body had become rigid, the skin drawn taut. ‘The name’s Wilder,” he stated. “Noah Wilder. This—” he cocked his head in the direction of the blond boy in cut-off jeans “—is my son, Sean.” He extended his hand, took Jeff’s and gave it a short, but firm, shake.
“Jeff Coleridge.”
Noah’s smile twisted as if smiling at a private irony. “I assumed as much.”
“Wilder?” Jeff’s eyes followed Noah’s movements as he placed his body between those of ex-husband and wife. The move was subtle, but not lost on either Sheila or Jeff. “You’re connected with Wilder Investments?”
“My father’s company.”
“Ben Wilder isyourfather?” A note of genuine respect and surprise entered Jeff’s voice.
“That’s right.” Noah didn’t return Jeff’s growing smile.
“Oh . . . so you’re here because of the winery . . . as a business partner to Sheila?” Jeff assumed. He seemed relieved.
“Partly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Noah is Mommy’s friend,” Emily interjected.
“Is that right?” Jeff’s thin eyebrows raised, and his accusing dark eyes impaled Sheila.
There was an awkward silence while Sheila struggled with the proper words. Both men regarded her intently. From the corner of her eye, Sheila noticed that Sean was walking toward the orchard, away from the uncomfortable scene. An embarrassed flush crept up her neck, but her eyes never wavered, and her voice was surprisingly steady. “Yes, that’s right. Noah is a friend of mine, a very good friend.”
The nasty retort forming on Jeff’s lips died under the power of Noah’s stare and the innocent, wondering eyes of his child He didn’t want to appear the fool. “I see,” he returned vaguely, as if he really didn’t understand at all. Then, as if dismissing the entire conversation as something that should have been swept under the rug, he pulled at the crease in his pants and bent on one knee to talk to his daughter. He took one of Emily’s little hands and pressed it between his own. He considered it a very fatherly gesture. “So tell me, Emmy, how’re you feeling?”
“Fine.” Emily was suddenly shy as she found herself the center of attention.
