Читать книгу: «His Secret Daughter»

Chapter One

Jake McAbee didn’t know much, but he did know when he was in the middle of nowhere.

A place he’d been before. Many times, in fact. Like the derelict trailer park where he’d grown up. Or the jagged peaks of an Afghan mountain range. And today on a deserted road somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.

He slowed the truck, going as far as the pavement allowed on the dead-end road. Performing a U-turn, he cranked the wheel hard. If only getting free of his dead-end life was as easy as turning his truck around.

Sighing, he palmed the wheel and headed out the way he’d come. He should’ve gone left at the fork. A mistake soon rectified. If only everything else wrong in his life was as easily fixed.

Jake set his jaw. No more of that. The past needed to stay in the past. He was on his way to meet his baby girl for the first time. A child he’d learned about just a few months ago.

Her mother had kept Maisie’s existence from him, a fact that opened a hollow place in his heart. He’d missed the first two and a half years of her life.

But when Tiffany died—too young—of breast cancer, her best friend, Callie Jackson, had notified him that he had a daughter. He had been on a mission in a remote region of Afghanistan, so it had taken the army a while to get ahold of him.

Gripping the wheel, he veered at the fork. He owed Callie big-time. Not only had she cared for his ex-wife during her illness, she’d also practically raised his daughter by herself in the last few months since Tiff’s death.

He let out a breath, uncurling one hand. Flexing his fingers, he released his death grip on the steering wheel. Trying to relax. Trying to breathe.

Even now, he could hardly believe he had a daughter. The thought filled him with both elation and fear. Fear that he’d fail Maisie as he’d failed her mother. But also joy for his precious daughter and the new beginning he was determined to make for them.

A brand-new, wonderful life with his child.

The towering peaks of the tree-studded Blue Ridge flashed by on either side of his truck. Descending into the valley, he emerged into slightly gentler terrain. The rolled hay bales of late summer dotted grassy meadows. Horses grazed in the pastures, and there was row after row of orchards. Callie had said the area was known for its apples.

Per her directions, he skirted the town and its welcome marker proclaiming Truelove, North Carolina—Where True Love Awaits. But after his failed marriage—once burned, twice shy—the only true love he was interested in was the love of the daughter he had yet to meet.

A couple of miles later he spotted the turnoff. Apple Valley Farm, a weathered sign read. He pulled off the main highway through the crossbars. Bypassing a rustic country store, he continued on the long gravel-covered road. The apple trees lining the driveway were heavy with ripening fruit. Queen Anne’s lace and purple wildflowers studded a nearby meadow.

Overlooking the orchard, the tin roof of the two-story white farmhouse set high on a knoll gleamed in the afternoon sun and caused his breath to hitch. River stones lined the solid foundation and chimney. And at the heart of this home, a red-painted door bade a welcome to all.

He braked on the incline, and dust swirled. An unfamiliar sensation burned in his chest. He’d never had a real home, certainly not one he was proud of. But if he’d ever imagined—dreamed—what home would look like, it might have resembled the Jackson farm.

Jake’s stomach twisted. More than ever, he was glad Maisie had spent the first two years of her life here. One thing Tiffany had done right—coming to the orchard during her illness and then after her death leaving their daughter with the very capable Callie Jackson.

Today he’d meet his daughter for the first time. But suppose Maisie didn’t like him? Suppose—

Stop stalling, McAbee.

He took a deep breath, easing his foot off the brake. He parked beside a blue Chevy sedan, a pink car seat strapped into the back seat. Thrusting open the truck door, he stepped out, his work boots crunching on the pebbled stone.

A slim woman in a lavender shirt came out of the house onto the broad-planked porch. A year or two younger than his own twenty-eight years, she was tallish even in flats, perhaps five foot seven or so to his six-foot height. Masses of long auburn hair waved across her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face.

He recognized her from the photo in which she’d held his daughter. For the first time, he wondered who’d taken the picture. She’d never mentioned a husband. And before he could stop himself, his eyes darted to her left hand, clenched against her crisp jeans. Was she as nervous as he was?

Jake shut the dinging truck door with a soft click. He didn’t move. Neither did Callie. But he waited for her to invite him over, as she’d invited him to come to Truelove and meet his daughter. Upon learning of his daughter’s existence and finishing his enlistment, he’d chosen not to re-up and had flown stateside.

“Hi, Jake.” At the thready note in her voice, Callie cleared her throat. “Welcome to Apple Valley Farm.”

Jake halted at the base of the steps. “Hi, Callie. And thank you.” His turn to swallow. “For everything.”

She knotted her hands together. Her lovely brown eyes were red rimmed. She’d been crying.

His heart banged against his rib cage. She’d been crying because of him. Because he’d come to claim his daughter, to take Maisie away forever.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, swiping a finger under her eye. “I’ve been trying not to let Maisie see me like this. It’s just so...” She bit her lip.

“None of this is your fault, Callie.”

She raised her tear-filled gaze to his, and his heart thudded. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like Jake to get emotional.

He’d learned the hard way—and early—never to get too attached. He must be tired. It had been a long drive from Fort Bragg to the mountains.

She unknotted her hands, smoothing her shirt. “It’s not your fault, either, Jake.”

He wasn’t sure that was entirely true. He’d spent years going over every detail of his short-lived union with Tiffany, but he’d never figured out what caused her to walk away from their marriage.

Jake grimaced. “Tiffany should’ve never put you in this position. Maisie should’ve never been your responsibility.”

“Maisie has never been a burden.” Callie lifted her chin. “She’s the joy of my life.”

The front door creaked. An older man in his late fifties poked his head around the frame. “Maisie’s wondering where you are, honey.” He had the classic kind of blond attractiveness that aged well.

Callie took a shuddery breath. “Jake, this is my father, Nash.” She gestured. “Dad, meet Jake McAbee, Maisie’s father.”

Nash’s dark eyes took on a steely glint. “Takes more than biology to be a dad.”

Callie gasped. “Daddy.”

It was something Jake had learned firsthand from his own deadbeat dad.

“Your father’s right.” He met Nash Jackson’s gaze head-on. “I didn’t know about Maisie before. But now...” He inhaled. “Now I intend to be not just her father, but her dad, too.”

Callie motioned. “Come inside, Jake.”

He followed her across the veranda. Boxes were stacked on the porch. A child-size suitcase. And what appeared to be a deconstructed crib.

In the distance, he spied the smoky haze of the Blue Ridge vista. The wraparound porch allowed for incredible three-sixty views from every vantage point. Sunsets must be spectacular.

She shouldered past her dad in the doorway. For a second he wondered if Nash would let him through, but her father stepped aside.

“I’ll be out here.” Nash shoved off. “Loading Maisie’s things. Including the car seat.” He wasn’t talking to Callie. He was warning Jake.

Behind the anger was also fear and hurt. Nash Jackson loved Maisie. It was Nash who’d given Jake’s child a safe, stable home.

For that, Jake was grateful. And he was sorry for the pain his coming would bring the Jacksons, who’d done nothing but love his child.

Stepping across the threshold, Jake found himself in a small foyer. Rooms bookended either side of the hall. Rigid with tension, Callie waited for him at the bottom of the staircase.

“Cawee!” a little girl called from the back of the house.

His heart went into overdrive. “Is that—” A lump formed in his throat.

Callie tilted her head. “I told her she was going to meet her daddy today.”

He had a hard time catching his breath.

Callie motioned him down the hallway. “She’s playing in the family room.”

The family room ran the length of the house. Windows lined the wall, spilling sunshine into the adjoining kitchen. And judging from the toys littering the pinewood floors, the room also served as a child’s playroom. But despite a quick scan, he failed to spot his daughter.

A teasing look on her pretty features, Callie propped her hands on her hips. “Where, oh, where is Maisie Nicole McAbee?” she called in a singsong voice. “Where, oh, where can she be?”

“Me here, Cawee.”

A childish giggle erupted from behind the leather recliner, and a small child—all blond, bouncing curls—burst forth, her arms capturing Callie around the knees. His heart leaped in his chest.

Callie kissed the top of the child’s—his child’s—head. “Someone’s here to see you, baby girl. Don’t be shy. Your daddy’s come a long way to meet you.”

Slowly, the little girl raised her head. The photograph Callie sent hadn’t begun to capture the true essence of his daughter. With her finger stuck in the corner of her rosebud mouth, she contemplated her father with eyes so blue he feared he might drown in their azure depths.

And, perhaps for the first time in his life, Jake McAbee truly fell hopelessly—helplessly—in love.

* * *

Callie watched the play of emotion across the ruggedly handsome soldier’s face. Was Jake McAbee a man who could be trusted with the well-being of the child she loved more than life itself?

Maisie leaned against Callie while taking measure of her soldier father. Pain knifed through Callie’s heart. How could she bear to never see Maisie again? To not watch her grow up? To not be a part of her life?

But the vulnerability and unconditional love in Jake McAbee’s face surprised Callie. In the photograph he’d sent of himself, he’d worn sand-colored combat fatigues, and an aloofness, too.

A self-protective mechanism? A facade? If so, what had driven him to hide his real feelings?

War? Or his failed relationship with his wife, Callie’s childhood friend, Tiff? Maybe both. Though Tiff had hinted that Jake’s remoteness predated her ever meeting the young soldier stationed in Fayetteville.

No longer in uniform, he trembled slightly, swaying on the balls of his feet. Shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows revealed thickly corded forearms. His Adam’s apple bobbed above the open collar of his button-down, untucked shirt.

A shirt as blue as his eyes. As blue as Maisie’s. She glanced from the child to the man. The two of them were locked in a silent, long-overdue perusal of each other.

There could be no doubt Maisie belonged to Jake McAbee. The shape of her face. Underneath the bearded scruff on Jake’s jawline, a similar dimple in their chins. The nose.

Or was she merely seeing what she wanted to see?

She pushed aside her doubts about what Tiff had and hadn’t said. When Tiff had arrived at Apple Valley Farm she was already sick and pregnant. Callie had been by her side when Maisie was born. But in typical Tiff fashion, it had fallen to Callie to sort out the mess she’d left unfinished at her death a few months ago.

Jake’s name was on the birth certificate, but Tiff hadn’t always told the truth. Callie’s loyalty to her friend had warred with what was right. But she’d made it a lifetime habit to always do what was right. So after much prayer, she’d finally contacted Maisie’s father.

Still, she hadn’t figured on how doing the right thing would hurt so much. She cupped the crown of Maisie’s silken head in her palm. And now... She wasn’t sure how she was going to give Maisie up.

Jake went down on one knee. His eyes never left his daughter’s face, but he was careful not to touch Maisie.

He propped his arm on his thigh. “Hi, Maisie,” he rasped. “You are the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.”

Callie’s heart warmed to the ex-soldier. Maisie was everything and more a parent could ever ask for. Smart and kind, a furious ball of energy.

Maisie let go of Callie’s legs. She immediately felt the loss of the child’s warmth, a harbinger of the future. She wrung her hands.

The little girl pointed her index finger to the photo of Jake on the bookcase. “My daddy?”

He choked off a half sob. “Yes, baby. I am your daddy, and I am so happy to finally meet you.”

Callie’s eyes misted. He loved Maisie. This was what she’d been hoping for, praying for, ever since she contacted the army. But her arms ached with a coming emptiness. Her heart was breaking.

This is the right thing, isn’t it, God? Her precious child would be all right. Won’t she, God? A girl needs her dad. Doesn’t she?

Maisie inched toward her beloved miniature barn. Reaching inside, she withdrew a tiny plastic farmer. Golden curls brushed Maisie’s shoulders as she held it out to Jake. “Pway with me?”

He stared at her a second, not realizing he’d been given an invitation. But when he did, he nearly fell over himself crawling to the barnyard.

Sinking onto the leather ottoman, Callie watched as they played together. Actually, Maisie played and Jake, her adoring servant, moved things where Maisie told him to put them. Maisie had already captured his heart.

Maisie ran the green tractor over the circular rag rug. “Me big-gull bed.” She arched her tiny eyebrow at her father. “No mow cwib.”

Jake cocked his head. “What, Maisie?”

Callie smiled. “She’s been after us to take her out of the crib and get her a big-girl bed.”

He leaned on his elbows. “But you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“We’ve been so busy getting the orchard ready for harvest, I haven’t had time to look into it. Maybe soon, though.”

He nodded and his focus returned to his daughter.

Despite his short military haircut, she could imagine how his dirty-blond hair could’ve easily been the same buttery blond as his daughter’s when he was her age. Awe shone out of his eyes as he gazed at Maisie. And, when he glanced over to Callie, gratitude, also.

“Maybe you should go over her schedule with me, Callie.”

She blinked. Her heart pounded. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Although would she ever be ready to relinquish Maisie?

Was Jake the father Maisie needed? Callie had had him investigated before contacting the military after Tiff died.

From humble beginnings in Texas, Jake McAbee had joined the army right out of high school, where he’d excelled in almost every sport. An excellence he brought to the army, serving his country with distinction.

He was a three-tour combat veteran, well spoken of by his commanding officers and the men with whom he served. By all accounts, he was a good man who hadn’t deserved what Tiff had done to him.

Callie closed her eyes. There she went again. But Tiff had made poor choice after poor choice as long as Callie had known her.

Perhaps one of Tiff’s biggest mistakes had been filing divorce on her young husband of two months while Jake was deployed.

“Uh, Callie?”

She opened her eyes.

“I booked a motel room tonight in Asheville. I didn’t want to drive over the mountains in the dark on unfamiliar roads.”

Ready or not, Jake was Maisie’s father. She’d hoped to convince him to stay the night at the orchard to give Maisie more time to adjust. But Asheville wasn’t far. She was on shaky ground here. If she pushed too hard, too soon...

“I’ve packed her clothes.” Callie rose. “And most of her toys.”

His lips curved, and something like the sweep of butterfly wings fluttered in her belly.

Jake gestured at the living room. “She’s got more than this?”

Callie gave him a small smile. “You, Sergeant, have a lot to learn about girls.”

The light dimmed in his eyes, and his mouth flattened. “I think Tiffany walking out on me underscores how little I actually know about women.”

“Jake, I didn’t mean—”

He rose abruptly. “But I’m a quick learner.” His broad shoulders tapered to the narrow waist above his jeans.

The clean, spicy scent of his male presence robbed Callie of coherent thought. This was ridiculous. A person would think she’d never been around a man before.

Although none so...so male as Jake McAbee.

“Callie?”

She jerked.

“Maisie’s schedule?”

She seized on the first thing that came to her mind—food. “Maisie usually has a snack around this time. Goldfish.”

Maisie’s head popped up over the wooden barn. “Fish?”

Callie nodded. “And apple juice.”

Maisie smiled, wrenching Callie’s heart. “’Appy juice.”

“Happy juice, huh?” He gave Callie a grudging smile. “What else at Apple Valley Farm?”

Strolling into the adjacent kitchen, she poured the juice into a sippy cup. “Apple juice makes everyone happy.”

Maisie stood beside the farmhouse table, waiting to be hoisted into her booster seat, strapped to one of the chairs. The booster was yet another item Callie had forgotten to pack. Maisie’s possessions were scattered throughout the house, blending in with the other furnishings. Belonging.

Jake raised his hands to lift Maisie into the booster seat, but stopped short of touching her. His brow scrunched. “Will she let me put her in the seat?”

Callie took a deep breath. Now for the test. “Let’s try.” She injected an over-the-top note of cheer into her voice. “Can Daddy put you in your big-girl seat, Maisie?”

There was a long second where Callie held her breath. Probably Jake, too.

“’Kay.”

The relief on his face was poignant. Callie’s head insisted this was the best possible outcome. But her heart...?

Maisie held her arms up to her father. And as if afraid he’d break her, he gingerly lifted his daughter.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, he held her against himself, breathing in the little-girl fragrance of his daughter. The fresh-out-of-the-bath, baby-shampoo smell. A scent that, after today, Callie would never know again. Sudden tears blinded her, and she spilled some of the apple juice on the counter. After that split-second pause, just as gently, Jake deposited Maisie into the booster seat. Flustered, Callie carried the green sippy cup to Maisie.

“Daddy wikes gween.” Maisie quirked her eyebrow. “Wight, Cawee?”

Jake’s eyes cut to her.

She flushed. “That’s right, Maisie. Your daddy’s favorite color is green.”

“I’m surprised Tiffany remembered. Did she ever talk to you about me? Did she ever explain why—” His voice went hollow.

“Only bits and pieces.” She moistened her bottom lip. If she wasn’t careful, she’d become like Tiff—a liar. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about, Callie.” There was pain in his voice. In his eyes, too.

But she was sorry. At the moment, sorry that she’d done the right thing in contacting Jake McAbee. There had to be something—anything—she could do or say to make him change his mind about taking Maisie away.

She took hold of his arm. At the touch of his skin against hers, something sparked. A tingling sensation ran from her hand up to her elbow. She drew back.

“Please, Jake,” she whispered. “Please don’t take Maisie from the only home she’s ever known.”

His blue eyes flickered. “She and I will make a new home together.”

Callie’s gut tightened. “I’m begging you to think of what’s best for Maisie, Jake.”

His face went hard. “I am thinking of what’s best for Maisie.”

At the sound of her name, Maisie looked up, the cup spout between her lips.

“Being with her father is what’s best for Maisie,” he growled.

Callie grabbed on to the spindles of the chair. “But where are you taking her, Jake?”

His eyes narrowed. “A friend in Houston is hiring workers for an oil rig.”

“Texas?” She’d been thinking, hoping, maybe he’d settle nearby. “What do you plan to do with her while you’re out on an oil rig for days at a time?”

A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I’ll make sure she’s safe and cared for.” The look he gave Callie wasn’t friendly. “But I won’t let anyone ever keep me from my daughter again. She’s mine.”

Despite common sense telling Callie she needed to let this go, she couldn’t. Not for Maisie’s sake. Not for her own.

“Maisie isn’t a thing to be possessed, Jake. She doesn’t know you. If you leave now she’s going to be scared. You could damage your relationship with her for good.”

He went completely still. This man was a soldier. He could be dangerous, especially to anyone he perceived as a threat. But she couldn’t stop now, not when Maisie’s well-being hung in the balance.

“We could visit you in Houston over Christmas. Let Maisie learn to trust you—love you—in her own way and time. Please, I’m begging you to do the right thing.”

Sucking in a breath, he crossed his arms over his well-muscled chest. “The right thing?”

At the anger lacing their raised voices, Maisie let out a whimper.

His jaw jutted. “How dare you lecture me on the right thing. How long have you known I was Maisie’s father?”

She dropped her eyes, not able to meet his gaze. “Since Tiff filled out the birth certificate.”

He loomed over Maisie, getting in Callie’s space. “And how hard did you try to convince Tiffany to do the right thing by me?” He was so close his breath fanned her face.

She stood her ground, not giving an inch. Maisie’s future was at stake. And everyone’s happiness. Everyone, except Jake? She hardened her heart. She couldn’t let him take Maisie.

“Tiff wouldn’t listen.”

He gave a short bark of a laugh. More bitter disillusionment than mirth. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Maisie’s big blue eyes ping-ponged between them. “Cawee?” Her bottom lip trembled.

“You’re already scaring her.” She placed her hand on Maisie’s shoulder and curled her lip. “What kind of father does that, Jake McAbee?”

Something flashed across his face, something raw, evoking a reluctant compassion in her tender heart. But she mustn’t weaken. “I won’t let you take her.” She gritted her teeth.

“You can’t stop me,” he growled. “I’m within my parental rights, and you know it.” In a swift, unexpected move, he lifted Maisie out of the booster seat.

Maisie and Callie cried out at the same time.

“I’ll figure everything out as I go.” Clasping the squirming child close, he strode toward the hall. “We’re leaving.”

“No, Jake. Stop.” Callie ran after him. “Don’t leave this way. She won’t understand.”

Maisie’s little arms grasped the air over his shoulder, stretching toward Callie. “Cawee! Cawee!”

He flung open the door. Leaning against the porch railing, her father startled at the commotion.

Callie’s chest heaved. “Dad, don’t let him take her.”

Her father’s features sagged. “She’s his child, Callie. Not ours.”

Jake rushed down the steps. Like a wild thing, Maisie thrashed in his arms.

Callie plunged after them. But catching her around the waist, her father held Callie on the porch. “Don’t make this worse, honey.”

She didn’t see how this could be much worse. She strained against her father’s grasp. “Maisie!”

How had it come to this? How had this escalated so far out of control? God, where are You?