If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(6)

"Very different. I have no idea how to talk to a little girl. And I don't know what her mother told her about me. I also don't know why Justine never tried to find me to let me know she was pregnant or had a child. I would have done the right thing. I would have supported her."

"She didn't know you. You didn't know her."

"We made a kid."

"Yeah, but who knows if she could have even found you after that night. She might not have known your last name."

He would have thought that was possible if Justine hadn't put his name down on the birth certificate, because he hadn't remembered Justine's name until the social worker had shown him a photograph and given him the date of Ashlyn's birth. He'd counted backward and realized that he'd hooked up with Justine while he was on leave in Miami. He'd been celebrating his twenty-first birthday, and she'd been on spring break.

They hadn't done a lot of talking that night. It had been sex and drinking and more sex and more drinking. He'd left the next day for an eleven-month deployment, and he'd never seen or heard from her again.

"She put me down as the father; she just didn't tell me," he said.

"Maybe it's better that she didn't. You might not have had the career you've had if she'd told you she was having a baby. It would have changed your life."

He knew that and there was a selfish part of him that was a little happy that he hadn't had to figure out how to be a father at twenty-one. But there was also another part of him that felt angry with her silence and the distance she'd put between him and his child.

If Justine hadn't died unexpectedly, would he have ever known he had a daughter? Somehow he didn't think so.

The door to the clinic opened, and Dr. Eva Westcott walked out with Ashlyn.

His daughter had no expression on her face, and her hands were in the pockets of her shorts, making it clear she had no interest in holding Dr. Westcott's hand.

Eva was an attractive, cool blonde who wore a straight black skirt and a cream-colored blouse.

Jeremy couldn't help noticing that Kent stood up taller when Dr. Westcott approached.

"Hello," Eva said calmly, as she walked Ashlyn over to the car. "Ashlyn and I had a good talk today."

"Really?" he asked, unable to keep the doubt out of his voice.

She gave him a pointed look that told him that wasn't the right thing to say.

Ashlyn walked past him and got into the car without saying a word.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Did she really talk to you?"

"She responded to some pictures that we looked at together, a few words here and there. This is going to take time, Mr. Holt."

"Please call me Jeremy. I do understand that it will take time. I just want to know how I can help her get better faster."

She gave him a compassionate smile. "Just be there for her. Ashlyn needs to learn how to trust you. Only then will she be able to share her emotions and her thoughts."

"How do I get her to trust me?"

"Be her father."

"I don't really know how to do that."

"Well, she doesn't know what she expects you to do, either. She lived alone with her mother. Having a father is as foreign to her as having a daughter is to you. You'll find your way together."

"I hope so." He paused. "Why do you think she won't talk?"

"Her voice is the one thing she can control when every other part of her life is in chaos. But she can speak, and she will."

"When?"

"When she has something she needs to say."

"Great," he said, feeling even more frustrated by that vague answer.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'll see you on Friday. Please feel free to call if you have questions before then."

"Thanks."

"Do you have a minute, Eva?" Kent asked.

She checked her watch. "I have a patient in ten minutes."

"It won't take that long. I'll walk you to your office."

As Eva and Kent went into the clinic, Jeremy got behind the wheel of his SUV. He'd always driven a truck, but he'd needed a more family-friendly car since he got Ashlyn, so he'd joined the SUV crowd.

Ashlyn stared straight ahead, her hands clasped together in her lap.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "I was thinking we might pick up a pizza on our way home." He was getting used to answering his own questions. He took her silence for a yes. "Great, we'll do that then. Dr. Westcott said you had a good talk today," he added, as he pulled out of the parking space. "One of these days you and I are going to have a good talk, too. I want to get to know you, Ashlyn, hear about your life. I have a lot of questions. You probably do, too. We don't know much about each other, but we're family. And we're going to be together." He gave her a sideways glance and realized her expression hadn't changed a bit. She looked frozen. Had she even heard him?

Maybe there was more wrong with her than even Dr. Westcott knew.

On the other hand, there was something about the set of her profile that reminded him a little of himself. He'd withdrawn from the world after his mom passed away from cancer. It was the only way he knew how to deal with the well-wishers who really just pissed him off with words that made no sense to him.