Rachel Brimble - Ethan's Daughter

Leah started the engine. I’m in this, mister, whether you like it or not.

* * *

SUNLIGHT CAME THROUGH the blinds in Ethan’s bedroom as his eyes flickered open. He stared at the ceiling as his conversation with Leah last night replayed in his mind. The woman seemed hell-bent on helping others, her professional obligations overriding anything he had tried to explain to her. He clenched his jaw. And along with her protests, she’d made sure he realized that there was a chance he could let Daisy down, as he had when she’d been born.

He and Leah were opposites. Their life choices and sense of purpose were so far apart he couldn’t see how they’d ever agree on anything, let alone what to do about Anna.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for his phone to scan his overnight email. That done, he checked his Twitter and Facebook, searching again for Leah as though she might have suddenly decided to join the chaos of social media overnight.

As he shut off his phone, Leah and her parting words zoomed into his mind once more. Memories of her had disturbed his sleep throughout the last two nights. He lifted his injured hand. He’d been sufficiently careful to avoid any further bleeding, so at least Leah’s fiery temper wouldn’t be aimed at him for neglecting to look after her handiwork.

Shoving back the covers, he got out of bed and padded into his en suite bathroom.

Once showered and dressed, he grabbed his phone from his bed and went to check on Daisy. He quietly pushed open her bedroom door.

“Hey, sweetheart. How long have you been awake?” He approached her bed, to find the quilt covered in shredded toilet paper and three of her Barbies wrapped in three-ply bondage. He smiled. “Are they Egyptian mummies or sick?”

She scowled, a line darting between her perfect eyebrows. “They’re sick. I’m making them better, like Leah did you.”

“Right.” He stared at her dark curls as she bent over one of the dolls, her tongue poking from between her lips as she wound some toilet paper around one of the Barbies’ legs. “What happened there?”

“She fell over the edge of Clover Point and broke her leg.”

“Ah, nasty.”

“Yep, but Leah operated and sewed her back up. I’m her helper.”

“Uh-huh.” Ethan bit back his smile. “Do you want some breakfast, Nurse Daisy?”

“Yep. Pancakes and strawberries.”

“Coming right up. I’ll call you when it’s on the table.”

“Okay, Daddy. I mean, Mr. James.”

With love for his daughter squeezing his chest, Ethan resisted the urge to kiss her, knowing from Daisy’s expression it wouldn’t be welcomed in the middle of such a delicate operation. Leaving her room, he walked downstairs into the kitchen.

Just as he put his phone on the counter, it beeped with an incoming text.

Good morning. As it’s such a nice day and we parted on pretty bad terms, I was wondering if you and Daisy would like to meet me for a picnic on the beach. I promise not to beat up on you again...well, not too much anyway. Leah x

Slowly, he put the phone on the counter as though it was a ticking bomb. He’d vowed to find a way to keep distance between them. All night he’d battled to find a solution for his hand healing without infection, but not involving Leah, a doctor or any other damn medic. How could he be certain any of them wouldn’t call the police as Leah wanted to?

Now she held out an olive branch.

No matter how tempted he was to accept her invitation, he had to refuse—had to maintain his determination to enforce some distance for all their sakes. He couldn’t be around someone as caring and attentive as Leah. She reminded him too acutely of his own ineptitude.

He walked to the kettle and flicked it on.

Yet hadn’t he finally found a woman who intrigued and interested him, as much as she infuriated him? Maybe, but the timing sucked.

The knock on his door jolted him upright.

Leah?

He strode from the kitchen into the hallway, pushing some fallen hair from his brow. His apprehension made his heart rate hitch as he unlocked the door and pulled it open.

His postman stared back at him, wide-eyed. “Everything all right, Ethan?”

The air eased from his lungs and he forced a smile. “Hey, Norman, how you doing this morning?”

“I’m fine. You, on the other hand...”

Ethan huffed a laugh. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. What can I do for you?”

“Got a package here. Too big to stick through your letter box.”

“Thanks.” Ethan took the padded envelope. “See you soon.”

“That you will. Take care.”

Ethan stared at the typed address label before turning the envelope over to see if the sender’s address was marked. Nothing. Frowning, he closed the door and wandered back into the kitchen. He sat at the table, ripped open the envelope and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. And another.

“What the hell...” He tipped the envelope, giving it a hard shake. More papers fluttered onto the table, followed by a couple of snapshots. He picked one up and his heart leaped into his throat.

Daisy smiled at the camera, holding her ten-meter swimming certificate and pin in her hands. Another picture showed her astride her first bike at age four, wheels glistening. Ethan turned over the copied certificates, report cards and health updates, and the words jumped and blurred in his vision.

What the hell was Anna playing at? He’d sent her all this stuff because it was the right thing to do. Now that he’d refused her money, was she telling him she didn’t want anything else about Daisy sent to her? That she was washing her hands of her child in every possible way?

He pushed himself to his feet, the chair teetering behind him. He gathered up the papers and photographs and slipped them back into the envelope before snatching up his phone. Walking into the hallway, he struggled to keep his voice calm as he called up the stairs. “Daisy?”

“Yes, Daddy... Mr. James.”

He closed his eyes, his anger immediately fading to a low hum. “I’m just in the living room making a phone call. Your breakfast won’t be long, okay?”

“Okay.”

Gripping the phone, he walked into the living room and quietly closed the door. He moved to the window and stared into his driveway, trying to think of what to say to Anna. How the hell did he talk to her about this?

Tossing the envelope onto the armchair, he quickly dialed Anna’s number before he could change his mind. The words would come, because one way or another, Anna would bloody well explain this new level of callousness.

She picked up. “Ethan?”

“The one and only.”

“I can’t talk right now.”

He closed his eyes and huffed a laugh. “You can’t talk right now... God, why didn’t I think to say that to you when you turned up on my doorstep the other night?”

“I mean it. I’m...” There was a rustling, and the faint sound of a door closing echoed in his ear. “I’m at the club. Harry is in the other room. If he knows I’m talking—”

“I couldn’t care less what he knows. What did you think you would achieve by sending all Daisy’s pictures and certificates back to me? You think that will go some way to persuading me I was wrong in refusing to give you money?”

“What are you talking about?”

Ethan opened his eyes. “The pictures, Anna. The pictures of our daughter that arrived in an envelope at my house this morning.”

“I didn’t send you any pictures.”

“No? Then who else would? I can’t imagine for one minute you share the stuff I send you with anyone else.”

“I don’t know. Ethan, you have to believe that I’d never get rid of them. I might not be the best mother in the world, but I do care about Daisy.”