Child of Mine (33 page)

Nattie greeted him at the door with all-out intensity. “I bet my weekend was better'n
your
weekend!” she exclaimed.

Jack couldn't help laughing. “I bet you're right.”

San was her usual overly cool self. “Hi there, jet-setter.” She socked Jack in the arm, then leaned over for a kiss from Nattie.

“Gotta go,” she said, and made a
call me
gesture to Nattie. “One more special night, 'kay?”

Nattie looked up at Jack, her eyes pleading,
“
Please?”

Jack chuckled. “Do you really think I'd say no?”

Nattie jumped up and did a quick high-five with her auntie.

San took off in her candy-apple-red Corvette, and Nattie led him into the dining room to inspect their artistic activities since he'd left, which included clay sculptures and two watercolor paintings.

Jack examined each piece closely, asking questions to show his interest. Later, he unpacked upstairs, reminding himself to tackle the laundry tomorrow morning. He sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, sighing nervously.

Nattie peeked in. “You look tired. Are you going to work tomorrow?”

Jack considered that. “Kelly's coming down,” he said simply.

Wide-eyed, Nattie's eyebrows arched. “Tomorrow?”

He nodded. “We need some time together,” he said, then added, “it's going to be adult time, though.”

She scampered off. “Fine. I'll settle for the scraps.”

On Monday afternoon, Jack leaned back in his office chair and studied his aviation trinkets on the far wall, trying to imagine how the conversation would go, unsure if they could actually talk here, in this big open house—with Nattie lurking about. While the thought of Nattie's penchant for eavesdropping put the clamps on that idea, he didn't want to be in a restaurant for this kind of discussion.
Maybe a drive in the truck?

No,
he thought. He picked up the landline and made yet another request of Diane, who was more than willing to have Livy watch Nattie for an hour. She asked about Laura, and Jack filled her in.

“I miss seeing her out in your garden.”

So do I,
Jack thought.

Just after four-thirty, the doorbell rang, but silence followed—no hello, no opening of the door. Instead of walking in as she'd been doing for the past few weeks, Kelly had chosen to wait outside.

T
he next thing he heard was the pounding of footsteps as Nattie raced from her room to the door. Jack sat in his office, his heart hammering in his chest.

He could hear Nattie's exuberant greeting, “What's a girl gotta do to get a hug?”

Finally, he could put it off no longer and walked out to meet them both in the entryway. Kelly brightened, her smile filling the room, but the intensity of her enthusiasm only added to his gloom. She came to him, and he kissed her on the cheek, noting her flowery scent and the long black lacy top over jeans.

Nattie was dismayed. “A cheek kiss?”

“You're going to Diane's for a bit,” Jack told her.

Nattie's face fell. She squished closer to Kelly, linking their arms together. “But Kelly just got here.”

“Sweetie . . .”

Nattie must have seen the seriousness in Jack's eyes, because she stopped fussing. Mournfully, she headed for the door.

“Head right there,” he cautioned her, immediately regretting his bossy tone.

The door slammed behind Nattie, and Kelly's own expression,
despite her best efforts to appear pleasant, had turned into a mixture of happy dread. She looked at him pensively, stepping back a bit. “Is everything okay, Jack?”

He'd rehearsed his little speech, but now that the moment had arrived, nothing he'd prepared seemed appropriate.

He gestured toward the sofa, and she slipped around the edge, then sat down in the middle. She put her hands on her lap and smiled expectantly.

Jack sat down across from her, and without any kind of preamble, just came out with it: “I wish you had told me the truth, Kelly.”

Holding his gaze, Kelly said softly, “Can you be more specific?”

“You've been looking for your daughter.”

She pursed her lips and resituated herself on his couch. “I
wanted
to tell you, Jack. I had planned to tell you everything the day I met you, but—” Kelly stopped, moisture filling her eyes. She looked away, then forced a smile through her tears. She was clearly miserable, and he felt torn between anger and fear. Was he simply being manipulated . . . again?

He steeled himself and asked her the question, the one to which he already had an answer. “Do you think Nattie is yours?”

She cleared her throat and slowly shook her head. “I don't know, Jack.”

He frowned.

“I really don't,” she repeated.

“How do you expect me to believe that?”

Kelly wiped her eyes again, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “I didn't
want
to know.”

Impossible,
he thought. “So you're telling me you
didn't
test her?”

Kelly made a face. “Actually . . . I did, Jack.” She shrugged and wiped her eyes, fishing a tissue out of her purse. “I have the envelope in the car. I never opened it. I
couldn't
.”

Jack leaned back, his heart pounding through his chest, unsure what to believe.

Kelly scooted forward on the couch, close enough that their knees touched. “I was waiting for, I don't know . . . permission, I guess.”

“Kelly—”

“I know, I
know,
Jack. I can't expect you to trust me. And I don't blame you.”

She locked eyes with him again but just sat there, her hands still in her lap, waiting for him to continue. He repeated it, more a statement than a question. “You have the information, but you still don't know whether she is yours.”

She made to answer, then simply shook her head instead. The distrust must have shown on his face, because her eyes welled up with tears again, slipping down her cheeks.

He crossed his arms, turning off his own emotion. “Let's open it together,” he said flatly, although he already knew what her results would say. Kelly's eyes were suddenly fierce and hopeful. She leaned forward again. “What if we
didn't
open it?”

He frowned at her.

“What if we just threw it away?” she said, her eyes alight with the possibility. “What if . . . we just continued on like before?”

He was stunned. “As if you hadn't deliberately deceived me?”

Kelly recoiled at his words but reached for his hand. “I don't care anymore, Jack. I think we are good together, and it doesn't matter. . . .”

Jack was shaking his head, pulling his hand away.

“I love you, Jack,” Kelly pressed. “And I know you love me.”

“But this isn't about us,” he said softly. “This is about Nattie.”

Kelly went silent, the light in her eyes diminishing. After an awkward moment, she finally spoke. “Of course, Jack. It was . . . a silly idea. I'll get it.”

She pushed herself up and proceeded to go around him.

Once she'd left, Jack realized he was now carrying on his own charade. He had his own test, and his own results, after all. And her results would surely confirm his.

Now who's lying?

Kelly came back in, padding softly, and gently laid the envelope on his lap, sitting back on the couch, several feet from him. She stared at him, her eyes red.

Quickly he opened the envelope, removed the page, and scanned to the bottom. The definitive phrase hit like a blow. He nearly dropped the envelope.

Kelly didn't say anything. She simply sat there, hugging herself, staring at the floor, waiting for him to say it out loud, as if doing the best she could to manage her emotions with dignity.

Without speaking, he handed her the report. She took it and read it aloud. “This means it's negative.” And then she smiled. “I'm relieved, Jack . . .”

But she also seemed disappointed. Of course she was. On the other hand, he was confused. The result couldn't be negative. Negative meant she wasn't Nattie's mother. But
his
test said the opposite.

Kelly touched him again. The room swirled, and her words seemed to come out in a haze. “Can you forgive me, Jack?”

Jack shook his head, the only response he could manage as his mind raced through the ramifications.

She flinched but soon a kind of surrender finally settled over her. She practically crumpled in her seat.

He should have come clean, right then and there.
“I completed my own test,”
he should have said, but right now, he just needed to think. Maybe her test was wrong. And maybe his was right. Hadn't he already learned that DNA tests could be prone to error? Maybe Nattie was her daughter, after all.

After a few moments of painful silence, Kelly stood up. She adjusted her purse and forced a pathetic smile.

She was halfway to the door when she turned back. “I should have told you the truth. I realize that . . . but if I had, would you and I ever have had a chance?”

“I guess we'll never know,” he said.

She hesitated, considering his answer. “May I say good-bye to Nattie?”

Jack shook his head. “She'll know. She'll see it in your eyes. And I can't do that to her.”

Kelly nodded. “I truly wish you the best, Jack. I think you're a special person, and I admire you. I did from the first day I met you. Please know, too, that I have grown to love Nattie, whether she's mine or not. What I feel for you, and for her, has always been genuine.”

With that she walked down the hall and out the door, shutting the door with a click that reverberated through him.

Moments later, Jack heard her car buzz down the street while he sat at the couch, justifying his actions and shoving his guilt away.
She was only trying to find her
child.

He was tempted to text her.
I just
need some time.

But he was too confused to know what to do next. And he still couldn't wrap his brain around what had just happened. Her test was negative, but
his
was positive.

Determined to find an answer, he went to the office, removed the printout of his own report, and stared at it. There it was in bold letters:
Sample A cannot be excluded.
Which was the same thing as
positive.

He turned the page, to the second report, and found the opposite phrase,
Sample B
is excluded.
Just as he had expected, which meant
negative.

And then it finally hit him. Sample B had to be Kelly's hair.

But Sample A . . .

“Oh no,” he whispered.

His heart thumping wildly, Jack placed the report back into the desk drawer and headed out to retrieve Nattie as the memory of his conversation with Laura flooded back, including her adamant response to his suggestion that Kelly might be Nattie's mother.
“No, Jack, she's not.”

And just exactly how could Laura have been so sure?

Well, now he knew why.

———

Holding the screen door open, Diane smiled graciously. “That was quick.”

Jack thanked her, and Nattie came running, Livy strolling out after. Both girls now had matching French braids dangling down their backs, and Jack was grateful the teen had taken such an interest in his daughter.

Nattie pulled on his sleeve. “Where does Kelly want to eat?”

Livy laughed and tugged on Nattie's braid. “That's all I heard. Kelly this, and Kelly that.”

Waving their good-byes, Jack led Nattie out the door to the truck. Keeping in step, Nattie noticed Kelly's missing car and frowned. “Is she meeting us somewhere?”

“It's just us, sweetie.”

Nattie stopped in her tracks. “Say what?”

“She had to go home, honey.” He winced at his own exaggeration.

Nattie didn't move. “You have some 'splainin' to do, Dad.”

“Over dinner, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. Jack waved toward the pickup. “On board, princess.”

———

In the corner of McDonald's, Nattie ate slowly, dipping her nuggets in barbecue sauce, her eyes smoldering. “Are you guys having a fight or something? I mean, you guys
never
fight.”

Jack barely heard her.

His cell phone was in his front pocket. He was tempted to text Kelly, ask for more time to get his head together. Sure, he still could be wrong, but he doubted it. The owner of Sample A—the hairs retrieved from the porch swing—had to be Nattie's mother. And there was no doubt whom she could be.

In the meantime Nattie was staring at him, waiting for a reply to a question he hadn't heard.

“What, honey?”

“Can
I
call her?” Nattie asked.

Jack shook his head, and Nattie took another bite of her chicken. “Aren't you going to keep her?”

His phone began buzzing. He saw the name and breathed a sigh of relief at the irony.
Laura.

“Who is it?” Nattie asked.

He told her and offered her the phone. “I'll bet she wants to talk to you.”

Quickly Nattie chewed the food in her mouth and wiped her fingers on her napkin. Jack made a face of mock impatience.

“What?” Nattie protested. “I want to be presentable.” She took the phone and talked for a few minutes, then gave it back to Jack.

He spoke into the receiver. “You should have seen Nattie perk up.”

“She's sounding good,
jah
?” Laura said.

He gazed at Nattie. “She's eating, and that's always a good thing.”

Nattie gave him a humorous frown and popped a chicken piece into her mouth, listening intently to Jack's side of the conversation.

“So . . . have you heard yet?” Laura asked, lowering her voice.

Jack held out his index finger to Nattie—
give me a minute—
and wandered to the windows, outside the range of Nattie's ears. “Yes, I did. . . .” He paused, not sure how to continue. “Actually, I need to see you.”

She went silent, then her words came out hushed, as if she didn't want anyone to hear her. “Is this about the lab results?”

He ignored the question, considering his options. Jack didn't want her to be able to walk away. And he didn't want others listening in. So that left out public restaurants, parks, his house, or hers. He wanted to get her into his truck and keep her there until she revealed the truth and heard him out.

“How about I pick you up tomorrow? I already checked with Diane—anything works for her.”

He could hear Laura breathing and could imagine her twisting it over and over. “Okay, Jack. How 'bout three o'clock?”

He hung up and sighed.

Back at the table, Nattie flattened her nugget box with a fist, clearly frustrated. “You had to walk all the way over there to talk to Laura?”

“Grown-up stuff.”

“Someday I'll be a grown-up, too, you know.”

Jack pushed the remainder of his nuggets across the table to her. Nattie eyed them for a moment, appraising Jack's Cheshire twinkle. She narrowed her eyes, weighing their value, giving him the business end of her glare. Finally she shrugged, giving in. She began squirreling them away, nibble by nibble, then said casually, midchomp, “Nuggets won't always work, you know.”