by Amanda Renee
“Why?” she shot back in a whisper.
“Because that’s your daughter. The one you haven’t seen in six years, yet you’re worried about paint colors and a piglet.”
Ivy turned around and stared at Molly. Harlan willed the woman to say something, but she remained silent.
“Ivy, sweetheart.” He sat on the floor and pulled her into his lap. “This is Molly. She’s your mommy, but you can call her Molly if you want.” Molly’s narrowed stare didn’t faze him. “Remember what I told you the other day? You only do or say what you’re comfortable with. Do you want to talk to her?”
Ivy nodded and they both looked up at Molly, who remained on the other side of the room.
“Molly, this won’t work unless you’re an active participant.”
She entered the room and sat on the edge of the couch, as far away as possible. Okay, she wasn’t going to come to them and Harlan had promised not to force Ivy. Now what? Harlan eased Ivy onto her feet and he joined Molly on the couch, leaving plenty of room on either side of him for Ivy if she decided to come closer. Instead she sat crossed-legged on the floor in front of them. Elvis crawled into her lap and she proceeded to scratch him behind his ears, never breaking eye contact with Molly.
“My daddy said you wanted to meet me.”
“I do. I—I did,” Molly stammered. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown. You’re a big girl.”
“Do you know my birthday?” Ivy asked.
Harlan had wondered the same thing over the years, considering she had never bothered to send a card.
“May 7.”
“How come you never came to see me before?”
“I have seen you before.” Molly leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “I lived here with you for the first year of your life. You were just too young to remember.”
“You lived in the house with Daddy?” Ivy asked.
Molly side-glanced at him in annoyance. Harlan hadn’t seen the need to tell Ivy anything about Molly when she so eagerly renounced custody.
“I did, when your daddy and I were married.”
“Like Belle and Daddy are married?”
Molly nodded. “Exactly.”
Harlan coughed. The two marriages were more different than a mare and a doorknob.
“Did you live in the stables, too?” Ivy asked.
“I’m sorry. Did I what? Live in the stables? No, I lived in this house with your father.”
“Ivy.” Harlan shook his head. There was a piece of information Molly didn’t need to know.
Molly shifted on the couch. “What does she mean...live in the stables? You and Belle came out of there the other morning. Are you all living in there?”
“Only Belle does,” Ivy answered. “Daddy says they only had a pretend wedding because Belle’s grandma is sick.”
Molly started to laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. So what was that the other day? A little booty call?”
“Molly!” Harlan warned. “First, don’t disparage my wife, and yes, Molly, she is my legal wife in every sense of the word. And second, don’t use that language around my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” she corrected. “I’m sure she doesn’t know what I meant.”
“And I’m sure she repeats things she hears even when she shouldn’t.” Harlan shot Ivy a warning glare.
“Belle reads me bedtime stories.” Ivy scooted closer.
“Speaking of bedtime, you need to get ready for yours. But we need to take these three for a walk first. Do you remember where we put all their leashes?” Harlan hadn’t been able to find a collar for Samson, so he borrowed an extra one from Elvis. He had noticed Belle never left their collars on like he left on Elvis’s and figured she had her reasons.
Ivy returned a few seconds later with all three leashes and two collars. The animals firmly secured, he picked up Samson and Lillie while Ivy walked Elvis to the door on his leash. He stopped halfway onto the porch and called into the living room. “Come on, Molly. That means you, too.”
He wasn’t about to leave her alone in his house, not even for a second. And their half hour was almost over. Molly trudged to the door. “I thought we’d talk some more.”
“Nope.” Harlan waited for her to exit before closing the screen door behind them. “Some other time. This was a start.”
“Would you like me to read you a bedtime story?” Molly squatted down beside Ivy. “I’d love to see your room.”
Now she’d pushed him too far.
“No, thank you,” Ivy said, shutting her down before he even had a chance.
Good girl.
Chapter Twelve
Belle understood why she didn’t own a television. She’d scanned the channels with the remote at least a dozen times and nothing captured her interest. It was almost nine thirty and she began to doubt Judge Sanders would show tonight.
A bouquet of flowers appeared in the doorway, causing her to smile. “Harlan, you shouldn’t have. I told you to stay home with Ivy.”
The man lowered the flowers, uncovering his face. Judge Sanders.
“Those are beautiful. Thank you, Dad.”
He almost dropped the vase on the roll-away table at the foot of her bed.
“I’m sorry. Too soon?” Belle asked. He paled, almost matching the color of his platinum hair. And for the first time in her life, she wondered whose side of the family her coloring came from. “You do know what I’m referring to, don’t you?”
“If you’re talking about my relationship with your mother, then yes. But, I’m sorry. I’m not your father. I fear you don’t have all the facts.”
“I have more facts than you think I do.” The more she ran over the story in her head, the less far-fetched it became. “The timeline fits. After my mother told my grandparents she was pregnant, my grandfather had a heart attack and died. I’ve already double-checked the date of his death and it is eight months before I was born, which adds credibility to the story. I’m still trying to figure out if my mom ran away from the guilt she carried over my grandfather’s death or if my grandmother threw her out.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Grammy fades in and out of decades courtesy of her damned disease, and today she told me she held my mom responsible for her husband’s death.” Belle steeled her nerves in preparation for the validity of her paternity claim. The mystery surrounding her father had been such a strong part of her life, she wondered if she’d miss it once it was gone. “How much time passed between when my grandparents told you my mom’s real age and my grandfather’s death?”
Beckett settled in the chair next to the bed before responding. “It was the same day.”
Grammy had left that part out. Evidently, she had left out and hidden quite a bit of information. “Did my mom tell you she was pregnant that day?”
“No. I found out she’d had a child after she had abandoned you in Texas.” He stared down at his hands in his lap. “By the time you came back to town, I was thirty-three and married. My wife was aware of my past with your mother.” His eyes met hers. “I had every intention of pursuing a paternity test, until your grandmother told me the circumstances surrounding Cindy’s pregnancy. Let’s just say it painted your mom in a rather risqué light and she feared a custody case would follow you around in such a small town. You were having such a hard time of it already. I asked for a private paternity test instead and she refused. My wife and I were more than willing to help support you. We were unable to have children of our own and you would have been welcome in our home. But your grandmother’s adamancy led me to strongly believe I wasn’t your father. I never had any proof you were mine.”
“Well, we can get proof now. We’re in a hospital and I want a paternity test. Tonight. You’re a county judge. You can make it happen. This small
town has been talking about me since I was six years old. Let them talk. I have a thick skin. After twenty-seven years, don’t we both deserve the truth?”
“Okay.”
“Okay? You mean it’s that simple? I don’t have to fight you for it?”
“Of course not.” Beckett stood and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I want to know just as much as you do. Let me go track down a nurse and when I get back you can explain how you wound up in the hospital.”
Belle watched him leave, and for a moment, she feared he wouldn’t return. It wasn’t as if he could hide from her. She’d be in front of him again in a few weeks for Lillie’s case. Or would she? That was a terrifying thought. If Judge Sanders really was her father, another judge would have to hear her case. Possibly a sterner judge who might try to make an example out of her.
Until she had definitive proof Beckett was her father, she had to ignore the millions of questions running through her head. She stood on the fine line between elation and apprehension. The possibility alone had already contorted her sensibilities. How much more would the truth change?
* * *
HARLAN DROPPED IVY off at school on his way to the hospital. Ivy had wanted to see Belle, but she’d already missed enough school. He’d talked to her last night after Judge Sanders had left and she’d sounded down that they had to wait until morning for the paternity-test results.
She’d asked him to bring her a change of clothes from the ranch. She was determined to escape the confines of the hospital today. She’d said it gave her a new appreciation for what her grandmother experienced daily.
He’d originally gone up to her apartment to retrieve what she’d asked for, but the more he’d looked around, the more aggravated he’d become. He refused to have another you stay in your space and I’ll stay in mine argument when she came home from the hospital. He’d looked up concussions last night and one of the mandatory treatments was plenty of rest. He’d been a complete jerk for allowing her to stay up there as long as she had. Even Molly had recognized it wasn’t right, despite Belle’s protests. Starting today, she was living in the main house. If she felt more comfortable staying in her own room, she was welcome to use the guest bedroom. Either way, her days of living above the horses were officially over.
Harlan hated hospitals. Being a deputy sheriff meant seeing the inside of them more than most people. And it was never for a good reason. The scent of the wildflower bouquet he carried helped mask the astringent smell of the hallway. It had been a long time since he’d bought her flowers. He hoped they were still her favorite.
“Good morning, beautiful.” Harlan entered her room, surprised to see Judge Sanders and a woman standing next to Belle’s bed.
“Good morning.” Despite her surroundings, Belle appeared much better than she had yesterday.
“These are for you.” He handed her the bouquet, then looked around for a place to put them.
“Thank you.” She lowered her head to sniff the blooms. “I can’t believe you remembered.” She inhaled deeply. “Harlan, you already know Judge Sanders.”
“Please, call me Beckett.” The man held out his hand to Harlan and they shook. “This is my wife, Becky.”
Harlan was taken slightly aback. Beckett and Becky? You couldn’t have planned that even if you tried. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“You, too. I hear you have quite a political future ahead of you. I’d like to talk to you about that sometime.”
“I do?” Harlan looked at Belle, who shrugged. “You would?”
“My wife has managed more than a few successful political campaigns. You’ve come up in conversation during various events. I can see you easily running for and winning the sheriff’s seat in the near future.”
“Wow, thank you. That’s my goal.” Harlan reached for Belle’s hand. “Any word on your test results?”
“I have them right here,” a lab technician said from the doorway. “Would you like me to read them?”
“Yes, please.” Belle squeezed Harlan’s hand tighter.
“Beckett Sanders, you are Belle Barnes’s father.”
Belle buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Harlan wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently. “Shh. It’s all over now. You finally have your answers.” Her body shook and Harlan feared she’d set off an alarm on one of the monitors attached to her. He looked across the bed to Beckett sobbing in his wife’s arms.
“I can’t believe it. I should have insisted on this test when you were six years old. I am so sorry you had to wait this long. We’ve lost so much time.”
Belle lifted her head. “Can I call you Dad?”
“Of course you can. You can call me anything you’d like.” Beckett gave her a hug as Harlan stepped away from the bed.
Becky gestured toward the doorway and they both slipped into the hall unnoticed. “I thought they could use a little privacy. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” she asked.
“Only if you let me do the buying,” Harlan said.
“You have a deal. I heard you have a daughter of your own.”
“Ivy. She’s seven, in a remarkably similar situation as Belle.”
“How so?” Becky asked as they stepped into the elevator.
Over the next half hour and two cups of ultrastrong coffee, he explained his situation with Molly to Becky. The woman was easy to talk to. He’d never had that type of relationship with his mom. His dad had always been his go-to guy, and he’d missed him even more than normal during the past week.
“Beckett feels an enormous amount of guilt for Belle’s—how shall I phrase it—police record I guess is the best choice. It will always hang over him. Had he been a father to her, would she have made the same choices?”
“I can answer that.” Harlan nodded. “She would have. Who raised her wouldn’t have affected her passion. Then again, maybe not.” He sagged against the back of the cafeteria chair. “Maybe she would have become an animal rights attorney instead. Either way, she’d be involved in animal rights. Her first instinct is to protect the weak. Animals, the elderly, children. She’s a protector.”
“It’s sweet the way you talk about her. She’s a lucky woman. And your daughter’s lucky to have a father willing to accept her mother back into her life.”
“More like tolerate. Molly and Ivy didn’t take well to each other last night. The first time Ivy met Belle, she was all over her. And Belle loves every second of it. But she’s afraid Ivy will feel she needs to choose either her or Molly. I want to tell her it’s okay to have two moms but I’m having a hard time accepting Molly as her mother. Belle yes, Molly not so much.”
“You need to get over that,” Becky said matter-of-factly. “You’re allowing your feelings toward Molly to taint your daughter. Kids pick up on the tension. If she senses you are uncomfortable, she’ll follow your lead. That’s why a lot of supervised visitation is overseen by a neutral party. It gives the child a chance to develop their own thoughts and feelings about the person.”
Harlan hadn’t considered his terseness toward Molly might have influenced Ivy last night. She would have been better off with his uncle Jax supervising. That man had never met another human or animal he didn’t like.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thank you for listening.”
“Hey, don’t mention it.” She patted his hand. “We’re family now.”
“I guess we are.” He tapped his cup on the table and smiled. “What do you say? Think we’ve given them enough time?”
“They’re going to need a lifetime.” Becky rose and slung her purse over her shoulder. “We’re the ones that will need to adjust to sharing them with other people.”
And that meant sharing Ivy with Molly. He would do it to spare her the pain Belle suffered her entire life. He’d do anything for the pe
ople he loved.
* * *
ALL BELLE WANTED to do was take a long hot shower, check on her babies and sleep for the rest of the day. Harlan parked the truck almost on top of the fence behind the house.
“You wait right there.” He hopped out and ran to the passenger-side door before she had a chance to touch the door handle. “Give me your hand.”
“Harlan.” She smacked it away. “Stop it before you drive me insane.”
“The doctor said you needed plenty of rest.”
He held her elbow as if she were an elderly woman crossing the street. Arguing didn’t work, so she allowed him to continue his smothering. “You can help me up to my apartment, and then I’ll be fine. You need to get to work anyway.”
“I moved you into the house this morning.”
“You did what?” Belle forced a tight smile. “I mean, that was nice of you, but you didn’t have to do that. I really need the peace and quiet, and the stables are peaceful and quiet.”
“It’s too cold, too damp, you just got out of the hospital and it doesn’t even have a proper kitchen. You can’t even fix anything to eat unless it fits in that Barbie-sized refrigerator up there. And before you protest some more, I set you up in the guest room. I figured you’d still want your own space.”
He was setting her up in the exact situation he told her she wouldn’t like if she stayed at Lydia’s. That made sense.
“You’re not happy, are you?” He frowned.
“I feel icky and tired. Once I get past that, we will be good to go. I’ll do that while you’re at work, because you are going to work.”
Once they were inside and she’d gotten over the initial shock of Samson and Lillie residing in Harlan’s mudroom, she sank deep into the claw-foot tub, allowing the water to engulf her in a cocoon of warmth. She heard Harlan’s truck drive away and exhaled the deepest breath she felt like she’d held since her grandmother mentioned Judge Sanders. Correction. Her father.