Free Pulling Home by Mary Campisi Page B

some ridiculous excuse about promising to take Kara for ice cream, as though he were dense or at least, considerate to their situation. Jack was neither. “Her grandparents will be thrilled to take her. Have my father give you directions to my house. It’s in Landemere, thirty minutes from Holly Springs. Be here at eight.”
    By 8:15, Jack started doubting whether she’d show. She might just call later and tell him to take his papers and go to hell. They both knew it wasn’t about the papers. It wasn’t even about Kara. It was about ending what had started too many years ago— closure. Finding out the whys that made him jumpy when Kara was around, made him refuse to think about Audra, which of course, never worked. He’d only seen one picture of her in nine years. She sat on a swing, her dark head thrown back in laughter, eyes closed, lips open. Pure bliss . Her cotton shirt stretched over a belly ripe with child. In that instant, Jack knew if he didn’t erase her from his life, he would end up hating his brother for taking something Jack considered his. But had she ever been his? He intended to find out.
    The doorbell rang at 8:35. Jack downed the rest of his scotch and slid into a pair of beat-up loafers. He’d worn jeans and a T-shirt with paint splotches to prove she didn’t matter. When he opened the door, there she was, staring back at him in her designer top and slacks, her feet in tiny pumps with rhinestones. She might have been nervous but he’d have to remove the first and second layer of skin to detect anything close to heat.
    “May I come in?”
    “Sure.” Jack held the door wide, determined not to inhale the faint scent of
    expensive cologne that reminded him of the honeysuckle she’d worn when he first met her. This one, of course, would cost much more. After all, it was all about the money now, and the appearance. Wasn’t it? He intended to find that out, too. And where Dr.
    Perfection fit into the picture. “I thought we’d sit on the deck?” Open air, in front of God and the sky. Less likely he’d try to strangle—or kiss her. “I’ve got wine, water, tea?”
    “Scotch?”
    Interesting. “Scotch it is.” At nineteen, she’d barely been able to sip a beer. They made their way to the deck and Jack handed her the glass, careful not to touch her skin.
    He sank into a lounge chair and sipped his drink. He’d built this house two years ago, 3,500 square feet of stone-washed brick, a tribute to his father’s profession.
    “You have a beautiful home.”
    Kind words. Forced. He wanted none of it. All he wanted was the truth. The
    evening sun shot through her hair, sparking bursts of red and auburn highlights. The first time he saw her she’d been standing against the window of his apartment and the sun had been in her waist length hair...
    “...and an incredible view.”
    “Did Christian know about us?” There. Finally, he’d spoken the words he’d held
    inside for nine years. She jerked and spilled scotch on her slacks. The wet spot seeped into the beige fabric but she didn’t seem to notice. “Answer me, dammit.”
    She closed her eyes and sat very still, head bent as though pulling away to an
    untouchable place where not even his cruel words could harm her. Why did she have to make it so very difficult? A simple yes or no to clear up the years of wondering would be sufficient. Unless she was hiding something from him. Something deep and dark. “Is Kara my child?”
    Her head shot up. “No!”
    Jack clinked the ice in his glass and considered her vehement denial. “If you do the math, it’s a little off.”
    “She’s not your daughter.”
    “Is that the truth or a wish?” He’d never wanted to face the possibility that Kara could be his daughter, but with Christian gone and Audra two feet from him, he had no choice.
    “Kara’s not your daughter,” she repeated with such disgust he wondered how she
    ever let him touch her in the first place. He didn’t need to wonder