His Daughter...Their Child. Karen Smith Rose

      Clay led Celeste to a furniture grouping away from the others. “Lining up a date?” he asked in a serious tone.

      “No, just trying not to be rude to one of Silas’s guests. Do you have a problem with that?”

      Consternation crossed Clay’s face. “No, I guess not.”

      Celeste glanced around and made sure nobody was within earshot. “I need to tell you something about Abby. When we were together yesterday, we played with her dollhouse.”

      A smile crossed Clay’s lips. “She likes to take everything out and then put it all back in again.”

      Celeste laughed. “Maybe she’ll be an interior designer someday.”

      “But that’s not what you wanted to tell me.”

      Her smile faded. “She played with a mom and dad and baby, but after a few minutes, she set the woman doll away from the dollhouse. When I asked her why, she said the mommy doll went away. I didn’t know how you’d want me to deal with it.”

      Clay’s smile slid away, and he shook his head. “My mother never said anything about the way Abby plays.”

      “Maybe your mom didn’t notice, or maybe Abby felt free to do that with me since I haven’t been part of her family circle.”

      Clay rammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki slacks. “I can’t tell her Zoie’s gone for good and I can’t tell her she’s coming back. You know Zoie’s unpredictable, and I can’t pin her down. When we divorced, sole custody was my main concern. In September, she’ll be receiving the second half of her settlement. When we talk about where to wire it, we’re going to have to get a few more things clarified. Abby needs to know who makes up her world.”

      Because Clay looked so troubled, Celeste regretted telling him about Abby’s play. “I didn’t mean to just throw this at you, but I thought you should know.”

      After a few moments of glancing away, his attention seemingly on the group across the room, he swung back to her. “What did you tell her?” His penetrating study of her face said he wanted the truth.

      “I just suggested she let the daddy put the baby to bed, then we moved on to her pet-shop toys. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, and I certainly had no answers.”

      “I suppose I was naive to think she wouldn’t remember Zoie leaving.”

      “Maybe. Or possibly, she’s heard you and your mom talk. Mikala has often said kids are like sponges, soaking up words and feelings and vibrations that adults can’t even intuit.”

      “You’ve talked to Mikala about this?” He didn’t seem angry, just curious.

      “No, but she and I had a few discussions before I decided to become a surrogate.”

      “I thought Zoie talked you into it.”

      She remembered how her sister had pleaded with her, the lists of reasons why Celeste should do this for all of them. She also remembered Clay’s silence, his refusal to persuade her one way or the other. “I would do almost anything for my sister. But I had to make sure I was doing what I thought was right for all of us. The thing is, I didn’t have all the facts then. You and Zoie kept her affair from me. I didn’t know about that until she sent a long email, telling me the two of you were separating.”

      The sound of raucous laughter came from the group of men. One of the men had turned on a flat-screen TV in the corner to check sports scores. Jenny was helping Martha serve more hors d’oeuvres.

      “I don’t want to discuss this here,” Clay said evenly.

      Celeste had the feeling he didn’t want to discuss it at all. “Your life with Zoie affected me, too, Clay, just as I’m affecting your life now. All of us made choices and some of them are mistakes.”

      “Do you believe being our surrogate was a mistake?”

      “Not when I look at Abby,” she said gently. “Not when I see how much you love her.”

      The conflict in Clay’s eyes shifted to pain, and she wondered what he was thinking. But he’d never confide in her. After all, she’d made sure she’d never been close enough to him for confidences.

      Glancing away from Clay assessing her and her motivation, she spotted Jesse watching her. She didn’t want to seem rude, yet she wasn’t interested in a date. She could sense his interest and knew that’s where a conversation would be headed … unless she told him some facet of the truth.

      “I don’t know how to ask you this,” she said, turning back to Clay.

      “Just ask.”

      “When people want to know why I’ve come back to Miners Bluff and why I’m staying, I’d like to tell them the truth—that I’m here to get to know my daughter. Will that bother you?”

      His mouth tightened into a straight line. “Maybe you could hold off on any declarations of intent. We don’t know where this is going.”

      “I do.”

      “Celeste,” he said, with hoarse frustration. “You’re pushing hard. Give me and Abby a chance to catch our breath.”

      Silas Decker’s booming voice suddenly rang through the room. “Attention everyone. We’re all going to settle into my home theater where we can watch my son’s newest blockbuster. Martha will show you to the buffet and you can enjoy dinner while you watch.”

      “I guess Zack has a new movie,” Celeste mused to break the tension between her and Clay.

      “From what Silas has said, it could be another Oscar winner. Zack has definitely found his niche as a filmmaker. I’m probably going to cut out as soon as it’s over,” Clay said. “I know we still have a lot to discuss. Maybe we should do it on neutral ground.”

      “Such as?”

      “My parents are taking Abby to a children’s play in Flagstaff on Sunday afternoon. How would you like to go hiking with me on Moonshadow Mountain?”

      Celeste’s heart beat fast as she remembered the purple cliffs leading to the peak where the world seemed far away beneath.

      “I promise we’ll take it slow. You might not be used to the altitude yet.”

      His voice had a reassuring quality to it, but she didn’t want reassurance.

      What she wanted was to prove to him she was not her twin.

       Chapter Four

      Celeste’s footsteps were muffled by the soft carpet of pine needles that cut through the forest. Ponderosas stood scattered between Douglas firs along a path that had been carved out decades ago and seemed to renew itself each year.

      As she and Clay climbed out of the shadows into the sun, her boot hit a clump of earth, and stones clattered in the silence.