given up at birth?
Seventeen.
And how many years had he wondered if that baby would grow up happy and whole and smart and sharp and then… someday show up on his doorstep.
Christ, he couldn’t remember ever feeling nerves like this before. Not while facing forty-foot waves threatening to tear his boat apart. Not while standing on an Olympic podium accepting a medal in the name of his country. Not ever.
Tara hadn’t taken her eyes off Mia, and she was looking nervous too, her eyes misty. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.
Mia’s eyes cut to her, quiet and assessing. “I look like you.”
“Not as much as you look like…”
They both turned to Ford.
Having the woman he’d once loved with painful desperation, along with the daughter he’d dreamed about, both looking at him with varying degrees of emotion, was a punch in the solar plexus. Ford found he could scarcely breathe.
“Can I hug you?” Tara asked their daughter.
Mia gave a halting nod, but it was too late; they’d all seen the hesitation. Awkwardness settled over them all as Mia moved into Tara for a quick embrace. Ford was next, and he was surprised that with him Mia didn’t seem awkward at all. Anxious, even eager, but not reluctant, and as he wrapped his arms around this thin, beautiful teenager that was his—Christ, his— he closed his eyes and breathed her in. “How did you find us?”
Mia pulled back and shifted her weight nervously, although her voice never wavered. “I thought I’d tell you after I got hired.”
Bold. Ballsy. Probably she’d gotten a double whammy of both of those things from the gene pool, Ford thought.
“I only have seven weeks,” Mia said, and Tara’s hand went to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping out.
Ford understood the panic. Hell, he felt it as his own. When Mia had been young, she’d had heart problems. A leaky valve that had required surgery. The only reason either Ford or Tara knew about it was because Tara’s mother had donated a very large chunk of money to the medical bills, taking a second mortgage on the inn to get it—something that had only been discovered after Phoebe had died.
“What’s the matter?” Tara asked Mia, voice thick with worry. “Your heart again?”
“No. I’m doing my senior year of high school in Spain as an exchange student, and I’ll be gone for nine months.”
“Oh.” At this, Tara sagged in visible relief.
“So you’re healthy then?” Ford asked Mia. “Everything’s good?”
“Yep. I haven’t had so much as a cold in years.”
“That’s wonderful,” Tara said. “And your parents are okay with you doing this? Coming here to meet us?”
Another slight hesitation. “Well, they wanted to come with me,” Mia admitted. “To be sure I’d be welcome, but I wanted to do this alone.” Something came into her eyes at that. More nerves. And a dash of defensiveness.
And there was something else, too, Ford noticed. Whenever Mia spoke, she did so directly to him, not Tara. Almost as if Mia somehow resented the mother who’d given her up, but not her birth father.
Worse, given the look on Tara’s face, she knew it too, and was miserable about it. Up until now Ford had caught only glimpses of the guilt that haunted Tara, but seeing it etched so deeply on her face squeezed his heart.
“My parents know I’m applying for work,” Mia told them. “They’ve agreed that I can drive back and forth from Seattle to Lucky Harbor. If, you know, I get the job.”
Smooth, Ford thought. Also from the gene pool.
“I’ll hire you,” Tara said softly. “If that’s what you want, to work for me.”
“Really?” For a beat, the cool, tough-girl expression fell away from Mia, revealing a heartbreaking vulnerability.
“Of course,” Tara said.
“But… you don’t even know my real skills. Or me.”
“You came all this way,” Ford said quietly. “Don’t lose your nerve now.”
Mia turned to him, studying his face like she’d
Seventeen.
And how many years had he wondered if that baby would grow up happy and whole and smart and sharp and then… someday show up on his doorstep.
Christ, he couldn’t remember ever feeling nerves like this before. Not while facing forty-foot waves threatening to tear his boat apart. Not while standing on an Olympic podium accepting a medal in the name of his country. Not ever.
Tara hadn’t taken her eyes off Mia, and she was looking nervous too, her eyes misty. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.
Mia’s eyes cut to her, quiet and assessing. “I look like you.”
“Not as much as you look like…”
They both turned to Ford.
Having the woman he’d once loved with painful desperation, along with the daughter he’d dreamed about, both looking at him with varying degrees of emotion, was a punch in the solar plexus. Ford found he could scarcely breathe.
“Can I hug you?” Tara asked their daughter.
Mia gave a halting nod, but it was too late; they’d all seen the hesitation. Awkwardness settled over them all as Mia moved into Tara for a quick embrace. Ford was next, and he was surprised that with him Mia didn’t seem awkward at all. Anxious, even eager, but not reluctant, and as he wrapped his arms around this thin, beautiful teenager that was his—Christ, his— he closed his eyes and breathed her in. “How did you find us?”
Mia pulled back and shifted her weight nervously, although her voice never wavered. “I thought I’d tell you after I got hired.”
Bold. Ballsy. Probably she’d gotten a double whammy of both of those things from the gene pool, Ford thought.
“I only have seven weeks,” Mia said, and Tara’s hand went to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping out.
Ford understood the panic. Hell, he felt it as his own. When Mia had been young, she’d had heart problems. A leaky valve that had required surgery. The only reason either Ford or Tara knew about it was because Tara’s mother had donated a very large chunk of money to the medical bills, taking a second mortgage on the inn to get it—something that had only been discovered after Phoebe had died.
“What’s the matter?” Tara asked Mia, voice thick with worry. “Your heart again?”
“No. I’m doing my senior year of high school in Spain as an exchange student, and I’ll be gone for nine months.”
“Oh.” At this, Tara sagged in visible relief.
“So you’re healthy then?” Ford asked Mia. “Everything’s good?”
“Yep. I haven’t had so much as a cold in years.”
“That’s wonderful,” Tara said. “And your parents are okay with you doing this? Coming here to meet us?”
Another slight hesitation. “Well, they wanted to come with me,” Mia admitted. “To be sure I’d be welcome, but I wanted to do this alone.” Something came into her eyes at that. More nerves. And a dash of defensiveness.
And there was something else, too, Ford noticed. Whenever Mia spoke, she did so directly to him, not Tara. Almost as if Mia somehow resented the mother who’d given her up, but not her birth father.
Worse, given the look on Tara’s face, she knew it too, and was miserable about it. Up until now Ford had caught only glimpses of the guilt that haunted Tara, but seeing it etched so deeply on her face squeezed his heart.
“My parents know I’m applying for work,” Mia told them. “They’ve agreed that I can drive back and forth from Seattle to Lucky Harbor. If, you know, I get the job.”
Smooth, Ford thought. Also from the gene pool.
“I’ll hire you,” Tara said softly. “If that’s what you want, to work for me.”
“Really?” For a beat, the cool, tough-girl expression fell away from Mia, revealing a heartbreaking vulnerability.
“Of course,” Tara said.
“But… you don’t even know my real skills. Or me.”
“You came all this way,” Ford said quietly. “Don’t lose your nerve now.”
Mia turned to him, studying his face like she’d
Similar Books
