Child of Mine (20 page)

San called him the next day with the inevitable admonishment, “Aren't you answering your texts?”

He groaned inwardly, having forgotten to text Angela back. He should have known San was a third party to Angela's latest outreach.

“I've been busy,” he replied.

“Too busy to text back?”

Jack murmured something unsatisfactory.

San snorted. “I'm coming by tonight,” she announced. “I need to talk to you.”

That afternoon when he came home, San was already there, playing a computer game with Nattie, who was yelping because San was winning, which in Nattie's world meant cheating.

It gave him pause. How long had she been here? He headed for the backyard, looking for Laura.

“Jack?” San called, but he was already stepping outside. He found Laura tending the garden on the side of the house, kneeling in the dirt, weeding and feeding. She turned away for a moment, reaching to her face with her hand, then turned back and smiled toward him. She was crying.

“Are you okay?”

Her smile widened, betrayed by her glistening eyes. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

He felt his blood boil. He asked Laura about the day's gardening, and she told him, wiping her soiled hands on her apron and leading him around, pointing out her handiwork.

“Has San talked to you?”

She forced another smile. “Sure, but no worries.”

When Jack could hold it in no longer, he excused himself and walked back in. San saw him and dropped the controls. “I'm quitting while I'm ahead.”

“Auntie San!” Nattie protested, dropping her own controller. “I want a rematch!”

San leaned over and whispered in Nattie's ear, and Nattie nodded obediently, heading upstairs immediately. Noting Nattie's instant compliance, San smiled proudly. “I could teach you the secret to that.”

“What did you tell Laura, San?”

She looked surprised. He rarely spoke to her that directly. Without answering, she crooked her pointer finger and led him to the
dining room. She sat down as if preparing to give a momentous speech.

He joined her at the table, and San wasted little time. “Angela regrets what happened.”

“We had three dates,” Jack said. “We barely knew each other. And I've moved on.”

Considering this, San took a deep breath. Jack waited for the big announcement and she didn't disappoint. “I told Angela that you and Laura were
not
together, and that there was no
chance
of your being together.”

Jack felt his blood pressure rise. “So what did you say to Laura?”

San nodded. “Someone needed to put the cards on the table, and since you weren't going to, I did.”

Jack clasped his hands together. “San—”

“She assured me that she won't stand in your way. She even promised to do whatever she can to encourage Angela.”

“You have no right,” he said.

“But, Jack—”

“You've crossed the line, San.”

“I was
trying
to help.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. San leaned over, tapping the table to emphasize her point. “You will never find Nattie a mother as long as Laura is here.”

He shook his head, now standing up.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Jack gestured to the front door. “We're taking this where Nattie and Laura can't possibly hear.”

“Maybe they
should
hear,” San said, grabbing her purse.

Once Jack closed the door behind him, he continued, both of them standing on the front stoop. San took in the neighborhood, the possible eyes and ears, then muttered, “Yeah, Jack, this is much better.”

Jack turned to San, his stomach in knots. “You hurt Laura's feelings. She's out back, crying.”

San frowned. “Why would she be crying?”

Unbelievable,
Jack thought. He leaned against the front railing, preparing to say what he would surely regret later. “Listen to me, San, I don't want Nattie growing up thinking it's okay to say whatever she wants, regardless of how people might feel.”

San winced, but her jaw hardened. “I can't help who I am.”

“Try.”

San's eyes flashed in anger, and then a sudden
aha
crossed her features. “Wait a minute, are you actually in
love
with your Amish nanny?” As if that would have been a blight on his soul.

Jack sighed. “You've been jealous of Laura for years, San, for the place she holds in Nattie's heart.”

San shook her head as if she couldn't accept such a preposterous notion and headed toward her car. She turned angrily. “Call me when you come to your senses.”

Jack sighed again and hurried inside, only to find Laura standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing her hands, her face pale, eyes red. She looked at him and forced another smile.

“I'm sorry about that,” Jack said, trying to console her. “Don't listen to her.”

They stood there for a moment longer as the awkward silence spooled out. Nattie's bedroom door was still closed. She must have gotten engrossed in something. Finally Laura found her voice and softly murmured, “I didn't realize you quit dating Angela because of me. This is my fault, Jack.”

“No, it isn't.”

She stared at him, meeting his gaze like a lost child. “I need to get home.” She slipped past him, and he reached for her, grasping her arm. She stopped for a moment, meeting his eyes. “Let me go, Jack.”

“Can we talk about this?” he asked, releasing her.

She shook her head. “Talking won't change anything.”

“It might,” Jack insisted.

“It mustn't,” she said before leaving him alone.

With Ernie now back at work, Kelly dropped by with a welcome-back card and a gluten-free, sugar-free, fat-free cupcake.

Sitting at his desk, Ernie peered skeptically at her gift.

“It's on your approved dietary list.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered, opening Kelly's card, reading it.

Kelly sat across from him, noting how fatigued he seemed. At least his spirits seemed bright.

Ernie finished reading and swallowed a grimace. “It's good to still be here.” He cleared his throat. “I guess.”

“I can second that,” Kelly said. “Your work is not finished.”

They made small talk for a few minutes before Ernie frowned. “By the way, whatever happened to that kid?”

“We've filed it,” Cindy piped up, standing in the doorway.

Ernie turned back to Kelly. “She was the spitting image of you, kiddo.”

“Sure, on a very dark day in the middle of a November night.”

Ernie frowned. “Let me see that file.”

Kelly winced, not eager to prove to Ernie that he'd lost his touch even before he was taken to the hospital. Cindy retrieved the file and placed it on his desk. Ernie picked it up. “Yeah, that Nattie kid in Wooster.”

Kelly just sat there, waiting for Ernie to realize his error: Nattie couldn't possibly be her Emily.

“Did you test her?” Ernie growled.

“We're not doing that anymore.”

Ernie grunted his disdain. Flipping through the pages, he took a long look at something, shook his head, and handed the file to Kelly. “What am I missing?”

A lot
, Kelly thought as she took it but nearly gasped when she saw the picture of Natalie Livingston, a young girl with
brunette
hair and
brown
eyes. This was not the girl she'd seen that day.

“I guess I blew it,” Kelly muttered. She groaned at her rookie mistake.

“We're still in business,” Ernie said, sounding satisfied.

Kelly exchanged chagrined glances with Cindy, feeling a little silly but suddenly invigorated, the old surge of hope coursing through her veins.

Leaving Ernie to his slow reintroduction to the work world and having obtained the number for Jack Livingston's aviation business, Kelly left Ernie's office. She called her boss, Melody's dad, and made the necessary arrangements. Since she was working Saturdays during her training period, she hoped he wouldn't object to a minor schedule modification, especially since she was often at her desk by six-thirty.

According to Cindy's surreptitious phone call to Higher Ground, Jack Livingston would be in the office all day tomorrow, Friday.

“He's a church-going man,” Ernie had emphasized before Kelly had left. “With a reputation for honesty. We'll have a better chance with him.”

Kelly certainly hoped so.

T
he next afternoon Kelly drove past one farm after another. She arrived forty minutes after she'd left, pulling into the Wayne County Airport at about three-thirty.

Driving along an access road, past a row of airplane hangars and an assortment of aviation businesses, she found Higher Ground, boasting the eager billboard proclaiming
Learn to Fly!
She parked in front and paused for a moment, praying silently, feeling adrift, hoping she wouldn't fall to her old tricks.

Is it too bold to pray that this smart man
would become momentarily stupid?
she thought, smiling to herself and shaking her head, because if Jack Livingston gave any thought to her request, he'd realize they'd radically invaded his privacy just to get this far.

She sighed.
Help me know what to say.

A single
ding!
announced her entrance, and she was greeted by a younger man standing behind the long counter. Mick Roberts, according to his name tag, was perhaps five-eight, of stocky build and with a shaved head, his right arm tattooed with the trademark eagle, globe, and anchor of the U.S. Marines.

There was another man seated in a small corner office, punching
away on a computer. He glanced at her briefly, then refocused his attention.

When she asked to speak with Jack Livingston, Mick smiled pleasantly. “Jack's out with a student,” he said and asked if he might help.

Glancing toward a row of chairs, Kelly shrugged. “I can wait.”

“Might be a while,” Mick said, probably figuring her for a saleswoman. Mick settled into some task at the counter, fiddling with a flat plastic device, something aeronautical, Kelly figured. She sat and mentally reviewed her little speech, culled from bits and pieces of speeches she'd created years before. She had a best-case scenario speech and a worst-case scenario speech. In her purse, she also had a picture of her daughter at age four months and an age-progressed picture of what Emily might look like this year.

The usual response after her spiel had been,
“I'll have to talk to
my lawyer and get back with you.”
Which was why she'd long ago settled on “stealing” the child's DNA, something rather easy to do if the child wasn't being protected by overzealous parents.

This time, I'm keeping my promise to Chet,
she reminded herself, whispering yet another prayer for wisdom, for guidance, and frankly . . . for a miracle.

She heard a loud shout behind her, then the sudden eruption of an airplane engine fluttering into life. It startled her.

Mick offered her coffee, which she declined. “Too much already,” she said, thanking him.

Another thirty minutes passed. “They're late,” Mick confirmed.

The older man in the office peeked around the doorframe, raising his eyebrows, and Mick made an apologetic expression. “Should be any moment.”

The man nodded and went back to his tiny office. Apparently he was next in line—for Jack, or for the plane? Perhaps both.

Feeling antsy, Kelly stood and surveyed a wall of photos, pictures of students with their instructors, posed in front of various single propeller planes. Noticing her attention, Mick came out
from behind the counter and proudly began reciting their pilot success rate.

Now I'm a prospective student,
she realized, just then spotting a photo of Jack with Natalie in front of another single-engine plane, mugging for the camera. Below the photo, the caption read:
Jack and Natalie after
a looooong flight.

Kelly pointed to Nattie's
Higher Ground
T-shirt. “That's cute.”

“Jack's sister designed them.”

“How old is Nattie?”

Mick looked at her curiously. “How old do you think?”

“Around nine, maybe?”

“Bingo,” Mick said.

What did I just say?
Kelly cleared her throat, hoping her sudden screaming nerves weren't giving her away, because the entire world must have noticed she'd just identified Natalie by her nickname.

She had moments to cover her tracks, and although she couldn't be sure Mick had noticed her misstep, she threw it out there just in case. “I actually met Jack at church once. But I doubt he'd remember me.”

“Ah,” Mick said. “Of course.”

So he
had
noticed,
Kelly thought, trying to silence her blaring conscience at the outright lie. She forced herself to breathe easier, although she wondered if her attempted cover-up seemed a little too desperate.

Game on,
she told herself, just as Jack walked in the door, followed by a young teenager in saggy jeans and a T-shirt, sporting an eager grin.

Jack called to the man in the office. “Sorry, Monty. It's all yours. Don's filling it up.”

Monty grinned, grabbed something from the chair beside him, and headed out the door.

Jack glanced at Kelly, smiled warmly, and then shifted his attention to Mick. “Sign him up,” Jack said, grinning at the teen. “Sean wants to start immediately.”

“Excellent,” Mick said.

Jack nodded to Sean. “This will be your instructor. Mick's the best in the business.”

Mick beamed at Jack's compliment, and the two men shook hands, Mick's burly hand swallowing Sean's. Jack smiled over at Kelly again, as if to make her feel included.

Mick spoke once more, “Jack, this young lady would like a minute of your time.”

Kelly registered Jack's height—about six-one—and his wavy blond hair, clean-shaven face, sturdy chin. Wearing jeans, boots, and a short-sleeved shirt, Jack extended his hand, and she shook it, introducing herself. A flutter of nerves coursed through her as she volunteered her real name, and she wished she'd gone more casual, instead of designer slacks, blouse, and blazer.

“You're selling something, aren't you?” Jack asked, but he said it with a twinkle, indicating that he probably wouldn't toss her out if she was.

“I am,” she replied, aiming for a light touch. “But it won't cost you a cent.”

Jack gave her a welcoming smile. “Mysterious. I like that.” Jack gestured to his office beyond the counter. “It's rather messy.”

“I don't mind,” she said. She walked in after he did, pausing by the open door. Once Jack was seated behind a desk piled high with papers, books, and instruction materials, Kelly gently closed it. “If you don't mind, this is private.”

He didn't object, but the curious expression in his eyes ratcheted up a notch. Now seated, Kelly noticed the entire wall behind Jack was filled with framed certificates and more photos of Natalie and Jack, and a young woman in Amish clothing.
Laura,
she reminded herself,
Natalie's nanny.
There was another woman—
Sandra
, Jack's sister, Kelly recalled from Ernie's briefing. Mick had also referenced the rather tall woman, who was midtwenties, attractive, and scrupulously dressed in something straight out of
Vogue
.

“Beautiful child,” she said.

Jack replied politely, “Do you have children, Kelly?”

“I'm not married,” she replied, skirting the issue. Kelly noticed another photo of Natalie on the desk, and Jack picked it up, staring at it appreciatively. “I took this myself.”

“May I see it?” Kelly asked, hoping her tone conveyed polite interest and nothing more. Jack extended it to her. As she gazed at it appreciatively, Jack got down to business. “How can I help you, Kelly?”

Kelly swallowed, poised to utter the first words of her elaborate speech, when she noticed a long scratch on Natalie's forehead.

She traced it with her fingers, and Jack smiled knowingly. “Funny story behind that.”

She was about to replace the photo without comment, but curiosity got the best of her. “Behind her injury?”

Jack cleared his throat and seemed to appraise her. She could imagine him debating,
“Why
would I tell this to a perfect stranger?”

But he did. “Nattie's quite confident, and her confidence sometimes attracts bullies who want to tear her down a notch.”

She felt a catch in her throat. “Your daughter was bullied?”

“Yes, but . . .” Jack seemed to reconsider.

“I was bullied in school,” Kelly said suddenly, searching for common ground. “I remember my mother basically telling me to chill out and toughen up.”

Jack's eyes dimmed. “How did that work for you?”

“I walked to school in terror,” she admitted.

Jack began adamantly shaking his head. “No offense to your mother, but I refused to let the same thing happen to Natalie.”

Once again, he waved the story off, but she pressed, pushing the line of credulity. As far as Jack was concerned, she was there to sell him something, and therefore her questions about Nattie were transparent at best, manipulative at worst.

Despite this, he leaned forward somewhat reluctantly and began to tell her how, unbeknownst to Natalie, he'd gone to the little boy's house to talk to the parents and explain how Joey had pushed
seven-year-old Nattie on the playground, and how the kid had apparently been following her around for weeks, taunting her.

Joey's father only laughed and said, “Kids will be kids . . .”

So Jack went to the school to file a formal complaint. Thinking it was merely Joey's word against Natalie's, they promised to monitor the situation. In the meantime, Joey continued to torment Nattie.

Jack now leaned forward in his seat, his eyes focused. “But here's where it gets interesting.”

Kelly nodded, intrigued.

“I was about to contact my lawyer when Nattie figured out what I was doing and hit the ceiling.”

Kelly frowned. “She was mad at
you
?”

Jack smiled. “Very. She said, ‘I got this.'”

I got this.
“What happened?”

Jack leaned back. “Well, apparently Nattie finally let him have it. She . . . uh . . . walked up to him, was going to kick him in the leg, I guess, but missed. . . .”

Kelly cringed, and a small smile escaped her lips.

Jack shook his head. “Laura, our nanny, told me what Nattie told her, that she sat on Joey while he was writhing in pain and screamed, ‘You could have had a friend like me!'”

Kelly laughed. “She
said
that?”

“Something out of one of her favorite movies, I think.” Jack chuckled and reached behind him to grab another photo, extending it to her.

“A group of her closest friends,” Jack said. “See the tall kid with the bangs to his nose standing next to her, his arm around her shoulders?”

Grinning, Kelly nodded.

“That's Joey,” Jack said. “One-time tormenter, now all-purpose bodyguard, and one of her best friends . . . for a boy, that is. I guess he really did want to have a friend like her. Funny way to show it, eh?”

Kelly handed the photo back. “She's quite the girl.”

Jack's story took less than two minutes to tell, but it told her everything she needed to know about him.

Suddenly, she now felt like a predator herself, having violated their privacy.
I'm the bully,
she thought. It was silly, sure, but for the moment, she was at a rare loss for words.

Jack cleared his throat. “Listen, I've taken too much of your time. How can we do business, Kelly?”

“Well . . .” she began, biting her lip. She took in Jack's innocent blue eyes, gazing at her attentively.

A decent guy.

This was the moment of truth. This is what she'd been preparing for, and she was
this close
to saying,
“I enjoyed your story
, and boy do I have one for you! You see
, I have reason to believe I'm your daughter's
birth mother.”
And then when Jack finally found his voice, she had planned to add,
“She was kidnapped from
me nearly nine years ago.”

It could have been so easy. But instead of proceeding the way she'd planned, she said, “I've been told you're the best in the business.” She felt her face growing hot with embarrassment. “I'm interested in an introductory ride in one of your flying tin cans.”

Jack chuckled at her characterization but regarded her curiously again, obviously wondering why she hadn't mentioned this to Mick. She didn't need a private meeting in the owner's office to nab an introductory flight.

He nodded. “I can do that, but there's a slight problem. . . .”

Kelly held her breath.

“All the planes are rented. We'd have to do it another day.”

She signed inwardly, somewhat relieved. “I'll be back, then.”

Another moment passed as Jack continued to regard her with a puzzled expression. Finally she smiled and got up, and Jack walked her to the front door. “I'll look forward to seeing you again, Kelly.”