Sun-Kissed Secret Baby by Leigh Jenkins
Chapter 23
It was after nine when Sam finally made it to Allie’s cabin, and he was plenty pissed off. Not long after Allie had rushed out of his place, Nisha had called to say there was a problem with one of the concerts they were planning. A young soca artiste was threatening to quit, because another recording label had tried to head-hunt her and was offering her slightly more money.
They had spent several tense hours in negotiation, laying out for the artiste all the reasons that Sam’s label and his support and backing were the best for her career right now. But she was inexperienced, and her agent was a greedy idiot who Sam knew well and disliked intensely. His word was never his bond and it always felt like he would take advantage of any singer who didn’t know any better than to trust him.
Eventually, Sam had instructed Nisha to get their lawyer and begin the proceedings to terminate the artiste’s contract, let her have her way. Unsurprisingly, Nisha bristled; they always butted heads when it came to these matters. Both the artiste and the agent were stunned; they’d obviously been playing hardball, hoping to improve the singer’s position with Sam’s label.
But Sam disliked manipulation and subterfuge, and decided it was better for that relationship to be severed now, rather than continue in an atmosphere of distrust. He did not lie down with vipers.
So here he was, in the dead of night, making his way to the cabin that Allie occupied, hungry and in a bad mood, knowing that he was about to get into a negotiation of another type.
The argument he’d had with Allie earlier that day still irritated him, especially since the morning had started out so nicely, with a lazy meal and a couple of hours in bed.
He’d really begun to feel that he and Allie had something, were developing a bond that overlay and replaced the childish teenage puppy love they had felt for each other the last time around. This time, the emotions were more mature, more honest. So it rankled when it felt as if the two of them were reaching for something and stumbling.
No; the three of them, because whatever went on between himself and Allie always, always had to include Daria.
The rain was pouring and had been ever since the early afternoon. Dark clouds shrouded the waning moon and it was only because the resort was so well lit that he was able to make his way through it. Still, though, nobody liked being wet and cold in the middle of the night, so he hurried.
He brought with him the new steel pan he’d bought for his daughter. It was encased in a fine leather carrier, with the collapsible pan stand in a separate case of its own, and both were strapped to a small, wheeled trolley that would make it easier for Daria to carry the whole shebang around.
He tapped on the door and waited, rehearsing in his mind what he was about to say. Allie opened, seeming perplexed at why anyone would come to her door at this hour. When she spotted him, she gave him a half-smile, but there was something in her eyes that he didn’t like.
“Hey,” he said almost questioningly. “You good?”
She nodded but didn’t answer, stepping aside to let him in. He set the pan down inside and shook himself all over like a dog, sending droplets flying. “Pouring out there,” he commented.
She still looked at him, her eyes searching his face.
He tried to calm his uneasiness by leaning forward and kissing her, lightly, but although she offered no resistance, she offered no response, either. He sighed inwardly. So, it’s like that. The conversation was going to be an uphill journey.
“Daria?”
“Sleeping. Charlie took them snorkeling, and then they did a 5K road run. She’s bagged.”
He smiled. “Good. ‘Bagged’ is a great way to go to bed when you’re that age.” He stepped farther into the cabin, to the small living space, hoping she would follow, and was relieved when she did.
She stood before him, hands clasped before her like a naughty schoolgirl about to get yelled at by the principal, which made him feel bad. Did he intimidate her?
“What is it, Sam?” she prodded.
Might was well spit it out. “I want you to stay.”
“What?”
“You and Daria. I want you guys to stay. There’s so much waiting here for you. You don’t have a job to go back to, but you don’t need one. I can assign you one of the larger luxury cabins; you’d have all the amenities you need there. There’s an excellent hospitality school in St. Cillian; you could have your chef’s certification in two years.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You must be joking.”
He stood his ground. “Not at all. Daria could register with the local school system, or if you want her to continue with the American grade system, with that syllabus, there are two first-class international schools for expatriates. She’d have the qualifications she needs to move effortlessly into any US college once the time comes—”
“What about money, Sam? As you just reminded me, I don’t have a job—”
“Of course I wouldn’t leave you in a situation like that. What I am offering you is the whole package: you and Daria would receive an allowance—”
Her surprised snort cut him off, but he persevered. “I’ve already called my accountant and he is making arrangements for a fund to be set up for her, for her education and her future needs. It would be nothing for you to open an account here, and while you study, I will forward a generous stipend that would keep you both comfortable.”
“And what would I need to do to continue earning this stipend you speak of?” she demanded suspiciously.
For a moment he had no idea what she meant, and then it sank in. “My God, Allie, it’s not like that. I’m not looking for a for a mistress… a concubine. I’m offering you a chance to start a new life, get the education you always wanted, while I have the opportunity to get to know my daughter!” And you too, he didn’t say.
She paced away from him but returned. Patches of hot color mottled her cheeks, and there was a fire in her eyes that would have intrigued him if it hadn’t been directed at him. “I don’t need your money, Sam. Why do you rich people always think that everyone does? Did you think you could throw money at me like you did your father?”
He flinched as if she had dealt him a physical blow, and immediately he could see the remorse in her eyes. “Oh, my God, Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that like it sounded.” She touched him on the arm, but it was his turn to back away.
“How’d you mean it?”
“I meant… oh, I don’t know. I don’t want you to think I can be bought.”
He threw up his hands in frustration. “Who’s trying to buy you? All I want is a chance to make up for lost time with my daughter. Lost years, Allie. I want to get to know her. And she wants to get to know me, too.”
She hung her head. “I don’t know if that would be the best thing—”
“What?” he asked incredulously.
“I mean, the closer she gets to you the worse it will be when she leaves—”
“Exactly! I was talking about her not leaving!”
“There’s no way we can uproot ourselves and just replant our lives here,” she began, and for a dizzying moment he was transported backward thirty years, almost as if he was occupying the body of his father, as Stanley must have stood there, pleading with Sam’s mother to stay. How badly that must have hurt, Sam thought, not just to be rejected, but to know that the mother of your child was unwilling to shed her metropolitan lifestyle to live with you on this tiny Caribbean rock.
The hurt and anger were a double whammy.
She went on, shredding his guts with her words. “As a matter of fact, I was wondering if it wouldn’t be better for Daria if we didn’t leave earlier rather than later—”
“Take her out of camp? She loves it! Why would you do that?”
“Get it over with.”
“First, that’s a ridiculous idea. Second, I am her father, Allie. I am entitled to spend time with her. I am entitled to be her dad!”
“We could come visit,” she said weakly. “I’m sure she’d love to come spend some time a couple of times a year.”
“And what about you? Would you like to see me a couple of times a year?” He thought of the days they’d spent together, wrapped in that warm glow that blesses all early relationships. He’d been fool enough to believe he was starting to mean something to her. And now this?
Her flush deepened. “You know I would. But that entanglement might also have its dangers.”
“Did you think I’d deliberately hurt you?”
She wavered. “I just don’t want either of us—me or Daria—winding up in a situation where we could get wounded.”
He tried to steady his temper, but he could feel it tearing away from him, like a maddened horse. “Allie, reject me if you will, but let’s be clear: I will be a part of that child’s life.” He pointed in the direction of the room where Daria still slept.
She threw up her hands. “You’ve known her two weeks and already you’re making demands!”
“I’ve known her two weeks because you chose not to allow me into her world sooner! Not when you were pregnant, not when she was born, not when she was lying in the hospital as a sick baby.” He began to count off all the opportunities he’d missed. “I missed her first day in kindergarten, and grade school. Her first swim meet and her first win. All because of your selfishness.”
“How is trying to protect us selfish?” Like his, her voice rose just a little.
He ignored the question and kept going. “And for the record, I don’t believe you’re running away to protect Daria from getting hurt. I think you’re leaving because you’re jealous—”
“What?”
“She and I have bonded, and you know it. She likes me, and in time she will love me. And you’re worried that even the smallest smidgen of attention will be taken away from you. You’ve been her entire world all her life, and if that focus shifts, you wouldn’t know what to do.”
“That’s ridiculous. You need to take that back.” But although she denied it, he could see the guilt on her face. It was clear to him that she was struggling with that realization herself.
Allie rushed to the balcony and began sucking in gulps of damp air, leaving the stifling confines of the living room behind. He followed her relentlessly, like a wolf that had caught the scent of prey.
“What’s more,” he pursued, “you’re worried that if you accept my offer, and life suddenly becomes easier on you, you’ll no longer be able to enjoy the role of martyr. The struggling single mom card you like to play will be taken away. What would you do then, if you can no longer throw yourself your regular pity party?”
Her eyes were reddening, and although she shed no tears, Sam wondered if he’d gone too far.
She lashed out at him in rage. “What do you know about being a martyr? What do you know about struggling for years caring for a sick baby, who was in and out of hospital? A child they didn’t even expect to live? You have any idea how much goes into bringing a sick baby back from the brink? And what about after? You and all your money, do you know what it’s like to budget and skimp and save to pay exorbitant tuition fees at a swim club? Or to give up the chance at extra shifts in a restaurant because your kid has a tournament out of town? You know what happened to Liv and Saira and Fiona since we first visited Sabina? Know where they are now?”
She slapped her chest. “Well, I for one don’t, because they moved on with their lives. They all went to college and left me behind with a kid. And now, years later, I get to watch all my single childless friends enjoy their Friday night bar hops. Dating, living. And here I am, glad to snatch a moment to get my nails done. So glad for the attention of a man that I wind up in a situation with assholes like Ryan. Does that look to you as if I enjoy the role of martyr?”
She was panting, almost sobbing, and all Sam wanted to do was hold her, make it better. He felt like a clumsy fool, allowing his mouth to run away with him.
“I put my whole life on hold for my child, and I’ll continue to do so for as long as she needs me. So don’t give me any of your crap about a pity party.”
“But I can take all of that away,” he said gently. “And before you say anything, there’s no strings attached. I want you, and you know that. But not under these circumstances. I offer my money to you and our daughter, free and clear. All I ask is to be part of your family.”
She looked tired, leaning back onto the low railing of the porch. “We don’t want your money. Go away, Sam.”
“For the record, I think you’re being stubborn and selfish. I hope you can find your way to realizing that.” He felt defeat but refused to acknowledge or accept it. “I’m leaving,” he conceded, “but I’m not giving up.”
She didn’t see him to the door.