Her eyes darted to her lawyer’s, and she wondered where he’d gotten his information and what bearing he thought it had on this case. Surely he didn’t think that a lack of money made Wes a poor father. That wasn’t what she’d wanted to prove. All she wanted was to have her own place in Amy’s life, without hurting Wes in the process.
“Your honor,” LaRoux went on in a bored voice. “It’s apparent that this man is under a great deal of stress, financially and otherwise. He hasn’t even had the money to take his child for her checkups—”
“I take her to the doctor when she’s sick!” Wes blurted, his face reddening.
“Your honor,” the attorney went on, as if Wes’s outburst was irrelevant, “a man in this much debt has to cut corners. Where does he cut them? With the child’s clothing, food, medicine?”
“I object!” Wes’s lawyer said, and Laney breathed a sigh of relief.
Laney wanted to object as well. She hadn’t done this to humiliate Wes Grayson and strip him of his dignity. She’d never said he neglected Amy! She half rose in her chair, trying to get her attorney’s attention and stop him, make him take back what he’d said on her behalf, make him give Wes back his pride. When her attorney ignored her furious eyes she sank back down.
What had she done?
The objection was sustained, but LaRoux had other aces up his sleeve. “We’re talking about a little girl. A little girl in a home with a man who can hardly support her, a man who may not even be able to keep a roof over her head, a man with a failing business to run, a man who isn’t even her natural father.”
Wes’s eyes snapped to Laney’s and locked with them. How could you do this to us? they asked.
She arched her brows helplessly and shook her head. Had she really paid that man to drive a wedge between her and her daughter’s father, to ruin any chance of her ever being friends with him, to drive out the last remnants of his self-respect?
The nightmare would not end until it was played out. “On the other hand,” her attorney went on, “we have my client, a woman wealthy from her father’s inheritance, a woman who cared so much for the child once already that she made the decision to put it up for adoption in hopes that the adoptive parents could give it a better life than she could have at eighteen.”
His daughter was not an “it”! Wes wanted to scream. He bit his lips to keep the words back, and his nostrils flared.
“How could she have known that the adoptive mother would die and that the child would be left with a man with so many problems that …”
Wes’s hand coiled into a fist in his lap, and his face was tinged with scarlet. This wasn’t happening, he told himself. The judge was smarter than that. He would realize Amy was the most important thing on earth to him.
Laney dropped her face into her trembling hands. Leave him alone! she mentally railed.
But LaRoux would not be cut short.
“ … is only asking for a joint custody agreement. My client doesn’t wish to traumatize the child by taking her from her father, nor does she wish …”
He was losing, Wes thought, a smothering wave of panic washing over him. Strangers were making a decision that was going to change Amy’s life.
Laney stood up, her chair scraping on the cold tile floor. The judge’s attention left the attorney, still in the midst of his diatribe, and went to her. Wes looked up. LaRoux wheeled around.
“Your honor, I apologize for interrupting, but may I please have a word with my attorney?” she asked tersely.
LaRoux’s eyes were glinty beads of steel as he stepped toward her, warning her that he wouldn’t tolerate such behavior. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a whisper.
“I’m stopping you,” she hissed. “You’ve gone far enough. We could have made our point without ruining Wes Grayson. He’s a good father and a kind man, and I won’t sit here and pay you to kick him in the teeth.”
LaRoux’s spine stiffened. “Exactly what would you like me to do?”
“Dismiss him from the stand,” she said. “And leave him alone.”
As LaRoux turned slowly back to the judge, Laney tried to steady her furious, heaving breaths. Her eyes went back to Wes’s, and she noted that they were a little softer in their reproach. Had he realized what she was telling her attorney?
She watched as Wes was dismissed, and the judge slipped to his chambers for a few minutes. It would take only a few minutes, she thought miserably. A few minutes to give her back her daughter—and possibly destroy Wes Grayson.
When LaRoux walked back to the table his eyes glowered. “You’ve got it in the bag,” he said as he stuffed papers into his briefcase, “despite your efforts to go on being a loser.”
“No one had to lose!” she whispered. “I could have gotten joint custody without attacking him. I had enough of an argument, and you know it. I wanted it to be fair.”
“It’s only fair if you win,” he said.
“You don’t care who gets hurt, do you? You don’t see this as affecting human lives or hurting decent people.”
“Do you?” the cold attorney asked. “If I recall, you said that the child hadn’t even welcomed you into her life.” He uttered a dry, brittle laugh. “You hired me to hurt those decent people, so don’t give me the self-righteous routine now that I’ve gotten you what you wanted.”
Laney stared at him as he lowered to his seat, and slowly her angry, guilty eyes drifted to Wes. For a moment she wished she could take it all back, start over, and find some other way. Their eyes met for a split second before he turned away, and she felt colder than she’d ever felt in her life.
The judge returned to the courtroom ten minutes later, his judicial robe brushing the floor as he walked to the bench. Making a production of shuffling the papers on his desk and adjusting his glasses, he prepared to give his answer.
“After reviewing this case thoroughly …”
Wes clasped his hands in front of his mouth and closed his eyes. Please, God, he prayed. Prove that there’s still justice in this world …
Laney coiled her fingers in her lap and set her eyes on the judge.
Both held their breath. Both sweated. Both died a little inside as the judge grew long-winded, recounting both sides of the issue.
And then he finally said, “And for that reason, I award Ms. Fields joint custody of her daughter.”
Laney caught her breath in a sob, momentarily forgetting all the pain and sorrow it would cause the man at the table across from her.
Wes drew in an agonizing breath and wondered why he felt surprised, why he felt cheated, why he felt betrayed when he had expected it. He dropped his forehead into his hands. How was he going to tell Amy? He looked up, his green eyes indicting as they met Laney’s anxious ones. Her joy instantly faded, and guilt flashed through them.
The judge finished his statement, and court was adjourned. Laney pushed past the attorneys and made her way toward him, trying—and failing—to look as if she understood what he was going through.
“Wes,” she said before he could rebuke her. “Please. I didn’t mean for any of those things to come out. I didn’t know them myself.”
Wes started out of the courtroom, his brisk pace making her trot to keep up.
“My attorney was cruel,” she said, “and you know I don’t believe you’ve neglected Amy in any way. That wasn’t the point—”
“Then what was the point?” he asked, swiveling abruptly, almost making her run into him.
“I just wanted to have a part in her life. You wouldn’t let me see her.”
His nostrils flared, and for a moment she thought he might break down before her. But when his words came out they were steady and calculated. “I won’t force her to go with you,” he warned in a deadly quiet voice. “Before I’ll let you destroy her, I’ll take her so far away you’ll never see her again. I’d tread lightly if I were you.”
Tears sprang to Laney’s eyes. “Wes, please give me a chance,” she whispered.
He turned and walked away.
Wes was proud of himself. He had managed to drive home without running into any cars, without driving off an embankment, without slamming into any brick walls. He had not self-destructed.
He walked into his empty house and dropped his keys on the telephone table. He still had an hour before Amy got home from school. One hour to fall apart and put himself back together again.
His bedroom was dark, and he went in and sat on the bed—Patrice’s side—and gazed at the eight-by-ten picture of her he kept on the nightstand. He clutched his arms across his stomach and doubled over as the agony deep in his soul bubbled to the surface. Wilting, he lay on the bed on her pillow. “Patrice,” he cried, as tears squeezed out of his eyes.
His voice made the darkness darker, the loneliness lonelier. He grabbed the pillow from under the bedspread and clutched it against his chest. “I miss you,” he whispered as he wept.
He didn’t cry for long. His tears reached deep inside and tore great chunks from what was left of his heart. When he was spent he lay on his back still clutching the pillow and stared at the ceiling.
What would he do when Amy was with Laney? He couldn’t bear to come home to this empty house, to sleep without checking on her at night, and to wake without her early-morning smiles and her childish demands for things she knew he wouldn’t let her have for breakfast. The loneliness would kill him. Yet there was nothing he could do.
Was it his destiny to love only for a while and never learn to say good-bye?
Laney sat in the frilly bedroom she had decorated for Amy and looked at the pink and white dust ruffle beneath the soft pink comforter, at the subdued wallpaper, and at the French Provincial furniture that had been delivered the day before. Would Amy like what she had done to this room? she wondered. Would she see the love that had gone into it? Would she feel the warmth that Laney knew she could give her?
She pulled her feet up on the bed and folded her arms over her knees. Her daughter. Her baby. Was life finally making itself up to her, or was she setting herself up for a fall?
No, she thought. There was no room for fear. She would look ahead to the talks they would have in this room, to the questions she would answer, and to the love they would exchange. She deserved that love. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Amy’s exuberant smile and that long winter gown that transformed her from tomboy to princess.
Mommy, who was the first boy you ever liked?
There was a boy named Georgie who sat next to me in the second grade.
Did he pull your hair?
Every chance he got. And he wrote on me and threw dirt at me at recess and tied my shoelaces together … It was true love.
Mommy, why didn’t you ever get married?
Laney opened her eyes to the empty room. “Because there was too much unfinished business, too many ties, too many questions,” she whispered. “Because I could never move on with my life as long as I’d left you behind.”
Her heart ached with the pain that had presided in her soul for so long. It would work, she told herself. It would work for all of them. Even Wes. Laney would make it work.
She closed her eyes and imagined the little girl tucked into the bed, smiling up at her. “I’ll try to make it easy for you,” she whispered to the absent child. “And for your daddy.”
Quiet was all the response she got, leaving her with a cool, empty feeling that she expected to be temporary. When she had summoned all her strength, she pulled off of the bed and went to the telephone in the den. He’d be waiting for her call, she thought. Waiting fearfully, miserably for her to tell him when she wanted to take Amy. If only he could see how right this was, she thought, he would be happy.
The phone rang four times before a quiet, masculine voice answered. “Hello?”
“Hi,” she said simply.
Silence.
“I thought we should talk about our schedule,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she went on, going through the speech she had rehearsed over and over in her mind. “If it’s all right, I’d like to have her this weekend, and then I was thinking that I could keep her after school until you get home, so she doesn’t have to stay with the baby-sitter. When school’s out I could keep her during the day, and you could have her at night. That way, her life wouldn’t be disrupted. When she’s more used to me, we could alternate weekends and maybe work up to a night or two a week.”
“And if it’s not all right?”
She heard the anger vibrating in his voice. “Wes, it won’t be ideal for either of us. It’ll be hard for me to let her go at the end of the day.”
“The sacrifices you’re willing to make,” he said sarcastically.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to go on. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I want to pick her up at ten o’clock. I’ll bring her back Sunday.”
No answer.
“Look at the bright side,” she offered. “You can date without getting a baby-sitter. You could go out tomorrow and—”
“I don’t exactly feel like celebrating,” he said.
She gave a limp sigh. “No, I don’t suppose you do.” An idea occurred to her, and her eyes found new life. “You could come over here for dinner tomorrow night. Make sure that everything’s going well. It might make you feel better. Amy too. I think it’s important for her to see us as friends.”
“She knows we’re not friends,” he said.
“Still,” she tried again, “we could try.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
“Ten o’clock, then?”
“You’re running this show.”
She brought a shaky hand to her forehead. Why did he insist on making this so difficult? “All right. I’ll see you both then.”
The click told her he had hung up. She set the phone in its cradle and tried not to feel the anguish, the misery he was feeling. She tried to erase the image of haunted green eyes from her mind, tried to forget the defeated slump of his broad shoulders as he’d stormed out of the court building that afternoon. Friendship between them seemed impossible, and that was a shame because they needed each other tonight.
But tonight would be over soon enough, she thought finally. And tomorrow she would have Amy.
Chapter Seven
When he answered the door the following morning, Wes’s eyes were tired and red and filled with an undisguised contempt Laney feared she would always see there. His brown hair was tousled, as if he hadn’t yet thought to brush it, and his shirttail hung out over his jeans. Without greeting her, he stepped back and let her into the quiet house.
Laney smoothed her French braid with a trembling hand and stepped inside. Amy sat on the couch, staring down at her hands clasped in her lap like a little girl about to be taken to reform school for having done nothing wrong.
“Hi, Amy,” she said cautiously.
Amy didn’t answer.
Laney turned back to Wes. “Please,” she mouthed, pleading for him to act civil, “for Amy’s sake.”
Wes took a deep breath and looked at his daughter. He wet his lips, as if he were about to speak, but nothing came out. After another visual entreaty from Laney, he sat down beside Amy.
“Your hair looks nice,” he told Laney in a poor attempt at sounding friendly. “Maybe you can do that to Amy’s hair. I’m not too good with things like that.”
“Of course I can do hers,” Laney said.
When Amy didn’t respond, Laney returned her troubled eyes to Wes. Even through his dislike she saw his vulnerability, his plea for her to tread lightly, and the silent repetition of his wish of weeks ago: I hope you’re a decent person. She reached out and touched his arm to reassure him. Amazingly he didn’t pull away, and he didn’t tense up. And for a fleeting moment Laney thought she would rather do anything in the world than hurt him.
“Will …” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “Will you be coming for supper?”
Amy looked up at that, her bi
g eyes pleading.
“Yes, I’ll come,” he said finally. Then, forcing a smile, he said, “I never miss a good home-cooked meal.”
Laney arranged her smile so that Amy wouldn’t see the turmoil within her. “Amy, did you pack your bathing suit?”
The child shook her head negatively.
“She doesn’t have one,” Wes said. “She’s outgrown last year’s, and we haven’t gotten her another one.”
“No problem,” Laney said. “We’ll go shopping and buy you one. I’ve always wanted to take you shopping.”
Amy shrugged indifferently.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Laney said. “Your dad probably has a lot of things to do.”
“Yeah,” he said miserably.
Amy stood up and got her small overnight case, then followed Laney to the front door. Wes walked behind them and opened the door. Amy headed for the car before Laney was out of the house.
Laney turned back to Wes, his arm propped on the doorjamb as he stared wistfully after Amy, his eyes wide and misty.
“You should get some sleep,” Laney told him quietly. “She’ll be fine.”
His throat convulsed, and he nodded.
“Supper’s at six,” she added.
He couldn’t answer. Somehow, Laney understood why. Turning, she followed her daughter to the car, hoping that things would take a turn for the better.
But they didn’t. The shopping spree proved to be disastrous. Amy, who still refused to speak to her, showed no preference for anything and even declined to try on a swimming suit. Taking a guess at her size, Laney took a chance and bought one anyway.
Before they left the mall, which was busy with chattering Saturday shoppers, Laney led Amy to Baskin-Robbins for ice cream. But Amy found nothing to interest her. Even McDonald’s had no appeal to the child, so Laney finally gave up and took Amy home.
The room would do it, she thought. When Amy saw that bedroom she would flip. It was every little girl’s dream, and it had been custom decorated just for Amy. But when she led Amy through the big house and to her room, Amy didn’t bat an eye.
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