Child of Mine (32 page)

B
y midweek, Jack was still waiting on the DNA results. Jennifer at the lab apologized for the delay. “Usually it takes only three days. I'm so sorry. Let me track this one down, and I'll get right back to you.”

In the meantime, Jack decided to sneak away from the office and make an attempt at dusting and vacuuming the house, rallying Nattie to help clean up the kitchen. Late afternoon, he received a call from one of his corporate jet clients, Stonebridge Capital Investments, requesting a flight to San Diego on Friday. The top brass hoped to treat its elite clients to a California vacation, free of the stress of flying commercial.

It couldn't have come at a worse time, of course, but due to his contract, Jack couldn't decline. They paid him well to jump through their last-minute hoops.

Wishing he could have called Laura to stay over with Nattie, Jack dialed San instead, who was eager for some extra time with her niece. Since her own place was in such disarray, due to packing and preparation for storage, San suggested she simply stay at his house. Nattie, of course, was thrilled.

Jack texted Kelly to cancel both standing dates, Friday and
Saturday evenings, relieved to have an excuse.
I'm flying the corporate jet to
San Diego.

A few minutes later, she texted back:
I
'll miss you. Have a great flight!

An hour later, Jennifer from the DNA lab called to explain the reason for the delay. “They've discovered two different hair samples and weren't sure which ones you wanted tested.”

Jack had been afraid of this. “Can't you test both samples?” he asked. “I mean, do two tests?”

Jennifer hesitated. “Well, sure. It will cost an additional fee. But do you know which is which?”

“No,” Jack replied, “but I'll figure it out.”

So they settled upon a strategy. Jennifer agreed to ask the lab to label one set as Sample A, and the other set as Sample B. Although Jack didn't know which sample belonged to whom, he guessed one sample had to be Laura's—from the swing—and the other had to be Kelly's—from the headset.

Jack swallowed his frustration and thanked Jennifer.

That Friday at the airfield, Jack preflighted the minijet, eager to take it up again. It was a fine specimen, with room for six passengers. He had just completed the flight planning when he received another call from the lab. The results were in. Jennifer agreed to email the document.

Perfect timing,
he thought wryly, deciding to wait till he got to his room to look at it, postponing the final reckoning.

The flight itself went smoothly, although his raucous passengers were thoroughly sloshed by touchdown. Once there, a large Mercedes sedan, undoubtedly featuring top-of-the-line amenities, was already waiting.
Good
thing, too,
Jack thought.

Once settled into his hotel, a sparse loft-style high-rise with wood floors and brick walls, Jack leaned back in the king-size bed, propped his tablet on his lap, found the email, and tapped
Download. Seconds later, he had the document, two pages in all.

He closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer before scanning the top lines for immediate information. The moment of truth was highlighted in bold:
Sample A
cannot
be
excluded as being the mother of the child, Natalie Livingston
, followed by the next line:
Based on these data, the
probability of maternity is 99.9999% as compared to an untested
randomly chosen woman.

He closed his eyes and took a long, laborious breath, exhaling deeply. He could hear a siren in the distance, kids bustling down the hallway, the slamming of doors.

And there we have it,
he thought. The worst-case scenario. Not only was San wrong, but Laura was wrong, as well. Jennifer had explained that nonexclusion was lab-speak for “positive match,” which meant only one thing: Kelly was Nattie's birth mother.

He set the tablet to the side of the bed, leaned back, and briefly covered his eyes with his arm. Surely Kelly knew this, as well—that Nattie was her daughter. She'd probably known for weeks.

Did she hope to simply join their family and
then
spring this news? Or even worse, battle him in court over Nattie?

I need to contact my
lawyer,
he thought grimly, doing a quick Internet search for custody cases, if only to confirm what he'd already suspected. It was unlikely that any court in the land would award Kelly custody of Nattie, not after all these years. But a judge
might
award her some kind of visitation.

He sighed. It was too soon to surmise the legal aspects. His phone beeped with Kelly's texts, but he ignored them, growing more angry with each passing moment. It was time to put his measly cards on the table. He picked up the phone and did something last century. He dialed Kelly's number.

Kelly answered on the third ring, her voice bright. “Hi! It's great to actually hear your voice! How are you?”

He told her about the flight and the posh hotel they'd arranged for him, and she, in turn, told him about her day at work. “And
first thing, I spilled coffee on my blouse, and I didn't have another, so I had this big splotch for hours.” She laughed. “And then the market dropped two hundred and fifty points!”

“That can't be good for client relations,” Jack replied.

“Which part? The market drop or the slummy-looking assistant?”

Jack felt a catch in his throat—everything sounded the same, as if San had never called him with the revelation.

What
if I just pretended nothing happened?
He shook his head at the notion.

“Bill doesn't think it's a true correction yet,” Kelly continued. “As it is, I had to field calls from nervous clients all day. They kept asking, ‘Are we in the market? Are we out?'”

Jack forced a chuckle. “But you can't change positions on a dime, can you.”

“Not as fast as they would like,” she agreed, and as a long pause set in, it struck him again. He was talking to Nattie's
birth mother
, the woman who'd brought his girl into the world. Despite his resentment over how she'd handled everything, he felt sorry for her.

Really, how could he be angry with a woman whose child had been
kidnapped
?

“I'll be home this Sunday,” Jack said. “I was hoping you could come down on Monday, or . . .”

“Sure,” she said immediately. “Special plans?”

“I just thought we could talk.”

Another pause, then, “Hey, I'm a girl,” Kelly said humorously. “I
love
to talk!”

Minutes later, they hung up, but the mixed bag of anger and sadness and sympathy continued to hang over him.

The fact remained: Kelly had found her child. After spending years of looking, years of heartache and suffering, she'd finally found the daughter who had been taken from her. If anything, it was cause for celebration.

In fact, when she'd answered, he should have said,
“Kelly, I have great news for you!”

Still holding the phone, he actually considered punching in her number again and redoing the conversation. They could finally rejoice together. He could forgive her on the spot, no questions asked.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Not until he knew for certain why she had deceived him, and not until he determined her plans—for Nattie's sake, and for his own.

Jack placed the phone on the lamp table and prayed for the strength to endure his own foolish ego.

———

Kelly hung up and sat at the edge of her bed, fear and panic setting in.
I'm about to lose everything,
she thought.
Again.

She was tempted to text him back:
What is this about
?
Maybe get a conversation started. But she resisted the temptation. She needed to see his face when he confronted her.

Her own test results had come back, but she hadn't opened the document yet. The envelope containing the truth about Nattie still languished in her dresser drawer, because if she didn't open the envelope, then maybe she hadn't actually broken her promise. Yet another brilliant rationalization.

Kelly leaned back on her bed and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer for guidance.
I'm sorry,
she prayed.
Forgive
me.
I really blew it.

Felix jumped up and rubbed against her side, rumbling softly, concerned by his owner's tears.

How could I ever think that deceit was
okay?
She took the cat into her arms. She was tempted to call Melody.
Not even Melody can dig me
out of this.

The next day, Jack decided to clear his head with a walk around Balboa Park. While there, he called San, getting an update on things at home.

“Nattie's been eating about ten Pop-Tarts a day,” she informed him. “Hope you're okay with that.”

He could hear Nattie's voice in the background. “Good one!”

Jack laughed but threatened her with broccoli. San relayed the message, and Nattie squealed with agony. “I'll be good! I promise!”

By Sunday morning, his passengers were ready to return home. They arrived at the airport looking scraggly and disheveled, confirming Jack's long-ago decision to abandon alcohol.

Once in flight and with the plane in auto, he began to anticipate tomorrow's meeting with Kelly, thinking ahead to how Nattie would respond to the discovery that Kelly was her mother.

Nattie would probably associate the news with their earnest prayers, and who was to say she was wrong? Maybe this was how God answered a little girl, and if so, who was Jack to stand in the way?

He could imagine the conversation:
“Kelly's
my birth mom? How did that happen?”

Regardless, it didn't set well with him.

Get over yourself,
he reminded himself again.
Kelly has found her daughter.