by Diana Palmer
To his surprise, she sounded sympathetic. “I understand that. I’m friends with your sister after all, so I know how you guys grew up. But if you’re not trusting, then why are you being up-front with me now?”
“Well...” Should he tell her he’d prayed about it?
“Is it to try to get me on your side before Fern comes in?”
“No!” He paused. Tell the truth. “Well, maybe a little. I just know Fern’s dead set against me, and I really want the chance to parent Mercedes. To do a better job with her than my dad did with me and Angelica.”
That admission seemed to soften Daisy. She nodded slowly. “I had a chance to verify the unusual circumstances between you and Mercedes’s mom.”
“Yeah?”
Daisy tapped her pen on the desk, looking out the window at the town’s main street, and then seemed to reach a decision. “When she spoke to me, she’d told me Mercedes’s dad didn’t want any involvement. But that letter she sent you, the one you mailed to me, clarified that she was the one who’d hidden Mercedes’s existence from you.”
Carlo’s heart jumped with hope. “So you don’t hold me responsible for neglect?”
“No. And more important, the court won’t, either, since we’ll have her letter on record.”
“Do I have a chance to get custody of Mercedes?” Even as he said it, an uncomfortable, guilty feeling rose in him.
The reason was Fern. Fern, and the important attachment she’d built with Mercedes. Fern, whose determination and beauty and strength had captivated him. He had opened his mouth to say so when Daisy raised a hand. “I’d like to hold off on discussing anything more until every participant of the meeting is here, for the sake of fairness.”
“I wondered when that was going to occur to someone.” The voice—Fern’s voice—came from directly outside the office door.
Carlo jerked back to see Fern, hands on hips, jaw set.
“Fern! Come on in.” A crease appeared between Daisy’s eyebrows. “Did you hear what we were talking about?”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m upset you started the meeting without me.” She cast a frown at Carlo.
She had a point, and guilt chomped at his gut.
Fern sat down in the chair Daisy was waving toward, her back straight, shoulders squared. “I think we should talk about what’s best for Mercedes.”
“Exactly,” Daisy said. “Fern, I assume you now know that Carlo is very likely to be Mercedes’s father. He’s willing to take a paternity test—” She glanced over at Carlo. “Right?”
“Ready anytime.”
“So we’ll need to get Mercedes in for samples.”
“Blood samples?” Fern squeaked.
“No. A simple cheek swab. We can have a tester come here.”
Fern gave a short nod, but Carlo, watching her closely, saw her hands clench into fists, balling the material of her plain dark skirt.
He reached out to touch her arm, wanting to reassure her, but she jerked away. Daisy put her chin on her clasped hands, watching the two of them, obviously assessing.
Carlo felt that things were spinning out of control. “Look, I don’t want to break the attachment Mercedes has with Fern. At the same time, as her father, I want to raise her.”
“Looks as if you want two incompatible things,” Fern said. Her voice was absolutely cool, absolutely level. Her hands clenched and unclenched on her skirt.
“Let’s don’t rush into anything until we have the results of the paternity test,” Daisy advised. “I see that the two of you have some issues. We might need to go to court, but I’d like to work it out here if we could. Court battles are expensive and hard on kids.”
Fern’s face went pale. “I don’t want to put Mercedes through that.”
“Nor do I.” Carlo leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Seems to me that we adults need to make sure we keep talking and try to figure it out. We all want what’s best for Mercedes.”
“I hope so,” Fern murmured. Her voice was low, but it cut Carlo that she seemed to suspect he wasn’t putting Mercedes first.
“It’s always better for a child to have contact with her biological parents, as long as they’re not abusive,” Daisy said.
“I suppose,” Fern said guardedly, and Carlo frowned, suddenly wondering about Fern’s background. What had her family of origin been like? She’d mentioned something about foster care. If her own background was rough, that would be a factor in how she approached this situation. Just as his own background, having a mom and dad who couldn’t parent well, had affected him.
“If the test comes back positive, which seems likely,” Daisy said, “the first order of business will be to tell Mercedes about it. It’s a small town and from what I understand, someone has already recognized some physical similarities.”
“That’s right,” Carlo said. “It’s urgent that we tell her rather than having someone ask Mercedes an awkward question. Can we talk about how to do that?”
Fern stared at him, and Carlo, knowing her as well as he’d come to, saw the moment when the walls went up inside her. She stood, knocking her leg against the coffee table and wincing, clenching her fists. “Look,” she said, “it’s obvious what’s going to happen. You’re her dad, and you’re going to get custody of her. Excuse me if I need...a moment...to deal with that.”
She spun away and ran from the room.
Carlo and Daisy stood at the same moment. “I’ll go after her,” Carlo said. “Please. Let me handle this.” Though he had no idea how to make things right, his aching heart told him he had to try.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FERN SPEED-WALKED PAST the Senior Towers and the library and the park and somehow ended up by the elementary school.
She stood outside the fence, looking in at a noisy crowd of children in winter coats and snow boots, black and brown and white kids all together, the sounds of English mingling with Spanish and what sounded like Vietnamese. She had to look pathetic, but she couldn’t seem to move.
She loved Rescue River’s little primary school, had been doing programs here regularly since she’d gotten the job at the library. After she’d taken Mercedes in, her visits gained new meaning. Soon, she’d be the mother of a child at this school.
Or so she’d thought. Not anymore.
Tears burned her eyes, blurring the lively playground in front of her, and she dug in her purse for a tissue. Thankfully, as the mother of a four-year-old, she was well stocked. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes and took slow, deep breaths. She had to pull herself together, at least for long enough to get home to cry in privacy.
“Hey, you look pretty bad.” The blunt voice belonged to Susan, the woman from her church who’d invited her to the singles event.
Oh, great. A teacher she knew would have to be on playground duty on the day Fern showed up crying.
“Anything I can do? Only catch is, I have to keep an eye on these little sweethearts, as well.”
Fern shook her head, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Thanks. I... I’m having a few problems, that’s all.”
“Come on in. You can watch the kids with me and pull yourself together before everyone in Rescue River starts to gossip.”
Fern didn’t really want to socialize, but Susan had a point. “Okay.”
“Gate’s right over here.” Susan walked with her on the other side of the fence until a couple of upset-sounding kid shouts distracted her. “Sorry, I’ve got to deal with this before it escalates. Hey, Mindy, what’s wrong?” Susan headed toward the sliding board to mediate a very loud argument.
Fern was opening the gate herself when a large, male hand clapped down on her shoulder, sending what felt like tiny electrical shocks right to her heart. “There you are!”
Carlo.
Half inside the gate, she turned to face him. “What?”
He produced her coat and wrapped it around her shivering shoulders. “You left this at Daisy’s office.” Then he leaned closer. “You’ve been crying.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Susan said from behind Fern, and then stepped between her and Carlo. “What did you do to her?”
Carlo took a step back. “Hi, Susan. I’m afraid it’s private.”
“No problem, but we don’t need any extra drama here at the school. Fern’s welcome, she has her clearances, but you need to stay outside the fence.”
The unfamiliar feeling of having another woman protect her gave Fern a tiny boost. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. If ever. It helped that Susan showed no sign of romantic interest in Carlo.
A muscle in Carlo’s jaw tightened. “Of course.” He took a couple more steps back.
“Up to you,” Susan said to Fern. “Come with me when I take the kids inside in, let’s see...” She consulted her phone. “In three minutes. Or stay out with him. Either way, we need to close the gate. Mindy!” With the teacher’s eyes in the back of her head, Susan must have noticed that a new circle of kids was gathering around the little girl who’d been involved in the fight a minute ago. “Be right back. I hope.”
Carlo studied Fern through the fence. “Come walk with me. We need to talk.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I... I just can’t.”
“Look, I know this is hard and awful. It is for me, too.”
Fern opened her mouth to snap at him, but the defeated look in his eyes tugged at her heart. For the first time, she tried to look at the whole situation from his point of view.
He’d been rejected by his wife, not once, but twice. Then he’d gotten notice that she’d died and that he had a child, and he’d come rushing back to fulfill his duties, disregarding deathly illness to do so.
He’d met his daughter unprepared, had spent time getting close to her and now couldn’t see her except under the care of a social worker.
The pain and conflict of all of it showed in his haunted eyes.
She lifted her hands, palms up. “I’m really sorry, Carlo. I just don’t see how one of us can win without the other one losing.” And she couldn’t sacrifice her stake in Mercy’s future, because she knew she was an important part of the child’s stability.
She put a hand up to the tall chain-link fence at the same time he did. They pressed their hands together, staring at each other, neither of them smiling. Fern’s heart pounded out of control.
Finally, he spoke. “We need to figure out how to tell Mercedes the truth. That takes priority. After that...” He paused a moment, as if considering how to say something difficult.
“What?” Her voice came out as a feathery whisper she didn’t recognize. “What after that?”
“After that,” he said, looking hard into her eyes, “maybe we can figure out this thing between us.”
Hope and panic rose in her. Hope—and surprise, really—that he thought there was a thing between them. But panic, too, because it was all happening way too fast. “I don’t feel as if I can figure anything out just now.”
He pressed his hand against hers through the fence, curling large, blunt fingers through the chain links to clasp the tips of hers. “You’re cold.”
She couldn’t look away. She’d been cold, too cold, for too long.
“You should go inside.”
“I should.” She licked suddenly dry lips.
One eyebrow lifted, quizzical.
How could she be feeling such wildly contradictory emotions toward this complicated, infuriating man?
Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he nodded once. “I’ll be quick, then. After you left, Daisy told me option B. Which is having her tell Mercedes with the two of us, or just me, standing by.”
“No!”
“Right. To me, that’s not ideal. So let’s have dinner tomorrow night and we’ll talk it through, figure it out.”
“Tomorrow?” She had no plans, but she needed time to pull herself together. Carlo’s intensity scared her, plain and simple. “I can’t find a sitter for Mercedes that fast.”
“Then, Wednesday? We need to do this soon, Fern, before the cat gets out of the bag some other way.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. It was that she was desperate to see him. It was that his hand, gripping at hers, felt way too right for something that was totally wrong. “Okay, Wednesday,” she said, then pushed off the fence, turned away from his too-perceptive eyes and hurried toward the school.
The sound of children yelling pulled her out of her own concerns. There was Mindy, the little girl who’d been fighting, struggling as Susan carried her inside. Other children were tugging at Susan’s leg, trying to tell their side of the story. Fern looked around—surely there was another adult out here?—but the only aide was kneeling down beside a child who’d apparently fallen off the swings.
Fern quickened her step. “Hey,” she said to the most persistent of the kids who was tugging at Susan. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? And we’ll see if we can find some answers in books next time I come for library reading time, okay?”
As she’d hoped, the offer of adult attention and a listening ear drew the clamoring kids away from Susan. She nodded sympathetically at the childhood tale of a push, the seizing of a ball and some name-calling, and promised to bring a book that told a similar story the next time. “Now, looks as if everyone’s lining up to go inside,” she said. “Show me how fast you can line up without talking.”
As the kids lined up, Susan, still carrying the sobbing Mindy, cast her a grateful smile. “I need to take her to the nurse,” she told Fern. “Meet me in the teachers’ lounge.”
Because she didn’t have anything else to do and no ideas about how to solve her problems, she did as Susan suggested. Every step through the school reminded her that she wouldn’t have a child here after all. Carlo was trying to get along with her, doing better than she was. That would make him look wonderful to Daisy, the social worker, whom Fern had undoubtedly alienated by abruptly running away from her office.
She sank into a battered chair in the teachers’ lounge and looked around, trying to keep from crying. The lounge clearly saw heavy use. Job-safety notices and motivational posters filled the pale green walls, and stacks of education-related magazines spilled off a table beside a worn vinyl couch. The sink was full of coffee cups and the window shade was tilted askew.
Fern grabbed a magazine and opened it, but tears kept leaking out of her eyes, blurring her vision. She grabbed a handful of tissues from the jumbo-size box on the desk, listening to the shouts of children and the remonstrating voices of adults, rising and falling as children headed to their classrooms.
Susan charged through the door, all energy, and perched on the edge of a chair beside Fern. “Hey, you okay? I’m the only teacher with this planning time, so we should have the place to ourselves. Though no guarantees.”
Fern wiped her eyes. “You probably have so much work to do.”
“Nothing I don’t want to procrastinate about,” Susan said with a philosophical shrug. “Besides, I need to rest from carrying Mindy. She’s not a small kid.” She shook out her arms and rotated her shoulders, grimacing.
A bell sounded and the noise of children’s voices faded. Class time again.
Fern wasn’t quite ready to spill her secrets to a woman she didn’t know all that well. “Yeah, what happened out there on the playground? Looked as if some kids have a history.”
Susan nodded, “Yeah, you could say that. Mindy kind of has a double problem. You saw how she’s missing a hand, right? But much worse than that, she also lost her mom a couple of years ago. She’s one angry little girl, and she doesn’t turn it inward.”
“She fights?”
Susan nodded. “She isn’t usually the instigator, b
ut let anyone make a remark about her hand or her mom and she slugs them. No impulse control.” Susan slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be running off at the mouth about a kid. Especially to a parent, or a future parent at least. Your daughter will be here next year, right?”
“If I get to keep her,” Fern said. “It’s...a question.” Her throat closed on the last words and she stared down at her lap, trying to stop the tears.
“Wow, really? I’m so sorry, that’s got to be hard.” She paused. “Speaking of Mercedes, she probably has some issues similar to Mindy’s. She just lost her mom as well, correct? And Dad’s nowhere in the picture in her case. At least Mindy has her father.”
“Well...” Fern met Susan’s eyes. “Mercedes doesn’t know her dad. But he is back in the picture.”
Susan’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Is Carlo Camden her dad?”
Fern looked away. “I... Look, Susan, he may be, but she doesn’t know, so cone of silence, okay?”
“Totally!” Susan stared at her. “Oh, my gosh. Does Angelica know Carlo has a child?”
“If Carlo hasn’t told her yet, I’m sure he will soon.” She shook her head. “Even Carlo didn’t know about Mercedes until a few weeks ago. Or so he says.”
“Wow.” Susan leaned back in her chair, staring at Fern. “So that’s why he showed up in town. Every red-blooded woman in Rescue River is aware of his presence, but I don’t think anyone has guessed that much.”
Fern looked sharply at Susan, noticing anew how beautiful she was. And she was so much more outgoing and friendly than Fern. A lively woman who could hold her own with Carlo, much better than Fern could herself. “So everyone’s noticing Carlo?”
Susan lifted her hands, palms out. “Not me. I’m an anomaly. I’m not looking to date anyone.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Susan would surely have her choice of men. Susan wouldn’t have any problem getting what Fern herself, face it, wasn’t ever going to have: a husband, a home, children.