Child of Mine (3 page)

J
ack knocked on Nattie's door. “Sweet pea?”

A tiny voice answered, “Okay, ready.”

Jack pushed the door open and entered Nattie's world of cool green walls, accented with a flowery wallpaper border, purple footprints, and posters of Ariel, Belle, Rapunzel, and Nemo. In the right corner a large net housed her stuffed animals above her dresser.

“Hasn't
she outgrown these yet?”
San had recently asked.

“Let her
be a kid,”
he'd told her.
“For as
long as she needs.”

Wearing her pink-patterned nightgown, Nattie was sitting cross-legged on the bed, arms folded, her face splotchy. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes, her fine chestnut brown hair swirling around her shoulders. The overhead light cast a halo-like sheen on it, and Jack noticed a tear on her cheek. Wiping it away quickly, Nattie forced a smile, eyes glistening. “Sorry I took so long.”

“You okay, sweetie?”

She made a face. “I just got carried away.”

“Carried away.”
One of Laura's trademark expressions, a response to just about anything out of the ordinary, like when Nattie
went back for seconds at American Buffet, or if she wore mismatched socks, or came home exhausted at the end of a few hours at the park.
“Oh my, didn't you
get carried away?”

Jack sat beside her, tousling her hair. “Whatcha thinking about?”

She shook her head, scrunching closer to him and leaning against his arm. “I'm just sleepy.”

Already?
Jack glanced at her Hello Kitty clock. It was only nine-thirty, and summer break had just begun. He asked if she wanted a story, and she agreed, with little enthusiasm.

He began to weave yet another tale about the handsome young prince who flew his plane into a black hole in the sky.

“Which plane?”

“Marvin,” he replied. It was Nattie's nickname for their Cessna 182 Turbo.

He told her the story, adding a few new flourishes just to keep things interesting. This time, the fairy princess had long red hair and wore a golden gown and a diamond-studded crown.

The phone rumbled in his pocket. Most likely it was Laura. He'd forgotten to call her back. “Just a sec,” he mouthed to Nattie.

“Who is it?” she mouthed back.

Jack kissed the top of her head and headed toward the hallway, then closed the door behind him. He walked toward the master bedroom, apologizing to Laura for having missed her call.

“I just wanted to check in 'bout Nattie.” She sounded worried.

Jack caught her up to speed. “She seems fine. At least for now.”

“Something happened at the park,” she added. “Thought you'd want to know.”

“Uncle Jack?” Nattie called from her room.

“
Ach
, I'm interrupting,” Laura said, hearing Nattie's voice. “This can wait till tomorrow.”

He wondered about that, since she'd called twice. They exchanged good-byes and Jack hurried back to Nattie, where she was engrossed with her fluffy animals.

“Okay. Time for prayer.”

“Nice try,” Nattie replied. “I have questions.”

“I'm impervious to questions. I eat them for breakfast. Fire away.”

Nattie smiled at that, taking a deep breath. She pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, and finally she blurted it out. “Do you think I look like Laura?” She extended her neck, twisting her head from left to right.

Jack made an exaggerated effort of studying her face. “Hmm. Maybe a little.”

Nattie came unglued. “So she
could
be my mother!”

“Huh?”

“I don't mean she is, but she looks like she could be, right?”

“Well . . .”

“So, if you married her, everything would seem normal.”

“Whoa there, sweet pea.”

Nattie was just getting started. “When people meet us, they wouldn't ask if I'm adopted. Instead, they'd say things like, ‘Wow! She has her mother's eyes. And her nose. And even her fingers.' Don't you think so?”

“Her fingers?”

“Be serious!” Nattie exclaimed. “I mean, you like Laura, right? She works really hard here. And she's pretty cool for a grown-up, not old like some of my schoolteachers. She already knows my favorite foods.” She paused, then added, lowering her voice, “And you can't say she's not pretty, Uncle Jack.”

He tried to rein in this galloping horse. “Well, sure, but—”

“And that's without makeup,” Nattie added.

“I think you're forgetting a few important things,” he said. “Laura wears Plain clothes—a white head covering, long aprons, and clunky square black shoes.” He paused, studying her face. “That's big, honey. Huge.”

Nattie shrugged. “She's just Amish, silly. Besides, what would be so different? She's over here all the time, and she acts like a mom, and you guys act like you're married.”

Jack frowned. “Honey, people don't just marry other people. They go on dates first.”

Nattie inhaled, which seemed more like reloading. “So ask her out on a date!”

No matter what he said, Nattie would play
paint Uncle Jack in the corner
until he gave in. So he went for a truce. “What do I have to say to get you to go to sleep?”

Nattie smiled with mischief. “Just say yes.”

He could almost hear San's voice:
“You are so wrapped around her finger, brother
dear.”

“Sweetie?” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, wishing he could pull some kind of string and give her everything she wanted. “Is this why you were sad before . . . because of Laura?”

Nattie blinked.

“Laura's not going anywhere, okay? I don't have to marry her just to make sure she doesn't escape.”

Nattie giggled at first, then narrowed her eyes. She was only eight, but old enough to know life held few guarantees.

“Laura loves you very much,” he assured her.

Nattie nodded and crossed her pink-clad legs. “Did
she
say that?”

“Laura doesn't have to. I have eyes in my head.”

“You have two—two that I know about, and probably more I don't.”

“And I love you, too, you know. More than spaghetti, even.”

Nattie brightened. “You must love me a lot.”

Staring at her, he bit his lip, holding his emotions in check.

Seeing this, Nattie wiped her cheek and then, reaching up, smudged the moisture onto his cheek. “Here. Have one of mine. It'll make you feel better.”

“Thanks.”

“I have more, you know.” She looked serious.

At last Nattie folded her hands, closed her eyes, and began to pray for her friends at school, for help finding her lost library book, which was the first he'd heard of it, and for world peace, or
as Nattie put it, “For everyone to just get along.” She continued with a few words of concern for her birth mother, for her adoptive mother who was already in heaven, and waxed on, praying for her “wonderful-good” nanny, Laura.

When she opened her eyes, Jack kissed her cheek again and stood up, ready to leave her to the company of Bear Bear, Cheetah the cat, and Grover the dog. Not to mention a hundred other surrogate brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, all brilliantly disguised as stuffed animals. Most important, all of them had mothers.

Nattie reached behind her and handed over Felicia, the stuffed unicorn. “This one's yours for tonight.”

Affectionately, Jack examined the blue horse with a horn in her forehead.

“She has secret powers,” Nattie explained. “You never know when that might come in handy.”

Indeed,
he thought. “Thank you.” Straddling the unicorn on his shoulder, he stood by the door, poised at the light switch. “G'night, sweet pea.”

“Uncle Jack?”

“Yes?”

“I love you more than spaghetti, too.”

I
n the dim light of his room, Jack pulled on a well-worn T-shirt and his striped pajama pants. Rain was falling harder now, hammering the roof. Lightning flashed across the sleepy middle-class neighborhood, and sheets of rain flickered in the glow of the streetlight. The storm was moving closer. No sooner had he thought this than another flash of lightning illuminated the windows. He counted two seconds before the thunder cracked.

Oh boy
. The evening was about to be extended. Waiting, he sat in the leather chair near the dresser and tightened the belt on his robe. He stared at the picture of his father standing in front of his single-engine plane, the same one Jack had flown in as a boy. Other photos of his dad were on display downstairs in his office and another at his airfield office. The only photo he owned of his mother, a photo he rarely displayed, was stored away in the darkness of his bottom drawer.

As expected, there was the squeak of a door, the padding of feet across the hallway, and the soft tapping of Nattie's fingernails against his door.

“Uncle Jack?” She peeked in, her eyes pleading as she held on
to Bear Bear for dear life. Grinning, Jack motioned for her, and she ran to him, leaping onto his lap. “I don't like storms.”

“And you don't like sleeping, either.”

She nuzzled her face into his neck, curling herself into his arms.

“What am I going to do with you, sweet pea?”

“Well, you could feed me.” Her lowered tone had an almost mock desperation, as if she hadn't eaten in days.

He laughed. “To the lions, I'm thinking.”

“No . . . to the ice cream!”

He carried her downstairs, where they scarfed up bowls of mint chocolate chip on the family room sectional, huddled beneath tan blankets, watching
The Little Mermaid
for the umpteenth time.

When Nattie fell asleep at last, he reached for the remote and clicked off the DVD, then reached up to turn off the lamp. He sat silently, aware of the soft rise and fall of Nattie's breathing, stroking her hair and listening to the endless rain as it turned into light hail.

Nattie opened her eyes sleepily and smiled. “It's raining ice cubes, Uncle Jack.” He chuckled, pushing away a strand of hair and kissing her forehead. That quickly, she was out again.

He considered carrying her upstairs but decided to wait until the cacophony of roof chatter had subsided.

Jack thought of his brother, Danny, and sister-in-law, Darla, gone for nearly five years. A car accident had taken their lives, a mere three miles from where Jack now lived. He would never forget where he'd been when he first received the gut-wrenching call—Wichita, Kansas, finishing up a flight lesson.

He had just landed his small plane and was going through some final items with a flight student when he'd noticed a voice message on his cell phone from Laura Mast, his niece's Amish nanny at the time, a woman he'd never met.

Promptly, he returned the call, and she had answered, unable to conceal her sobs. Within the hour, Jack had refueled the plane, charted a direct course, and was flying to Wooster, Ohio. Laura
was waiting for him at his brother's house, sitting on a couch in full Amish attire, cuddling four-year-old Natalie, stunned and distraught, barely able to comprehend the meaning of such a horrific loss.

After the funeral, the will was read, and he could still recall the looks on their faces when it was revealed that he, not his twenty-two-year-old sister, San, nor Darla's parents, had been named as Nattie's legal guardian.

Silence filled the room as the family absorbed the news.
Unbelievable.
Nattie's adoptive parents, Daniel and Darla, had selected Daniel's irresponsible brother to care for Nattie. Jack, the aviation rat, who'd run off to parts unknown to escape his family.

“You have the right to
refuse,”
the attorney had advised him over the top of his half-glasses, apparently reading Jack's own stunned expression.
San is the natural choice,
Jack had thought at the time.
Everyone knows it.

But that wasn't exactly true. San had just graduated from college with a degree in graphic design and had big plans for her life. Anyone acquainted with San also knew that her future couldn't possibly include wiping runny noses and organizing playdates. Destined for the Big Apple, San intended to conquer the world of fashion one high heel at a time, though at the funeral, she wore shock and grief like a shroud, seemingly unable to absorb the loss. But didn't they all?

While Jack had been given a few days to consider being little Natalie's father figure, a decision had to be made soon. If he didn't step up and if San declined, as surely she would, what then? Darla's parents, most likely, would be appointed. From the way they'd sat so eagerly in the lawyer's office, they were obviously rather anxious to get their hands on Nattie.

So let them,
he'd thought.

When he arrived at his deceased brother's place, he found Laura wearing a long gray dress and black apron, holding Natalie on her lap. The child looked so sad and vulnerable, observing this
stranger with something akin to reverence.
The long lost uncle,
he thought.
Who never had the
decency to visit.

How can I possibly take this
on?
he'd asked himself.
How will I even keep
her safe?
He scoffed at the thought. He could barely keep
himself
safe.

“I have to make a decision,” he told Laura, expecting her to register disbelief that he was even considering the guardianship. Instead, she looked at Natalie and back at Jack. “What's to decide?”

He moved to sit with them. Natalie sniffed, rubbed her nose, and looked up at him expectantly, as if worried that she wouldn't pass muster, worried that he wouldn't pick her. It broke his heart. She couldn't possibly be that aware, could she?

“I'm clueless,” he said to Laura, smiling at Natalie. He touched her little hand, and she grabbed his finger. She giggled suddenly and squeezed harder.
“I got you now,”
she seemed to be saying.
“You're mine!”

“I'll help ya,” Laura offered, and the look on her guileless face underscored her promise. He felt strangely moved. Of all the adults associated with Natalie, this young Amishwoman was seemingly the only one who believed in him.

He looked fondly at his niece. Natalie was so prettily dressed and smelled of something soft and flowery. Soon Jack realized his notions of refusal had quickly flown out the window.

He reached for Nattie, and she hugged him back, unafraid.
I'll take care of you
, little princess
. But before Jack gave his official consent, he exacted a promise from the sister he hadn't spoken to in years. A
big
promise.

“Stick around for
at least one year,”
he'd asked San.
“I need
all the help I can get.”
To her credit, San had already lasted more than four.

———

Presently, he ran his fingers through Nattie's wispy hair, musing over what Laura would say tomorrow and worried about the meeting at Nattie's school, as well.

It was after midnight when the thunder and lightning fizzled. He
carried his little darling upstairs and nestled her in with her beloved stuffed animals, then reached for Laura's homemade Double Nine Patch quilt, one of Nattie's most prized possessions, and tucked it beneath her chin. Sleepily, she sighed and turned over. He also tucked Bear Bear into her empty grasp and kissed Nattie's cheek.

“Tickles,” she whispered, half asleep, cuddling her critter, her eyes fluttering.

“G'night, princess,” Jack whispered, closing the door to within inches of the doorframe.

He made his way through the house, checking the locks and inspecting the screen on the security alarm:
System Armed.
Upstairs again, he settled into his room for the night. With Felicia the unicorn facing him from the foot of the bed, Jack stared at the popcorn ceiling. Distant lightning periodically flashed, casting light against the walls.

Considering Nattie's prayer, he wondered if Nattie's birth mother ever thought about her. Did she lie awake at night, imagining what Nattie might look like, if she was happy, what her life might have been if she'd kept her? And sometimes he actually considered what
she
looked like, and if her personality was anything like Nattie's.

But mainly, he felt sorry for her. Children weren't just a dime a dozen.

When he thought of his life before Nattie, he shuddered, remembering those first fragile months of his guardianship, captured by her big eyes, thinking he was going to save her. Believing he could stand between her and the typical sorrows of life, yet realizing how silly that seemed. And naïve.

If anything, she'd saved
him.

Kelly spent the first full hour of her night shift stocking the shelves. Everything from beans and soups to dog food, while Hailey, her goth-punk co-worker, waited on customers, ringing up candy bars, lottery tickets, coffin nails, and cash transactions for gas.

Later, while Hailey took her break, Kelly manned the front counter. Around eleven-forty, during a lull, a carful of women pulled into number twelve, and one of them popped out to pump the gas. Even from thirty feet away, Kelly recognized her former friend, Melody Hunter.

Not anymore.
Melody
Cunningham now
. Her married name.

Kelly swallowed, her nerves unhinging as she remembered: Mel and Kel, best friends forever since middle school and all through high school, including four years at Ohio State. Kelly had completed a degree in marketing with a minor in accounting, while Melody finished with a bachelor's degree in history. When they'd returned home after graduation, Mel and Kel continued their friendship and married their guys within weeks of each other. Their babies were born within the same month.

Kelly steeled herself as Melody came in, wearing jeans, a
Jesus Heals Broken Hearts
T-shirt, and white sandals. Momentarily distracted with her wallet, Melody headed for the cooler in the back of the store without glancing at Kelly.

Aware of the smell of stale coffee and motor oil, Kelly heard the
thwump
of the cooler door. Quickly Melody appeared, carrying a six-pack of cola to the register. She took one look at Kelly, and her eyes bugged out. “Kel? Oh, my goodness, I didn't recognize you!”

Kelly greeted her warmly,
too
warmly, her throat tight.

“So how've you been?” Melody asked, reaching up to touch her flaxen hair. Her tone seemed genuine, and despite the passage of six years and the addition of five pounds or so, Melody looked the same.

Kelly replied politely, if not robotically, nodding toward the car still parked at the pump.

Melody rolled her eyes. “Girls' night out. Hubbies are home with the kids, and we spend most of our time obsessing about what we should be trying to forget!”

Kelly forced a laugh. Melody's exuberance reminded her of the
old days, her friend's throw-caution-to-the-wind attitude, tempered only by Kelly's measured, sometimes brooding nature.

“How are you
really
?” Melody asked, edging closer, and before Kelly could answer, Melody placed her hand over Kelly's, a gesture that unnerved her.

Melody lowered her voice to a reverential whisper. “Did you find her, Kel?”

“No,” Kelly said abruptly, pulling her hand away. “Not yet.”

Melody looked embarrassed and saddened. “Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.” She stepped back, sniffing softly. An awkward silence fell over them as Kelly rang up the purchase for her once dear friend, who'd tirelessly campaigned on Kelly's behalf, praying with her, sometimes for hours at the church, who'd once told her,
“We'll find
her together.”