Ellen James - The Goodbye Groom

Jamie Williams. Beautiful, passionate and angry. A potent combination.

Eric cursed again. It had been quite a while since he’d felt this distracted by a woman. Certain things tended to leave you numb: your wife announcing that she was going to leave you. Announcing that all along it had been your brother she’d wanted—and if she couldn’t have him, see you later.

Eric stood, pacing in front of the pool. Surely he’d learned by now. Any woman connected to Shawn was strictly off-limits.

So why had he given in to that impulse and installed Jamie Williams in the house?

“I’m ready.”

Eric turned at the sound of his daughter’s voice. Seven-year-old Kaitlin hovered by the door, clutching a towel under her chin. She’d armed herself with all the necessary accoutrements: bathing suit, swim fins, snorkel. Every weapon possible to belie the fact that she was frightened of water.

Eric felt something twist inside him. It seemed impossible that you could love a daughter this much and still not know how to reach her.

An all-too-familiar guilt surfaced. He’d forgotten their appointment. That was how Kaitlin had phrased it—she’d requested an “appointment” with him, as if she were a business client instead of his child. And it had slipped his mind entirely.

“Hey there, sweet pea.” Even as he spoke he knew his tone was too forced, too jocular. “Just have to change.”

Kaitlin stared at him solemnly. There was no accusation in her gaze, just a somber recognition. Clearly she knew that he’d forgotten about their swimming lesson.

For the first few years of her life he’d been far too busy to be a good father. After the divorce, he’d vowed all that would change.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Mrs. Braddock will stay with you.” Not that it was strictly necessary. Kaitlin’s fear of the water would keep her safely away from the pool. Mrs. Braddock, however, appeared like a genie from the greenhouse, ponytail swishing. She was always available. Perhaps too available, Eric thought wryly. She’d done more to raise him and Shawn than their parents ever had.

He went inside and jogged up the stairs to the second story. Moving down the hall, he passed a half-open door. Something made him slow down and turn back. He stood at the door, gazing inside one of the guest rooms.

Jamie Williams lay on the bed, fast asleep. In this light he could see the freckles scattered lightly across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her red hair fanned against the pillow. He felt like a damn voyeur, but he just stood there…thinking all the wrong things about a woman who looked good in all the right ways.

What the hell was he doing? She’d come here searching for his brother. At last, Eric turned and strode to his own room. Only a few more moments and he’d changed into his swimming trunks.

Back down at the pool, he sat at the shallow end and beckoned to his daughter.

Kaitlin remained where she was, standing stiff and silent beside the housekeeper.

“Hmm… I have something to do in the kitchen,” Mrs. Braddock murmured diplomatically before she disappeared. Now Kaitlin stood all alone, clutching her towel.

“It’s okay,” Eric said. “Today we’ll just dangle our feet again.”

She inched closer to the pool, her eyes large and dark in her small face. Since the divorce, Eric’s seven-year-old daughter had taken it as a point of honor to confront her fears—fear of the water, of darkness, of school….

Her fear of water had been the most challenging. So far nothing had worked. Private instruction, lessons at the community-center pool…even Mrs. Braddock’s comforting ways had had no effect. Every effort had ended in misery and tears. For Kaitlin, the water seemed to contain unnamable demons. Yet, the greater her trepidation, the more she seemed determined to struggle against it. These sessions with Eric were always at her own request.

He moved his feet in the water. “Nice and cool,” he remarked.

Kaitlin tiptoed closer. She spread out her towel next to him and sat down. For a long moment she stared at her pink flip-flops. Then she slipped them off and stuck a few tentative toes into the water.

“Good,” Eric told her.

“It’s the same thing we did last time.”

“So?”

“So we haven’t made any progress,” she said scornfully.

“Sure we have. Two weeks ago you wouldn’t even stand this close.”

His comment earned him a resigned look. She stuck both feet into the water, sitting there rigidly. If her comfort factor seemed low, at least she’d made it this far. How could he convince her it was an accomplishment?

“You know,” he said conversationally, “I’m going to Seattle in a few days. You could come with me again. After work, we’ll go up the Space Needle. You can even stop by and visit your mom.”

“I’d rather not,” she answered all too quickly, ducking her head.

“Kaitlin,” he said as gently as possible. “You can’t avoid your mom much longer. She misses you.”

Kaitlin raised her head and stared at him with those enormous brown eyes. He saw the glisten of tears.

“Then why,” she mumbled, “did Mom divorce us?”

His daughter could get to him in a second. He put his arm around her, wishing he could protect her from every hurt.

“She didn’t divorce you, honey—just me. She loves you.”

Kaitlin blinked hard. She pulled away, her feet coming out of the pool with a splash. Her toes burrowed toward the pink flip-flops as if seeking refuge.

“We’re not making any progress at all,” she said, her voice trembling dangerously.

“You’re doing fine—”

“You know I’m not. What’s the point of lying?” She stared at him accusingly. Where had she learned to be so hard on herself? And why didn’t he know how to comfort her?

She marched across the patio and disappeared inside the house. Eric knew that she’d find some measure of solace with Mrs. Braddock in the kitchen. But that wasn’t good enough, not by far. A daughter should be able to count on her dad.

Eric debated following her, but lately the pattern had always been the same: he tried to be a good father; she pushed him away.

So he wasn’t trying hard enough, dammit. He had to come up with something better, and soon. Pacing to the table, he stared broodingly at the files scattered there. He was supposed to be working on the Garrett buyout. If he couldn’t be the right father, at least he should be focusing on business.

Instead he sat down and took another folder from his briefcase. He opened it and gazed at the rough sketches he’d made not so long ago. With a finger he traced the lines of his dream. His fantasy.

It would remain a fantasy, of course. He was too much a realist to believe anything else. But for now he could escape the problems confronting him: a family business that had begun weighing all too heavily upon his shoulders; a daughter who ran from him; a brother who’d ditched a fiancée.

Right now Eric could forget all that as he gazed at the pages before him.

He could dream.

Jamie stirred, opening her eyes slowly. At first she couldn’t remember where she was. Albuquerque…anticipating her wedding day…

Reality brought her fully awake. There’d been no wedding. She was on the small island of Saint-Anne, Washington, trying to find the reluctant groom.

Jamie swung her legs over the side of the bed. With a heartfelt sigh she padded to the window and gazed outside. The first shadows of evening had begun to drift over the patio below. Eric Sinclair sat at the poolside table, legs stretched out comfortably. Instead of his too-severe business attire, he wore a bathing suit. Jamie could see the breadth of his shoulders, the dark hair curling across his chest, the well-proportioned muscles along every inch of his body.