Stella’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself to take the call outside while Devon waited at the checkout counter as the clerk rang up their supplies. Meanwhile, Ryan wandered off, no doubt entertaining himself by looking at all the other tanks.
When Stella came back inside, she asked, “Where’s Ryan?”
“He’s still looking at the fish. I’m thinking he’s destined to become a marine biologist.”
Stella waited for Devon to finish signing the receipt, and together they headed toward the back of the store. They found Ryan standing on a short stool in front of an aquarium filled with goldfish, holding a bottle of fish food in his hand. An empty bottle of fish food.
“I feed the fish,” Ryan said, all smiles. “See? They’re hungry.”
Sure enough, approximately forty fish were feeding off the entire contents of the emptied food container. Devon closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. He knew enough about goldfish to know they weren’t supposed to eat that much. Fabulous.
When the sales clerk approached, Devon gestured to the tank. “I guess we’ll be taking home those goldfish as well.”
Stella’s eyes widened. “Uh, maybe—”
“Yay! We get goldfish, too!” Ryan clapped his hands.
“Never mind,” said Stella, lips twitching.
“Never mind what?” Devon asked while the clerk worked quickly to remove the food from the aquarium.
In a quiet voice, she said, “I was going to say that if you’re worried the fish ate too much, it would be easier to pay for them, rather than take them home. But best of luck telling Ryan that now.”
Devon blamed his idiocy on stress and lack of sleep.
“And you do know that goldfish don’t play well with male Bettas, don’t you?” Stella added.
Although it wasn’t her fault, Devon still glared at her. “No, I didn’t. I’d rather eat fish, not play with them. What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”
“It means you’ll need a separate fish bowl for the goldfish, or the ones that survive, at least. And speaking of survivors, what do you plan to do if Ryan wakes up tomorrow and finds some of his fish floating on top?”
“I’ll tell him we’re eating them for breakfast.”
“Yeah, that won’t traumatize him.”
Armed with a Betta, thirty-two engorged goldfish, food, two fishbowls, and Ryan’s handpicked decor, Devon herded Ryan from the shop, more than ready to return to the hotel. What a day. He’d never been so grateful to board a train and sit on a hard plastic seat.
Three o’clock. Really? That was it? Maybe Ryan would take a nap when they got back. And maybe Devon would join him.
But Ryan didn’t look tired at all. Instead, he poked at his new pets through their bags, giggling when he got the Betta to puff his fins. What would happen to the fish after Devon left? What would happen to Ryan? Would Stella find some nice adoptive parents who would let Ryan keep the fish? Would Ryan like his new parents?
The unwelcome worry attached itself to Devon’s mind and burrowed in, making Devon shift in his seat. He didn’t want to care about Ryan’s future. He didn’t want to care about Ryan. And yet the child’s innocence reached out to him, begging for rescue.
A rescue you can’t offer.
“Do they allow fish at the hotel?” Stella asked.
“No idea,” Devon said. “If not, you don’t mind taking them home, do you? For Ryan’s sake?”
Stella’s eyes widened. “How about we try sneaking them up to your room? If the maid has a problem with it, we’ll talk about it then.”
“Not a fish person?”
“They have really short life spans with me,” Stella said. “I’ve never understood why.”
“Did you feed them too much?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because maybe that’s where Ryan learned it.”
“I didn’t feed them too much, and it was before Ryan stayed with me.”
“Maybe you should have sung to them.”
“That would have only made them die sooner.”
Devon chuckled. So Stella had a few faults after all. Good. It made her seem more human somehow, more relatable. “Well, we have something in common then. I can’t carry a note either.”
They shared a smile as the train pulled to a stop. When they got to the hotel, Stella walked in first to distract the front desk clerk so Devon and Ryan could get the fish to the elevator undetected.
They spent the remainder of the afternoon “decorating” the two fish bowls. Ryan was particular when it came to where the rocks and plastic coral belonged. In the end, the rocks were piled high on one side, so the fish would have a “mountain” to climb, and the coral was bunched together on the other side, so the fish would be able to hide in a forest.
“It looks awesome.” Devon ruffled Ryan’s hair. “The aquarium should hire you to design all their fish tanks.”
Holding up the bags with the fish, Ryan said, “Can we dump them in now?”
“Dump away.” When the fish were released in their new habitats, Devon breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they could actually relax for a little while.
“The fish are hungry. Where’s the food? I need to feed them,” Ryan said.
“No!” Devon and Stella shouted in unison. The two voices together sounded loud, even to Devon’s ears. Louder than he’d intended.
Ryan’s expression fell. “But they’re hungry!” He burst into tears. “I need to feed my fish or they’ll die!”
Devon crouched beside him. “Ryan, if they eat too much—”
“They’re hungry. They need to eat!”
“Ryan—”
“They’re going to die!”
Devon stared as the boy’s cries escalated. It was like watching Dr. Jekyll morph into Mr. Hyde. Only with Ryan, there had been no warning or strange concoction to blame. It had just happened.
Devon closed his eyes and prayed for patience. He was too tired for this. He wanted to give Ryan a good shake and say, “Get a grip!” But instead he turned to Stella for help. Maybe she had a miracle cure—a magic stick to slap on the ground and bring everything back to its rightful order.
But Stella was no help. She sat in an armchair with her arms folded while a tentative smile played on her lips. She might as well have asked for a bowl of popcorn and said, “You’re on your own. I’m enjoying the show.”
Devon turned back to the sobbing, hysterical child. “My fish need food!” Ryan said the words over and over.
“Ryan, calm down. Just let me explain why you can’t feed them right now.”
“I need to feed my fish!”
“Listen to me.”
“They’re hungry!”
“Ryan—”
“My fish are dying!” His little hands started beating on Devon’s stomach.
Raising his voice to override the child’s screams, Devon gripped Ryan’s hands and gave it one last try, “If your fish eat too much, they will die.”
“I don’t want them to die!” Ryan screamed.
“I know. That’s why you can’t—”
But Ryan wouldn’t listen. He broke free and frantically rummaged through the discarded bags from the pet store, searching for the food. Thank goodness Devon had already thought to hide it on top of the TV cabinet.
“Where’s the food!” Ryan ran at Devon in a crazed way.
Not knowing what else to do, Devon picked up the boy and carried him kicking and screaming to the bathroom. Setting Ryan inside, he quickly closed the door and held it shut. Maybe a few minutes locked in a room would do the trick.
Not daring to look at Stella, Devon hunkered down outside the bathroom door and waited. He could only imagine what she thought of him now. Well, she could think what she wanted; it wasn’t like she’d offered to help. In fact, if she’d listened to him from the get-go, they wouldn’t be in this situation now.
Ryan started beating on the door. He must have dropped to the floor, because the poundings were coming rapid-fire, t
oo hard for little fists but not for little feet. Well, better the door than Devon.
“Ryan, when you calm down, I’ll let you out,” Devon called.
That was a bad idea, because although the kicking stopped, objects started to hit the door. “Let me out!”
Devon cringed, wondering how long the tantrum would last. He wasn’t about to open the door—not now. He had no desire to be clubbed in the head with his deodorant.
“So um, what time did Ryan go to bed last night?” A look of sympathy had replaced Stella’s smile.
“I don’t know. Probably around midnight.”
“And what time did he wake up this morning?”
“I woke him up a little before nine. Why?”
Her eyes widened. “You woke him up?”
“The aquarium opened at ten, and he needed to eat breakfast first.” Surely she understood that.
But Stella only chuckled. “He’s tired, Devon. Too tired to think straight. That’s why he’s acting this way. Children need sleep. A lot of sleep.”
Devon leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes. Swell. First the car, the custard, the fish, and now this. So much for proving himself an adequate father. He didn’t even know how much sleep a child needed.
Eventually the pounding and crying stopped, but Devon was still afraid to open the door. Afraid of the mess he’d find and afraid of reviving Mr. Hyde. Finally, he mustered the courage and cracked the door. Ryan was huddled in the corner, shaking. His eyes were red, his nose runny, and his breaths haggard.
“I wa-nt to fe-ed my fi-sh,” Ryan stuttered.
In that instant, Devon wanted to rewind the last thirty minutes and happily hand over the bottle of fish food. He wanted to erase the red eyes and runny nose. He wanted to give back the happiness he had somehow taken away. But he couldn’t. And if Ryan was going to be a fish owner, he needed to learn how to take care of those fish.
So Devon sat on the closed toilet seat and picked up Ryan, holding him close. “Ryan, fish can only eat once a day. If you feed them too much, their tummies will get very sick and they could die. You already fed them at the pet store, so you need to wait until tomorrow to feed them again, okay? You don’t want to hurt them, do you?”
Ryan looked up with swollen eyes. “I get to feed them when I wake up?”
“How about after lunch?”
“And they won’t die?”
Devon hoped the already engorged goldfish would still be alive come morning. “If any of those fish die, it’s not because they’re hungry, believe me. It’s because they are old and ready to go to fish heaven.”
“Did my mum go to fish heaven too?”
Oh great. How did they get on that subject? “Was your mum a fish?”
Ryan actually smiled. “No. She was a mum.”
“Then your mum went to mummy heaven.”
“Because she got old?” Ryan’s trusting, brown eyes stared up at Devon.
It wasn’t fair or right that this small boy should be without a mother or a father. Four years old and already alone. How could Devon explain? “No. Your mum just got very sick.”
“Because she ate too much food?”
Devon smiled even as his heart hurt. He prayed for the right words to say. “No, kiddo. A different kind of sick. But she’s happy now. Did you know that? She’s in a nice place where she gets to watch you every day. It probably makes her sad when you’re sad, so how about we try to be happy for her. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Devon hugged Ryan closer and rested his chin on the boy’s head. Stella stood in the doorway, watching. The light glistened off the tears in her eyes before she quickly turned away. What was she thinking? Had he somehow messed up again?
Lowering Ryan to the floor, Devon reached for his hand. “Since we have bigger tummies than fish, we can eat a lot more. What do you say we order some dinner?”
“The kind they bring to our room?”
“Yep.”
“And custard too?”
“Of course. We can’t have a meal without custard.”
Ryan’s dimple returned.
Chapter Five
After dinner, Stella snuggled with Ryan until he fell asleep. Tucking the blanket around him, she kissed him softly on the forehead. Her arms ached to pick him up and take him home with her, but it was impossible. Lindsay had made sure of that. Stella needed to accept the fact that Ryan would never be hers and move forward with her life. If only it didn’t feel like she was losing her own child.
Have a care, Stella. She sucked in her breath and squared her shoulders.
Now, where were her shoes? Finding them by the couch, she picked them up and sat down to put them on.
“I hope you get paid overtime,” Devon said. “You put in some extra hours today.”
“This one’s pro bono.” Stella was grateful for Devon’s dry humor. It helped to lighten the hollow, desolate feeling that had tunneled into her chest. In fact, she was grateful for a lot of things about him. His kindness, his patience, how great he was with Ryan.
“Where’s Ryan’s father?”
Stella stiffened. She’d known he’d ask sooner or later, and he had a right to know, but that didn’t mean she wanted to talk about it. Not yet anyway. “I don’t know. He’s listed as ‘unknown’ in her file.”
“Lindsay didn’t know who the father was?”
“That’s usually what ‘unknown’ means.”
“She had to have some idea. Did you even try to find him?”
Stella met his gaze. Was he serious? “Lindsay didn’t give me any names or descriptions, so how was I supposed to find him? Stop every guy I came across on the street and ask for a DNA sample? Run an ad in the paper? Even if she’d given me a name, Lindsay didn’t exactly go out with winners. Do you really want to connect Ryan to some drunk stranger?”
Devon raked his fingers through his hair. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I figured there was a reason Lindsay left Ryan to me and not the father. I just wanted to know why.”
Stella sighed. “It’s okay. I’m as frustrated as you are, believe me.” How many times had she wished she wasn’t so close to this case? So close to Ryan? It would be infinitely easier to approach it all from an impersonal point of view—to answer Devon’s questions factually rather than emotionally.
Devon stood and walked over to the window. He studied the street below before turning back. “Thanks for being our tour guide today, even if you only came to check up on me.”
He was right. She had been checking up on him, but it was also more than that. Stella had wanted to get to know the person Lindsay had chosen over her. “I’ll admit I was curious to see how you two were getting on, but I also came to spend time with Ryan. I’m rather fond of him.”
“So I’ve noticed. I take it you and Lindsay were good friends?”
Stella nodded.
“What happened to her? You mentioned she’d been sick, but that’s it.” Devon took a seat next to her, his brown eyes intense, questioning.
“Pancreatic cancer. It hit hard and fast. She was gone within six months. That’s why I’m so attached to Ryan. They lived with me for a while at the end when Lindsay needed help. She had no one else.”
“I’m sorry,” Devon said, sounding sincere.
Stella fiddled with the fabric of her shorts, trying to think of a way to change the subject. Her emotions were too flimsy, and if Devon kept asking about Ryan and Lindsay, he’d soon have a weeping woman on his hands. She cleared her throat. “It was good of you to get Ryan some fish.”
Devon cringed as he glanced at the goldfish. “I’m not sure what I was thinking. He was so excited at the aquarium; I guess I wanted it to last. I never expected it to instigate a meltdown.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Ryan spit the dummy because he was exhausted, not because of the fish.”
Devon laughed and gave her a strange look. “Did you just say ‘spit the dummy’?”
“Oh, uh . . .” Stella never realized h
ow strange the saying could sound to someone who’d never heard it before. “A dummy is another word for pacifier. So when a child starts to scream or tantrum, out comes the pacifier. Make sense?”
“Sort of.” Devon appeared drained all of a sudden—a look Stella understood well. How many times had she felt that way during the past months?
“If it makes you feel any better, I thought you handled Ryan well tonight.”
“Yeah, locking a child in a bathroom definitely puts me in the running for a parent-of-the-year award.”
“You didn’t hurt him.”
“Did you see his expression? Of course I hurt him.”
Stella rested her hand on his knee. “Not physically. You could have done a lot worse, believe me. I work for a family law practice, so I know. And to be honest, I would have done the same thing. Ryan was out of control and needed to calm down. You did well.”
“Thanks,” Devon said, watching her again. “So is this the kind of case you usually handle?”
Stella settled back against the couch. “Sometimes. I’ve dealt with child protection, early intervention, and occasionally adoption. We’ve also represented families who have been affected by disasters.”
“Do you like what you do?”
Stella nodded her head slowly. She’d been doing it three years now—enough to know. “Like any job, there are good and bad days, but overall the good balances out the bad. And it’s definitely never boring.”
“Lindsay was lucky to have you. Not everyone has a friend who can draw up their will and look after their child.”
Her fingers fiddled in her lap. “I was the lucky one.” Factually, what he’d said was true, but there were so many things she needed to tell him, so much he didn’t understand. But now was not the time. Like Ryan, Stella wasn’t her best self when exhausted. “I’d better get going. Let me know if you could use a tour guide again. I’m free on Saturday.” She stood and walked to the door.
“Actually,” Devon said, “if you know of any places I could take Ryan, I’d love to hear them. The concierge is fresh out—not that she had any great ideas to begin with. She was the one who suggested the opera house and bridge tour.”
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