Someone Like You
Page 22

The tears spilled onto her cheeks. Jill pulled her close and rocked back and forth.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, knowing that while Mac might have gone through a tough time, there was nothing, save death or serious injury, that excused disappointing his daughter.
“He didn’t come the next time, either, and I stopped asking when he would see me. And then Mommy said I had to spend the summer here.”
Jill felt more out of her depth than she’d ever been in her life.
“Did you and your dad ever talk about this?” she asked, wanting to help, but not sure how.
“Yeah.” Emily sniffed. “He said he was sorry and that he’d never do it again.”
“But you don’t believe him.”
Emily didn’t answer.
Jill wondered if there could be anything worse than wanting to trust a parent and not being able to.
What could have happened to keep Mac from Emily? She’d seen them together and knew how much he loved his daughter. Nothing about this made sense.
“Are you having a good time here?” she asked.
“With you and Bev.”
“With your dad?”
Emily shrugged.
Jill wished she had a psychology expert on call to help with this.
“When you’re mad at your dad, do you feel funny in side?” she asked. “Sort of bad?”
Emily looked at her and nodded several times.
Guilt, Jill thought. It strikes at any age. “Do you think your dad loves you?”
Mac stood just inside the kitchen and held his breath. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but neither Emily nor Jill had heard him knock. Now he stood frozen in place, un able to move and desperate to hear his daughter say yes.
But there was only silence.
Inside he ached with the pain of what he’d lost. What he could only blame himself for and how much it had cost Emily. There was no excuse. There couldn’t be.
If he could go back, he would change everything. Not an option, he reminded himself as he continued to wait.
“Maybe,” came the whispered response.
“Maybe, huh?” Jill said. “I happen to know he loves you a lot. He told me and you know it’s wrong to lie to lawyers.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. So he had to be telling the truth.”
Something hit the floor.
“I think that was one of my curlers,” Jill said.
“We need to finish.”
He heard a thump, as if Emily had jumped to the floor. Mac backed out of the kitchen and went home to wait a few minutes before claiming Emily. He needed to figure out how to handle what he’d heard.
How did he explain to an eight-year-old child that he’d been in such hell, it had hurt to keep breathing? That nothing had mattered, except her, only he hadn’t known how to show that? How did he explain screwing up and hurting her? How did he make it right?
He had loved Emily from the moment he’d found out Carly was pregnant. Most men wanted a son, but he’d been delighted by his perfect daughter. He’d shared responsibilities, changing his shift to be home while Carly worked. Emily had been everything.
He’d lost her because he hadn’t been able to face what he’d become. And in losing her, he’d destroyed the love they shared.
He would get it back, he vowed. He would prove himself to her. If only he knew how.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JILL FOLLOWED the human resources director down the carpeted hallway and did her best not to do a little happy dance right there between the kitchen and the supply room. The Century City law offices weren’t just beautiful, they were blissfully familiar. Even the smell was just right—a combination of leather, wood and musty paper with a hint of carpet freshener thrown in for good measure.
She liked everything about the location—the floor-to-ceiling windows, the graduated sizes of offices which clearly spelled out authority, the amazing law library, even the little man who’d gruffly directed her to visitor parking in the cavernous underground lot beneath the building. She liked how everyone wore suits and was busy doing things and that there wasn’t a fish in sight. She didn’t even mind that just like in San Francisco, she was sitting in the middle of active earthquake faults and that, should a decent-size tremor occur, the building was going to sway like a theme-park ride.
Jill shifted her Tumi briefcase, the one she’d bought herself on her last promotion, to her left hand and squared her shoulders as her escort paused in front of a large, carved double door.
“First names,” the woman told her with a smile, “but Donald, never Don or Donnie.”
“Thanks.”
The HR director shook her head. “I’m the one who’s grateful. You have an incredible résumé and you pre sent yourself so well. We would be delighted to have you join us.”
“Thank you.” She put her hand on the door and pushed it open, then stepped into the privileged office of the senior partner.
The open office had been paneled in rich wood. The Oriental carpet underfoot had probably been handmade nearly a century before. Jill knew all about the dangers of navigating old rugs in high heels, so she kept much of her weight on her toes.
She crossed to the massive desk where Donald Ericsson rose and offered his hand.
He was a few inches taller than her, late fifties, with graying hair and thin features. He looked pleasant enough but there was plenty of steel in his gaze.
“I’m glad you came down on such short notice, Jill,” he said. “Everyone has been very impressed with you.”
“I’ve enjoyed meeting the team,” she told him sincerely. Back-to-back interviews with eight employees had only exhilarated her. She could see herself working here, fitting in, climbing the law ladder. She had this fantasy—okay, it was completely crazy, but one day—maybe—she would like to be a judge. L.A. had about four billion or so, so there was definitely room for one more.
“Let’s get comfortable,” Donald said, motioning to a grouping of leather furniture in the corner of his office. “Would you like coffee?”
“No, thanks,” she said as she walked across the rug. “I’m on cup twelve or so. If I had any more caffeine in my system, you could use me as an energy source.”
He chuckled and waited until she was seated before lowering himself into a club chair. “What do you think of our law firm?” he asked.
“I’m so impressed, especially with the level of commitment you have from your associates and partners, especially in terms of satisfying your multinational clients. I worked with several Japanese companies when I was in San Francisco.”
“I read that, and to be honest, Jill, that’s what attracted us to you. We need more expertise in that area.”
As he spoke, she nodded to show she was listening, but as her head bobbed, she caught sight of something shiny out of the corner of her eye. What on earth?
Carefully, slowly, she shifted in her seat and glanced to her right.
Oh…my…God.
No way. She returned her attention to Donald, but it was impossible to focus. This was not happening.
He chuckled. “You noticed her. Isn’t she a beauty?”
“Yes. Amazing.”
“She is. I harpooned her myself off the coast of Mexico about fifteen years ago. Bet you haven’t seen any thing like her before.”
Jill didn’t know what to say. The stuffed swordfish hung in a place of honor, right above the door. As for not seeing one like that before, she would be willing to swear that the one in her office was the twin or at least a sibling.
“Do you fish a lot?” she asked.
He grinned. “It’s more of a passion with me. Some partners prefer to conduct business on a golf course. Give me a powerful boat, a couple of tanks of diesel and I say, let’s take on the world.”
“Sounds exciting,” she said, trying not to giggle. Imagine coming so far only to find herself in a very up scale version of Dixon and Son.
EMILY CURLED UP in the kitchen chair, her knees pulled to her chest, Elvis on the table by her shoulder. Her dad chopped tomatoes for the salad and dumped them into the bowl.
Watching him was different than watching her mom, she thought. Mom made cooking look easy and fun. She talked and laughed a lot, letting Emily help. But her dad always scowled and seemed to work really hard at making everything come out. Everyone always talked about how great boys were and a lot of people said they were better and smarter than girls, but Emily didn’t think so. There was a lot of stuff boys couldn’t do at all.
“I’m not working on Saturday,” he said, when he’d finished with the last tomato and reached for a red pep per. “I thought we could go sailing together.”
She’d been about to point out that her shirt was more orange than red, but the thought flew right out of her head. They’d seen boats today, when she and Bev had been at the beach. Boats with big, white sails racing across the water.
“On the ocean?” she asked, too excited to pretend it didn’t matter.
He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned. “I’m not sure we could get a whole sailboat in a pool, so we’re pretty much left with the ocean.”
“You know how?”
“I’ve captained a boat or two in my time. A lady named Wilma at my work owns a sailboat and she said we could borrow it. Sound like fun?”
“Yeah.” She glanced at her pet rhino. “I guess Elvis shouldn’t come. He could fall overboard and get lost.”
“Good point. Even the small life vest would be too big for him.”
She squirmed in her seat, thinking about how much fun sailing would be. “Can I make the boat go?”
“Sure.” He finished with the pepper, then carried the salad to the table.
Emily had already set it, carefully putting out plates and napkins and forks. She and her dad each had a glass for milk.
He crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out the chicken dish Bev had given him earlier. It was wrapped in plastic and ready for the microwave. Emily noticed the red sauce that had been poured over the whole thing.
Looking at the sauce made her feel kind of bad. At Bev’s or when they went out, she ate whatever she wanted, but when she was with her dad, she still made sure her food matched her clothes. She didn’t think Bev had told him, but she wasn’t sure. Would he be mad if he found out? Would he tell her mom?
Emily didn’t like thinking about that. She didn’t like feeling funny inside. Maybe she should say something to him. Maybe…
“I like being in Los Lobos,” he said unexpectedly. “I like my new job. It’s different from what I did before.”
“You mean because you were a cop and now you’re a sheriff?”
He punched numbers into the microwave and pushed the start button, then turned to face her.
“That’s some of it. Where I worked before was different. There were more bad people. I didn’t like dealing with them. Do you remember how I worked a lot of hours?”
She remembered him being gone. She remembered him and her mom fighting about all the times he wasn’t home. She nodded slowly.
“You were tired a lot. Mommy used to say we had to be quiet so you could rest.”
He leaned against the counter. “Something bad happened at my work, Em. A man I worked with died.”
She stared at him. No one had told her. She thought about his friends—the ones he’d brought home. The one she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Uncle Mark?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Yeah.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t know what to say. She’d met Uncle Mark a few times and he’d always been nice to her. He was dead now, but she didn’t really know what dead meant. Gone. Not coming back. Was there more than that?
“Were you sad?” she asked.