More Than Words, Volume 7

by Carly Phillips

  “I thought you only worked weekends, Mr. Morris,” April said.

  He glanced from one girl to the other. “I made a special trip to meet your new roomie.”

  He almost expected Denise to roll her eyes or shy away, but she simply stared at him. Ronald smiled. “See you ladies on the weekend.”

  “What did you think?” Verna asked when he returned to her office.

  “She’s scared and on guard.”

  Verna nodded in agreement. “With the right support systems, hopefully we can help her.”

  Ronald stole a glance toward her open door then dared to move closer to her. He lifted her chin with the tip of his finger so that they were eye to eye. “If anyone can help her, you can.” He meant it. “I was thinking that I have a few evenings I can spare during the week,” he said, stepping back. “I could come in…if you thought that was okay.”

  Verna barely hesitated. “That would be great.”

  He grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. If it’s good with you, I’ll start tomorrow night.”

  “Sure—I mean, fine.”

  They stared at each other until they both began to laugh.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finally said.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Have a good evening.”

  “You, too.” He waved on his way out.

  Ronald felt almost giddy inside. He knew he couldn’t rush her, but he also wasn’t about to waste time. There was definitely something going on between them.

  Before long Ronald was a full-fledged member of the staff. Verna was amazed, and privately proud of the way he dealt with the kids, making time for each of them. There were many afternoons when she’d find him in the yard shooting hoops with some of the boys or in the family room with the girls, or peeking over Gail’s shoulder to see what was on the menu. He got along with all the staff, who had come to rely on him for his on-point insight into the kids. And their relationship was growing slow and steady, like a heartbeat. They spent nearly every weekend evening together, talking, taking in a play or a movie or dinner in Manhattan. She’d never been so happy, yet there was that nagging old weight holding her back from totally giving in to her feelings.

  His effect on April and Denise was nothing short of amazing. The two had bloomed like roses that finally found some sunshine. April was seriously looking into college and preparing to be on her own when the time came. She actually wanted to go away to school, and Ronald was working with her to raise her marks and research the scholarships she might qualify for.

  As for Denise, Verna actually saw her smile whenever Ronald was in the vicinity. The teenager always found a reason to talk with him alone or insisted only “Mr. Morris could help her.” A part of her was thankful that Denise was coming out of her shell, adapting to her new home and engaging with the other kids. But the other part of her was worried about her growing attachment and dependency on Ronald.

  One Wednesday evening when he arrived for his two hours, she asked him to come to her office.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Sure.” He sat down. “You look worried. Is everything all right?”

  Verna sat behind one of her tables, keeping a professional distance between them. This was business.

  “You’ve been with us almost three months—since early March—and I still wonder how we were able to get along without you.”

  He grinned. “Thanks. But I get the feeling this isn’t about what a great job I’m doing.”

  “Actually…maybe you’re doing your job too well.”

  His thick brows drew closer together. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his hard thighs. “Too well? What does that mean?”

  “Denise has a crush on you, if you haven’t noticed.”

  He jerked back in his seat. “Verna, I never gave her…”

  She held up her hand to forestall an unnecessary explanation. “I know you haven’t done anything to warrant it. It happens. I just need you to be aware and to keep that in mind when you’re dealing with her. She may seem like she’s getting it together, but she is still very fragile.”

  He sighed heavily and nodded his head. “I should have been paying more attention. I know better and I know how vulnerable these kids are. I’ll make sure that I keep the boundaries in place.”

  “I know you will. I just wanted you to be aware.”

  He was thoughtful for a moment, and Verna had the feeling he had something to talk to her about and it had nothing to do with Denise.

  Then, he said, “Um, when you and I first went to dinner, I told you about Patrice.”

  Verna nodded, feeling uneasy. They hadn’t broached the subject since that night.

  “I don’t know how to explain it, but from the moment I set eyes on April…something was there…a connection that I can’t explain. The shape of her face, the curve of her brow…” He bit his bottom lip, frowning, as if he was struggling to find the right words. “I wanted to read her case file.”

  Verna sat straighter in her seat. “Why?”

  “I know this is going to sound crazy and I probably should have told you what I’ve been thinking.” He swallowed. “I’m pretty sure she may be my daughter.”

  “What?” Heat burned the rim of her ears.

  “I know. I told you it would sound crazy, but it’s a gut feeling and all the pieces fit. The timing. When we talked, she told me a little about her early life. Did you know that her mother’s name was Patrice Holloway?”

  Verna knew all too well that was April’s mother’s name. After that first dinner with Ronald weeks earlier, she’d come to the office and reviewed April’s file again. She’d flipped it open and skimmed the case history, her heart beating so rapidly that she could hardly breathe. It couldn’t be. In a city of millions, what were the chances of father and daughter meeting here after all this time?

  Meticulously, she’d read every line. According to the records, April’s mother died in childbirth. The grandmother passed away when April was three, after adopting her and giving her the last name Davis. No other relatives and no father were ever mentioned. The family had lived in Brooklyn, in the same neighborhood that Ronald talked about.

  It was crazy. But the more she’d read, refusing to allow her incredulity to blind her to what was in front of her, the more the impossible became possible. But she had no intention of sharing that information. What if it was all a bizarre coincidence? It would be utterly devastating to April. So for weeks, she’d lived with the possibility and the hope that Ronald wouldn’t make the connection.

  She looked directly at him, quickly reading the anxiety on his face.

  “Okay, let’s just say that she may be your daughter. You certainly can’t come right out and tell her that. There is a chance that you could be wrong and that would completely devastate her. All the progress she’s made since she’s been here would be destroyed.”

  “I know, I know,” he said, the words dropping like stones in water. “What do we do?”

  Verna looked off into the distance. “I don’t know,” she said, the secret she held gnawing at her. Silence hung between them. Finally, she pressed her hands down on the table. “For the time being, we aren’t going to do anything. You aren’t going to do anything. We will all just do our jobs.”

  Ronald jumped up from his seat. “Are you saying that you intend to do nothing?” His disbelief at her dispassionate response elevated his voice. “You know that I would never do anything to compromise any of these kids no matter what it meant to me. And I would never do anything that would hurt you or this program.”

  Verna swallowed over the tight knot in her throat. “I do know that.”

  Ronald stared at her, his eyes like two hot coals burning into her soul. “Is that all you have to say?”

  Verna lifted her chin. “Yes.”

  He glared at her one last time and spun away, slamming the door behind him.

  Verna fell back against the cushion of her seat and closed he
r eyes. She should have been honest. She should have told him what she suspected. It was unfair to both of them. Yet if anyone else understood the irrevocable damage that a wrong move could make, it was her.

  Tears welled in her eyes. The image of that day, that letter she’d received more than a decade ago was as painful as if it were yesterday. She’d searched for her biological mother from the moment she came of age. All roads led to nowhere until she started working at the agency. She’d used her contacts and all her resources and finally connected with a service that located her mother in Stone Mountain, Georgia.

  A meeting had been scheduled and Verna took a flight from New York. The fear, the exhilaration, the questions, the anxiety had her twisted in an emotional knot. But nothing could have prepared her for what happened.

  When she arrived, she was greeted by a solemn-faced administrator—Ms. Carlyle—who gently escorted her to her office.

  “Is she here?” Verna kept asking.

  “Let’s talk,” Ms. Carlyle had said.

  Shaking all over, Verna sat down, clamping her knees together to keep them from knocking.

  Ms. Carlyle took a seat behind her desk and removed an envelope from her drawer, handing it with tight-lipped pain to Verna.

  Verna,

  I spent a lot of years trying to rebuild my life, make something of myself. Giving you up was hard. I want you to know that. But that was the past. It’s over and done. Hopefully, you’ve had a decent life. You must be doing all right if you had plane fare and money to track me down. I know that kind of thing don’t come cheap. But it’s got to stop right here, right now. My family doesn’t know anything about you or the kind of life I once lived, drugged out and on the street. I intend to keep it that way.

  I’m sorry but I can’t have you in my life ruining everything. I can’t.

  I want you to leave me alone. Don’t come looking for me or writing or calling. That’s just the way it has to be.

  Ann

  The letter and its finality had nearly destroyed her emotionally. She’d never told anyone about it, but kept it as a reminder of where she’d been and how far she’d come, and she’d determined that she would never let another child experience what she had if it was within her power.

  Like Ronald, Verna had identified with April from the moment she’d met her. April was a reflection of herself. She had to protect her.

  But Ronald isn’t Ann, a warning voice whispered.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ronald spent a fitful night. Verna might not be sure, but he was. He was as certain as he knew his own name. When he first met April, the resemblance to Patrice had caught him off guard, but he attributed it to his imagination, wishful thinking. He’d dealt with hundreds of kids throughout his career, but he’d never felt that inexplicable connection until he met April. And the more time he spent with her, the stronger it grew. April was his daughter.

  Verna spent the night staring up at the dark ceiling, the carousel of her life spinning around and around. She needed to get off. She needed to make a decision. But she couldn’t.

  For the next few days, Verna lived in a state of limbo. She felt as if she’d aged ten years. Her body ached, but more important her spirit hurt, and the last thing she expected was a voice message from Ronald.

  “Good morning. It’s Ronald. I’m sure you have a busy day, but we need to talk. Soon. I was hoping that we could meet downtown today for lunch or coffee. Let me hear from you. I’m in my office all day.”

  She squeezed her tired eyes shut. She couldn’t face him today or any other day and continue to lie to him. She pushed up from her seat and walked across the room to the window. What was she going to do? Finally she picked up the phone and dialed Ronald at his office.

  “Hello, it’s Verna.”

  “I wasn’t sure you would call.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Are you free around twelve-thirty?” he finally asked.

  “Yes, I can work that out,” she said, her emotions hiding behind a wall of professionalism. “Did you have someplace in mind?”

  “How about Peaches, on Lewis Avenue. Do you know the place?”

  “I can find it.”

  “So I’ll see you at twelve-thirty.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes. See you then.”

  The time went by much too fast and Verna was soon pulling into a parking space in front of the neighborhood restaurant.

  She stepped into the dimly lit interior and saw Ronald at a table facing the door. Her pulse raced. She forced herself to breathe as she walked toward him.

  He stood as she approached and helped her into her seat. “Thanks for coming,” he said once she was settled.

  The young waitress, clad in black with a white apron, appeared at their table. “What can I get for you?”

  Verna looked up at her. “I’m not really hungry. Maybe some soup.”

  “Shrimp chowder is the special today.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  “Make that two.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Verna let her gaze wander around the space, unready to focus on Ronald.

  “I don’t know how much time you have, so I think I should get to the point of why I asked you here,” he began. He linked his long fingers together on top of the table.

  “Our last conversation really rocked me, Verna.” He breathed deeply and slowly shook his head. “I can’t even explain how I felt when I walked out of your office.” He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. “You need to tell me what’s going on. Why won’t you at least check to see if I’m right? Have you read her file? Is there anything in there that can confirm my suspicion?”

  The questions came at her like an automatic rifle, one shot after the other. She reached for her glass of water and took a long swallow. Slowly she put down the glass. “I told you my feelings. Hunches are not sufficient and there’s nothing striking in her file to…warrant pursuing this further.” She looked over his shoulder as she spoke.

  He peered at her in utter disbelief. “Why are you lying to me?”

  Verna stiffened. What had he found out? What did he really know? “I’m not. Why should I?”

  “That’s what I want to know. Why?”

  “You’ve taken this much too far, Ronald. Trust me, I totally understand your confusion and your frustration, but I’m not lying to you. My first priority is the kids. It’s my responsibility to protect them as much as humanly possible. And what you’re proposing—”

  He reached across the table and covered her clenched fist. “But what if I’m right?” he said on a heated, urgent whisper.

  When he touched her and she listened to the hurt in his voice and saw it reflected in his eyes, she almost gave in. Almost. She looked at her watch and pushed back in her chair just as the waitress returned with the soup. Flustered, she apologized to the waitress and then to Ronald for having to leave.

  She spun away and hurried out to her car. Every fiber of her being trembled. For several moments she sat in the car trying to pull herself together before taking off. She glanced at the damning folder on the passenger seat, the one she had planned to share with Ronald, but at the last minute, she’d changed her mind and left it in the car.

  The sudden knocking on her passenger window caused her to gasp. Ronald was standing there. He mouthed for her to open the door, then glanced down at the folder on the seat with April Davis’s name in big, black block letters. His gaze jerked back to Verna’s. She had every intention of turning the key in the ignition and hitting the gas. But how long could she keep running from the inevitable? At some point he would have to read her case file on his own. As an on-staff counselor, all he needed was her okay. What she was doing was unorthodox and probably unethical. She shouldn’t have removed the file from the office. If anyone ever found out, she could lose everything she’d worked for. But even if Ronald didn’t feel he could trust her, Verna knew she could trust him.

&
nbsp; She pressed the button on the armrest and lowered the window. She picked up the file and handed it to Ronald through the opening. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before closing the window and driving away.

  “Looks serious,” Nichole said, stepping into Verna’s office.

  Verna sighed and motioned to a chair. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure.” Nichole sat down. “What is it?”

  Slowly, Verna told her of Ronald’s belief about April and the information that she’d been able to obtain from the agency and from the foster homes where April had lived over the years. All the details had been filled it. The last piece of truth was only one step away.

  Nichole rocked back in her seat. “Wow.” For several moments she couldn’t put her thoughts together. “I don’t know what to say. Have you told Ronald what you’ve found out?”

  “Not exactly.” She looked away.

  “What does that mean—‘not exactly’?”

  Verna drew in a long breath. “He now knows as much as I do.” She told Nichole that she’d given Ronald the file and hoped that she would understand.

  “How do you plan to handle this?” Nichole asked, not missing a beat.

  Verna breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s why I told you. I can’t afford to mess this up. I’ve already breached protocol by removing the file from the office.”

  “We won’t worry about that. But we have to tell April what we think. She has a right to know.”

  Verna looked away. “I have to find a way to break it to her. And see if she is willing to submit to a DNA test.”

  “I think both of us should be there to talk with her.”

  Verna sent her friend a smile of gratitude. “Thank you.” She paused, then said, “April’s experienced so much disappointment. We have to be careful. I just wish we had the irrefutable proof before we told her.”

  Thoughtfully, Nichole nodded. “So do I.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Verna and Nichole discussed how they would approach April.

  “If this all pans out, Ronald will become a full-time father,” Nichole said as she and Verna sat together drinking the last of several cups of coffee. “Are you ready for that?”