Til There Was U Read online

  Before he could answer she stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek, then stepped back, taking him in head to toe. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here? Why aren’t you in California building stuff like you always are? And you brought a ... friend.”

  The woman’s expression slipped a notch. It slipped several more as she glanced at Effie. California girl makes bad first impression on Tennessee woman. She continued, “I ought to be mad as a hornet that you haven’t been home in two years, but I’m so all-fired glad you’re here, I can’t be mad at all.”

  Ryan grinned and took a little box from his pants pocket and handed it to her. “I missed your birthday.”

  She tossed her head and tried to look perturbed. “And I’m supposed to just up and forgive you for not getting here more often, is that it?” She lifted the lid, and her eyes widened as she held up a gold bracelet. “Honey, you are so forgiven.” She laughed and kissed Ryan again.

  Ryan O’Fallon remembered a birthday? This from the man who came to work on Thanksgiving because he forgot it was Thanksgiving? Of course the reason she knew he was there was because she was there, too.

  “So, what’s going on, Thelma?” Ryan asked. “And don’t say nothing’s going on, because there’s a baby in that house”—he nodded in that direction—”and I’m supposed to be the father, right?”

  She looked from the bracelet to Ryan. “I’m thinking this is a bribe more than a present.”

  “When I called, Dad wouldn’t talk about the baby. Told me to stay where I was. Seems a little strange since she’s my offspring.”

  “Well, you should have done what he said, but it’s too late now.” Thelma let out a deep breath and nodded at the river. “Better go see your daddy before things get any more complicated, as if they could. That man’s got his hands full.”

  “Meaning... ?”

  “Meaning you best be seeing him alone. He’s down at the docks, wrestling with barge schedules. I’ll take care of your girlfriend ‘til you get back.”

  Girlfriend? “I’m Effie Wilson.” Effie held out her hand. “Ryan and I work together, just work.”

  Thelma’s eyes brightened, and she chuckled as she shook Effie’s hand in a friendly grip. “And not his girlfriend? Well, that sure does help some. Glad to meet you. I’m the chief cook and bottle washer around here. Have been since Ryan and his two brothers were whiny pups.”

  Ryan opened his mouth, but Thelma waved her hand at him as if shooing a fly. “You best be finding Rory. He’s going to be surprised to the bottom of his toes to see you, that much I know for sure.” She wagged her head slowly. “You should have stayed in California.”

  “With my daughter being here? Who brought her here, Thelma? Who’s the mother? Where is she now? Why didn’t she hang around or at least call me? Why didn’t you all call me? Hell, I’m the father. Right?”

  “Go find your daddy. He’s the man with the answers.”

  Chapter 2

  Which meant what? Ryan wondered while walking across the grass to the road that led down to the dock. The deep resonating sound of an idling towboat drifted his way, and he looked out onto the rolling Mississippi, spying a line hauler sitting in the channel. It gleamed crisp and white in the afternoon sun. River Rat on the name board across the upper deck in red, O’Fallon Transport underneath in the same color and the O’Fallon flag of four red stars, one for each of the O’Fallon men, on a yellow field flying from the top just under the stars-and-stripes.

  A hundred and fifty feet of boat was one hell of a lot of boat. Probably here to change crews and take on fuel and provisions, the only reasons these workhorses stopped. Too big an investment to let sit idle.

  The humidity of summer on the river settled in around him, gluing his shirt to his skin. Maple and poplar trees hugged the slopes, air hung heavy and still, and dragon-flies darted low over the muddy banks. A turtle rested on a chunk of driftwood, and an egret stood in the shallows watching for dinner. Sweat slithered between Ryan’s shoulder blades as the landing did a slow bake in the sweltering sun.

  He walked onto the solid concrete-and-steel dock anchored to the bottom of the river and started for the houseboat at the end that served as the offices for O’Fallon Transport.

  “Hey, Ryan,” came a voice from behind him. Ryan turned and faced Deek Prescott. They had graduated high school together but weren’t exactly friends. Deek grinned and held out his hand, “Long time no see. You sure got a cute baby. What’s she doing here without you?” His grin broadened. “Bet that’s some good story.”

  “Yeah, damn terrific.” Ryan shook hands and hurried on down the dock, not wanting to answer questions until he had some answers himself. He walked past reels of cable used to lash barges together, coils of thick dock line, steel drums and a forklift. Everything neat and tidy. A disorganized dock was a deadly dock.

  He spied Rory down at the far end where a harbor tug powered up for work, its engines vibrating the concrete and metal into his shoes and penetrating his very bones. He knew the feeling well; he’d worked the docks half his life and run barges the other half. . . ‘til he moved to San Diego. He caught his father’s eye and waved.

  Rory O’Fallon dropped his clipboard, stared, blinked and nearly walked off the end of the dock. His father did not walk off docks. There was a hell of a lot more going on here than Ryan O’Fallon, missing daddy.

  Ryan pointed toward the office. They couldn’t talk out on the landing with the racket. Besides, everybody and their grandmother would be watching.

  He followed his dad inside, past empty desks, the workday nearly over. Air-conditioning along with the blue-tinted windows offered a bit of heaven against the brutal sun. Still not saying a word, they headed straight into Rory’s office, and he closed the door behind them. His craggy brows pulled together in one line, his blue eyes tired, his face drawn. “What the hell are you doing here, boy? You don’t show up for two whole years, and then when I want you to stay put, you come. What the hell’s that? Kids! Do they ever do what you want ‘em to? Shit-fire no!”

  Ryan laughed. “Hello to you, too.”

  Rory raked his hand through his hair, and his face relaxed. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Did you really think I’d stay away after that phone call yesterday?”

  “Hell, yes. Everything’s fine and dandy here, so why don’t you just get yourself on back to Calif—”

  “Dad, talk to me.”

  “Balls of fire, what do you think I’m doing! You being here is just making things worse than they already are and getting more people involved. That’s not good for anybody. I can handle this.”

  Ryan pointed to his dad. “You’re going to handle my baby?”

  “Your baby? Ha!” Rory kicked his trash can across his office. It ricocheted off the wall, tipped over, scattering paper across the floor. He snagged a picture off his desk and thrust it at Ryan. “Bonnie’s not your baby; she’s mine, dammit. I just can’t let anyone know. There, .now you found out the big secret and you can go back where you came from and I’ll take it from here. But keep your mouth shut, you hear. I was doing just fine ‘til that reporter got his nose into this, making a big mess.”

  Ryan felt the air go right out of his lungs, the same reaction he’d had yesterday when he got that call from the Landing Times. He plopped down in a chair. “What are you talking about!”

  “I know, I know. There’s no excuse for not claiming your offspring, but there’s a damn good reason here or I wouldn’t have gotten you involved and—”

  “You’re fathering children at your age?”

  Rory’s head snapped back as if he’d been doused with cold water. “My age! What’s wrong with my age?” He peered at Ryan through slitty eyes and pointed at him as he had when he was ready to skin him alive when he was a kid. “I’ll have you know that fifty-two is not one foot in the grave. I cannot only father children, I can care for Bonnie and—”

  “But you are fifty-two
, for godsake.”

  “I just said that, and you’re thirty-one. So what’s your point?”

  “You have a ... I have a .. . What the hell’s happening around here!”

  Ryan felt his brain roll around in his head like a rock in a box as his dad said, “Daughter and sister? Are those the words you’re looking for?”

  “Where’s the mother? Why are you passing me off as the father?”

  Rory sat down in the chair behind his desk and gazed out the big windows to the river, the sun sinking toward the horizon setting the sky afire with pinks and red. “There’s the rub. I need for everyone to think Bonnie is yours. Couldn’t pass Bonnie off as Keefe’s baby. Him being a soap opera star, the publicity would be all over the place in no time. Reporters will dig and dig, tormenting the piss out of everyone to get the truth and splashing Bonnie’s name everywhere. Quaid was in that isolated station in Kodiak, Alaska, doing search-and-rescue with twenty other Coast Guard guys for company for two months. He sent E-mails back to the school kids here for their social studies class, so everyone knows he can’t possibly be the daddy.”

  “So the honor fell to me.”

  Rory stood and did the O’Fallon pace—ten steps across, three up, ten back and three to complete the rectangle. Rugs in the house had been worn threadbare with this pattern.

  “Mimi DuPont’s the mother and—”

  “Wasn’t she your office manager about a year ago?”

  Rory paced a little faster. “And she’s in some kind of trouble or she never would have up and left here one night without so much as a see-you-around. Then she came back in the middle of the night and dropped Bonnie off on the screened-in porch without any explanation. If whoever is after Mimi thinks Bonnie is her baby, it might put the baby in harm’s way, least that’s the way Thelma and I see the situation.”

  “Where the hell is Mimi now?”

  “Damned if I know. I have a PI turning up the countryside for her right now. Bonnie arrived on our doorstep in the middle of the night with the gold four-leaf clover necklace I’d given to Mimi. I know her, and the only way that woman would part with her baby, our baby, was if there was a big problem she couldn’t handle alone and wanted Bonnie safe.”

  Rory ran his hand over his face which had suddenly paled. “I just wish she’d trust me enough to let me help her, too,” he said as much to himself as Ryan.

  Ryan studied the baby picture on his dad’s desk. “She’s got our eyes.”

  A slow grin split Rory’s face, and his color returned. He looked vibrant and proud now. “And she’s got the O’Fallon temper, a yard long and a mile wide.”

  Ryan laughed. “Poor Bonnie.”

  “Christ-in-a-sidecar, boy. It’s poor us! Wait ‘til she cries .. . not that she does much of that with Thelma and me around. But she sure can cut loose and rattle the windows when she wants something. She’s O’Fallon clear to the bone. A mind of her own and Mississippi River water in her veins like the rest of us.”

  Ryan stood and put his hand on his dad’s shoulder. “I’m going to help you with this as long as it takes. I brought another architect with me, we’re working on a project together, but I’ll send her back to San Diego tomorrow and get her out of the way. Then I’m hanging out here ‘til we get this cleared up and you find Mimi. Besides, it won’t look too convincing that Bonnie’s mine if I go trotting off to California and not take her back with me.”

  Rory let out a tired sigh. “I know you don’t like it here much, never did, and you got your career to consider. But I do appreciate you staying on. With a little luck this will all be taken care of in a week or two, and you can be on your merry way.”

  “Have any idea what kind of trouble Mimi’s in?”

  Rory sat on the edge of his worn desk, carved wood heron perched on one side and the salvaged bell from the Bootsie B on the other. “Not the foggiest. I’m guessing Mimi’s not even her real name. She came here looking for work, and we needed some filing done, no need to check references for that. But the woman’s a managing wizard and got this whole damn office humming along like a well-tuned fiddle in no time. We spent time together, got real close.”

  He wagged his head and looked at Ryan. “This wasn’t just some fling with Mimi, I want you to know that. I planned on marrying her, and she accepted. Then something happened and she took off. If I could just find out where the hell she is, I could make everything right.”

  “She’ll turn up. Whatever it takes we’ll find her. But for right now why don’t you introduce me to my daughter.”

  Rory’s eyes met Ryan’s, and Ryan noticed a spark behind the cloud of worry. His dad loved Mimi and Bonnie. They were his family every bit as much as he, Quaid, Keefe and Thelma.

  “I’d like nothing more than for you to meet Bonnie. You just wait, she’s a real charmer.”

  “Hey, she’s an O’Fallon.” Ryan shared a chuckle with his dad as they left the building. The tows were gone now; the only sound was the hum of insects and water lapping the shore. “Nothing like the river,” Rory said as they turned up the road, and saw Max coming down to greet them.

  “How many times do you think you’ve said that over the years?”

  Rory patted Max. “Couple million, I suppose. Hope Thelma’s got some iced tea waiting. It’s hotter than blazes and hinges on Hades out here.”

  “And pecan pie,” Ryan added. “I have dreams about that pie.”

  They passed under the maple tree that had been at the bend in the gravel road as long as Ryan could remember. Rory said, “Seems to me somebody your age should be dreaming about other things than pie.”

  “Yeah, well, right now, after the baby scare, pie is just fine by me.”

  “That’s because you haven’t met the right woman.” They turned off the road that continued on into town and walked across the grass under the oaks toward the house.

  “How do you know, Dad. How do you know when you’ve met the right one?”

  “When you do, you won’t be asking me that question. You’ll be telling me to set another place at the table ‘cause this here is the gal for you.” He nodded ahead. “Who’s that by the white car?”

  A woman in shorts, white blouse, barefoot and with a big purse slung over her shoulder was pulling something from the backseat. “The car’s my rental, but I don’t know who ... Holy cow! Effie?”

  “Who’s Effie?”

  “I. . . I’m not sure,” he said to Rory as much as to himself as he took her in. Golden hair hanging free instead of bound up in some business do, a flimsy little blouse and ... lots and lots of bare legs. No wonder she didn’t want to lose her tan. Ryan ran his hand around the back of his neck. “I’m not sure at all and that’s not good.”

  “I don’t know who you’re looking at, boy, but that gal is mighty fine.”

  California Effie he could handle, but this? Who the hell was this? She gave a final tug, the suitcase sliding all the way out, making her stumble backward and fall on the ground, the luggage landing on top of her.

  Ryan rushed across the grass and picked up the luggage. Rory took Effie’s arm and helped her up. “Are you okay, little lady? You should have waited for someone to help you with that thing. Could have squashed you flatter than a frog on the freeway.”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she said to Rory with a genuine smile, making Ryan suddenly want her to smile at him like that. “The porter at the airport must have jammed that suitcase in the back. Like a size twelve foot in a size nine shoe.”

  Rory’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I’ll be. Haven’t heard that expression in a coon’s age. A real country girl.”

  Effie laughed, and Ryan’s insides did a little flip. She’d never laughed open and carefree like that before either. She said, “Born and raised in San Diego, but my grandparents lived on a farm. This place reminds me of it, sort of brings out that country girl you mentioned.”

  Ryan nudged the suitcase. “What the hell’s in this thing? And where’d you get those clothes? You never dress
like this.”

  She turned his way. “I only packed slacks. I hadn’t planned on the blast furnace you all call the weather around here and being out in it. Thelma lent me clothes.” Effie smoothed the blouse and shorts. “Wasn’t that nice of her?”

  “Thelma does not own short-shorts.” Did she just say ‘you all’?

  “Rolled them up. And as for the luggage, I packed a fax machine and printer along with toner and paper so I can set up an office in the dining room. Thelma said it was okay with her and—”

  “You packed office equipment?” Ryan watched a hint of breeze tease the wisps of blond hair curling in the humidity at her temples.

  “You’re the one who said the Landing was nothing like our office, that this place was rural.”

  “I didn’t say they used stone tablets and smoke signals.”

  “Well, that’s what you implied. All I know about Tennessee is that it has mountains and they filter whiskey through ten feet of sugar-maple charcoal.” Effie shrugged. “One of my old boyfriends was a whiskey snob.”

  “I’m Rory O’Fallon,” Rory said on a chuckle as he nodded at Ryan. “His daddy and happy as all get-out to meet you. The two of you together is damn interesting, I’ll tell you that.” He held out his hand to Effie.

  Ryan felt as if he were seeing Effie for the first time, like when she’d come into his office all those months ago and knocked him on his ear. Trouble was, she was more beautiful now than then. He was certainly seeing parts of her he’d never seen before. Bare legs, bare arms, buttons open down the front of her blouse hinting at delectable cleavage where he suddenly wanted to bury his face. Shit!

  Why couldn’t he work with the big fat guy down the hall and have him along now? Because the big fat guy wasn’t half the architect Effie Wilson was.