IT WAS WRONG to feel relieved.
Bruce had refused to allow her to seek Brianna’s paternity confirmation. For four years Harper had carried around a need to know—to be certain that she wasn’t lying to herself, or her daughter. To be certain that she wasn’t being unfair to Mason. And for four years, Bruce had denied her the right to know.
Shaking her head as she watched her ex-husband catch the little girl who’d just thrown herself out of the car and run toward him, she felt crippled with guilt. Bruce adored Brianna. And she adored him, too. You couldn’t see them together and not know that.
So what if he didn’t call her often enough? She was four. The grin on his face was huge as he pulled his daughter into his arms and hugged her tight. Brianna sat on his hip, staring at him, her expression serious as she put her little hands on either side of his face and said something.
Feeling another sharp jab of unwanted emotion, Harper hurried toward them. Sara, the counselor at the Stand, had had a talk with Brianna that morning, telling her why it was important to keep a secret about anyone who was at The Lemonade Stand. It wasn’t about the person. Or about who she might tell her secret to; it was about the very special place The Lemonade Stand was. Brianna had asked if it was like the North Pole and the elves who were there but couldn’t tell anyone because people didn’t believe in them.
Harper had teared up as Sara smiled and told the little girl that it was something like that. She’d explained how people at The Lemonade Stand did very special work, including Brianna when she smiled at the women and children who lived there. She’d said that Miriam was helping, too, but no one, including her dad or her grandparents, could know about it.
“Hey, there.” Bruce came toward her with an arm outstretched, and Harper was thankful again that Sara hadn’t singled him out when she’d told Brianna not to tell anyone that Miriam was at the Stand, or that she’d seen her great-grandmother—because then she might have to say where.
“Hi,” she said, searching his expression for any sign that anything had changed with him. Searching his demeanor was habit. He leaned in, as though he was going to kiss her, and she turned her head so his lips landed on her cheek. Bruce hadn’t tried to kiss her since the morning she’d told him she was filing for divorce.
Mason had said he’d be there, watching. She didn’t want him seeing Bruce kiss her.
“What was that about?” she asked, as Brianna looked between the two of them. The last thing Harper needed was for her daughter to suddenly start thinking Mommy and Daddy were in love.
“Sorry.” Bruce looked and sounded contrite. “It’s just so good to see the two of you. A month is too long. And being here, at the beach again...”
He took Brianna to the beach regularly—always while Harper was with her parents.
Which was where she’d be right then if she wasn’t somewhat worried that Bruce had hurt his grandmother. She didn’t trust him alone with his own daughter.
That reaction brought with it a guilt that half-strangled her.
“I didn’t mean to give a false impression,” she said now, “but I know your time is limited. I also know how much the two of you love the beach.”
She’d needed an excuse to stay with them—which she couldn’t have done at his house without revealing that she knew Miriam was gone. And she’d needed their destination to be as public and safe as it could be.
The holster she had on beneath the flowing tie-dyed tank she was wearing wasn’t because she feared Bruce and yet...
What the hell was the matter with her?
She was letting Mason’s doubts get to her and that wasn’t right. Or fair.
But right and fair didn’t stop her from watching every second as Bruce and Brianna, in swimsuits, ran through the sand and played in the waves. At one point Bruce picked up their daughter and carried her out to greet a bigger wave. Sitting in shorts on her blanket in the sand some distance away, Harper tensed, but sat there, staring—and couldn’t help smiling when she heard the little girl’s squeal and then her laughter as the water crashed over them.
“Again!” Brie yelled, her feet kicking against him. Bruce’s laughter traveled in the air as he walked into another incoming swell, maintaining his balance as the water washed over them.
Brianna had told her how Daddy always took her to the wave. Harper now had an image to go with the story. A lovely image. A loving one.
Brianna didn’t clutch Bruce’s neck out of fear. She sat easily on his hip, trusting him to keep her safe. She’d never shown any fear where her father was concerned.
She just loved him.
FOR ALL THE trepidation she’d felt, Harper found nothing to be bothered about with Bruce that day. He’d always loved her homemade chicken salad and thanked her for remembering as he devoured the two sandwiches she’d brought for him—telling her that, if anything, they were better than ever.
He couldn’t talk about his case, but he told her that he was spending some time in a local resort hotel that week and much preferred the beach to the pool, where he’d been hanging out.
His words, of course, drew her attention to his tanned shoulders and the chest that he’d left exposed as he sat down in his wet trunks to eat. She tried to feel even a tiny bit hungry for him. She hadn’t slept with a man in four years. And Bruce was, without question, a head turner. She hadn’t missed noticing the number of women who’d been watching him play with Brianna.
And figured he’d had his pick at the resort pool. Had probably picked at least one of them; that seemed to be the way he got his in when he worked.
All of which had nothing to do with her, but might explain why her libido wanted nothing to do with him.
Brianna held his attention after that, and before Harper had expected, the visit was over and she was free to take her daughter and leave.
Miriam hadn’t been mentioned, but despite knowing there was something amiss with the older woman, Harper wouldn’t mention her. Miriam hated her, and Harper wasn’t allowed in her home, so Bruce never mentioned her, either. Miriam was okay, Bruce knew that much. So why would he voluntarily tell Harper that he wasn’t allowed to see her? Why risk giving her any cause to doubt him?
“Assuming things go as I expect with the case, I’ll be down sometime next week,” he told Harper as he strapped Brianna into her car seat in the back.
“Are you coming to our house to see us, Daddy?” Brianna asked, looking up at him with an expectancy far beyond her years.
Bruce turned to Harper, his eyebrow raised. Asking permission to come to her home?
“You’re welcome to pick her up,” she said. He was Brianna’s father and had a right to see where she lived, where she slept.
He nodded, kissed his daughter and told her, “Yes, baby girl, I’m coming to your house so you can show me your room, just like you said.”
“Good deal.” She nodded, her little feet kicking the back seat.
Bruce looked at Harper, who’d turned around in the driver’s seat to watch, partially to be sure that Brianna was strapped in correctly—the cop in her. He smiled, holding her gaze.
“Thanks for today, Harp. It meant...seriously, thanks.” His voice dropped, almost as though it was about to break.
She swallowed back her emotion. Nodded. “We’ll see you next week, then?” Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly—a reaction to the sudden swell of need she felt to take her ex-husband in her arms and assure him that she was on his side.
But she wasn’t. She wasn’t taking sides.
His grin was quick. Sure. All confident, tough-guy cop, Bruce Thomas. “You can count on it,” he said. He told Brie he loved her to the moon, gave her one more hug and closed the door, watching as Harper backed out of the parking space.
A glance in her rearview mirror as she exited the lot told her he was still watching. It kind of comforted her, that studied way he kept an eye on them. They were his family. He’d die for them. Divorced or not, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind on that score.
* * *
MASON HAD A choice to make. He had to decide whether to follow his brother, to make sure Bruce stayed in town or to follow Harper and see that she got safely out of town. Instinctively drawn to protect Harper and her little one, he listened to the stronger part of him—his mind—and stayed on his brother.
Not that he really thought Bruce would hurt his ex-wife. But he’d never expected Bruce to hurt Gram, either.
And maybe he hadn’t, Mason reminded himself.
Until he heard that Grace had clearance and he could take her down to visit Gram, his immediate agenda was Elmer Guthrie. He couldn’t question the man yet, but he could investigate him...starting with county records and the purchase of his home. He already knew the man had no criminal history, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been involved in previous domestic violence incidents. More went unreported than not.
Still, seeing his brother pull into his garage, Mason passed the turn onto the street, and used voice commands to dial Harper.
“I realize you can’t say much with your daughter in the car,” he said as soon as she picked up. “I just want to check that you’re okay.”
“Fine!”
“Did he mention Miriam?”
“Nope.”
“Does he ever mention her to you?”
“Nope.”
“Anything I need to know?”
“No.”
“I called a lab in LA. They’ll run the DNA test for me. Three-day turnaround. There’s a lab in Santa Raquel...” He named it quickly, not pausing to see if she knew it. “If you leave your samples there, a courier will get them to LA the same day.”
“I’d like to have Lynn collect them at the Stand.” The resident nurse practitioner. Obviously someone Brianna knew, which could make it easier to get a sample from her without raising a million questions.
“That’s fine, too. I can send the courier to her.”
“I’ll have her courier them to LA. Just send me the address.”
She was in the car with an incredibly bright and curious four-year-old. There was only so much conversation they could have. Still, her cooperation meant...probably more than it should. “Thank you.”
“You have the right to know.”
There was so much not being said. He wished he felt more confident that Brianna’s presence was the only reason.
“I’ll talk to you later, then.”
Ending the call, he felt like a damned voyeur in his brother’s life. No matter how deeply he might think he wanted things to be different, the truth was, he didn’t belong in Harper’s life.
But he still had to have that paternity test done.
The sooner the better.
* * *
SHE HADN’T GONE into the Stand that day before leaving town, since Friday was her day off that week. What sounded good to Harper was an afternoon at the beach with her little one. Warm sun on her skin, holiday mood, people having fun, water and sand to occupy Brie’s enthusiastic energy—no adult conversation needed. Brianna was already wearing her swimsuit under the play dress she’d had her throw on that morning. They had a blanket and leftover drinks in their cooler from the picnic with Bruce.
And in the end, as she’d taken the Santa Raquel exit with nearly two hours of Brianna’s incessant stream of sweet chatter ringing in her ears, the picnic with Bruce was the reason Harper opted for the Stand, then, instead of the beach. She’d had enough beach for that day.
She’d also needed to get DNA swabs done before she faced another long, dark night. Her soul felt torn apart. Her duty to be loyal to Bruce, as Brie’s father. And the bone-deep need she had to know who Brie’s father really was.
When Mason was out of the picture, showing no interest, offering no hope that he’d acknowledge Brie as his own, there’d been no alternative but to honor Bruce. Her own feelings meant little compared to the welfare of her daughter.
But now...
Now what?
Bruce was a great dad. When he was with Brianna, she had his full, undivided attention. There was no doubt the child felt loved by him. Secure in her life. Plus, he always paid his fair share, on time, every time. Never squabbled about covering half of any extra expenses that came up.
Sitting outside Miriam’s in her shorts and flowing shirt, her loaded gun still at her hip, Harper tried to focus on the sun’s calming warmth as she kept watch. Thoughts trickled through anyway.
She’d needed the DNA sample. Hadn’t wanted Brianna to ask what it was or why they were doing it. Couldn’t take a chance that the little girl would have enough interest to store that information—and share it. Lynn had been the obvious answer. She’d treated Brianna for an ear infection over the holidays and for various other childhood ailments through the years. She’d been due for an ear check. Holding a swab in her mouth at the same time hadn’t fazed her. She’d been more curious about looking through the lighted microscope that went in her ear, and listening to her own heartbeat through Lynn’s stethoscope.
Because Lynn, understanding the situation, had made certain that she’d captured and held the four-year-old’s attention. That was how things were at The Lemonade Stand. Everyone worked together, bent over backward to help each other, did what had to be done.
They all knew the sanctity of their sisterhood saved lives.
Drawing on the strength that thought gave her, Harper experienced a guilt-free second. A brief moment without a knot in her stomach. Then she saw movement inside Miriam’s bungalow, which she was watching through the living room window. Tasha, Brianna’s guard that afternoon, had taken a seat in Harper’s view and was smiling at her.
Harper was grateful to know things were okay inside.
Tasha had been on Miriam duty that afternoon, but when Harper decided to return to the Stand—telling Brianna she could swim in the pool there and after her checkup go see her Gram—she’d made a quick schedule change. Rather than calling in an extra guard, she’d taken the outdoor duty herself. Her officers were taxed enough.
Maybe the round-the-clock Miriam watch was overkill. She didn’t think so. The second they let up, Miriam would be out of there. But she wasn’t going anywhere with someone on guard outside.
If that was what it took to possibly save a life, to save a woman from further abuse, she’d gladly guard her all day every day.
She could imagine Miriam’s vitriolic reaction if she knew that Harper had just taken Brie for a paternity test.
And yet, Mason was her grandson, too. It shouldn’t make a difference. But she knew it would. During the year Brianna had lived with Bruce after her marriage, the year Mason hadn’t been around once, Miriam had never taken his side. Even when Oscar had suggested having Mason over for Christmas dinner, Miriam, with one look at Bruce, had quietly told him she’d rather do their dinner with him separately. She’d made some comment about the timing for him being off due to the job he was on.
Harper hadn’t thought much of it at the time—not knowing about the “agreement.” But now she wondered... Had Bruce said something to Miriam about Harper and Mason, in spite of his promise that he wouldn’t if Mason stayed away from them?
All that time she’d thought Mason really was just working—married to his job—putting the job first. Oscar had seemed to think the same.
She’d known Bruce wouldn’t have wanted Mason around her, of course, but she hadn’t thought he’d told anyone else that. And there’d been a little part of her that suspected Mason had chosen to stay away because of her.
She’d only been with the family for a year...
But had Miriam known? And yet, she’d always been so loving with Harper. Until she’d left Bruce. Miriam wouldn’t have been like that, doting on her, if she’d known.
After the divorce, Miriam had suddenly hated her.
What if Bruce had told her then?
Mason’s words, saying Bruce always spun things in his favor, to make himself the victim, to gain sympathy and therefore power, came back to her. She wanted to push them away. Keep an open mind.
She’d already betrayed Bruce by sleeping with Mason. And now...after five years of hating what she’d done to the man she’d sworn to be faithful to for the rest of her life, here she was, betraying him again.
She’d taken their daughter for the DNA test he’d expressly refused.
Mason had a right to know—just as she’d told him.
But the truth was, she’d also agreed because Mason had unknowingly given her the opportunity, the means, to do what she’d wanted to do all along. What she’d needed to do.
From the moment she found out she was pregnant, in her heart of hearts she’d wondered if that one incredible night had given her a lifelong gift. If maybe, despite her attempts to reassure herself all these years, there hadn’t been a condom...
It was so unlike her to have sex without protection from disease. She hadn’t let Bruce make love to her without one until they’d gotten engaged.
The knot in her stomach became a cramp.
Only the thought of the test showing a negative for Mason eased the cramp. What a relief it would be to know that Bruce really was his daughter’s biological father.
What a relief it would be from the debilitating guilt that had been attacking her for far too long.