Harley jumped off the couch and shoved the blind to one side to stare down at the street. Without looking at Emma, she said, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe you could, like, adopt me. Then you wouldn’t have to worry that I’d leave.”
“Would you like me to adopt you?” Emma asked carefully. She’d already considered the possibility, but thought it was too soon to ask Harley. She’d assumed it would be a too-painful reminder of what the girl had lost.
Clearly, she’d been wrong. In the chaos of her mother’s death, Harley craved stability.
Harley lifted one shoulder. “It would be okay.”
“Then we’ll look into it.”
Adoption wouldn’t be as easy as Harley seemed to think. There was a ream of paperwork to do. References to line up. Home visits. Background checks. It took a long time to finalize an adoption. In the meantime, if she was Harley’s legal guardian, that would reassure the girl. Make her feel more stable. “One thing at a time, okay? Let’s get the guardianship settled before we start working on an adoption. But remember, I work long hours. Sometimes I have to go out at night. Maybe you’d rather be in a home with two parents.” It would rip out her heart to send Harley to someone else. But if that’s what would be the best for the girl, Emma would do it.
Harley narrowed her eyes. “I never had a father, and my mom worked a lot. She wasn’t always home. Did that make her a bad parent?”
“Of course not. Your mom was a wonderful parent. She adored you and she took good care of you. But she had your whole life to figure everything out. I’ve had three weeks.”
“You’re better than some stupid stranger would be,” Harley said fiercely. “I want to stay with you.”
Maybe on-the-job training for parenting a grieving thirteen-year-old wasn’t the ideal. But no one would love Harley more than Emma. “Okay, Harley. Once I’m your legal guardian, we’ll talk to a lawyer and get the paperwork started.”
* * *
NATHAN WALKED SLOWLY toward the back door, stopping to pick up the damn cane. It had been five weeks since the casts had come off, and it pissed him off that he still had to use it. But if he showed up at physical therapy without the cane, his therapist would lecture him about it.
The fact that she was right didn’t make it any more bearable. After therapy, his leg ached enough to make the cane a necessity.
It didn’t mean he had to like it, though.
The front doorbell rang just as he was about to step outside. He hesitated, tempted to keep going and ignore it. Then he sighed, slammed the back door and headed for the front of the house.
Before he got there, the door opened. “Nate?” Patrick called. “You here?”
“Yeah, I am,” he said as he rounded the corner into the living room. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you to therapy. I needed to talk to you, anyway, so I called Frankie and told her to stay home.” Patrick frowned as he saw the cane in Nathan’s hand. “You trying to ditch me?”
“Damn it, Paddy! I can do this myself. You guys don’t need to baby me. You don’t need to drive me every time.”
“Yeah, we do.” He stopped and put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Look, Nate, I get that you need to be in control. Those six weeks in the wheelchair were hell for you. You’ve had to be in control ever since Mom and Dad died, and it’s scary when you’re not. But there are times when you have to let go. Driving to physical therapy is one of them. And today we need to talk.”
“I do not always have to be in control.” Nathan glared at Patrick.
“Shut up and get in the truck.”
Nathan shoved the front door open and stepped into the cold air. A tiny dusting of snow lay on the sidewalk, and he tightened his grip on the cane. Patrick stayed close, but he didn’t make the mistake of trying to help him.
A few minutes later, as they drove toward the physical therapy facility, Patrick glanced at him. “Frankie said Emma asked how you were doing. Have you talked to her?”
Hearing Emma’s name brought back memories of her sharp, citrusy scent and the dimple that flashed when she smiled. But he narrowed his gaze at his brother. “Is that why you’re here? To grill me about my social life?”
“No. Just passing on a message from our sister.” Patrick grinned. “Kind of fun messing with you, though.”
Nathan scowled. “You’re a laugh a minute, FBI boy.”
Patrick’s smile faded. “Speaking of which, tell me about the building permits you got for the kitchen remodel.”
Nathan stared at his brother, puzzled. “Tell you what about them? I probably have them somewhere if you want to see them, but they were standard building permits. I went to city hall, filled out the applications, got the forms, stuck them on the door. That was about the easiest part of the whole job.”
“You said you saved them. Are they at the house?”
“They should be, along with all the other paperwork.”
“After your therapy, maybe you could find them for me.”
* * *
AS EMMA SAT in her office a week after her conversation with Harley, she glanced at the business card stuck into a corner of her desk calendar. David Sanders, Attorney at Law. She’d already memorized his phone number.
She’d found the card the night she’d cleared out Sonya’s apartment, mixed in with the contents of Sonya’s desk. That had been a tough night. Feeling tears prickle her eyes, she clasped her hands behind her head to force the memories away.
Eleven boxes. That’s what it had taken to pack everything away. Considering the obstacles Sonya had overcome, the success she’d made of her life, it was depressing that eleven boxes were all that were left.
Eleven boxes and Harley.
Swallowing hard, she reached for her phone. She’d done it several times a day for the past week, and again let her hand drop.
She needed to call him. Sonya must have had a will, and it was Emma’s responsibility to find out. But every time she’d picked up the phone, dread squeezed her chest.
As a single parent, Sonya would have chosen a guardian for Harley. The lawyer would have made sure of it. Once Emma called him, the wheels would be set into motion. It wouldn’t matter what Harley wanted. What Emma wanted.
Maybe Sonya had chosen Emma. But what if she hadn’t? Harley wasn’t ready to be handed over to a stranger. She needed more time.
So did Emma.
Emma had been named Harley’s legal guardian earlier in the week, but if Sonya’s will specified someone different, they’d have to figure out what to do. According to the people at DCFS, Harley had left no doubt about her desire to stay with Emma.
Swallowing hard, Emma stared at the card and picked up the phone. Clenching it tightly, she punched in the numbers before she could chicken out yet again.
The phone rang three times, and the weight on Emma’s chest lightened. Maybe the voice mail would pick up. She could postpone the conversation with a clear conscience.
“David Sanders,” a male voice said. Damn.
Emma closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath. “Mr. Sanders, my name is Emma Sloan. I’m Harley Michaels’s legal guardian. She’s the daughter of one of your clients. Sonya Michaels. Sonya passed away and I just found your card. I thought you might have a will or...or something.”
“God, I’m sorry to hear that. I liked Sonya so much. Hold on. Let me see what I have.”
Emma heard the sound of a metal drawer opening, then paper rustling. A minute
later the attorney picked up the phone. “Ms. Sloan, I have a will and some financial documents. Give me a day or so to look everything over, then I’ll call you back.”
“All right.” She gave the attorney her phone number. “Maybe you could call during the day so Harley isn’t around.”
“I’ll do that. Talk to you soon.”
Emma was leaving a client’s home later that morning when her phone vibrated. She saw David Sanders’s name on the screen, making her hand shake as she connected. “Emma Sloan.”
“David Sanders. I’ve looked over Sonya Michaels’s paperwork. Can you come in to discuss it?”
Her mouth went dry and her heart battered against her chest. “Can’t you just tell me over the phone? Did Sonya name a guardian in the will?”
“It’s complicated. We need to discuss this in person.”
“When are you available?”
“I can see you late this afternoon. Would five o’clock work for you?”
“Yes, I can make that.”
“Good. I’ll see you then. And, Ms. Sloan? Come by yourself. Don’t bring Harley.”
“Why not?” She gripped the phone so hard her fingers ached.
“I’ll see you at five, Ms. Sloan.”
* * *
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Emma shifted on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the tiny waiting area of David Sanders’s office. The inner door was closed, and the low murmur of voices drifted out to her.
She glanced at her watch. Five-fifteen. In forty-five minutes, she had to pick up Harley. Grabbing her phone, she dialed Frankie’s number. It went right to voice mail, and after the beep, she spoke quickly.
“Hey, Frankie, this is Emma. I might be a little late picking Harley up tonight. Could you tell her I had a meeting and got held up? I know she worries if I’m not there on time.”
As Emma put away her phone, the door opened and an older couple walked out, followed by a young man wearing oval glasses. His brown hair was pulled into a short ponytail and he wore a dress shirt with faded jeans.
“I’ll call you when I have more information,” he said.
“Thank you, David,” the older man said.
As the door closed behind the couple, the attorney looked at her. “You must be Emma Sloan.” His words were formal and appropriate. But there was a spark of interest in his eyes, quickly hidden.
“Yes.” She swiped her damp palm on her pants, stood and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sanders.”
“Please, call me David.” He stepped to the side. “Come on in.”
The small office was lined with bookshelves, leaving barely enough room for a shabby desk and two wooden chairs in front of it. Two battered filing cabinets sat against the wall, with framed diplomas displayed above them.
Emma sat in one of the hard chairs. As David swung into his chair and plucked a folder from a bookshelf behind him, her foot tapped on the floor in a staccato beat. Her hands were still sweating, and she twined them together in her lap. She cleared her throat and said, “What’s going on, David? And why did you tell me not to bring Harley?”
He looked up from the open file folder. “Because what I’m going to tell you will be a shock. And I didn’t want to spring it on a grieving child.”
Oh, my God. What was in that folder? She swallowed again. “I’m not Harley’s guardian, am I?”
He hesitated. “You are for now. But in her will, Sonya named Harley’s father. And she wants you to introduce the two of them. Help them get to know one another.”
“Harley’s father?” She frowned. “Is he in Chicago?”
His eyes wary, he nodded slowly. “His name is Nathan Devereux.”
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT?” EMMA STARED at the attorney, so shocked she could barely speak. “Nathan Devereux?”
“He lives on the north side of Chicago and owns a restaurant.”
No way was this a coincidence. “I...I met him a few weeks ago. The night Sonya died, actually. I know his sister, Frankie. Harley goes to her after-school program.”
“Yes. Sonya explained that she’d enrolled Harley at—” he looked down at the papers “—FreeZone because she knew the woman who ran the program was her daughter’s aunt.”
“But...but how? Why? Does Nathan know?”
“According to Sonya, Mr. Devereux has no idea.” He set two envelopes and a DVD on the desk. “She did leave two letters, though—one for you and one for Mr. Devereux. As well as a DVD for her daughter.”
Emma stared at the three bombs lined up on the desk in front of her. Sonya’s neat handwriting scrawled across the two envelopes and the DVD case. Questions tumbled through her brain. “Why didn’t she tell Nathan about Harley? What’s going on?”
“Sonya didn’t share her thoughts with me. She wanted me to draw up legal documents, and that’s what I did. She left a will, her financial records, the two letters and the DVD. That was it.”
“You didn’t ask her about it?”
“That wasn’t my job,” he said calmly. “She wasn’t here because she wanted a therapist. She was here to make legal arrangements.” He cleared his throat. “She came in shortly after she moved to Chicago. She said she’d had a medical incident and needed to get her affairs in order.”
Emma stared at the letters but didn’t touch them. “So what happens next? Harley has no idea who her father is. As far as I know, her mother never told her anything.”
“Mr. Devereux has to be informed, obviously. As Sonya’s attorney, I’ll contact him and give him the letter.”
No. “I think...it sounds as if Sonya wanted me to do that.” You couldn’t have told Harley yourself? And why didn’t you ever tell Nathan? What were you thinking, Sonya?
David leaned forward and touched her hand. Let his fingers linger. “I’m trained to handle this.”
She eased her hand away from his. “I am, too. I’m a social worker for the Department of Children and Family Services.” Her head whirling, she added, “And I know Nathan.” How was she supposed to tell him he had a child?
“Sonya does say she wants you to facilitate the meetings between Harley and her father.” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “I strongly discouraged Sonya from doing this. I told her it wasn’t fair to put this burden on you. She seemed to think you’d be able to handle it, though.”
“Of course I can handle it,” Emma said. She steadied her voice. “It’s just a surprise.” What would this do to her plan to adopt Harley? Now that her father was known, most judges would grant him custody if he wanted it.
“Emma, this has been a huge shock to you. Before you do anything, let’s give it a little thought.” He consulted an appointment book in front of him. “Would you be able to come in again two days from now?”
“I’m not sure what that would accomplish. It doesn’t change anything.”
“We could brainstorm strategies.”
“Forgive me, David, but how often have you handled this kind of situation?”
He hesitated. “I’ve been involved in custody disputes before. Adoptions. But this particular situation is a first.”
Emma nodded. “In my work for DCFS, I’ve had to tell men the result of paternity tests and deal with the fallout. I appreciate your offer, but this is my job. And it’s clearly what Sonya wanted.” She forced a smile. “I’ll give you a call in a few days. Would that be all right?”
“Of course. You can call me anytime.” The earnest young attorney leaned a
cross the desk, but she focused on the frayed cuffs of his shirt. “You obviously care about the child, and your determination to do what Sonya wanted is admirable. But it will be less...messy if I handle this.”
“I don’t care about messy,” she said fiercely. “I care about Harley. I want to make sure that she’s protected in all this. And although I know Mr. Devereux, Harley is my concern.”
“That’s why I should break the news to Mr. Devereux. I can stick to the legal issues.”
Implying that she would be ruled by her emotions. She swallowed the ball of dread and fear growing in her throat. “I can, too, Mr. Sanders.”
David watched her for a few moments. “I know this is a shock,” he said quietly.
“You’re damn right it’s a shock. I wanted to adopt her,” Emma said, clenching her teeth to keep her tears at bay. “That’s what Harley wants, too.” Sonya, what were you thinking?
“That’s going to be very complicated now.” His voice was gentle. “I’m sorry.”
“I know it’s complicated.” What would she say to Harley? “But Harley and I and...and Nathan...will figure it out.” She shoved away from the table, grabbed the envelopes and the DVD and stuffed them in her bag. “I have to go, or I’ll be late picking up Harley. She worries if I’m not there on time. Thank you for your help.”
She fled the office. Yes, thank you for dropping this bombshell on me. On Harley. Thank you for shattering her world.
Twenty minutes later, Harley stared out the windshield of the car, clutching the armrest. She’d barely spoken since they’d left FreeZone.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Emma said. She had no idea how she’d managed to sound calm.
What would Harley’s reaction be when she found out about her father? Would she be excited? Happy? Eager to get to know her new family? Especially since she already knew Frankie. Her aunt.
What would Emma have done if she found out who her father was when she was thirteen?
She would have been thrilled, she admitted. Maybe Harley would be, too.
Bending the Rules Page 3