A Mom for His Daughter

by Jean C. Gordon

  The lip came in.

  “We need to get Fiona home safely. Can you help me do that?”

  “Yes!” Stella bounced on Fiona’s knee.

  “Good save,” Fiona said.

  “Before you go,” his mother said, “we have the presents in our car. Do you want to get them after church tomorrow?”

  “That would be fine.”

  “And Fiona,” she said, “you’re welcome to join us for church. Service is at ten thirty.”

  “Church. Sing,” Stella said.

  “I’d like you to come,” he said. “If you want. Stella and I could pick you up since your car isn’t running.”

  “I’ve been thinking about trying a service. I...my family...we weren’t big churchgoers.”

  “Sorry if I put you on the spot,” Marc’s mother apologized.

  “No, I’d like to come.”

  Marc squeezed Fiona’s shoulder. “Good. Now, we have a birthday girl we need to get home. See you all tomorrow.”

  As seemed to be the usual, by the time they were a couple miles outside of Ticonderoga, Stella was fast asleep.

  “I want to apologize, too,” Marc said.

  Fiona’s eyes and forehead crinkled exactly like Stella’s did when she was trying to figure out something, drawing him to her.

  He caught himself veering toward the shoulder of the road and corrected his course.

  “For what?” she asked.

  “It’s the weekend. Family time. I shouldn’t have spent so long talking with Tom Tripp. But we’d been playing phone tag all week.”

  “It’s okay. This time,” she teased.

  Or at least he thought it was teasing. Although her cheeks dimpled, Marc caught an undercurrent of truth to her words.

  “I know,” he said. “I appreciate that. No, more than that, I like knowing you’re around to back me up. We make a good team, and I don’t just mean you and me and Stella. I mean you and me without Stella, too. I like having you around.” He pulled off his ski cap. “I mean, I care for you. A lot.” He rubbed his back against the seat. “I’m messing this up, aren’t I?”

  “No.” She smiled. “You’re doing fine. I like knowing I’m not only a backup for Stella’s care.”

  “Definitely not.” His gaze caught and held hers for a moment too long, and the car swerved to the right. Marc’s heart pounded with a shot of adrenaline from the realization he’d let the distraction that was Fiona affect his driving again. “We’ll pick this up when we get to your place.”

  Fiona glanced by him to Stella in the back.

  “She’s probably out for the night,” he said.

  Fiona rolled her lips in and released them. “About Stella’s care. We need to be a team, share the responsibility equally. I can’t take the majority of it.”

  The temperature in the car dropped a few degrees. “I wouldn’t ask you to.” Marc tried to ignore the unreadable play of emotions on her face and bring back the warm joy of a few minutes ago.

  “So.” Fiona folded her hands in her lap and looked up at him expectantly when he parked the SUV in her driveway ten minutes later. Her earnest look invited back all the warm feelings that had jumbled his thoughts earlier.

  “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  Stella rustled in the back seat, and they turned to her simultaneously.

  “What if she wakes up and you’re not here?” Fiona asked.

  He’d only be twenty feet away, but he appreciated her concern for Stella. “At least let me impress you with the gentlemanly manners my mother and sisters drilled into me and get the car door for you.”

  Fiona waited while he got out and walked around the front of the vehicle. He opened her door and bowed. “Your home, my lady.”

  Her mouth twitched, drawing his attention to her lips. “Very impressive.”

  He couldn’t agree more. Marc took her hand, and she stepped out and into his arms as if they’d both planned it. Her warmth—or was it his?—radiated through the layers of their outerwear as he lowered his mouth to hers and drank in Fiona’s sweetness and the feeling that he’d come home after a long journey. He lifted his head and savored the serene expression on her face.

  * * *

  Fiona bustled around her apartment one last time, making sure everything was ready for her, Marc and Stella’s movie date and hummed one of the hymns they’d sung together at the church service this morning. Her alto had blended with Marc’s rich tenor, making her spirits soar with the music.

  After the wonderful day she’d had yesterday and the equally wonderful way it had ended, Fiona had been hesitant about going through with her agreement to join the Delacroixs at church this morning. What if, as had too often been the story of her life, the enchantment of the moonlit kiss she had Marc had shared was gone with the morning light and reality of everyday life?

  But rather than feeling an outsider at the Hazardtown Community Church service, Fiona had felt part of the Delacroix family and in the company of friends, even though she’d met many of the parishioners for the first time at the coffee hour fellowship after the service.

  Stop, she told herself as she repositioned the throw pillows on the couch for the third time, imagining her, Marc and Stella cuddled there watching Frozen. Before she began believing in a warm family future for the three of them, she and Marc needed to have the talk they hadn’t had last night before kissing good-night. She touched her finger to her lips, remembering the soft sensation of his lips touching hers, before she mentally chided herself for thinking like a moonstruck teenager. Stella had been up late yesterday and up early for church. Maybe she’d drift off after the movie and dinner, giving her and Marc time to talk.

  A light knock sounded at the door before she had to look for another outlet for her nervous energy. Fiona opened the door to Stella standing on the top step clutching a DVD to her chest and Marc at the bottom.

  “I’m here,” Stella announced.

  “So you are. Come in.”

  “Daddy get food.”

  Marc waved up the stairwell. “I’ll be right back.”

  Fiona closed the door and turned to Stella, who still clutched the DVD to herself with one hand while she pulled at the zipper of her coat with the other one. Her face scrunched in concentration. Or was it frustration? Fiona couldn’t tell.

  “Let me help you.” Somewhere in the back of her mind she seemed to remember Marc saying it was better to tell or direct Stella than ask her questions.

  Stella released her breath in a puff. “’Kay.”

  Fiona made a little bit of a show of the zipper being sticky. “There you go. Now, give me your hat and gloves and coat, and I’ll put them on the chair.”

  It was silly and more than a little childish, but if Stella’s outerwear was on the recliner, Marc would have no choice but to sit with her and Stella on the couch to watch the movie.

  “You can put your movie on the table next to the TV,” Fiona said.

  “No, wait for Daddy.”

  A thump at the door signaled his return.

  “It’s open,” Fiona called.

  “I don’t have any free hands.”

  “We’d better go help him.”

  Fiona opened the door and relieved Marc of one of the covered dishes he was carrying.

  He closed the door behind him with his foot. “I’ve got meat loaf with oven-roasted potatoes, onions and carrots. It’s one of the dishes that I want to offer as local fare at La Table Frais.”

  Her shoulders knotted. Today was about them, as a family, as a couple. Fiona pushed his mention of the restaurant out of her mind. “So we’re the guinea pigs?” She motioned at herself and Stella.

  “I’m not a pig,” Stella protested.

  Fiona and Marc laughed.

  “You certainly aren’t,” Fiona said. “I meant your daddy has us
testing his recipe.”

  Confusion colored Stella’s face.

  “Never mind, sweetpea. You and Fiona can put in the movie while I put our dinner in the oven. I prepared it at home, so I wouldn’t be stuck in the kitchen slaving over a hot stove while you two were enjoying the movie.”

  “I thought you’d already seen the movie,” Fiona said.

  “But you haven’t,” he said. “I want to see you enjoy every moment of it.”

  Fiona’s earlier nervous energy changed into a different sensation that was nonetheless agitating.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any popcorn I could make while I’m in the kitchen, do you?” he asked. “You can’t watch a movie without something to munch on.”

  “No, I didn’t think that was a good choice.” Fiona tilted her head toward Stella, feeling the weight of a vigilance that she felt Marc didn’t take seriously. “But when you come back out, you can bring the hummus and crackers I got.”

  “On it.” He appeared unaffected by her admonishment. “Go ahead. Put the movie in.”

  “No, wait for you, Daddy,” Stella said, her bright gaze darting around the room and settling on a farm and game magazine on the coffee table. She picked it up and handed it to Fiona before settling herself on the couch. “Story.”

  “Have fun with that,” Marc said, disappearing into her kitchen.

  Fiona sat next to Stella, who snuggled into her side, triggering a bittersweet memory of her as a nine- or ten-year-old reading to Mairi and Beth on the couch because their mother “had to go out.” She spread the magazine open to an article on sheep farming and placed her arm around her niece. Stella would never want for her love and security as Fiona and her sisters had wanted for their parents’ love.

  “And this baby lamb was born a triplet with a sister and a brother, but the mommy sheep could only feed two of them, so the farmer’s big girl fed the third lamb from a baby bottle.” Fiona pointed to a photo of a teen feeding a lamb.

  “The baby lamb is ’dopted like me.”

  “I guess she is.”

  “My mommy’s in heaven,” Stella said.

  Fiona didn’t know where that had come from. “I know.”

  “I like your stories. You could ’dopt me like Daddy.”

  Fiona’s chest squeezed with longing. It was too soon. She couldn’t allow herself to dream in the direction of being more than an aunt to Stella. Before she could speak, Fiona caught a motion out of the corner of her eye. Marc. Despite having done nothing to encourage Stella’s thought, Fiona’s cheeks colored. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?

  Fiona closed the magazine and put it back on the table. Marc set down the hummus and crackers without saying anything.

  “Daddy.” Stella picked up the DVD from the couch cushion beside her. “Movie in.”

  “Hmm. I’m not sure I can. What’s that word I need to give me the power?”

  “Please!” Stella shouted. “Feena, too.”

  “Please,” Fiona repeated.

  “That’s my girls.”

  Fiona relaxed, allowing herself to bask in the warmth of feeling like she belonged.

  Marc started the DVD and walked back to join them. “Slide down, Stella, so I can sit next to Fiona.”

  “Big, bigger, biggest,” he said when Stella made no effort to move.

  She rolled over to the far side of the couch. “Big, bigger, biggest.”

  Marc settled in with them and put his arm behind her on the back of the couch. “My partners think they’ve found the sous-chef for La Table Frais,” he said over the credits and previews playing on the TV. “If she’s half as good as she looks on paper, she might be able to take over the restaurant once I get it going.”

  “Meaning?” Fiona didn’t want to talk business. She wanted this time to be the Sunday family time Marc had talked about. But she needed to know what he meant.

  “That if I wanted to, I could consider returning to the New York City restaurant. Stella and I have made real progress since we’ve been here, and it wouldn’t be right away.”

  “Oh.” Her surprise rounded her mouth into a circle that she quickly snapped shut so she didn’t look as foolish as she felt.

  “Daddy, quiet. Please. Frozen.”

  “I’ll be quiet. But think about it, Fiona.”

  Fiona had only an inkling of what he wanted her to think about, but she let it drop for now and got into the movie with Stella who, to Fiona’s delight, acted as the self-appointed commentator.

  Near the end of the movie, Marc’s phone buzzed. He took it from his pocket. Concern creased his handsome face. “I’d better take this. Sorry.” He stood and headed toward the kitchen, leaving a chasm of coolness where he’d been sitting.

  When the movie finished, Stella scrambled onto Fiona’s lap. “Did you love it, Feena?”

  “I loved it.”

  Stella hugged her. “I love you.”

  Fiona’s heart soared. “I love you, too, sweetie.” Then it plummeted as it hit her that against her better judgment and despite all the protective walls she’d built, she was falling in love with the little girl’s father, too.

  “I’ve got to go,” Marc said, reaching for his coat on the chair. “It looks like someone broke into the restaurant. You two go ahead and eat, and I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

  He kissed first Stella, and then Fiona, on the forehead.

  “Daddy work?” Stella asked.

  “Yes, he has to go to work for a while.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. It wasn’t Marc’s fault. He was a lot closer than his partners. But today was family day.

  “Feena no work.”

  “No, I don’t have to work.”

  A couple hours later, after Fiona and Stella had eaten and Stella had fallen asleep on the couch, Marc called.

  “Hey.” His deep voice rolled over her. “I’m at the police station. I’m going to have to stick around awhile longer. Sorry. I called Mom, and she’ll come get Stella and keep her overnight.”

  “I could have kept her.” Did her words sound as plaintive to Marc as they did to her?

  “I didn’t want to take advantage of you. Stella has clothes at Mom’s and is used to being there on Monday mornings. You know. Toddlers and routines.” He forced a laugh.

  “Right.” This was what she wanted. Not to have to pick up on Marc’s responsibilities if he fell down on them.

  What was wrong with her? He wasn’t falling down on his responsibility to Stella. He couldn’t help the break-in.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Marc’s voice dropped lower. “You don’t know how much I wish I was there.”

  “Oh, I might.”

  “Bye.”

  Fiona placed her phone on the end table beside her and rested her hand on it. Her thoughts and her emotions were all jumbled. Did she even know what love was? Did she have it in her to give or receive it? Could she explain her feelings to Marc?

  Maybe with help. She picked up her phone and tapped her email icon. They could meet with Noah. Participating in his email meditation group for spiritual guidance had helped her start applying her new faith to her life. But she still needed support. With Noah in the room, she could lay out her fears and wants to Marc coherently without her growing attraction to him interfering, urging her to put off talking because of what it would reveal about her.

  Gazing at Stella fast asleep, Fiona felt a weight lift, and hope filled the gap. She’d make things right. They’d work it out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hey, I’m cutting out of work early. I’ll pick up Stella and meet you at your house when you get home.

  Fiona shot the text off to Marc. The temperature forecast for today was seventy degrees, almost unheard of for March in this area, and she was going to make the most of the unseasonable warmth. She�
�d pick up Stella from his oldest sister’s house where his nieces were watching her and swing by the grocery store to buy fixings for a picnic. It could make up for the time together they’d lost on Sunday. She sang along with the car radio. And if the temperature dropped too much by the time Marc got home, they could picnic inside.

  She pulled into the driveway of a neat ranch house set in a stand of pines, pastures fanning out behind a red barn.

  Stella darted out of the house toward the car to meet her.

  She cranked the engine off and jumped out, her heart banging on her chest wall. Where were the twins?

  “Daddy?” Stella looked at the car and the road.

  “Still working.”

  A breathless Amelia joined them. “I’m sorry. The door was locked. She saw you drive in from the window. I told her to wait, said you’d be in in a minute. I guess she unlocked the door.”

  Fiona counted to five to control her anger. She hadn’t been much older than Amelia when her mother had died and she’d been Mairi’s guardian. “You guess?” Her voice shook a little. “Never underestimate a toddler.”

  “I said I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  That’s right, it wouldn’t. Because if Fiona had any say, she wouldn’t be watching Stella again.

  Fiona squatted to Stella’s level. “Sweetie, I’m glad to see you, too, but you should never run into the driveway when a car is pulling in. Never.” She pulled her niece into a tight hug.

  “’Nuff.” Stella pushed away, and Fiona released her grip. The little girl grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house. “See my paintings.”

  Amelia trudged behind them. Had she been too hard on the teen? No, Amelia should have seen Stella fiddling with the door lock.

  Aimee met them at the door.

  “You locked the door after you brought the mail in, didn’t you?” Amelia said.

  “Yes.” Aimee paused. “I think so. I was so excited when I saw the acceptance package from SUNY Geneseo.” She turned to Fiona. “It’s my first-choice college.”

  “The front door, the one facing the road, wasn’t locked?”

  Both teens hung their heads. Fiona couldn’t help mentally blaming them.