Wildly Inappropriate

by Eden Connor

  The door swung open. Officer Nelson dropped a sandwich-sized square wrapped in institutional brown paper towels onto Lila's bunk and opened the small carton of milk. Smiling triumphantly, she held the carton over the toilet. "County regulations say I gotta provide you with milk. Don't say nothin' 'bout you gettin' to drink it." Tipping the container, she let the contents stream into the toilet. Her smile looked triumphant before she did an about-face and stomped out. The clang of the door echoed in the tiny cell.

  Lila looked at the sandwich. "You think she spit on it?"

  "I'd bet on it," Cynda whispered, her stomach knotting.

  * * * *

  Dan watched the pup's tummy rise and fall. Did it matter why Dazza wanted that piece of land? He wasn't going to sell it to him, but he might walk it later. He hadn't realized the bridge had rotted. No one went that way anymore. The bridge had been put up fifty years ago, maybe longer. He might ask his brothers whether they thought it was worth repairing, but it was just a shortcut over the ravine. The migrants used to use the bridge before John Carpenter sold off his peach orchards. The terrain there was too rocky for orchards. That section of the property was littered with scrub pine that blew over in the slightest storm, and huge river oaks that had driven their roots deep. The ravine filled with water after a hard rain.

  Not-Jacques stirred and began to whine, prompting Dan to don a pair of shorts and fetch the Sunday paper. Calling for Daisy, he walked to the end of the driveway, easing the heavy, bundled newspaper out of the plastic tube the paper carrier had staked to the ground next to his mailbox. She came trotting out of the garden, holding something in her mouth. "Release," he ordered, sliding the rubber band off the paper. He glanced back at Daisy, to be sure she'd followed his command. A section of the paper slid loose and fell to the ground. Cursing, Dan bent to pick it up.

  It was the real estate section, which he normally never read. The headline below the fold grabbed his attention. Dan bounded up the steps and held the front door open for Daisy, whistling impatiently. She trotted past him like she'd been born an indoor dog. Dan shook his head, thinking of the way Cynda's eyes had lit up when he'd agreed to let the damn dog into the house. "When Cynda leaves, you're a yard dog again," he informed her. Daisy didn't jump the child gate. She went the opposite way, into the kitchen, and stopped at the refrigerator. Cynda had been giving her milk, swearing the dog needed it to make milk for her pup. He'd never done that before, and this was hardly Daisy's first litter; more like her last. Guilt pierced him. What did he know about making babies, or caring for them? Sighing, he grabbed the gallon of milk out of the fridge and poured Daisy a bowlful before settling at the counter.

  His coffee turned to acid in his stomach. The tiny print fuzzed as he stared at the paper, dropping his head into his hands. How the hell did I sink so low? Am I so jealous of what Colton has with Lila that I've turned into some monster who jumps at the chance to make Cynda into my dress-up doll and plaything? He thought she was okay with it, but like Daisy and the milk, what did he really know? From the little he'd read in his mother's diaries, it was pretty clear how badly a man could misinterpret a woman's silence. Cynda had signed that contract out of desperation, not attraction.

  If he'd caught Eric doing something like this, Colton wouldn't have been able to pull Dan off their brother, assuming he'd have even tried, under the circumstances. This was more than wildly inappropriate. What he'd done to Cynda was a damn disgrace. He had to make this right.

  * * * *

  "Forty-one's not that old," Cynda disagreed, hoping to keep Lila's mind off her hunger. "I mean, you're raising Jonah, right? How old is he?"

  "Thirteen." Lila rubbed at her eyes. "Sarah moved to LA before he was born. It was a huge adjustment for him to move here on top of her murder. Then he had to readjust when my house sold and Colton dragged me to live with them." She got up and drank from the fountain again.

  "Dragged you?" Cynda's conscience stabbed her every time Lila did that. She was being nosy, but they had a whole day to kill. She wanted to know more about Daniel, but keeping Lila on topic was challenging.

  Lila snorted, curling up on the bunk. "Let me just warn you. The minute a De Marco tells you he loves you, what he actually means is, in his mind, you belong to him. In the biblical sense. He decides you're moving in, you move in. You don't get to vote. I thought men Colton's age had to be chased down and hog-tied for that kind of commitment, but every time I opened a newspaper to look at houses, he'd take it out of my hands and tell me his house was half-empty. They must get that from Rafe. From what I've heard, he never looked at another woman after Cammie left."

  Cynda tried again, hoping to glean some details about Daniel's old girlfriend. "Daniel sure lives in a big house for a single dude."

  Lila's eyes widened. "Oh my God, he's like an old maid about that attic. I just wanted to look, and he wouldn't let me up the steps."

  Cynda barely suppressed a groan. "His mama's things are up there," she said defensively, playing with the beads at the end of one braid. "Didn't look to me like he throws out much, but I guess there's plenty of space to store stuff." The farmhouse was easily four or five times the size of Grams' mill house.

  To her frustration, Lila zigzagged again. "Yet another reason having a baby's a terrible idea. Colton built a two-bedroom house. It has a small office and right now, it's piled to the ceiling with my stuff." Lila rolled onto her side and propped her head on a hand. "Daniel let you in the attic and showed you his mother's things?"

  "Yes, well, he let me go up there and look around." Cynda didn't want to admit why, so she added, "If Colton built the house, he can add a room. You gettin' way ahead of yourself. What if he wants a baby?"

  The other woman's eyes looked stricken. "What if I don't?" Lila whispered, flopping onto her back. She brushed paint chips off her blanket for long minutes before she burst out, "When Charlie was Jonah's age, my husband started making plans for us after Charlie left to go to college. We were going to travel. When Charlie was a sophomore in high school, Pete became paralyzed. Then Charlie left to join the Marines and two months later, Pete died. Nine miserable months after that, Colton showed up and I fell in love with him. I started thinking once we get Jonah into college, maybe Colton and I could do the things I never got to do with Pete."

  "I don't think you can fit a man into another man's plans. Every man's got his own."

  Turning her head slightly, Lila raised a brow. "Hrmph, I don't think he planned on us having a baby."

  "No, you said he thought he couldn't. That's not the same thing," Cynda pointed out. "Men can surprise you about babies. They don't want 'em until they find out they're having one, most of the time. I mean, he comes from a big family, right?" Cynda chuckled. "Besides, girlfriend, from what you say about your female troubles and his bein' sterile, isn't this baby sort of a miracle? It sounds to me like God pointed and said, 'Those two, right there, I want them to raise this one'."

  "Yeah, if you wanna make God laugh, tell Him your plans," Lila retorted wryly, lifting one hand to trace the cheap serpentine springs in the bottom of the bunk above her. "Wouldn't be so bad if I had some help, you know?"

  "I might be unemployed by now," Cynda said, thinking about how nasty her manager had been when she'd been forced to squander her one phone call to tell him she wouldn't be able to work her weekend shifts. "I hate that job, though. My dream job is to become a nanny."

  Lila looked at her again, her eyes round as saucers. "Seriously? Like, the come-to-my-house kind of nanny? Or do you want a job as a live-in nanny?" She fell back onto the pillow again. "I guess if we were going to build a nursery, we could just as easily add a bedroom. Colton goes stark raving bonkers if I try to pay for something, but he might let me buy the materials and his brothers would help him do the labor."

  Cynda would adore the kind of job Lila described. Being a nanny was even better than teaching kindergarten because she wouldn't have to let go of a child she'd come to love at the end of the school year
. Grams and three of her neighbors had spent the last fifty years looking after each other. The small mill village was close enough to the De Marco's land that Cynda could keep an eye on her grandmother.

  If Lila was serious, all she had to do was figure out what to do about King. She didn't expect Daniel to help her. Why should he? They'd only just met, not to mention how they'd met. But, if she could become Lila's nanny, she'd still see him and maybe, he'd still want to play his games with her.

  "I love babies," she confessed. "All kids really. Taking care of one from the day it's born till it starts school would be the next best thing to havin' my own." She tensed, waiting for some cutting comment from Lila. They'd talked for hours, but this was fertile ground for racist remarks. White women seemed to think wanting to stay home and raise your babies was beneath them. She counted by ones, waiting for Lila to throw in something about Cynda being her maid.

  * * * *

  His idea might work. Dan flung the paper aside and hurried to shower and shave. It was too hot to put on a suit, but he found a decent pair of khakis and a polo shirt. Unsure, he switched to a short-sleeved shirt and tie, fumbling with both while he eyed the clock. He had to make it before the person he needed to see left for church.

  Pulling his truck into the same spot where he'd parked two nights before while waiting for Cynda to change into her work clothes, he looked at the mill house with critical eyes. Someone had replaced the old siding with brick, but the trim needed a coat of paint and the house could use a new roof. He couldn't tell whether anyone was home, but red geraniums bloomed riotously in clay pots on each of the front steps. The heat already felt merciless as he trotted up the sidewalk. It could use a good edging. He rang the bell, looking around. Inman Mills had been among the last textile mills in the area to close. A white-steepled church glinted in the sunlight at the top of the hill behind the small house. The old red brick mill a short distance down the street had boarded-up windows. It loomed over an adjacent baseball field appearing to be in use. The grass was clipped and the chalk lines looked fresh.

  "Hello?" A tiny woman in a floral cotton dress peered through the screen. She didn't open the storm door, but the glass had been lowered. Behind the gray mesh, her face was lined and her eyes were glazed with the white film that haunted Daisy. He made a silent prayer she'd listen to his proposal. For her sake as well as for his.

  Dan had no idea what her last name might be. "My name's Daniel De Marco, ma'am. I'm a friend of your granddaughter, Cynda Avery. I was hoping to talk to you about the, um… issue you're having with Mr. Dazza and his loan."

  * * * *

  Lila's eyes sparkled. "If he wants to keep the baby, then consider yourself hired. You can help me in the shop till it's born. I had the energy of a slug when I was pregnant with Charlie and my business is just picking up. I don't want to lose any customers by not being open. I stayed home to raise Charlie, but I'm not twenty-two anymore, and I finally got my little dream of opening an official business. Colton did build that building to house my shop. Maybe he'd be willing to add a nursery and a room for a nanny."

  "For real?" Cynda demanded, deciding that no matter what, she intended to remain friends with Lila. "You might be able to use some help with Jonah. I can pick him up after school and stuff, till he learns to drive, and get dinner started," she offered eagerly. "You said most nights you feed all of them. That's got to be a lot of cooking, and if you're going to be coaching Jonah's baseball team, they still have to eat."

  "Deal," Lila said emphatically. "But don't go all starry-eyed on me yet. Colton might think we should get the abortion, you know? And if you ever say baby daddy in my presence again, I'll… I'll… I don't know what I'll do, but it'll be ugly," Lila vowed.

  "You could always get me arrested," Cynda pointed out, grinning.

  "That CO is going to have live, quacking baby ducks if we keep laughing," Lila spluttered when the expected warning came.

  Lila was all smiles now, but Cynda's chest tightened, in spite of her laughter. It might not be wise to plan on helping Lila. What if, at the end of next week when her time was up on his little contract, Daniel never wanted to see her again?

  She stretched out on the thin mattress, tugging her dress below her knees. Maybe she could think of a way to get him to ask her for a longer contract. She'd just gotten Lila to offer her her dream job, hadn't she?

  If nothing else, she'd managed to get Lila to see she didn't really want an abortion.

  * * * *

  "So, this reverse mortgage. You'd be buying my house, but I could still live in it till I die?"

  To Dan's relief, Coralinne Avery had listened to his offer. He remembered not to nod. "Yes, ma'am. I can give you the cash, or you can use the purchase price like a savings account and just draw out money whenever you need it. I'd feel better if you heard the pros and cons of those choices from my attorney or yours, if you have one. I'd be buying the house at today's fair market value, but you'd retain the right to live in it for your lifetime. You'd pay the taxes, insurance and upkeep, just like you do now, but you'd have the proceeds from the sale to help you with that." He gritted his teeth. "And to pay Kingsley Dazza, of course. It would be my pleasure to drive you to speak with him about that, actually. I think we can negotiate a better deal. Title reverts to me upon your death and not a minute sooner, as long as you keep the taxes and insurance paid."

  He hadn't expected her to cry. The tight hug she insisted on giving him felt wildly inappropriate, since he'd end up owning her house, but Dan returned the squeeze.

  Surprised when she invited him to church, Dan nonetheless agreed. Tucking her arm through his, he walked her slowly up the small hill behind her house, joining several of her neighbors heading in the same direction. In the miniscule sanctuary, he found the pine pews were unforgiving, but his conscience eased a bit.

  Until Miss Coralinne whispered, "It's a shame Cynda had to work this morning. She been singin' in that choir since she was thirteen. Even if she is mine, cain't no angel sing better."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cynda's sweat clung to her skin like an overcoat. The pretty lace-trimmed shift she'd donned to go to the Daniel Morgan Hotel was crumpled and dirty. Her teeth felt like they wore little sweaters but she'd fared better than Lila. The other woman had dark circles under her eyes, and her loose hair was tangled. Officer Nelson had confiscated the elastic band she used to tie it back. Cynda sat down on the hard bench with her head held high, refusing to wince at the tightness of her handcuffs. This time, she could be sure Lila's were much tighter. She perched uncomfortably on the edge of her seat, looking around curiously. Other than the row of detainees, the only person in the room was a brown-haired man wearing a three-piece suit. He was seated in a folding metal chair off to one side, flipping casually through some papers.

  She'd expected a courtroom like on television, but this looked more like a Sunday school classroom. At the front, a small wooden table and a metal folding chair were centered between the dual rows of benches.

  "Don't talk back to the magistrate when he comes in. Say 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' and not much else," Officer Nelson intoned. "Any talkin' while you wait for your name to be called and you'll go right back in your cell till tomorrow." She gave Lila a hard stare. Lila's smile held a challenge. Cynda had to bite back a grin. That was one stubborn white woman.

  The door to the room opened. Cynda's heart vaulted into her throat. She watched the white judge stroll in, trying to evaluate the man who'd decide whether or not she was released. She'd fretted over how she'd pay bail, but Lila promised if they couldn't sign their own bond she'd get them both out. Maybe Daniel would pay Lila back and add a few days to her contract.

  She could always hope.

  Call it Stockholm syndrome, but she liked Lila. The woman had a way of growing on you—when she wasn't causing trouble. Thanks to Lila's pissing match with the CO, she'd been denied shower privileges. Cynda had declined to take one out of loyalty to Lila, but she was regretting
her impulse now.

  When the magistrate called her name, CO Nelson jammed her key into Cynda's cuffs. "Bet I see you again," the vile woman muttered. The cuffs fell free and Cynda straightened her shoulders. Anger stiffened her knees. She marched past the jailor and stepped before the judge.

  The man in the suit got to his feet and moved to her side. Cynda turned to gape at him. He patted her back, but spoke to the magistrate. "Wentworth Morgan, representing the defendant, Your Honor. This is my client's first offense. She's a lifetime resident of the county with no plans to leave. She pleads not guilty and she waives no rights."

  The magistrate shoved a paper across his desk and pointed to a pen fastened by a chain to the small desk. He rattled off Grams' address. "Is that your correct address?"

  "Yes, sir." Cynda's heart thudded to the commercial tile at her feet. She'd added to Grams' money problems. But how had her grandmother found out? Her heart twisted. Daniel must have told her. Or had the restaurant manager called her?

  "Sign here, Miss Avery. Court date to be determined. You'll get a letter in the mail."

  Her hand shook as she scrawled her name. Dropping the pen, she looked at the attorney, unsure what to do next.

  "Go through that door and get your property from the desk clerk," the lawyer whispered. "I'll be right out, as soon as Mrs. Walker's case is called. Then we can talk."

  It must have been Daniel who'd gotten her the lawyer, if the man was waiting for Lila's name to be called. She went out a different door than the one she'd entered, stepping into a two-story lobby. A uniformed desk clerk motioned her over. "Name?" he asked politely.

  She told him, adding, "I didn't have any property." He pushed a bag across the counter. Peeling the self-stick flap open, she peered in. She'd forgotten her shoes and her driver's license in her impatience to see Daniel. Hurriedly, she slipped the white sandals on and returned the rubber ones. She was free.