Chapter Five

Dave stood in the hallway for what felt like an eternity. How could he face his father and ask if Lara Calhoun was the daughter of the woman he had once loved? Still, he had to know. There was a connection between him and Lara. He'd felt it from the beginning. This could explain it. Perhaps they were destined to find the happiness that had eluded their parents.
He forced himself to walk into the living room, where his father was watching a basketball game. "Dad?"
His father blinked, then regarded him with surprise. "Back already? Didn't your date go well?"
Was there disappointment in his voice? Dave wondered. "Actually we postponed it," he told his father. "There's something I need to ask you."
"Shoot."
"Do you know Lara Calhoun?"
"No."
Dave looked him straight in the eye. His father had never lied to him, not once. "Did you know her mother?"
His father looked away, then sighed heavily. "Yes. Susan Calhoun was the woman I was engaged to marry. She was Susan Davis then."
"Why would Mitch Calhoun call you to do a repair job over there? Or didn't he know about your past with his wife?"
For the first time ever, his father looked guilty. "He didn't call. I sent you over there on my own. I wanted you to meet Susan's daughter. Call it a whim, but I knew it was the right thing to do."
Dave regarded his father with bemusement. "But the steps were wobbly."
"It was an old house. I figured the odds were in my favor."
"Oh, Dad," he said, not sure whether to laugh or cry.
"She looks just like her mother," Peter said, his expression nostalgic. "I've seen her over the years, never up close, always by chance. Of the three girls, Lara was most like Susan."
"She's beautiful," Dave said.
"And you were drawn to her, isn't that right? Don't walk away from this because of my part in arranging the meeting."
Dave reached for his father's hand, gave it a squeeze. "I'm not going to walk away," he said quietly, then admitted to his father...and himself, "I don't think I could."
* * *
Lara was still sitting in the attic, that snapshot clutched in her hand, when the doorbell rang. It was Dave. She knew it was. How could she face him, knowing what she knew, that her mother and his father had once been engaged, that his father had broken her mother's heart? The picture had been undeniable proof. The man in it had looked exactly like Dave, same square jaw, same eyes, same tousled, sun-streaked hair from working outdoors.
In the snapshot he had been holding a baby. She had known instinctively that the baby was Dave, the man who had suddenly appeared in her life just that afternoon. The man who was already close to stealing her heart.
She took her time going downstairs this time, debating her options, weighing what was right...for her mother, for herself.
When she opened the door, Dave took one look at her face and said, "You know, don't you?"
She nodded and held out the picture. Her hand trembled. "I found this in the trunk along with more valentines. He's your father, isn't he?"
Dave nodded, looking as stricken as she felt, yet calmer somehow, as if he'd come to some sort of a decision, as if he'd made peace with it.
"Yes," he said. "If you'll invite me in, I'll explain. I'll tell you everything I found out tonight."
Lara shook her head. "Not here." Not in her father's home.
"I invited you out to dinner. It's not too late to go."
She looked into his eyes, saw what her mother must have seen in Peter Lafferty's eyes so long ago — a hint of vulnerability, an irresistible sexy charm. And that stunning sense of connectedness.
She nodded at last. "Let me get my purse."
He grinned. "And your shoes," he suggested with a pointed glance at her stocking feet. "Unless you want me to sweep you into my arms and carry you like Cinderella after the ball."
She laughed despite herself. "A lot's happened today that doesn't make much sense. I think I better keep my feet planted firmly on the ground."
He shrugged. "Whatever you say."
It was past 10:00 by the time they ate, past midnight by the time they had pieced together as much of the story as each of them knew.
"I wasn't ready for what happened today, not any of it, but I know I want to see you again," Dave said as he walked her to her front door. "If I learned nothing else from what happened to my father and your mother, I learned that it's important to seize something that feels right."
Though she agreed with the lesson, Lara was hesitant. So much about today had been disconcerting, downright upsetting, in fact.
But then there had been the undeniable magic, that irrefutable sense of destiny. She might be young, but she was wise enough to understand that magic didn't come along all that often.
"We can't do this if it's only about the past," she said at last. "We can't make up for what went wrong between our parents."
Dave cupped her cheek in his hand, brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip as his gaze locked with hers. Lara felt a rush of heat more than equal to the night's frosty air. When he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, she trembled with the wonder of the kiss. That sense of magic that had been with her all day deepened.
"That's the here and now," he said softly but emphatically when he released her. "No, it's more than that. It's the promise of the future. How can either of us risk losing it by walking away?"
"I don't want to," she admitted.
"Then don't. This is about you and me. I don't know where this is going, but it feels right to me. As inexplicable as it is, it's felt right ever since I caught you at the foot of the stairs wearing that wedding dress that your mother intended to wear when she married my father."
It had felt right to Lara, too. Still, she hesitated, then glanced at the brilliant night sky with its scattering of stars. A year ago, when her mother had died, Lara had stood in this very spot, broken-hearted, staring at the sky. She had chosen a star just beyond the Big Dipper and convinced herself it was her mother, watching over her. She glanced that way now, found her star, saw it wink against the black velvet of the night, and she had her answer.
She met Dave's gaze, then reached for him. "I know it's past midnight, but happy Valentine's Day," she whispered just before she kissed him.
"I'm going to see you in that dress again one day," he said.
Lara lifted her eyes to the sky once again, then smiled. "I know."
The End