Child of Mine (34 page)

Jack crumpled his paper bag for his small fries into a tiny ball. “It's not like I can bribe you with broccoli.”

“True,” she said. “But you've never really discovered the power of Pop-Tarts. Tarts could open up an entirely new world for you.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Jack said.

Nattie gave him a lopsided grin, and it soothed his soul. At least they were okay. Even when the whole world seemed to be falling apart, he still had his little girl.

K
elly was fiddling with her keys, blinded by tears, when Melody opened Kelly's front door from the inside and gave her friend a long hug.

“Got your text,” Melody whispered, “and thought you needed some company, so I let myself in.”

Kelly crumpled in her arms. “It's my own fault, you know.”

They moved into the kitchen, where Kelly tossed her keys on the counter, and Felix nudged up against her, meowing loudly. She couldn't believe the way things had turned out. Not until Jack opened the envelope had she come to grips with what she'd suspected. Nattie wasn't hers. And because of her lies, now she'd lost both Jack and Nattie.

“I pushed Jack to this,” she said.

“If this is meant to be, he'll come around, Kelly.”

Kelly hugged her arms, rubbing life into her body. “I'm exhausted, Mel.”

Melody grabbed her hand. “C'mon, girlfriend. Let's go out.”

“I can't,” Kelly muttered. “And I'm keeping you from your family.”

“They went to the movies,” Melody replied. “When did you last eat?”

Kelly groaned. “This morning.”

Melody scowled. “We're going out for comfort food. My treat. You're not losing weight again, not on my watch. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Kelly smiled for the first time in hours but couldn't help checking her cell phone as she climbed into the passenger side of Melody's minivan. No texts.
Of course not
.

“Seat belt, Kelly,” Melody whispered, turning a corner.

Feeling like a child, Kelly slipped it on, clicking it into place, remembering the surprised look on Jack's face when he read her report, as if he'd been expecting something different.
He was anticipating the
worst,
she realized.

At the restaurant, talking loudly enough to be heard over the music, she recounted the entire scene, beginning to end. Melody listened carefully but with prejudice. She could tell Melody was growing frustrated with this Jack Livingston, despite Kelly's objections. “It's not his fault.”

“It just seems to me he's not giving you a chance,” Melody muttered.

When Melody slipped to the restroom, Kelly texted Jack a couple times, then felt stupid. She could imagine Melody's reaction—
“He should be pursuing you, Kel
!”

Kelly set her phone down, deeply grateful Melody hadn't left her alone tonight, despite her initial objections.

After an hour or so of pointless commiseration, Melody dropped her off at home, but not until they'd made plans for tomorrow morning.

“Text me!” was the last thing Melody said before spinning out of Kelly's apartment parking lot.

Alone again, Kelly headed inside, where Felix met her at the door, meowing miserably.

Gently setting Felix on the couch and tossing her purse on the counter, she decided not to turn on the lights. She didn't turn on the radio or the TV, either. She needed silence. And darkness.
It resonated with her soul. She needed to talk to the only Friend who'd ever stuck with her through thick and thin. And she needed a good cry.

———

Later, she wiped her eyes and tried to figure out if there was a way to repair the damage she'd done. If things between her and Jack were truly over, she could write Nattie a letter, tell her how much she'd enjoyed getting to know her, and how she wished things could have worked out differently.
Tell her
I miss her.

Fresh tears began to flow, and she snatched a few more tissues, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.
No, leave her alone. I've caused enough
trouble.

She checked the front-door deadbolt and made her way to the bedroom in the dark. It was only nine o'clock, but she went to bed and stared at the ceiling, realizing the only path forward was honesty. She was done with her tricks, done stealing DNA from unsuspecting suspects. And she couldn't let Ernie invade other folks' privacy for the sake of finding her daughter.

The end did not justify the means.
But where do I
go from here?

She had no idea. But God would direct. She knew that for sure. One step at a time.

An hour later, unable to sleep, Kelly dialed her private investigator. Normally, Ernie was a night owl. Through the years, he'd often called her late.

Penny answered. “Kelly dear, Ernie's having a bowl of oatmeal. I'll get him.”

Ernie was surprised to hear from her. They made small talk at first, and then Kelly got him up to speed on the latest, embarrassed by the tears she couldn't hold back. Ernie didn't seem surprised by how things had turned out and expressed his condolences.

“I'm pulling the plug, Ernie,” Kelly said. “I can't do this anymore.” What she
meant
to say was,
“We're doing the wrong thing,”
but she didn't want her dear friend to feel judged.

“You sure? I've got one last name . . .” he began.

Kelly shook her head. “No more names, okay?”

“But—”

“I can't.”

Ernie paused. “Fair enough, kiddo.”

They made arrangements for the return of Chet's unspent money, and Kelly thanked Ernie for sticking by her.

Next, she called Chet, apologized for the late hour, and did what she hadn't been able to do for months. She told the truth, the full truth. “I wasn't completely honest with you.”

A few moments later, in his Texan drawl, Chet said the words she needed to hear. “God forgives, my dear. And so do I.”

She told him about her call to Ernie, and once again, Chet merely listened. She sniffed softly and felt her cat snuggle near. “He'll return what he hasn't spent.”

“Have you had enough?” Chet asked her.

She thought of what Chet had been telling her for years.
“The darkest
moment is the greatest opportunity to shine the light of
faith.”

“I'm regrouping,” she told Chet, and he seemed pleased, sparing her further advice.

Nothing had changed. She was still the importunate widow knocking on the judge's door in the dark of night, waiting for the door to open, begging for justice. Despite her own mistakes and failures, she believed God was bigger than her foolish sins.

When she hung up the phone, it occurred to her that both Chet and Ernie had seemed strangely subdued. In fact, she was surprised that Ernie hadn't fought to stay in the game. Even Chet had let things go a little too easily.

They are relieved I'm
throwing in the towel,
she realized.

In the bedroom, lit only by the light of the moon peering in through the window, she pulled the covers back and climbed into bed.

Truth was, she felt strangely rejuvenated by the sense of losing everything again. She had nothing left but empty faith, nothing
to offer God in return for answers to her prayers, nothing but a small candle of faith to light in the darkness.

Kelly felt tears slip down her cheek.
It's better to believe than to receive.
She smiled through her tears, and it felt good. “Thank You for providing,” she whispered into the darkness. “Thank You for taking care of my daughter when I can't. I trust You.”

She pulled her phone from the lamp table. One last chance. She wasn't going to let go of Jack and Nattie without a fight.

After tucking Nattie in and fielding more of her attempts to “get to the bottom of this,” Jack was able to get Nattie distracted long enough to pray and fall asleep.

He wandered downstairs to his office. Closing the door, he called San and gave her the news about Kelly and her test results, but held back the biggest part, the part about his own test and new suspicions.

“Wait a minute,” San interrupted. “You broke up with her?”

“You have to ask?”

“Oh, Jack. We talked about this. And besides, you need someone in your life. Someone besides a nanny, I mean.”

Jack leaned back in his swivel chair, the springs squeaking softly, trying to bottle his sudden anger. “San, what is your deal with Laura? Really.”

“We've been through this before, Jack. Old news.
Old
.
”

“You got what you wanted. She's gone. Just tell me the truth.”

San blew out a breath, and it sound raspy in his receiver. “There is no ‘truth,' Jack. I've just never liked the idea of Nattie learning about the world from someone stuck in the nineteenth century.”

“You mean someone who'll teach her about manners, and kindness, and hard work?”

San scoffed. “Sarcasm doesn't wear well on you, Jack.”

He bit his tongue. San was hiding something. He was sure of it. Usually, he'd let it go, but not tonight. “What do you know that I
don't?” Jack demanded, trying to back her into a corner, but San did not like corners. Usually she came out swinging.

“Jack . . . please.”

“If you didn't like Laura so much, why didn't you just tell Danny not to hire her?”

Silence for a moment. “I did,” San finally said.

“So then . . . why did he?”

San cleared her throat, and when she began, her words came more softly. “You weren't there, Jack. You were in Kansas somewhere licking your wounds, trying to forget you had a family.”

Jack rubbed his eyes, his frustration growing. “Don't turn this back on me.”

“Fine.” San sighed. “She just showed up on Danny's doorstep, this Amishwoman, answering Danny's church ad in
person,
of all things.”

Jack waited.

“Laura was a stranger from nowhere. Nattie was a newborn, and Laura had zero references. And you know how Danny was. Too trusting by a mile, and so was Darla. Seriously, how did we know that Laura was even Amish? She could have taken off with Nattie, and we would have never seen her again.”

“San—”

“I'm not finished, Jack. So there we were, with a strange woman standing on Danny's doorstep.”

Jack remembered that San had been staying with them at the time of Nattie's birth, the summer before San went off to college. She was practically still a child herself.

San continued. “No references. No family. No work history. Just a shawl, a
Kapp
, and a prayer.” She cleared her throat again. “So I suggested a background check.”

Jack leaned forward, stunned.

“Of course Danny objected, but Darla certainly didn't oppose the idea. She had a mother's cautious worry, so Danny gave in, and we hired a PI, and he, in turn, hired someone in Lancaster County for the legwork, to check out her story.”

She paused for a minute, then said defensively, “You would have known all this, Jack, if you'd ever visited when Nattie was first born.”

Jack remained silent, determined not to let San verge off track.

“Anyway, what we discovered was that Laura came from terrible family circumstances, which is rather strange considering her religious upbringing. This Amish clan, they were doozies, Jack, let me tell you. According to the investigator, they seemed meanspirited and suspicious of outsiders.”

“Who did you talk to?” Jack asked, his heart beating through his chest. Had San known the truth about Laura all these years? Is that why she despised her?

“No one would talk about her. That's what we found at first.”

“That's not surprising, is it?” Jack countered. “She was a shunned woman. They were following their cultural protocol.”

“Well, that in itself was a big red flag,” San said. “You'd think we could have found
someone
to vouch for her, but no one would. In fact, no one who knew her who would give her a positive reference.”

Jack considered this. “So that's your big deal. No one would talk about a shunned woman?”

San sighed. “Still . . .”

Jack felt his face redden. “I mean, no criminal record, no history of abuse, no
unborn
children—just a shunning.” He'd strongly emphasized
unborn,
thinking she'd bite, but she didn't.