Little Secrets. Maureen Child

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      “We do talk,” Jack said.

      “Not about anything important,” his father answered. “Not since you got back. It’s like you’re still too far away to reach.”

      “I’m right here, Dad,” he said, trying to help, knowing he was failing.

      “Part of you is,” his father agreed, “but not all of you. I wonder every day when my son will finally come home.”

      So did Jack. It was as if a piece of him had been left behind in the heat of a desert and he didn’t know when or if he’d find that part of himself again. Jack sat back and let a long breath slide slowly from his lungs. “I’m doing my best here, Dad.”

      “I know that.” Thomas stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and rocked uneasily on his heels. “I just wish there was something I could do to help. That you would let me do. I thought that stepping down, having you take over here, would make a difference. Drop you back into the world and, all right, force you to find your life again. But you continue to shut yourself off. From me, from your sister and brother. Hell, you haven’t even been on a date since you got back, son.”

      “I don’t want to date.” Lie. Everything in him wanted Rita, but he wouldn’t give in to it. He was in no shape to be in her life and he knew it.

      “Right there should tell you that there’s something wrong.”

      “I’m fine,” Jack said, hoping to head his dad off at the pass. He’d heard this before. Knew that his father had the best of intentions. But Jack couldn’t give the older man what he wanted most.

      Thomas shook his head, then nodded. “You’re not, but you will be. I wish you could believe me on that.” He walked toward his son, laid both hands on the desk and leaned in. “I know you don’t. Not yet. But someday you will, Jack. Just give yourself a chance, all right?”

      “I am.” He looked into his father’s eyes and lied again. “Everything’s good. I swear.”

      Nodding, the older man pushed up from the desk. “Okay. We’ll leave it there for now.”

      Thank God, Jack thought in relief.

      “On another subject entirely,” his father said, “I’m headed down to San Diego tomorrow. Sam and I are taking the boat out fishing for the weekend. Want to join us?”

      The Buchanan Boys, as his mother used to call the three of them, had gone on hundreds of fishing weekends together. And in the old days, there had been nothing Jack liked more than getting away with his younger brother and his father. But now, the thought of being caged on a boat in the middle of the ocean with a too-curious father and brother sounded like a nightmare. They’d hammer him with questions, he’d resent being prodded and they’d all have a crappy time.

      Besides, he told himself, there was Rita. Decisions to be made.

      “I can’t,” he said. “I’ve got plans I can’t get out of.” Not that Rita knew of his plan to corner her into talking with him about their baby.

      “Plans?” Thomas gave him a pleased smile. “That’s good, son. Really good. To prove how happy that makes me, I won’t even ask you what you’re going to be doing.”

      “Thanks,” Jack said wryly.

      “All right, then.” His father slapped his hands together then gave his palms a good scrub. “I’ve got to go by the house, pick up my fishing gear. Then I’m headed to San Diego. I’ll have my phone with me if you need to contact me.”

      “I won’t,” Jack assured him. “But thanks. And say hi to Sam.”

      “I will.”

      Once his father was gone, Jack took a long, deep breath and willed the tension out of his body. It didn’t work, so he got up, walked across the well-appointed office without even noticing the familiar furnishings.

      Beige walls, dark red carpet, thick and plush enough to take a nap on, and twin couches facing each other across a low wood table. Windows were on two walls and Jack had moved the desk out of the line of sight of both of them.

      Now, though, he walked to a far window and looked out over the sea. He didn’t look at the beach below or the crowd of early-summer sun worshippers spread out on the sand. Instead, he watched the steady rise and fall of the water as wind and its own weight formed ripples and waves that seemed to go on endlessly.

      It was quiet in the office and normally he treasured that. But now, that silence tapped at the edges of his mind like a persistent knock on a closed door. As that door opened, images of Rita flooded his brain, from before, from yesterday, until he half expected her to simply appear physically in the office. But that wasn’t going to happen.

      Rita would never come to him, she was too angry and he couldn’t blame her for it. But that wouldn’t stop him from doing what he had to do. She was pregnant with his child and damned if he’d ignore that.

      There was a knock on the office door just before it opened and his assistant stepped inside. A middle-aged woman with a brisk, no nonsense attitude, Linda Holloway said, “Excuse me, Mr. Buchanan, you’ve got a twelve-thirty meeting with the captain of The Sea Queen.”

      In the last four months, Linda had been responsible for Jack’s seamless takeover of his father’s position. She kept meticulous track of his schedule, his tasks and anything involving Buchanans. He was grateful, but right now, he didn’t appreciate the interruption.

      “The captain will meet you at the dock so you can take a walk-through of the areas you didn’t see on your visit last month.”

      “Yeah,” he said. “I remember.” The Sea Queen was their latest ocean liner. And yes, he did have to meet the captain if only to go over any last-minute concerns about the ship’s maiden voyage coming up in about a month. But not today.

      “Cancel it,” he snapped and stalked across the office.

      “What?” Linda watched him, eyes wide. “But the captain has come in from his home in Arizona specifically for this meeting.”

      Yet one more guilt straw landed on the bale already situated on his shoulders, but he accepted it and moved on.

      “It can’t be helped. I’ve got personal business to take care of. Put the captain up in the best hotel in the city and tell him we’ll meet tomorrow morning.”

      “But—”

      “Eight o’clock on the dock. I’ll be there and we can take care of this business then.”

      He snatched his suit jacket out of the closet and shrugged into it. What good was being the boss if you couldn’t make the rules?

      “But—”

      “Linda,” he said firmly, “I have somewhere to be and it can’t wait. Make this happen.”

      “Yes, sir,” she said, the slightest touch of defeat in her tone.

      He didn’t address it. “Thanks,” he said and walked around her to leave without a backward glance.

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