by Diana Palmer
Susan laughed. “I’m totally undomestic and I’m too sarcastic and blunt. Men are terrified of me. They want kinder, gentler ladies. Like you, Fern.”
Fern shook her head. “I’m hardly a hit with guys.”
“Really?” Susan looked skeptical, then shrugged. “Well, then that makes two of us. God didn’t make everyone to be married. I’m finally getting comfortable with that notion, after a pretty unhappy experience being engaged.”
Susan sounded vehement, and Fern looked at her in surprise, startled out of her own troubles. “Wow, I never would have guessed. Especially since you run the singles group at church. I thought you were, well, looking.”
“Anything but,” Susan said, “but when you’re single, friends are even more important. Which is why you should come ice-skating. We strong single women have to stick together.”
Fern’s tight muscles relaxed just a little. “Maybe I will.”
“And listen,” Susan said. “Just because Carlo showed up doesn’t mean all hope is lost. I mean, didn’t Mercedes’s mom specifically want you for a guardian? That should carry some weight.”
“Not much, from the look of things.” Misery washed over Fern again.
Susan took her hand. “I’ll pray for you, okay? You and Mercedes.”
“Thanks.” And as she got up to leave, she blinked wonderingly. She did feel the tiniest bit better after talking to Susan. And maybe, just maybe, she’d started to make a friend.
* * *
WITH A DAY to kill before he could see Fern and figure out how to tell Mercedes the truth, Carlo decided to stop at the Senior Towers on Tuesday morning. He’d promised Miss Minnie Falcon he’d come visit, but even more important, his grandfather lived there, and Carlo had avoided the man since arriving in town the week before. Okay, the blizzard was a decent excuse, but that had been over for several days and he still hadn’t connected with Gramps.
They didn’t always get along. Carlo had been harsh to the old man in his teenage years, insisting that he drop everything to take care of Angelica when their parents had dropped the ball. In turn, Gramps had been loudly critical of his own teenage misbehavior. When they saw each other, which was rare, they tended to grapple and circle like a couple of pit bulls.
Still, they were family.
As Carlo walked into the Senior Towers, he was surprised to see that the front lobby had plenty of people in it, enjoying the sun that poured through the windows. The repurposed apartment building had to be close to a hundred years old, but it felt a lot more homelike than more modern senior communities. The entryway had gleaming woodwork and high, old-fashioned tin ceilings. There were real plants in every nook and cranny, a colorful fish tank and lace curtains at the windows.
“There you are,” Miss Minnie called, and extricated herself from a cluster of women to hobble toward a pair of chairs. “I’ve just been talking to the ladies about how you spent the weekend with that librarian who visits here, Fern Easton.”
Whoa! She still had that Sunday-school teacher’s voice that could silence a room. Time for damage control. “Yes,” he said, giving Miss Minnie a kiss on the cheek and sitting down beside her. “I did end up staying out at my sister’s place. When I got to town, I didn’t know Angelica was away.”
“You hadn’t heard that she and that veterinarian husband went all the way to Europe to go to Disneyland?”
“Nope. But the roads were closed and the people Troy and Angelica had hired to care for the dogs couldn’t get out there, so I was glad I could help Fern out.”
“Mmm,” Miss Minnie said, “I’m sure Fern was glad, too.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Although she was reluctant to have a stranger stay, the house is big enough that she was able to offer me a downstairs couch to sleep on.” He wanted to be crystal clear that nothing untoward had gone on, knowing the likelihood that Miss Minnie would gossip. “Look,” he said, “I brought some pictures from the missionary field for you to have. Thought you’d like to share your influence as a Sunday-school teacher.”
The murmur of voices rose around them as people returned to their conversations. Good.
At the sight of the photos he’d brought, her eyes brightened with interest, and she asked a lot of questions about his missionary work. Carlo was just congratulating himself on how he’d turned the tables when Miss Minnie waved to a man who’d emerged from the small library adjacent to the lobby.
“Bob, come meet another veteran,” Miss Minnie said. She turned to Carlo. “Bob Eakin was a glider man in World War Two.”
Automatically, Carlo stood, greeting the leather-faced man and meeting his piercing blue eyes. “Thank you for your service.”
“And you as well, young man.”
“Carlo knows your favorite librarian,” Miss Minnie said to the older man.
“You know our Fern?” The man looked him up and down and then gave a slow nod. “She’ll be here today, matter of fact. Comes every Tuesday.”
Carlo’s heart thumped with a mixture of emotions. He wanted to see Fern, sure, but he also knew that she wouldn’t be expecting him here today. Better to wait and not see her. That way he wouldn’t nix his chances of getting on her good side tomorrow night. Someone like Fern didn’t appreciate surprises.
“I thought Fern was on vacation,” Miss Minnie said. “She’s not been at the library, from what I heard.”
“She’ll be here anyway.” Bob turned to Carlo and explained, “She stops in with new books. She knows we have a line of folks waiting to check them out.”
“Leads a book discussion group for us ladies, too,” Miss Minnie said.
“That one is smart. Reads everything in sight. Even knows a little military history.” Bob nudged Carlo. “You could do worse. She took in that little gal when her friend passed on, no questions asked.”
The last thing Carlo needed was a ninetysomething matchmaker trying to push him and Fern together. She would hate that.
Which meant that Carlo needed to get on with visiting his grandfather and then get out of here. He said goodbye to Bob and Miss Minnie and, one short elevator ride later, was knocking on his grandfather’s door.
“It’s about time you got here.” Gramps opened the door and then turned and headed back to his small living room.
Carlo followed him. “How you doing, Gramps?”
“I’ve been better. Heard you’ve been in town awhile. Glad you finally stopped by.”
“I had some business to take care of, I’ve been sick and I got stranded in a blizzard. Is that enough excuses, or do you want more?”
“I heard about all that,” Gramps said. “Ain’t nothing to do around here except gossip, especially since your sister took her trip.”
Hearing the loneliness behind his grandfather’s words, Carlo felt his automatic defensiveness fade away. Gramps was feeling neglected and lacking his normal visits from Angelica, who’d always gotten along with the old man much better than Carlo had. “Sounds as if they’re having fun over there,” he said, keeping his tone mild.
“I don’t see why anyone needs to go to Europe when we’ve got a perfectly good Disney World right here in the USA. Two, in fact.”
Carlo chuckled. “There might be a few other appealing things about Paris.”
“You’re not staying for lunch, are you?”
Carlo hesitated.
“Don’t bother if it’s too much trouble.”
“It’s not trouble. It’s just that...” He decided to be honest. If you couldn’t tell the truth to family, who could you tell it to? “I’d like to stay, but I’m trying not to antagonize Fern. The librarian lady I met staying at Angelica’s place? Heard she’s coming to the Senior Towers today.”
“About her.” The old man’s hand clamped down on Carlo’s forearm. “Want to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Do I have
a great-granddaughter I don’t know about?”
The question hung in the air of the quiet apartment while Carlo’s mind spun. He looked into his grandfather’s eyes and realized he had the right to know.
He shifted in his chair until he was facing Gramps. “I think so. We went for a paternity test yesterday and should get the results back soon.”
Gramps’s eyes widened. “I’ve been hearing whispers, past couple of days, but I didn’t believe it was true.” His bushy eyebrows came together and he glared. “Why’ve you been so scarce, such that a stranger had to take in one of ours?”
“I just found out.” He filled in his grandfather on Kath’s letter and how he’d rushed home. “And the thing is, Mercedes—that’s her name—doesn’t know yet. Fern and I want to tell her ourselves, so please put a stop to any rumors you hear.”
Gramps shook his head, his eyes on Carlo’s. “Don’t you remember how a small town works, boy? There’s no stopping rumors. If you try, you only make ’em spread faster.”
“What am I supposed to do, then?” He hadn’t anticipated leaning on his grandfather when he came in here, but he was at the end of his rope. Fern didn’t want anything to do with him, but his daughter stood to be hurt if they couldn’t work out the adult problems.
“Back when I was young,” Gramps said, “you’d do the right thing.”
“What’s that?”
Gramps looked at him as if he were a particularly dense specimen. “Marry her.”
Carlo stared, then laughed. “You’ve missed a vital step. Fern isn’t Mercedes’s mother. She—”
“She is now,” Gramps interrupted.
Carlo shook his head. “Kath was her mother, and I was married to Kath until she kicked me out. Fern is just...” He trailed off, because he knew that, in every way that mattered, Fern was Mercedes’s mother now.
“Not trying to buck responsibility, are ya? That never was your way.”
“No! I’m not...” He trailed off as he realized that he was trying to convince Gramps that he’d done his best, trying to gain absolution.
“Do you like her?”
“Who, Mercedes? Of course!”
“No, idiot. Fern. You like Fern?”
Carlo leaned away from the harsh voice and scrutinizing eyes, suddenly feeling about twelve. “I like her plenty. She’s a great person.”
“And you’re at loose ends. Looking for a purpose, far as I can see. You’ve always wanted to help the underdog, probably because of how you grew up. Well, here’s an underdog, and she just happens to be your daughter. How about marrying her mom?”
Carlo opened his mouth and then shut it as the possible solution coursed through his body and soul.
Marry Fern? Could he do it? Should he do it?
Would she have him?
He focused on the probably negative answer to that question. “Not likely she’d have me if I asked.”
Gramps crinkled his eyes shrewdly. “Scared?”
The word hung between them.
Slowly, Carlo nodded. “You know how I grew up. You know I haven’t had a good example of marriage set before me, and I wasn’t a good husband the first time. Why would it be any different with someone I’m marrying just for the sake of the child?” Although he knew in his heart that marrying Fern wouldn’t be just about Mercedes.
“Ah, but—” Gramps wagged his finger at Carlo. “Now you’ve got religion. With the Lord on your side, you can do a whole lot more than you can without Him.”
Gramps got to his feet, leaning heavily on the arm of the chair but waving away Carlo’s offer of support. “You better go on, now. Think about what I said. And make sure you tell that little one fast, because I got the feeling the rumors ain’t gonna die down.”
Carlo gave the old man an impulsive shoulder hug that had him waving Carlo away but looking just a little pleased. Carlo went down the elevator and headed toward the exit, his mind spinning. He needed some time to figure all this out. But he didn’t have time, because the wagging tongues of Rescue River—not ill intentioned, but wagging nonetheless—were going to say something that would filter back to Mercedes. And he couldn’t stand the thought of his daughter hurting that way.
She was his daughter, he was sure of it. And he needed to do the right thing, but...marry Fern? Could the solution really be that simple? And that...exciting?
He was just about to the door when he glanced to the right, into the little library. There was Fern, talking to the veteran Bob Eakin with animation, a book in her hand.
He could sneak past her and leave. Or he could do the right thing.
She’d probably be glad if he didn’t stop in. She wouldn’t want to see him before their prearranged time. If then. She had no interest in seeing him anytime, really.
So he should go.
Instead, he turned and walked into the library.
Bob gave him a knowing look. “I’d better get down to the cafeteria if I want to hold my table,” he said, winking at Carlo as he headed out the door. “That Minnie Falcon is always trying to steal my window seat.”
“But... Oh.” Fern watched the old man’s surprisingly rapid exit and then looked at Carlo without the faintest hint of happiness. More like resignation. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting my grandpa. And Miss Minnie Falcon.” He looked around to make sure no one else was in the room, then closed the little library’s door. “Fern, we need to talk, and soon. Rumors are spreading.”
Her lips tightened. “I said I’d meet you for dinner. Tomorrow.”
“I’m worried it’s not soon enough. Where’s Mercedes?”
“She’s at her day care program. I wanted to keep her in her routine, so she’s still going part days even though I’m on vacation.” She sounded defensive.
“Good,” he said. “Would you want to go have lunch and talk about it now? Because I’m worried she’ll hear something soon.”
Fern looked at him and he read the struggle on her face. “I have to finish up here,” she said. “I handpick books for a few of the residents.”
“That’s fine, I can wait. Or I can read. Or I can help.”
“Fine,” she said, stress evident in her voice. “Wait here.” She turned on her heel and spun out of the library.
Leaving Carlo to stare down unseeingly at the stack of books in front of him and wonder just what he was going to propose during the lunch to come.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AN HOUR LATER, Fern sat across from Carlo at the back of the Chatterbox Café, feeling incredibly awkward.
Why was he treating her so gently, as if she was about to shatter? Did he think she wasn’t strong enough to face the truth of the situation, the fact that she might very well lose Mercedes?
Well, he might have a point. She wasn’t strong enough for that.
The café was bustling, full of moms with children, the police chief and one of the officers, some workmen from down at the pretzel factory. Waitresses in pink shirts rushed around with trays and pots of coffee. Through the large windows at the front of the restaurant, Rescue River’s main street was visible, picturesque with snow.
Fern could smell burgers and fries, which she normally loved. Now the greasy odor turned her stomach. She grabbed a plastic-coated menu from the stand on the table and stared at it, barely seeing it.
But it beat staring at Carlo, who was even more handsome now that he was clean shaven. He’d hung up their winter coats, and his short sleeves revealed his massive soldier arms. Without the beard stubble, his jaw looked even more square, and his eyes, as he watched her, shone dark blue and honest.
She had to keep reminding herself that he’d misled her and Mercedes, not letting them know his beliefs about being Mercedes’s father.
She pinched the back of her hand, hard, to distract herself from the emotional pain of Carlo’s betra
yal and of losing Mercedes.
“Thank you for coming,” Carlo said, still sounding cautious.
“Sure. We have to talk. It’s just...hard.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. How do you think we should tell her?”
She shook her head. “I’m worried she’ll be upset. Especially if she thinks there’s going to be a change in her living situation. Which...there will be.” Her stomach lurched as she said the words, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Um, about that.” Carlo reached across the table and took her hand. “I have an idea.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles in a back-and-forth motion.
Even that light touch took her breath away. She tugged her hand back. “What’s your idea?”
He took a deep breath and then blew it out. “This is going to sound crazy, but...we could get married.”
Fern’s heartbeat accelerated as everything around them seemed to fade away.
Marriage. To Carlo. A real family. Fun and caring and sweet, sweet togetherness. Her heart seemed to expand in her chest.
When she didn’t answer, he continued talking. “I don’t mean a regular marriage. I wouldn’t expect that. It would be for Mercy’s sake.”
She stared at him. His mouth kept moving, but she’d stopped processing the words.
She’d gotten stuck on two particular phrases.
We could get married, which had made her heart soar.
I don’t mean a regular marriage, which had brought her right back down to earth with a crashing thud. Of course someone like Carlo wouldn’t be able to really love someone like her.
“Can I take your order?” came a perky voice. It was Lindy Thompson, who’d just graduated from high school last spring. She was a sweet and pretty girl, and Fern liked her because she was a reader who made regular appearances in the library.
“Hey,” Lindy said, staring at Carlo. “You’re that big war hero, right?”
A flush of color crossed Carlo’s face. “I’m a veteran, but no big hero.”
“No, I remember hearing about you in town. I was telling my brother he should meet you. Didn’t you get a whole bunch of medals?”