Child of Mine (11 page)

Shifting the pickup into reverse, he wondered if, with all his talk of dating, he'd seemed too eager to replace her. Especially after she'd admitted not knowing how much longer she might stay.

He autodialed Laura's cell number, hoping to apologize again for his insensitivity, but the call went directly to voice mail. Jack placed his phone on the passenger seat, recalling the pathetic look on her face, and kicked himself all the way home. “I'll fix things tomorrow,” he promised himself and then realized Laura wasn't coming back to work till Saturday. He sighed with frustration.

Halfway home, it began to rain, and when he got to his street, he saw Laura's car and picked up the cell again. After a quick call to his favorite mechanic, arrangements were made to tow Laura's car back to the shop.

“Put it on my bill,” Jack told him. “And while you're at it, see if you can find anything else that might go wrong.”

Charlie agreed, and Jack left instructions to have him deliver the car to the farm when finished.

In the garage, Jack parked his truck cautiously next to the yellow dirt bike, which seemed to glow like a neon sign, and hurried over, amid the pelting raindrops, to Diane's. Nattie greeted him with undiluted relief.

“
Finally!
I thought you'd never get back,” Nattie said with a blend of humor and indictment.

In the house, Nattie rushed upstairs to brush her teeth while Jack went to his office, pulling out the narrow top drawer. He
removed Karen Jones's business card. Turning it around in his fingers, he recalled the meeting.
Wouldn't a psychologist make
an ideal mother for Nattie?

Besides that, Jack liked Karen. She was attractive; she seemed conscientious, insightful, if a little bossy.

Maybe bossy is good,
he reasoned, picking up the phone.

The rain grew fiercer, lashing at his windows and accompanied by a howling wind. Distracted, Jack got up to close the heavy drapes, hoping to muffle the storm.

Settling back down in his russet leather chair, he rehearsed the necessary words, practicing them aloud. “Hey, Karen, I'd like to take you out to dinner—”

“Dad?”

Jack swiveled around, heart jumping.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Oh, just grown-up stuff.”

“Wanna watch
Finding
Nemo
with me?”

“I thought you'd never ask. Give me a minute.”

Nattie scampered off to get things set up, which required her enormous blanket, at least three stuffed animal friends, and two bowls of ice cream—one for each of them. He'd just bought himself at least ten minutes.

In the meantime, Jack ditched the whole decision to review his pitch and simply picked up the phone and dialed Karen.

Right then, the doorbell rang, and he heard San calling, “Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?”

Jack hung up and Nattie dashed past his office. “Auntie San's here,” she announced.

In seconds, San peeked in, her hair wet and matted. “Hey, bro!”

Nattie squeezed in between San and the doorframe, eyes pleading, hands clasped prayerfully together—for what, he wasn't sure—probably to invite his sister to stay around for the movie.

“Perfect timing,” Jack said, gesturing for San to pull up a chair.

“Why?” Nattie fidgeted. “What's going on?”

“I need to talk to San . . . alone, sweetie.”

Nattie groaned. “More grown-up stuff?” she muttered. “There's too much of that in this house.” With that, she stomped off to the family room.

San closed the door, pulled the chair closer, and settled in. Her designer sunglasses were poised on top of her head, holding back still-dripping hair. “So . . . you haven't told her yet, I'm guessing?”

Less than a question, more of an insinuation.

“About?”

“New York. Hello?” San impatiently brushed the water droplets off her floor-skimming skirt.

Jack had completely forgotten. “I was searching for the ideal moment.”

San rolled her eyes. “Want
me
to do it?”

He leaned forward. “Listen . . . I've made a decision. And it's big.”

“Good for you.” San smirked. “Want a star sticker?”

“Be serious.” He cleared his throat. “I'm thinking about dating . . . that is . . . hoping to marry, well, ultimately.”

San scoffed. “Puh-lease. Don't toy with my emotions.” She stared at him closer, gauging his expression, her eyebrows furrowing. “Wait a minute. You're
not
kidding.”

“Nattie needs a mother.”

San grinned. “Will you simply forgo the falling-in-love part?”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but San was already moving on. “Marriage doesn't have to be as bad as our parents' was, you know.” She screwed up her face comically, and a sudden gust blew a splatter of rain against the window.

“Okay, brass tacks, Jack. Fact is I know a lot of eligible women. So thank me. You're in luck.”

Setting aside his thoughts of Karen, he decided to play along. “What about Anita? You mentioned . . . uh . . . that she'd asked about me some time ago.”

San grimaced. “You missed your chance, Jack. She's practically engaged now.”

“In what? Two days?”

San grabbed her purse, pulling out her cell phone, scanning her address book. “Here we go, Jack. Some of these women are lovely, but they talk a lot, and some of them are quiet, like you, but not so pretty. Attractive, sure, but not in the physical sense.”

Jack tried to keep up. “Any mommy types?”

“Um, before we get too far into this, Mr. Beanstalk, let me reiterate. Whomever you date will want to be romanced. Flowers and sun-drenched walks along the river, not to mention hand-holding. And, eventually, some kissing.”

“Got it.”

San blew out another breath. “Wait a minute. Have you told Nattie about
this
?”

Jack shook his head.

San frowned. “I doubt she'll see this as sunshine and kittens for all.”

“She'll come around.”

“Uh-huh. Right,” San said. “And what about Laura? How do you think
she'll
deal with this?”

“What
about
Laura?”

San seemed disturbed with Jack's naiveté, then turned her attention to her phone again. “Okay. So where do we want to start?” She punched the screen. “I have three names, right off the bat.”

Jack handed over the school counselor's business card. Accepting it, San examined the printing. She scowled. “This is Karen's.” She turned it over, her eyes narrowing. “Hold the phone.”

“So Karen's single. She loves kids.”

San looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. “She's definitely not your type.”

“And Karen's connected with her church, big time. So we're good.”

“She is
still
not your type.”

Jack pulled out his phone and began punching numbers. He placed the receiver against his ear.

“Please tell me you aren't calling her.”

Jack smiled, counting the rings. San leaned back in her chair and sneered at him. He smirked right back.

On the fourth ring, Karen Jones answered, somewhat surprised to hear from him. Jack made polite small talk, saying how much he appreciated her insight at the parent-teacher meeting. As he talked, he kept glancing at San, who simply shook her head with mock disgust. Then he asked Karen if she'd like to have dinner with him.

San rolled her eyes and whispered, “Tell her there will be a written test afterward.”

To
his
surprise, Karen was reluctant to accept. Had he misread her signals? Wisely, he backed up and tried a different course. “Perhaps coffee, instead?”

“Sounds nice,” Karen said. Then, taking the lead from him, she suggested a time and a place: Thursday, four o'clock in the afternoon, at Starbucks.

Jack said he'd look forward to that, said good-bye, and hung up.

San crossed her arms, gave him a smug look. “She wasn't too excited about dinner, I take it?”

“A minor blip. Other than that, I handled things swimmingly.”

“You're in way over your head, brother dear,” San said. “This woman will chew you up and spit you out.” She laughed, as though relishing the prospect. “But never fear, Jack.” She waved her cell phone in front of him. “I'll be here to pick up the pieces for my obstinate brother.”

“Not for long,” Jack reminded her.

“Oh yeah. I forgot! I'm moving to Noo Yawk!” San stood up and did a little jig, ending with a dramatic arm flourish.

Jack groaned, playing along. “If Nattie is anything like you when she hits her teens, I'm going to have my hands full.”

San's eyebrows rose in agreement. “I've been telling you that,
dear Jack. Now, as I recall, Nattie promised me a movie and popcorn
and
ice cream, and I intend to collect.”

Jack laughed. “Did she neglect to mention we're watching
Finding Nemo
?”

San's expression drooped.
“Again?”

A
t six o'clock the next morning, Kelly gladly passed the reins to Tom and Shelly, two new hires at the convenience shop. Shelly's face was riddled with piercings, a startling contrast to her bubbly demeanor. Clearly she was thrilled to have landed a job.

The day was already warm and humid as Kelly drove into the rising sun. She was famished, ready for a nice hot meal at Miriam's, an old-timey café just a mile or so up the road, known for their omelets and waffles. It was a favorite with the locals, and Melody was waiting for her there.

The plan to meet early would accommodate Kelly's sleep schedule, which worked fine for Melody, who often hit the gym right after dawn anyway.
“Trey said he'd handle breakfast with
the kids,”
Melody crowed when Kelly called her recently.
“He
owes me.”

Kelly had laughed and felt a tinge of wistfulness, hearing about Mel's married life.
Could've
been me
, she thought. Then again, in retrospect, Bobby had
always
been a ticking time bomb.

In the parking lot, she glanced into the rearview mirror and tried to rub a little life into her haggard features. With a sigh, she got out of the car and headed for the diner, its storefront striped
canopy and picture window reminiscent of a 1940s café. Inside, she spotted Melody sitting on a long vintage bench, wearing a slate gray jogging outfit. Mel rose immediately, and they exchanged hugs.

“I'm so glad to see you,” Melody said.

Kelly thanked her for coming, then they followed the hostess toward the back room, the fireplace section. The place was filled with hungry patrons, both the young hip crowd drinking lattes, and older men sporting crew cuts and baseball caps advertising farming equipment—a true melting pot of people and evidence of the restaurant's appeal.

Friendship was the last bastion of old age, or so it seemed from the looks of these coffee drinkers.
I could do worse,
she thought suddenly, and it struck her as rather odd. Until recently, relationships had been the last thing on her mind.

They were seated at a booth toward the back windows in their favorite room—the one bright with sunshine and mellow wood tones, giving an inviting old-world feel. The ambience was relaxing, even welcoming, after a long night working in a room with snacks, drinks, smokes, and, of course, lottery tickets.

Kelly placed her purse next to her and sat down. Melody pushed in across from her in the booth. “Remember the last time we came here?”

Kelly smiled at the memory.

“It was my eighteenth birthday,” Melody reminded her.

Kelly whistled.
Light-years ago.

“So when do you sleep, Kel?”

“Nine to whenever,” Kelly replied.

“And . . .
how
do you sleep?”

Kelly shrugged. “I put on a sleep mask and shut off my phone.”
Most of the time
.

Melody's bright eyes turned dim. “I'm really sorry you haven't found her yet. I can't imagine, Kelly.”

Dispatching the
elephant in the room
, Kelly thought.
Just dive right in
and get it out of the way.

“It's been a long time,” Kelly admitted. “But I'm still plugging away, you know. Knocking at doors. Pursuing leads.”

It sounded like a practiced speech, and in fact, it was. She'd been saying the same thing for years to whomever asked. Sometimes she still gave short talks at various church groups, although not so often anymore, and usually to disbelieving faces.
“I still
believe I'll find my daughter. It's my job
to believe. It's God's job to provide when He
sees fit.”

Melody's eyes filled with tears. “You're amazing, Kel. I remember thinking years ago that God allowed this trial because He knew you'd be strong enough to handle it.”

Kelly shrugged this away, slightly annoyed, but she knew Melody meant well. Truth was, there were times when she would have given anything to have been spared this suffering.
Who wouldn't?
Then there were other times when she was affected by a strange underlying feeling that things were exactly the way they were supposed to be for a reason, in keeping with the verse
All things work together for good to them that love
God, to them who are the called according to his
purpose.

The first time someone said that to her, she'd almost slapped him.
“How can anything good come
of this?!”

“It's only when you're empty
that you can be filled,”
Chet told her often, especially when despair nipped at her heels. Chet had a lot of these platitudes, and yes, sometimes she was tempted to slap him, too.

The waitress stopped by, asking for their drink order—water for Melody, orange juice for Kelly. Waiting, they talked about the old days, old teachers, old friends, and old jokes. Soon enough the waitress wandered by again, delivering their beverages and ready to take their order, but they hadn't even opened the menus. They didn't need to. They ordered the same thing they had always ordered: for Melody, blueberry waffles and a side of eggs over hard. And for Kelly, a vegetarian omelet. She wasn't actually a vegetarian, but she didn't care much for ham, sausage, or bacon. “
Crunchy carcinogens,”
her father had once called them.

When the waitress left again, Kelly leaned forward. “Thanks . . . for this.”

Melody nodded, almost too exuberantly. “I thought you'd forgotten about me.”

I did
,
Kelly thought.

Melody put a straw in her water, took a sip, and fixed Kelly with a serious look. “I want to help you again . . . looking for your daughter.”

Kelly was already shaking her head, thinking of Chet and Eloise. “I appreciate that, but I don't do much active fund-raising anymore.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes dimming slightly. “Do you still have that private detective?”

“Ernie.” She smiled. “Yes.”

“I liked him,” Melody replied. “He reminded me of my grandpa.”

Kelly laughed, conjuring up the image. Melody's grandfather Clarence
was
a sour-faced sweetheart. Just like Ernie.

“How's your family?” Kelly asked, and Melody obliged. It felt good to listen to her talk, to get a glimpse into her life again.

Why'd
I let her go?
Kelly wondered.

Melody rambled on about her husband, her father, her mother, her life as a housewife, but she didn't mention her daughter, Carly, until Kelly inquired. Melody hesitated but Kelly insisted.

“Are you sure?”

Kelly smiled. “Absolutely. I want to hear about your life.”

So Melody obliged again, and as much as it hurt, Kelly found solace in knowing that someone else's life was intact.

“I hope you know, I never stopped praying for you . . . for Emily to come home.” Melody smiled, dabbing at tears with her napkin.

“Thanks,” Kelly whispered, swallowing hard. “I need all the prayer I can get.”

While they enjoyed their meal, Kelly brought Melody up-to-date on her own life, her distant relationship with her mother—
“mostly
my fault”
—her tiny apartment, and her job, the perfect situation for frequent traveling.

Melody wiped her mouth with a napkin and suddenly looked very serious. She was about to speak when Kelly interrupted her. “I'm sorry for what happened between us.”

Melody was shaking her head. “I understand, Kel—”

“No. I really believed I was ruining your life with my mess. I mean, you had everything going for you: a loving husband, a new baby daughter.”

“If you think my life has been perfect, please don't. I just wish I could have been here for you all these years. And if you'll have me as your friend, I'm here now. Okay?”

“I'd like that.”

Together, they had a little cry, both swiping at their eyes, and then Melody forged ahead. “I wasn't going to say anything . . .”

Kelly nodded. “I know, I know. People keep telling me I look like I've been through the ringer and back.”

“You're just a little thin,” Melody said, diplomatically, folding her hands on the table. “Frankly, I was surprised you were still working the night shift.”

She'd never been a night person, and sleeping, under the best of circumstances, had never been that easy for her.

“Not everyone can pull it off, Kel. I've read it can really mess up your system.” She paused, considering her next words. “I don't want you to get mad at me—”

Kelly patted her arm. “Say what you want. You were my best friend, you know.”

“
Am . . .
your best friend.” Melody slid a business card across the table. “My dad always thought you walked on water—remember?”

Studying the card, Kelly smiled at the memory.

“He needs an office manager, someone who can also act as a receptionist. It's entry level, but the job pays well, and eventually you could move up.” Melody placed a piece of paper on the table, a job description.

Glancing at it, Kelly caught a few phrases:
Deliver high-caliber client service and technical support, provide
administrative support to
CIO, utilize CRM system and Microsoft Office
programs, maintain office filing system . . .

“I don't know . . .”

“Trust me.” Melody smiled. “I've already talked to Dad, and it took a split second for him to offer this.”

Kelly shook her head. “I appreciate it—”

“Don't say no yet. Please, just think about it?”

Kelly agreed but didn't see how changing jobs could possibly work for her situation. They talked a bit more, until Melody insisted on paying.

“I'm calling you, okay? And there's this thing called texting! Remember?”

Kelly laughed. “Got it.”

“Think about the job?” Melody asked again, then hesitated. “I care about you, Kel.”

They waved and Melody rushed off toward the parking lot, leaving Kelly suddenly alone again. Digging her car keys out of her purse, Kelly looked at the business card. She recalled Melody's father bantering with her, wanting to hire her out of college, but since Bobby had been making such good money, she'd decided to be a stay-at-home wife.
Is it time
to finally put my degree to use?

Kelly opened the door to her old beater, slammed the door shut, and considered the prospect of another sleepless day.

Something's
got to change,
she realized.

Just as Kelly was settling into bed, Ernie's secretary called, sounding frantic.

“I don't want to alarm you,” Cindy began, “but Ernie's been admitted to the hospital for pneumonia.”

“That bad?”

Cindy assured her that he was getting excellent care. “I'm closing down the office until he's back,” she said. “Without Ernie around, there's not much to do, and I've got some vacation days
to burn.” She gave Kelly the pertinent hospital information, including room number.

Kelly hung up, worried about the health of her crotchety PI. Silently, she turned her worries into prayer.

Too wound up to sleep, she padded to the kitchen, where she heard a subtle scratching at her door. She smiled.
Feed a
cat once, and you'll have to feed 'em for
life.

She opened the door and Felix strolled right in. Kelly poured a bowl with special cat milk and watched the hungry feline lap away, wondering how to fill her time if Ernie's hospital stay was longer than a few days.

How selfish is that?
Ernie's health was more important than what he could do for her. She looked again at the business card Melody had given her. Melody was right; the third shift was grueling. She was getting less sleep than ever. Despite that, a new job made her nervous. She'd leave behind a flexible boss, as well as flexible hours. But she would still have the weekends. Couldn't she fly all over the U.S. in two days' time?