A Mom for His Daughter

by Jean C. Gordon

  “As all right as I can be. One more thing. I’d like a copy of Mairi’s medical records.”

  “Of course. I can have the records ready for you to pick up after noon tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. I’ll stop in on my lunch break.”

  Fiona left in an emotional fog, settled her bill and almost physically ran into Marc and Stella in the building entryway.

  “Hi,” Marc said.

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted, failing in her attempt to pull herself together.

  “Seeing the pediatrician who’s here at the center a couple of times a week.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Is Stella all right?”

  Fiona’s gaze dropped from his face to the little girl wrapped around his leg, finger stuck in her mouth. An arrow of pain struck her heart. Last evening when she’d seen Stella with Marc, she’d allowed that it could have been her imagination fired by her renewed grief over her sister’s death. But it wasn’t. Stella was a mini Mairi.

  “It’s her regular wellness appointment.”

  “Ah, does that mean someone has a birthday soon?” Fiona smiled at Stella, who tightened her grip on Marc.

  “Not until March third, but I wanted to get her set up with a doctor here.”

  Marc’s words after March third, the birth date of Mairi’s daughter, were more a hum in Fiona’s ears than actual words. “What agency did you and your wife use to adopt Stella?” Fiona blurted. But even before he answered, the truth rang in her like a bell, with the memory of her sister’s final words: Find her.

  * * *

  Marc stared at Fiona, and then over her shoulder at the door to the Birthing Center, Autumn and Jon’s practice. Bittersweet remembrances of Cate and all the tests to determine why they couldn’t conceive rolled over him.

  Fiona shuffled her feet and twisted the strap on her purse. “I was wondering.” Her words rushed out. “For one of my classmates from grad school who I keep in touch with. I assume you used a downstate agency.”

  She looked at him with an eager expression that made him wonder if the information really was for a friend. “No, we used Precious in His Sight, a private Christian agency in Glens Falls. It serves all of New York state.” He glanced at Stella and experienced the awe and gratitude he still got just knowing she was his. “Tell your friend I highly recommend them.”

  “Daddy.” Stella tugged at his hand. “Good girl prize.” The pediatrician Cate had taken Stella to in New York gave her a small prize at every appointment. He had no idea if the doctor here did the same, and had explained that to Stella.

  He turned back to Fiona. She was staring at his daughter with a look of longing that made him wonder if she was the one who wanted to adopt. “I’d better get Stella in for her appointment.”

  “Of course.” Fiona pulled her gaze from Stella, concern replacing the longing on her face.

  “Thanks for the information. I’ll tell...I’ll tell my friend, and be in touch.”

  He watched her walk out, assuming she meant she’d be in touch about La Table Frais.

  “Daddy. Her go away. ’Pointment.”

  He didn’t know whether Stella was making an observation about Fiona leaving or expressing a preference—not that it mattered. His relationship with Fiona was business.

  A half hour later, Marc was sitting in the pediatrician’s exam room with the doctor and Stella.

  The doctor had finished Stella’s exam. “I read the medical records from Stella’s previous doctor. She’s always been in the lower third of children her age in height and weight. Am I correct in assuming her mother is petite?”

  He leaned forward on the arms of the chair. “I don’t really know. Stella is adopted.”

  The doctor made a note on a pad beside her. “I don’t want to alarm you, but over the months since her last checkup, she’s fallen into the lowest tenth. With that and the stomach upsets you said she’s been experiencing, I want to refer her to a gastroenterologist at the Adirondack Medical Center. Dr. Franklin.”

  From the way the doctor’s expression softened, the fear careening through him must have shown on his face. She looked more the grandmother she might be and less the medical professional.

  “Dr. Franklin is a good man as well as physician. Great with kids. We can set up the appointment for you, or I can send a referral and you can make it yourself.”

  “Send the referral. I’ll make the appointment.” After I talk with Autumn or Jon. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the pediatrician. But he didn’t know her. He’d grown up with Autumn, gone all through school with her and knew he could trust her opinion.

  “Daddy, Stella good girl?”

  “Yes, you were a very good girl.” He lifted her down from the examination table and looked at the doctor apologetically. “Her other pediatrician gave her what he called a good girl prize after her exams.”

  The doctor smiled. “It just so happens I have something for you, Stella.” She handed Stella a coloring book called Teddy Bear Goes to the Doctor’s.

  “What do you say, Stella?”

  The little girl beamed. “Fank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Marc couldn’t help but compare how at ease Stella was with the doctor to the way she’d hugged his leg and tried to hide behind him the whole time he’d talked with Fiona in the entryway. Maybe she was experiencing an aversion to younger women or, as Claire had suggested, women Cate’s age who had light hair like she’d had. Stella was okay around his sisters.

  Marc rubbed the middle of his forehead. He didn’t know why he was even concerned about Stella and Fiona together. It wasn’t as if there would be many occasions for that—no matter his attraction.

  The doctor typed a note into her tablet. “I’ll get that referral off to the gastroenterologist. You should be set to make the appointment this afternoon.”

  “Thanks.” He took Stella’s papers and her hand and checked out.

  “Let’s see what we can rustle up for lunch,” he said as he walked her to the car.

  “Let’s rustle lunch.” She giggled, her full sentence capturing his heart with hope that she was making progress.

  After lunch, Stella fell asleep on the couch while coloring in her new book, and he straightened up the place, waiting for his friends Autumn or Jon to return the call he’d left for them. He squatted to pick up Stella’s crayons but thought better. She should pick them up. It’s how Mom would do it.

  His phone vibrated, and he pulled it from his back pocket. Private Caller. Probably the birthing center number. Marc swiped the screen to answer as he walked to the kitchen.

  “Hello.”

  “Marc? It’s Autumn. I got your message. What’s up?”

  It could be his concern about Stella and the referral, but Autumn’s casual question sounded forced. He told her about Stella’s exam.

  “What do you know about Dr. Franklin at the medical center?”

  “The best in the area, especially for children.” Autumn paused. “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s it. I wanted a second opinion.”

  “Okay, then,” Autumn said with what sounded oddly like relief.

  But that made no sense. He pulled the slip of paper with Dr. Franklin’s phone number from his wallet, but a text came in before he could dial. Fiona. He’d added her to his business contacts.

  Hi, how did Stella’s appointment go?

  Marc scratched the side of his neck. He was used to his mother and sisters’ friends and his business partner’s wives asking him about Stella because he figured that was what women, especially mothers, talked about. Although Fiona’s question wasn’t any different, it prickled his spine.

  Okay, he typed back.

  Could we get together this evening?

  Fiona was using Stella as a lead-in to getting together? He couldn’t sa
y it was the first time since Cate’s death that a woman had. He slumped against the wall. From their work together at church the other evening, he’d thought better of Fiona.

  It’s about Stella appeared before he could form a response. Marc pressed the i-button at the top of his screen and then the telephone icon to call Fiona. He wore off the sudden spike of adrenaline by tapping his foot while the phone rang. He didn’t need this, whatever it was, on top of Stella’s doctor’s appointment.

  * * *

  Even though Fiona had expected Marc to respond, she nearly dropped the plate she was putting in the cupboard when her phone rang on the counter. She stared at his flashing caller ID and debated whether to let it ring. She’d thought he’d text back to her casual invitation to get together. Her fingers had seemed to go off on their own and added It’s about Stella. She drummed her fingernails on the counter before pressing the answer button with her other thumb.

  “Hello.”

  “This is Marc Delacroix. I got your text. Why would you need to talk with me about my daughter?”

  “I’m sorry. My text was cryptic.”

  Fiona clearly heard the derision in the puff of breath Marc released.

  “Can I start over? I have an important reason for talking with you about Stella.”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  Fiona took a deep breath and kept her voice low. “I had wanted to say this in person. I’m almost certain Stella is my sister’s child.”

  The phone went silent for so long, Fiona wondered if he’d hung up, except her phone showed the call was still connected.

  “I’m supposed to believe that because you, practically a stranger, say so? And what’s next? You’re going to tell me she wants her back? No way. Your sister, if she really is Stella’s birth mother, gave up her parental rights. The adoption was finalized nearly two years ago.”

  “My sister is dead.”

  “I’m sorry.” Marc’s voice had lost some of its edge. “But what do you want?”

  Some family to love and to love me. She couldn’t say that. He’d think she was unstable. “To be part of Stella’s life, as her aunt, like your sisters,” Fiona answered.

  He ignored her answer. “Can you prove it?”

  “That Stella is Mairi’s daughter? I think so. I have information and documents and photos of Mairi at Stella’s age.” The last part sounded like she was grasping at straws. “Can we meet?”

  “Not until I talk with a lawyer. Don’t call me. I’ll call you.” His phone clicked off.

  That hardly could have gone worse. She leaned on the counter. So much for the fantasy she’d concocted on the drive home after Marc had dismissed her at the birthing center. A fantasy of her becoming part of the Delacroix family, of Stella staying over at her apartment, them exploring things together as she and Mairi had. A fantasy of Marc welcoming her help with Stella so he could put in more time on his restaurant launch.

  Fiona slapped the countertop. But Stella was family. The only family she had, and she was going to fight to be in her life. It’s what she did, what she’d always done—fight to keep her family together.

  * * *

  Marc met Claire on her doorstep when she got home from work. He’d hated to drop Stella on his mom again, despite her insisting it was fine, but he needed to talk with someone away from little ears. And who got him better than his twin?

  She eyed the bag from the Chinese restaurant around the corner from her apartment in Ticonderoga. “Happy Star? This must be serious.”

  “More than you could guess.” Marc rose from his seat on the steps and followed his sister upstairs and into the kitchen.

  “Get the food out, and I’ll get us drinks.” Claire opened the refrigerator. “I have lemonade, root beer and milk, or I can brew you a cup of coffee.”

  “Root beer’s good.” He took the plastic cartons out of the bag and placed them on the table. “How well do you know Fiona Bryce?”

  Claire raised an eyebrow suggestively as she placed the drinks on the table.

  “Not like that.” Although the slight trip of his heart contradicted the force of his response.

  “Just as a coworker. She seems nice, good at her job. We had lunch together the other day.” Claire hesitated. “From something she let slip about moving a lot, I got the feeling she may have had a rough childhood. But she seems like someone I could be friends with.”

  He pressed his lips together. “Would you say she’s honest?”

  Claire opened her food container and studied the contents. “As far as I know. Why?”

  Marc took a slug of his drink. His throat was suddenly parched. “She says she’s Stella’s aunt.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh and then some.”

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

  For whatever reason, even without proof, he did. “Possibly. If you’ve noticed, her hair is exactly like Stella’s and she says she has information and documents and photos of her sister as a child that look like they could be of Stella.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I’m talking to you, to help me decide. I called the lawyer who handled the adoption. She assured me that I’m rock solid on it.”

  “You think Fiona wants to challenge it?”

  “I don’t know. She said she only wants to be part of Stella’s life as her aunt.” And he’d believed her. Or wanted to believe her, anyway.

  “Could she be after money?”

  He hadn’t thought of that. He laughed. “If so, she’ll have an uphill battle with that. Everything I own is sunk into the restaurant partnership and a job that’s dependent on what’s currently an empty shell of a building.” The sarcastic humor drained from him. “She wants to get together to talk.”

  “Just the two of you? Is that wise?”

  He bristled at his twin challenging him. “I’d rather start off keeping it private and civil, not drag Stella through some kind of legal battle.”

  Shades of his mother and no less irritating, Claire patted his hand. “I understand. I meant you and Fiona could get together with a mediator.”

  He stabbed a broccoli stalk. “Are you suggesting Renee? I know she’s a qualified counselor, but I’m not comfortable with our baby sister mediating my life.”

  She slapped the hand she’d been patting. “Not Renee. I was thinking Connor.”

  “Fiona might not agree. I haven’t seen her at Sunday services.” He would have remembered.

  “That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t agree.”

  “I guess. She may prefer someone else, like her pastor, if she belongs to another church.”

  “You said Fiona wants to be part of the family, so play the family angle. Connor is Stella’s uncle, but by marriage, so he’s one level removed.”

  “You might have something there. I’ll call the lawyer again and run that by her, see what she thinks about Christian mediation before anything legal. And speaking of family, keep this between the two of us for now. If and when anyone else needs to know, I’ll tell them.”

  “Okay, mum’s the word.” Claire ran her thumb and forefinger across her lips.

  Marc pushed away his food container. Supper had lost what little flavor it had had. He pulled out his cell phone. “It’s not six yet. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go into the other room and see if I can catch the lawyer before she leaves. I’ll let you know later what I decide.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be praying for you and Stella.”

  “I appreciate it,” he said, powering up his phone to see Stella’s baby face smiling at him from the screen. He didn’t want to admit it, but he could see Fiona in her. He was going to need all the prayers he could get.

  Chapter Three

  Lost in her thoughts, Fiona almost missed the turn into the Hazardt
own Community Church parking lot. Meeting with Pastor Connor seemed like a good idea. Marc had contacted her all businesslike on Monday with a couple items his partners wanted to include in the contract between the research farm and the restaurant partnership. Then he’d tackled the elephant in the room with an invitation to talk with him and Pastor Connor tonight about her claim that Stella was her niece.

  Stepping from her car, she kicked a muddy chunk of snow out of her path. She knew in her heart that the little girl was her niece. And she had no intention of contesting Stella’s adoption. After her failure with Mairi, she didn’t want the responsibility of Stella, only to be part of her extended family.

  Fiona walked into the church, the door closing behind her with a soft thud. The pastor’s office was almost directly in front of her, as Marc had told her on the phone. Or she assumed it was the pastor’s office. The door was open, but she didn’t see anyone, only a desk with a computer and some bookshelves.

  She stood in the doorway bumping her knee against her briefcase. It was nearly six thirty, the time they’d set. She knew she was in the right place. Marc had given her the choice of meeting at the pastor’s office here or at his home. When he’d mentioned that the pastor was his brother-in-law, she’d hesitated before deciding they’d be on more equal grounds at the church. Fiona smoothed the wrinkles from the skirt of her green linen dress.

  Or maybe not. From what she’d seen, Marc and his family were active in the church. While Fiona considered herself a believer, she hadn’t attended any church regularly since she’d worked in Guam, and then it was more because most of her neighbors and the people she worked with attended services than any real compulsion to be part of a church community.

  “Here’s the video of him and Natalie.”

  A male voice sounded from behind an almost closed door at the back of the room. A door that at first glance had appeared to lead to a closet. But it had a sign: Pastor’s Office.

  “I’ve got one of Stella on the rug in the church hallway this morning after preschool, showing me how she learned to do a somersault.”

  Marc. Fiona crossed the outer office toward the men’s chuckles, hungry to see the video of Stella. She stopped herself from barging in and knocked on the door instead.