The Sweetest Thing

Chapter 11

Up until that moment, Ford’s plans for the day had included talking Tara into going out for a sail. And then burning off some excess energy.

With their naked bodies.

Yeah, that would have been right at the very top of the to-do list.

But that all changed with Mia looking at him through his own green gaze, her expression slightly challenging and yet braced for… hurt and rejection, he realized as something twisted hard in his chest.

How many years had he wondered about the baby that he and Tara had given up at birth?

Seventeen.

And how many years had he wondered if that baby would grow up happy and whole and smart and sharp and then… someday show up on his doorstep.

Christ, he couldn’t remember ever feeling nerves like this before. Not while facing forty-foot waves threatening to tear his boat apart. Not while standing on an Olympic podium accepting a medal in the name of his country. Not ever.

Tara hadn’t taken her eyes off Mia, and she was looking nervous too, her eyes misty. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

Mia’s eyes cut to her, quiet and assessing. “I look like you.”

“Not as much as you look like…”

They both turned to Ford.

Having the woman he’d once loved with painful desperation, along with the daughter he’d dreamed about, both looking at him with varying degrees of emotion, was a punch in the solar plexus. Ford found he could scarcely breathe.

“Can I hug you?” Tara asked their daughter.

Mia gave a halting nod, but it was too late; they’d all seen the hesitation. Awkwardness settled over them all as Mia moved into Tara for a quick embrace. Ford was next, and he was surprised that with him Mia didn’t seem awkward at all. Anxious, even eager, but not reluctant, and as he wrapped his arms around this thin, beautiful teenager that was his-Christ, his-he closed his eyes and breathed her in. “How did you find us?”

Mia pulled back and shifted her weight nervously, although her voice never wavered. “I thought I’d tell you after I got hired.”

Bold. Ballsy. Probably she’d gotten a double whammy of both of those things from the gene pool, Ford thought.

“I only have seven weeks,” Mia said, and Tara’s hand went to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping out.

Ford understood the panic. Hell, he felt it as his own. When Mia had been young, she’d had heart problems. A leaky valve that had required surgery. The only reason either Ford or Tara knew about it was because Tara’s mother had donated a very large chunk of money to the medical bills, taking a second mortgage on the inn to get it-something that had only been discovered after Phoebe had died.

“What’s the matter?” Tara asked Mia, voice thick with worry. “Your heart again?”

“No. I’m doing my senior year of high school in Spain as an exchange student, and I’ll be gone for nine months.”

“Oh.” At this, Tara sagged in visible relief.

“So you’re healthy then?” Ford asked Mia. “Everything’s good?”

“Yep. I haven’t had so much as a cold in years.”

“That’s wonderful,” Tara said. “And your parents are okay with you doing this? Coming here to meet us?”

Another slight hesitation. “Well, they wanted to come with me,” Mia admitted. “To be sure I’d be welcome, but I wanted to do this alone.” Something came into her eyes at that. More nerves. And a dash of defensiveness.

And there was something else, too, Ford noticed. Whenever Mia spoke, she did so directly to him, not Tara. Almost as if Mia somehow resented the mother who’d given her up, but not her birth father.

Worse, given the look on Tara’s face, she knew it too, and was miserable about it. Up until now Ford had caught only glimpses of the guilt that haunted Tara, but seeing it etched so deeply on her face squeezed his heart.

“My parents know I’m applying for work,” Mia told them. “They’ve agreed that I can drive back and forth from Seattle to Lucky Harbor. If, you know, I get the job.”

Smooth, Ford thought. Also from the gene pool.

“I’ll hire you,” Tara said softly. “If that’s what you want, to work for me.”

“Really?” For a beat, the cool, tough-girl expression fell away from Mia, revealing a heartbreaking vulnerability.

“Of course,” Tara said.

“But… you don’t even know my real skills. Or me.”

“You came all this way,” Ford said quietly. “Don’t lose your nerve now.”

Mia turned to him, studying his face like she’d been hungry for the sight of it as he’d been for hers.

“You’re hired,” Tara said. “I can teach you what you need to know. And then maybe by the end of the summer, you’ll be able to write a real résumé, with real experience.”

“Thanks,” Mia said, looking slightly softer. Younger. “And don’t worry. I’m real organized and a big planner. My parents tell everyone I’m anal, and it’s sorta true.”

“One guess as to where you got that,” Ford said.

Tara slid him a long look, making him smile.

“I think I’m more like you,” Mia said, looking at Ford.

Tara looked away at the quick hurt of that, and Ford felt unaccustomedly helpless, not sure how to breach the gap between mother and daughter.

“Excuse me, Ms. Daniels?” Carlos called from the marina office door. He was in baggy homeboy jeans and a T-shirt that advertised some surf shop in Cabo. His dark hair was in spikes today, his earrings and eyebrow piercing all black to match his untied, high-top Nikes. He’d been cleaning windows in the morning sun, and his arms and face gleamed with sweat. “You have a phone call.”

Mia looked at him, and then kept looking.

“Thanks, Carlos,” Tara said. “Can you take a message?”

The teen nodded, his gaze falling to Mia, meeting her outwardly curious gaze.

“Mia, this is Carlos,” Tara said, introducing them. “He works for the inn part time as well.”

Carlos smiled, and to Ford, the expression had horny teenager written all over it. A very new and entirely surprising emotion hit Ford squarely between the eyes.

Paternal protectiveness.

Which was ridiculous. Hell, when he’d been Carlos’ age, he’d looked at Tara just like that. He’d also done a hell of a lot more than just look.

“I’m going to start planting those seedlings,” Carlos said to Tara. “You said it was a two-person job, but everyone’s busy so…”

“I could help,” Mia piped up.

“No!” Tara and Ford said at the same time. Ford let out a breath. That settled it. He was going to have to kill Carlos. He glanced over at Tara and found her wearing what he imagined was a matching scowl to his.

Luckily, before either of them could do or say anything stupid, Mia’s stomach growled into the silence.

“Oh, Sugar,” Tara exclaimed. “You’re hungry! Come on, come up to the inn. I’ll get you some breakfast.”

“But the planting,” Mia said, still looking at Carlos.

“Maybe later,” Tara said.

Much later, Ford thought. Like never.

Tara hustled them all into the kitchen. Well, except Carlos. Carlos she sent on a run into town on an errand. When he was gone, Tara sat Mia at the table and pulled ingredients out of the fridge until she had a mountain of food on the island. “What would you like? Omelets? Crepes? Pancakes? French toast? I have-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mia said. She and Ford watched as Tara went to work, her hands a blur. “Anything’s fine. So about you two. Are you… a two?”

“Veggie and cheese omelets?” Tara asked, looking a little desperate for a subject change. “With turkey bacon and fresh fruit?”

“Okay.” Mia hesitated and then glanced at Ford. “Is she always like this?” she whispered.

Crazy? Yes. Often. “She loves to cook.”

Mia nodded, glancing at the newspaper that had been left on the table. “Is this for real?”

Ford looked over her shoulder. “What?”

Mia pointed to an article on the front page and read: “It’s neck and neck between two fine stallions in the race for Lucky Harbor’s Beach Resort owner Tara Daniels’ heart. Which sexy hunk will make it to the finish line? The NASCAR cutie Logan Perrish or our own sailing hottie, Ford Walker? This just could be a photo finish, folks. Be sure to vote in our new poll, up on Facebook now. We’re looking for donations of a buck a vote. The pot goes to the pediatric cancer research center at General, so don’t be shy. We all have a buck to give, right? Vote now.” Mia lifted her gaze and stared at Ford and Tara. “Is this about you guys?”

Ford looked for the byline. Lucille Oldenburg. Nosy old bat.

Behind the stovetop, Tara had gone utterly still, her eyes horrified. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” Mia said. “It’s all right here in black and white. Who’s Logan Perrish? Cuz it also says he spent two hours of his time graciously signing autographs-and bikinis-on the beach yesterday.”

Tara closed her eyes. “He’s my ex-husband.”

Mia turned to Ford. “You’re in competition with her ex-husband? For real?”

“It’s a joke.” He wondered if Jax would find him a good criminal defender after he killed Lucille.

Mia glanced at the paper thoughtfully. “Do you think you’re winning?” she asked Ford. “In the poll?”

“Pay no attention to that,” Tara said, pointing with her spatula. “I’m not seeing either of them.”

Mia looked at Ford.

Tara looked at him, too, sending him a silent plea to back her up. He refused to, on the grounds that… hell. He had no idea. But when he remained silent, Tara let out a noise that managed to perfectly convey what she thought of him. He was pretty sure he knew what that might be.

“So you’re not dating each other?” Mia asked Ford.

“No,” Tara said, answering for him.

“But if you’re not seeing each other, why were you kissing on the dock?”

“Do you prefer Swiss, mozzarella, or American cheese in your omelet?” Tara asked a bit desperately, turning to the refrigerator again.

“I don’t care.” Mia was still looking at Ford. “So have you two been… not seeing each other all this time? The past seventeen years?”

“No,” Tara said. “Yes. Wait a minute.” She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “Can you rephrase the question?”

“Until about six months ago, Tara lived in Texas,” Ford told Mia. “And I lived here.”

“So you two were never together?” Mia asked. “Not even when… you know. When I was conceived?”

Ford drew in a deep breath. This part was going to suck. “We were seventeen,” he said.

Mia nodded. “Like me.”

Yes, and he wasn’t proud to say that he’d been far too experienced for his age. He’d lost his virginity two years prior, after being seduced by a sexy waitress who’d promised to rock his world. She had. For one entire glorious spring break, she’d rocked everything he had.

But Tara hadn’t been experienced. At all. He had no idea how, but she’d seen something in him that had inspired her trust. “We were too young for the kind of relationship that we found ourselves in,” he said carefully. Please read between the lines and never have sex.

Ever.

“Yeah,” Mia said quietly. “I figured I was an accident. A really big one.”

“No,” Tara said fiercely.

“It’s okay,” Mia said. “The whole giving-me-up thing was a dead giveaway.” She shrugged as she looked at a stricken Tara. “You needed to fix a mistake quick, so you gave me up. Easy enough.”

Christ, those eyes, Ford thought. The both of them were killing him. “It wasn’t easy,” he said, hoping to God that Mia believed him. “And it wasn’t about us giving you up to make things better for us. It was about making things right for you.”

Tara had turned to blindly face the window, completely ignoring what she was cooking.

Ford imagined she was feeling sick over the same thing. Heartbreaking to hear that the child they’d given up was thinking that it had been an easy fix. More heartbreak that she’d felt unwanted, even for a minute.

“I think I forgot to do the dishes this morning in the cottage,” Tara whispered. “I should go check.”

Ford would bet his last penny that she’d done every dish in the place and he stood to go to her, but, eyes glittering, mouth grim, she shook her head.

They’d been kids when she’d gotten pregnant. Stupid kids. That was no longer the case, and yet the situation was bringing back all the emotions from that time-the fear, the stress, the anxiety.

The utter helplessness.

And that overwhelming, ever-present, life-sucking guilt. Looking at Tara, Ford saw it all. He knew that she felt that they’d done the right thing. She’d always felt that way. But any woman would still feel the pang of giving up her own flesh and blood. She’d carried Mia, had been the one to feel her wriggle and kick, to feel her every hiccup.

And then had been left with little choice but to sign her away.

“I smell something burning,” Mia said, and pointed to the stovetop, which was now smoking.

Yep, something was burning all right. Ford stepped behind Tara, took the spatula out of her hand, and turned off the burner. He carried the pan, and the blackened omelet in it, to the sink, where it hissed and smoked some more when he added cold water to the mix.

“I burnt it,” Tara murmured.

“Yeah,” Mia said, eyeing the pan. “You killed it dead.”

“I never burn anything.”

“No biggie,” Mia said quietly. “I wasn’t that hungry anyway. Should I go?”

“No.” Tara straightened, seeming to come into herself again. “Mia, my burning breakfast was an accident. Like forgetting to go to the dentist. Like running out of gas on the highway…” She paused and swallowed hard. “But having a baby, that would never be classified as an accident. Not by me. I want you to know that. I’m not good at this. At revisiting the past, or talking about things that-I’m not good at emotions and feelings. But I want-I need you to know that I never thought of you as an accident. And I want you to stay.”

Mia didn’t look away as a myriad of emotions crossed her face. After a long beat, she swallowed hard. “Okay. Thanks.”

In the heavily weighted silence, Ford went to the refrigerator. Time for improvisation, and his eyes locked on a big, juicy-looking strawberry pie. Worked for him. He grabbed it, carrying the tin heaped with brilliant red strawberries and dripping with glaze to the table.

“That’s my Kick-Ass Strawberry Pie,” Tara said, surprised.

“Yes, and now it’s Kick-Ass Breakfast.” Ford pointed to the chairs. “Sit.”

Tara shocked him by actually following his direction. Mia followed suit, and he cut the pie into three huge thirds.

Tara choked. “I can’t feed our daughter strawberry pie for breakfast.”

“Why not?”

“Yeah,” Mia asked. “Why not?”

“Because…” Tara appeared to search for a reason. “It’s not healthy.”

“It’s got fruit,” Mia said.

Tara looked at her. The awkwardness was still there. The air was filled with it, as well as unspoken questions and answers. But finally she nodded. Kick-Ass Breakfast it would be.

Mia gazed down at her third of the pie, her pretty hair sweeping into her eyes-which might be Ford’s own green but they were guarded like Tara’s.

His daughter, he repeated to himself. God. His daughter. She was careful. Controlled. Smart. And when she reached up and impatiently shoved her hair out of the way, he couldn’t hold back the smile.

“What?” she wanted to know.

“You remind me of Tara at your age,” he said. “Ready to tell us how you found us?”

“My dad helped me.”

Ford couldn’t help it: he flinched at the word dad, something he’d certainly never been to her. Tara met his gaze, and the understanding and compassion in her eyes were far too much for him to take. Getting up from the table, he poured three glasses of cold milk.

“I’d tried to find you before,” Mia said, “but I couldn’t. Then when Phoebe Traeger died, she left me some money.” She looked at Tara. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Thank you,” Tara said quietly. “You got the money around Thanksgiving.”

“Yes, and with it came a letter from her. She said she wasn’t supposed to make herself known to me. That she was breaking rules and promises all over the place, but that she was dead and if people didn’t like it, they could suck it. Her words,” Mia added with a small smile. “She included your contact information in case I ever wanted it. For both of you.” She paused. “I’ve always wanted it, but it took me a little while to find the nerve to do anything with it.” She looked at Tara. “It said you lived in Texas, so I was surprised when I saw that ad to find out you were here.” She paused. “I have a good life only half an hour from here. Two parents who love me very much. It should be enough.” She paused. “I wanted it to be enough.”

“It’s natural to be curious,” Tara said quietly. “It’s okay to be curious.”

“Yeah, well, at first I told myself I didn’t care, about either of you.” Mia pushed a strawberry around on the plate. “You gave me up, right? So I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to be curious. I refused to be, natural or not.”

Tara looked devastated. Ford reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” he said.

“Who says I did?”

“You’re here,” he pointed out. “That indicates a certain level of caring. Of curiosity.”

She sagged a little. “Yeah. I always was too curious for my own good.”

“And now that you’re here?” he asked. “What do you want to happen?”

Mia very carefully cut a large strawberry in half with her fork. “I realize I really should know, since I came to you, but I don’t. At least not exactly.” She looked at Ford’s hand. He was still holding Tara’s fingers in his, and had been stroking his thumb across her skin, soothing her without even realizing it.

“I know I’ve asked this already,” Mia said wryly. “But it really does seem like you two are together.”

Ford understood why she thought it. But he’d told himself it was about sex. Hell, Tara had told him as well. And he’d been absolutely sure that’s all there could be. It was a self-protection thing. But when he met Tara’s gaze, that protection urge turned to her, as she was revealing a heartbreaking vulnerability. She’d gotten hurt the last time they’d been together, much more than he. It’d left her gun-shy, no doubt. He couldn’t blame her for that. She’d been the one to face the consequences of their relationship.

“It’s hard to explain,” Tara said.

To say the least. Ford braced for Mia’s reaction, but she was as resilient as she was smart. She merely nodded and stood up. “Can I borrow a computer?”

Tara looked confused. “Computer?”

“I want to go to Facebook and vote.” Mia turned to Ford. “I’m going to vote for you. It’d be nice to have my parents together.”

Tara turned to Ford. “She wants to vote for you,” she said faintly.

“That’s possible, right?” Mia asked. “You two getting together? You’re not going to give me a line of crap about how you care about each other but it’s not in the cards or something, are you?” She drew a breath. “Or how you each want to live your own lives, you have to be true to yourselves, you won’t be held back anymore-” She broke off and winced. “Sorry. Wrong kitchen.”

“Your parents are splitting,” Ford said.

Mia nodded.

Shit. Ford found himself wanting to reach for her, but she was vibrating with a very clear don’t-touch vibe, so in the end he refilled her milk. It was all he could think of, but she clutched her refilled glass and smiled at him.

“Mia,” Tara breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Mia got to her feet. “So… a computer?”

“Mine’s in the small office behind the laundry,” Tara said after a beat. “Second door to the right.”

“Thanks.”

When she was gone, Tara moved to the sink to stare down at the blackened mess of an omelet pan. “I burned breakfast,” she murmured. “Burned it black.”

Ford came up behind her. Like mother, like daughter, she was also sporting a don’t-touch vibe, but he walked right through it and slid his hands to her hips. “You okay?”

Surprising him, she turned and faced him. “She’s… ours.”

“Yes.”

“I mean, did you get a good look at her? We did that. We made her,” she marveled.

“We did good.” He pulled her in close.

She swallowed hard, clearly fighting tears. “We did really good. God, it brings me back, you know?” She dropped her forehead to his chest. “Back to that time when it was all so messed up.”

“I know.” He felt the same. Tara had spent the last five months of her pregnancy in Seattle. When she’d gone into labor, she hadn’t wanted him there. He’d gone to the hospital anyway, though as far as he knew she’d never known he was there. He’d sat in the waiting room by himself staring at the walls, agonizing over the hell she was going through for all those hours, terrified for her.

Afterward, he’d spent more long hours just staring at their daughter through the nursery glass until they’d eventually carried her away to deliver her to her new parents.

To her new life.

“When I had her,” Tara said, voice muffled against him, “it was so much harder than I thought it’d be. The pain. The worry. I kept telling myself that it would be over soon, and then when it finally was, they asked if I wanted to hold her for a minute. I had told myself no, no way could I do it and give her up, but I did. I took her.” She paused, lost in the memory. “It was only for a second, but she was awake. She opened her eyes and looked right at me and I knew,” she whispered. “I knew she was going to be beautiful.” She pressed her lips together. “And for a minute, I didn’t think I could give her up.”

“Tara.” Ford pressed his forehead to hers and fought with the what-ifs.

“I’d made my decision, and I was okay with it,” she said, nodding as if to help convince herself. “It was just that when she looked at me… God, those eyes. She still has your eyes, Ford. And her eyes-your eyes-they’ve haunted me for seventeen years.”

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“No, that’s you.”

Well, hell. It was.

“You were so good with her today,” she said and sniffed. “You knew just what to say, and I… I froze.”

“You did fine. It was a shock.” Ford slid his fingers in her hair and tugged lightly until she lifted her face to his.

Her eyes shimmered, and she gave him a small smile that reached across the years and all the emotions, and grabbed him by the throat. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he cupped her face and lowered his mouth to hers, just as Mia came back into the room.

After an interminable beat of silence, she said, “I don’t know whether to cheer or be grossed out.”

“Did you find the computer?” Tara asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Yes.” Mia turned to Ford. “You’re up in the voting so far, but not by much. Maybe you should help a few ladies across the street today if you get the chance.” She grabbed her plate of pie and paused, head cocked as she studied the both of them. “Were you two really just about to kiss again?”

Tara winced. “Only a little bit.”

“But you’re not together,” Mia clarified.

Tara winced again. “No.”

Mia studied them both. “I don’t have any siblings, do I?”