Bewitched (9 page)

“Don't start being dramatic, Jill.” In an aside to Harry, she explained, “Jill is prone to melodrama, no doubt because of her age.”

Harry made a rude sound to that. “More likely due to her sister's penchant to get into trouble.”

“Harry—”

“No, don't berate me. My brain is tired and I really do need to head home.” He finished off the chocolate, stood, then took Jill's hand once again. “It's amazing your hair is still brown and not gray. I swear, while I was with her today, I could feel the gray hairs struggling to sprout.”

Jill giggled. “She has a way about her.”

“Indeed.”

“She's also the very best sister in the world.”

“I got that impression.”

“That's enough out of both of you!” Charlie circled the table and stood toe to toe with Harry. She had to bend her
head way back to meet his gaze. “When do you think you'll know something?”

He cocked a brow. “I know an abundance of things, Charlie. Can you be more specific?”

She ground her teeth together. “When, exactly, do you think you'll be able to give me some info on my father? I don't mean to rush you, but I don't want to wait too long, either.”

“Patience,” Jill muttered as she put Harry's mug in the sink, “is not one of Charlie's strong suits.”

She was ready to refute that when Harry touched her cheek with two fingers. “I'll get back to you just as soon as I can. Try not to worry, okay?”

She gulped, feeling that simple touch all the way to her bare toes and back up again. “Can you…maybe give me a ballpark guess?”

He smiled. “I'll tell you what. Give me your phone number and I'll call you tomorrow evening. By then I should be able to have a better idea, okay?”

Charlie hurried to a drawer to pull out a pen and paper. “I'll give you our personal number, for here in the apartment, and the number for the Lucky Goose. You should be able to reach me at one or the other.”

Harry slid the slip of paper into his back pocket. “Jill, thank you for the drink.”

“Thank you, Harry, for bringing Charlie home in one piece.”

“That was my pleasure. Well, at least part of the time. There was the occasional moment when—”

With a shove, Charlie started him on his way. She knew he was laughing, but she didn't mind. She walked him down the stairs and with every step, her heart thumped heavily. She was so acutely aware of him beside her, tall and strong and warm. When they reached the end of the stairwell, Charlie still one step above him, putting her on more even ground, she caught his arm before he could open the door.

He turned to face her, his look questioning.

She cleared her throat. His biceps were large and thick and she knew even both her hands wouldn't circle him completely. She lightly caressed him and her breathing hitched. She was so damn ignorant about this sort of thing. “Harry, I really do appreciate all you did tonight. Not that I couldn't have handled it on my own—”

“But it was nice to have the company? My sentiments exactly.”

She tilted her head, searching for the right words. This entire situation was awkward for her, because she'd never really wanted anyone before. “I know you said you don't want to get involved, and I feel the same way.”

His entire expression softened. “Charlie—”

“No, you don't need to explain. I understand. But…”

“But what?”

His voice was low, the words gentle. She could feel him looking down at her, and so she mustered her courage, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “But I want you. There. I said it.”

He stared, shock plain on his face, and she took advantage of it, throwing herself against him. She felt his arms automatically catch her, and she kissed him while his mouth was still open in surprise. He was motionless only a moment, then he turned, pinned her to the wall, and with a low deep groan, proceeded to kiss her silly.

H
ARRY ENTERED
the hospital with his heart in his throat and his pulse racing. The day, which had begun with no indications of a catastrophe, continued to slide rapidly downhill. Actually, he thought, he was well into a new day. Surely things would begin improving, surely Dalton would be all right.

A nurse directed him to the CCU, or coronary care unit, and the name alone made Harry break out in a sweat.
A heart attack,
Dalton had suffered a heart attack. He felt sick with anxiety and throbbing guilt.

It took him mere seconds to reach the right room, and as soon as he was close enough, he could hear Dalton complaining. He increased his pace, rushed into the room, then came to a standstill.

Dalton, pale and obviously agitated, was in a sterile white bed, oxygen hooked up to his nose, other apparatus connected in various places. He fought to sit up while a nurse struggled to keep him still. Harry drew himself up and said, “What is going on here?”

The nurse looked at him with utter and complete relief, then asked hopefully, “Harry Lonnigan?”

“Yes.” He stepped forward and nudged her out of the way, giving Dalton a glare. “Be still.”

Dalton rested back with a smile.

The nurse heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief. “He needs to be resting, but he was insistent on seeing you. I told him we'd
left a message for you, but when you couldn't be reached, he wanted to get out of bed and try calling you himself—”

“I'm sorry for the delay. The storm knocked out my answering machine and I didn't receive any message.” He frowned at Dalton. “I called your house and the housekeeper told me what happened. I got here as quickly as I could.”

Dalton gripped his hand. “She contacted me, Harry.”

Harry looked down at the man he loved like a father and winced. Dalton was still good-looking at fifty-nine, tall, lean, with only a smidge of gray mixed in with his dark hair. He'd always looked so vital to Harry, but now, he looked shrunken and frail. “Who contacted you?”

“My daughter.”

Everything in Harry jolted. His wits jumped about hither and yon, his heart thumped. He cast a quick glance at the nurse, then squeezed Dalton's hand. To the nurse he asked, “Can I speak with you in just a moment? I'd like to be updated—”

She patted Harry's arm. “Get your father settled, then come out. I'll be at the nurses' station. But please—” and she bent a warning look on Dalton “—he needs to be still and calm.”

Harry nodded. “I'll see to it. And thank you.”

The nurse went out, closing the door behind her. Harry hadn't bothered explaining to her that Dalton wasn't his father. In all the most important ways, he'd been the only father Harry knew.

The room was silent, with an acoustical ceiling and floor, good lighting, and a variety of electrical, suction, and other outlets. Monitors were hooked up to Dalton, and other assorted machinery sat at the ready. Overall, it should have been a distressing sight, but to Harry, it showed the competent level of emergency care available, giving him a sense of security. Dalton wouldn't die. He was well cared for here.

Harry scooted a narrow chair closer to Dalton's bed and seated himself. He had a feeling a lot had happened that he wasn't aware of.

Dalton gave him a shaky smile. “I got a letter from my daughter today. The oldest one, Charlotte.” His smile widened. “She's a gutsy little gal. Do you know what she said? She said I owed her a lot of back child support and she wanted to claim it. She said she
would
claim it. What about that?”

Harry winced, both at the name Dalton called his daughter, and the irony of the situation. So Charlie had sent her father a letter. That was likely her reason for being in the store in the first place. She'd been waiting, Harry remembered, peeking out the window on occasion. And Dalton's jewelry store was directly across the street from the grocery. The little witch. Had she hoped to see her father's reaction?

Would she be happy with the results?

He no sooner thought it than he shook off the disturbing notion. Charlie wanted what she considered her due, but she didn't strike him as the type to wish actual harm on anyone. Well, except maybe Floyd.

Dalton cleared his throat. “The girls…they're alone now. Charlotte told me in the letter that her mother recently passed away.”

“I'm sorry, Dalton.”

“It was a hell of a shock, reading that letter and knowing in my gut what my girls have gone through. Rose wasn't much when she was around, but she was still their mother. Damn, if only I could have found them.”

Harry wondered where to begin, but before he could finish formulating his thoughts, Dalton actually laughed. “Here I was, watching for a sign from you, then that damn letter arrived. I could hardly believe it—liked to stop my heart.”

Oh God.
“From what your housekeeper told me, it almost did stop your heart.”

“Ha! Now that I know I'm this close to getting my girls back, there's no way I'm going to let a little heart trouble stop me.”

Harry stared at Dalton, that
ha!
sounding all too familiar.
He wondered if Charlie had inherited the blunt expletive from her father.

“No sir,” Dalton continued, full of vehemence. “I'm going to make it up to them, everything they missed out on because I wasn't there. But Harry, I still don't know where they are. The letter didn't say. So I was hoping you could…”

Harry decided before he could say anything, he needed all the details on Dalton's condition. He patted the older man's hand, then slowly stood to pace. “Everything will work out, Dalton, you'll see. As soon as I find out about you, we'll talk about the letter and what to do next, okay?”

“Damn right we'll talk about it. It's all I can think about.”

“You need to rest, you know, if you want a chance to meet Charli—Charlotte.” He barely caught himself, then shook his head. “Promise me you'll sit there quietly until I get back.”

Dalton made a face. “What choice do I have? They've got me connected to so many wires, they know if I'm going to burp before I even do it!”

“Good. I like it that way. Now sit tight and I'll be right back.”

It took Harry about ten minutes to find out that Dalton had suffered a mild heart attack, although
mild
wasn't really descriptive of the condition. Dalton had evidently suffered some discomfort through the night, including dizziness, but being the stubborn cuss Harry knew him to be, he'd ignored the problems, determined to be at the shop that day to observe Harry's meeting with Floyd and Ralph.

The nurse didn't know what had upset Dalton, only that a customer had called the paramedics when he'd turned deathly pale and grew nauseous. They took an EKG as soon as he reached the hospital, and then had to insist that Dalton not leave when they found evidence of a heart attack. He kept claiming he had important things to do.

Harry had to shake his head. What rotten timing for Dalton.

The nurse explained that a cardiologist on call had been in to see Dalton, and that they would continue monitoring him throughout the night. He had no prior history of problems and was basically a healthy man. In the morning they'd check his cardiac enzymes and see how his heart rhythm had done through the night, which would tell them more.

Though the nurse was reassuring, Harry still worried. It took him another five minutes to figure out what he wanted to say to Dalton about Charlie, censoring it in his mind so as not to upset him further. Such an awful situation. He could almost be angry at Charlie, except that her life hadn't been an easy one, and she'd obviously been led to believe her father hadn't cared. Under those circumstances, she could hardly be blamed for her actions.

Dalton's face was turned away, staring out a window when Harry returned. He immediately turned to face him, and that damn smile was back on his face. “You need to read the letter, Harry. It's in my pants pocket, over there in the cabinet. Take it home with you for safekeeping.”

Harry retrieved the letter and stuck it in his pocket. “I'll take care of the letter, Dalton, don't worry about that. But first I need to tell you something.”

Dalton blinked. “Well, damn, I'd forgotten all about Floyd and Ralph and those other idiots. How did it go? You didn't have any trouble with them, did you? I got that damn letter, had the attack and the next thing I knew I was in here and no one would listen to me when I said I had to call you.”

“I'm really sorry about that. You know if I'd gotten the message, nothing could have kept me away.”

“Of course I know it. That's why I was worried about you when you didn't show up right away.”

Harry swallowed hard. “I have to tell you something, Dalton.”

“Out with it. I'm not so delicate I'll swoon, you know.”

“Well, to come right to the point, I met your daughter today.”

Dalton lurched, he was so surprised, and Harry rushed to soothe him. “Settle down now before they throw me out of here.”

“But I don't understand! You met her? Where?”

“In the grocery. She was there, evidently waiting to see your reaction to her letter, though I didn't know she'd sent a letter. I didn't…ah, find out she was your daughter until much later.”

“This is incredible!”

“Yes, I know.” Harry didn't mean to sound facetious, but the whole situation was too ironic. That last kiss that Charlie had forced on him—forced, ha!—had damn near killed him. He'd forgotten himself, and within a heartbeat he'd had her pressed against the stairwell wall, her small hands clutching him, her hips squirming against his, inciting his lust, making him hard. Damn. Even now he gasped with the pleasure of it. Never in his adult years had he been hit by so much uncontrollable lust. He'd tasted Charlie and wanted to go on tasting her, everywhere, all over her small sweet body. He could have spent hours doing just that.

He shook, remembering.

He'd been a hairsbreadth away from taking her right there in the stairwell, and probably would have if a commotion in the bar hadn't jolted him out of his lust-induced stupor.

After that, he'd all but run from her. And she'd actually had the gall to laugh at his predicament.

He shook his head, wondering how he was ever going to be able to handle this absurd situation. A reluctant smile caught him unawares. “She's something else, Dalton. A little bitty thing, barely reaching my shoulder.”

“Everyone just barely reaches your shoulder, Harry. You're what we average people call
tall.
”

“She's shorter than most, though. But you're right about the guts. Ralph and Floyd tried to intimidate her, but she easily got the best of them. Calling her fearless would be a gross understatement.”

Dalton shuddered. “Thank God you were there to keep her safe. If those hoodlums had hurt her…”

Harry had a feeling she might have done just fine on her own. Under no circumstances would he tell Dalton that she'd been dressed as a boy—or that he was the one who'd inadvertently blown her cover.

Dalton drew a slow breath. “When I last saw her, she was nine, missing a few teeth, skinny as a twig, and loved football much more than dolls. Her mother kept her hair cut short so she wouldn't have to spend time working the tangles out. If I remember it right, Charlotte begged her to do the cutting. She was the epitome of the American tomboy. Of course, she's a young lady now, so none of that matters.

“I worked too many long days back then, and I missed out on so much. Then I caught her mother cheating, found out it wasn't even the first time, and when I sued for divorce, the witch ran off with my kids.”

Harry left the chair to sit on the side of the bed. He clasped Dalton's shoulder. “You can explain it all to her now, Dalton. She'll understand. From the time I spent with her, I can tell she inherited her father's intelligence.”

“Did she mention me at all?”

This was the tough part, but Harry didn't see any way around a few truths. “As a matter of fact, she wanted to hire me to find out more about you.”

“No fooling?” Dalton seemed pleased by his daughter's curiosity.

Harry nodded. “I didn't say I already knew you. I wanted to give you the chance to tell her everything yourself.”

“Did you…you know, get a feel for what she thinks of me? What her mother might have told her about me?”

Harry hesitated, unsure just how far he could stretch the truth.

“Out with it, Harry.” He grinned. “From her note, I'm already assuming she has a healthy chip on her shoulder where I'm concerned. And knowing her mother the way I did, I can easily guess at how she probably lied about me.”

Helpless, Harry admitted, “I think that's more the case than not. Charlie seemed under the impression you'd abandoned them.”

“Charlie?”

“That's the name she goes by.”

“Ridiculous! She has a lovely name.”

Harry kept his opinion in check. By his way of thinking,
Charlie
suited her much better than the too reserved
Charlotte.
Of course, Dalton wasn't reacquainted with her, so couldn't yet know that.

“Did she mention Jillian at all?”

Ah, safer ground. “Actually, I met her. It's a long story, and no, get that look out of your eye because I'm not telling it right now. You've had enough excitement for one day.”

“Tyrant.”

“I promise to fill you in on all the details tomorrow. But as to Jillian, she's a lovely girl. Eighteen now, and the opposite of Charli—Charlotte. Tall, light brown hair. But the same blue eyes.”

Dalton's blue eyes crinkled at the corners with a huge smile. “I have an idea, Harry.”

Harry rubbed his forehead with a sigh. The past several hours had depleted him sorely. He needed some sleep, he needed something to eat.