Child of Mine

by Beverly Lewis

  Laura turned in her seat, straightening her long dress, saying nothing.

  “So . . . crazy idea, huh?” Jack asked.

  Laura continued to study the picture. “Do you have someone in mind?”

  Jack hardly heard what she’d said, because at that moment a giant semi came barreling down the highway, hugging the middle line, way too close. Jack swerved his vehicle closer to the shoulder, waiting for the semi to pass. Then, with a giant rush of wind, it careered by them, swaying Jack’s own sizeable pickup truck.

  Jack shook his head, then glanced over at Laura with a sheepish grin. “You know, I was just thinking . . . if something comes of it, fine. If not, nothing lost.”

  “That’s a schmaert plan, I guess. As long as the Lord’s will is accomplished, jah?”

  Jack then asked if she might consider putting in some extra time with Nattie during the evenings. Laura agreed.

  He slowed as they came to the next turn. Jack hoped to exchange perhaps a frivolous smile at his idea, but Laura was looking out at the farmland again.

  Later, when she did catch his grin, Laura nodded, but her expression seemed a little exaggerated, almost too bright.

  “Are you okay?” he almost asked but squelched it.

  At the end of the long lane, he parked near her cousins’ farmhouse. “Here I am, going on about this as if you don’t have enough on your plate,” he said.

  “I don’t mind at all. Honestly.” Laura reached for the door handle and gave him a quick smile. “I can’t thank you enough for the ride, Jack.” She stopped then, motionless, seemingly unsure of herself. “Jack?” Tentatively, she began to trace a small crack in the leather with her pointer finger. “I’d like to ask you something . . . if ya don’t mind.”

  He nodded, waiting.

  “Over the years, I believe you’ve had certain expectations of me, jah?”

  Of all times, Jack’s phone began to chirp. He assumed it was Nattie, but as he peered at the screen he saw that it was one of his flight students scheduled to solo that evening. “Do you mind holding that thought, Laura? I really need to get this.” He clicked the Answer button.

  But instead of waiting, Laura reached to open the door. “Later,” she mouthed to him, sliding out. Holding the handle, she stepped down gingerly onto the gravel road. It was quite a jump from his cab to the ground, but Laura had mastered it.

  In the meantime, Jack’s student had inquired about filling the oil to the top line because there had been some disagreement about whether they weren’t just blowing oil out the case vent. “So shouldn’t we under fill it and save money?” Jim asked.

  “Hold on a second, Jim.” Jack covered the mouthpiece with his thumb, curiosity pounding his chest. “I’m almost finished here, Laura.”

  She was poised to shut the heavy door. “Oh, not to worry. It can wait, jah,” she said politely but firmly.

  Getting back to the call, Jack watched Laura walk up the gravel drive to the farmhouse. Then she turned and smiled, looking strangely forlorn.

  Finishing up the call, Jack kept his eyes trained on the farmhouse, wishing Laura would return. He shouldn’t have taken the call and wished she’d waited. He noticed the sky suddenly growing dark and realized his student would probably have to cancel his solo flight anyway. A thunderstorm was brewing.

  Shifting the pickup into reverse, he wondered if, with all his talk of dating, he’d seemed too eager to replace her. Especially after she’d admitted not knowing how much longer she might stay.

  He autodialed Laura’s cell number, hoping to apologize again for his insensitivity, but the call went directly to voice mail. Jack placed his phone on the passenger seat, recalling the pathetic look on her face, and kicked himself all the way home. “I’ll fix things tomorrow,” he promised himself and then realized Laura wasn’t coming back to work till Saturday. He sighed with frustration.

  Halfway home, it began to rain, and when he got to his street, he saw Laura’s car and picked up the cell again. After a quick call to his favorite mechanic, arrangements were made to tow Laura’s car back to the shop.

  “Put it on my bill,” Jack told him. “And while you’re at it, see if you can find anything else that might go wrong.”

  Charlie agreed, and Jack left instructions to have him deliver the car to the farm when finished.

  In the garage, Jack parked his truck cautiously next to the yellow dirt bike, which seemed to glow like a neon sign, and hurried over, amid the pelting raindrops, to Diane’s. Nattie greeted him with undiluted relief.

  “Finally! I thought you’d never get back,” Nattie said with a blend of humor and indictment.

  In the house, Nattie rushed upstairs to brush her teeth while Jack went to his office, pulling out the narrow top drawer. He removed Karen Jones’s business card. Turning it around in his fingers, he recalled the meeting. Wouldn’t a psychologist make an ideal mother for Nattie?

  Besides that, Jack liked Karen. She was attractive; she seemed conscientious, insightful, if a little bossy.

  Maybe bossy is good, he reasoned, picking up the phone.

  The rain grew fiercer, lashing at his windows and accompanied by a howling wind. Distracted, Jack got up to close the heavy drapes, hoping to muffle the storm.

  Settling back down in his russet leather chair, he rehearsed the necessary words, practicing them aloud. “Hey, Karen, I’d like to take you out to dinner—”

  “Dad?”

  Jack swiveled around, heart jumping.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Oh, just grown-up stuff.”

  “Wanna watch Finding Nemo with me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. Give me a minute.”

  Nattie scampered off to get things set up, which required her enormous blanket, at least three stuffed animal friends, and two bowls of ice cream—one for each of them. He’d just bought himself at least ten minutes.

  In the meantime, Jack ditched the whole decision to review his pitch and simply picked up the phone and dialed Karen.

  Right then, the doorbell rang, and he heard San calling, “Yoo-hoo! Anybody home?”

  Jack hung up and Nattie dashed past his office. “Auntie San’s here,” she announced.

  In seconds, San peeked in, her hair wet and matted. “Hey, bro!”

  Nattie squeezed in between San and the doorframe, eyes pleading, hands clasped prayerfully together—for what, he wasn’t sure—probably to invite his sister to stay around for the movie.

  “Perfect timing,” Jack said, gesturing for San to pull up a chair.

  “Why?” Nattie fidgeted. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to talk to San . . . alone, sweetie.”

  Nattie groaned. “More grown-up stuff?” she muttered. “There’s too much of that in this house.” With that, she stomped off to the family room.

  San closed the door, pulled the chair closer, and settled in. Her designer sunglasses were poised on top of her head, holding back still-dripping hair. “So . . . you haven’t told her yet, I’m guessing?”

  Less than a question, more of an insinuation.

  “About?”

  “New York. Hello?” San impatiently brushed the water droplets off her floor-skimming skirt.

  Jack had completely forgotten. “I was searching for the ideal moment.”

  San rolled her eyes. “Want me to do it?”

  He leaned forward. “Listen . . . I’ve made a decision. And it’s big.”

  “Good for you.” San smirked. “Want a star sticker?”

  “Be serious.” He cleared his throat. “I’m thinking about dating . . . that is . . . hoping to marry, well, ultimately.”

  San scoffed. “Puh-lease. Don’t toy with my emotions.” She stared at him closer, gauging his expression, her eyebrows furrowing. “Wait a minute. You’re not kidding.”

  “Nattie needs a mother.”

  San grinned. “Will you simply forgo the falling-in-love part?”

  Jack opened his mouth to re
ply, but San was already moving on. “Marriage doesn’t have to be as bad as our parents’ was, you know.” She screwed up her face comically, and a sudden gust blew a splatter of rain against the window.

  “Okay, brass tacks, Jack. Fact is I know a lot of eligible women. So thank me. You’re in luck.”

  Setting aside his thoughts of Karen, he decided to play along. “What about Anita? You mentioned . . . uh . . . that she’d asked about me some time ago.”

  San grimaced. “You missed your chance, Jack. She’s practically engaged now.”

  “In what? Two days?”

  San grabbed her purse, pulling out her cell phone, scanning her address book. “Here we go, Jack. Some of these women are lovely, but they talk a lot, and some of them are quiet, like you, but not so pretty. Attractive, sure, but not in the physical sense.”

  Jack tried to keep up. “Any mommy types?”

  “Um, before we get too far into this, Mr. Beanstalk, let me reiterate. Whomever you date will want to be romanced. Flowers and sun-drenched walks along the river, not to mention hand-holding. And, eventually, some kissing.”

  “Got it.”

  San blew out another breath. “Wait a minute. Have you told Nattie about this?”

  Jack shook his head.

  San frowned. “I doubt she’ll see this as sunshine and kittens for all.”

  “She’ll come around.”

  “Uh-huh. Right,” San said. “And what about Laura? How do you think she’ll deal with this?”

  “What about Laura?”

  San seemed disturbed with Jack’s naiveté, then turned her attention to her phone again. “Okay. So where do we want to start?” She punched the screen. “I have three names, right off the bat.”

  Jack handed over the school counselor’s business card. Accepting it, San examined the printing. She scowled. “This is Karen’s.” She turned it over, her eyes narrowing. “Hold the phone.”

  “So Karen’s single. She loves kids.”

  San looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “She’s definitely not your type.”

  “And Karen’s connected with her church, big time. So we’re good.”

  “She is still not your type.”

  Jack pulled out his phone and began punching numbers. He placed the receiver against his ear.

  “Please tell me you aren’t calling her.”

  Jack smiled, counting the rings. San leaned back in her chair and sneered at him. He smirked right back.

  On the fourth ring, Karen Jones answered, somewhat surprised to hear from him. Jack made polite small talk, saying how much he appreciated her insight at the parent-teacher meeting. As he talked, he kept glancing at San, who simply shook her head with mock disgust. Then he asked Karen if she’d like to have dinner with him.

  San rolled her eyes and whispered, “Tell her there will be a written test afterward.”

  To his surprise, Karen was reluctant to accept. Had he misread her signals? Wisely, he backed up and tried a different course. “Perhaps coffee, instead?”

  “Sounds nice,” Karen said. Then, taking the lead from him, she suggested a time and a place: Thursday, four o’clock in the afternoon, at Starbucks.

  Jack said he’d look forward to that, said good-bye, and hung up.

  San crossed her arms, gave him a smug look. “She wasn’t too excited about dinner, I take it?”

  “A minor blip. Other than that, I handled things swimmingly.”

  “You’re in way over your head, brother dear,” San said. “This woman will chew you up and spit you out.” She laughed, as though relishing the prospect. “But never fear, Jack.” She waved her cell phone in front of him. “I’ll be here to pick up the pieces for my obstinate brother.”

  “Not for long,” Jack reminded her.

  “Oh yeah. I forgot! I’m moving to Noo Yawk!” San stood up and did a little jig, ending with a dramatic arm flourish.

  Jack groaned, playing along. “If Nattie is anything like you when she hits her teens, I’m going to have my hands full.”

  San’s eyebrows rose in agreement. “I’ve been telling you that, dear Jack. Now, as I recall, Nattie promised me a movie and popcorn and ice cream, and I intend to collect.”

  Jack laughed. “Did she neglect to mention we’re watching Finding Nemo?”

  San’s expression drooped. “Again?”

  Chapter 12

  At six o’clock the next morning, Kelly gladly passed the reins to Tom and Shelly, two new hires at the convenience shop. Shelly’s face was riddled with piercings, a startling contrast to her bubbly demeanor. Clearly she was thrilled to have landed a job.

  The day was already warm and humid as Kelly drove into the rising sun. She was famished, ready for a nice hot meal at Miriam’s, an old-timey café just a mile or so up the road, known for their omelets and waffles. It was a favorite with the locals, and Melody was waiting for her there.

  The plan to meet early would accommodate Kelly’s sleep schedule, which worked fine for Melody, who often hit the gym right after dawn anyway. “Trey said he’d handle breakfast with the kids,” Melody crowed when Kelly called her recently. “He owes me.”

  Kelly had laughed and felt a tinge of wistfulness, hearing about Mel’s married life. Could’ve been me, she thought. Then again, in retrospect, Bobby had always been a ticking time bomb.

  In the parking lot, she glanced into the rearview mirror and tried to rub a little life into her haggard features. With a sigh, she got out of the car and headed for the diner, its storefront striped canopy and picture window reminiscent of a 1940s café. Inside, she spotted Melody sitting on a long vintage bench, wearing a slate gray jogging outfit. Mel rose immediately, and they exchanged hugs.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” Melody said.

  Kelly thanked her for coming, then they followed the hostess toward the back room, the fireplace section. The place was filled with hungry patrons, both the young hip crowd drinking lattes, and older men sporting crew cuts and baseball caps advertising farming equipment—a true melting pot of people and evidence of the restaurant’s appeal.

  Friendship was the last bastion of old age, or so it seemed from the looks of these coffee drinkers. I could do worse, she thought suddenly, and it struck her as rather odd. Until recently, relationships had been the last thing on her mind.

  They were seated at a booth toward the back windows in their favorite room—the one bright with sunshine and mellow wood tones, giving an inviting old-world feel. The ambience was relaxing, even welcoming, after a long night working in a room with snacks, drinks, smokes, and, of course, lottery tickets.

  Kelly placed her purse next to her and sat down. Melody pushed in across from her in the booth. “Remember the last time we came here?”

  Kelly smiled at the memory.

  “It was my eighteenth birthday,” Melody reminded her.

  Kelly whistled. Light-years ago.

  “So when do you sleep, Kel?”

  “Nine to whenever,” Kelly replied.

  “And . . . how do you sleep?”

  Kelly shrugged. “I put on a sleep mask and shut off my phone.” Most of the time.

  Melody’s bright eyes turned dim. “I’m really sorry you haven’t found her yet. I can’t imagine, Kelly.”

  Dispatching the elephant in the room, Kelly thought. Just dive right in and get it out of the way.

  “It’s been a long time,” Kelly admitted. “But I’m still plugging away, you know. Knocking at doors. Pursuing leads.”

  It sounded like a practiced speech, and in fact, it was. She’d been saying the same thing for years to whomever asked. Sometimes she still gave short talks at various church groups, although not so often anymore, and usually to disbelieving faces. “I still believe I’ll find my daughter. It’s my job to believe. It’s God’s job to provide when He sees fit.”

  Melody’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re amazing, Kel. I remember thinking years ago that God allowed this trial because He knew you’d be strong
enough to handle it.”

  Kelly shrugged this away, slightly annoyed, but she knew Melody meant well. Truth was, there were times when she would have given anything to have been spared this suffering. Who wouldn’t? Then there were other times when she was affected by a strange underlying feeling that things were exactly the way they were supposed to be for a reason, in keeping with the verse All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

  The first time someone said that to her, she’d almost slapped him. “How can anything good come of this?!”

  “It’s only when you’re empty that you can be filled,” Chet told her often, especially when despair nipped at her heels. Chet had a lot of these platitudes, and yes, sometimes she was tempted to slap him, too.

  The waitress stopped by, asking for their drink order—water for Melody, orange juice for Kelly. Waiting, they talked about the old days, old teachers, old friends, and old jokes. Soon enough the waitress wandered by again, delivering their beverages and ready to take their order, but they hadn’t even opened the menus. They didn’t need to. They ordered the same thing they had always ordered: for Melody, blueberry waffles and a side of eggs over hard. And for Kelly, a vegetarian omelet. She wasn’t actually a vegetarian, but she didn’t care much for ham, sausage, or bacon. “Crunchy carcinogens,” her father had once called them.

  When the waitress left again, Kelly leaned forward. “Thanks . . . for this.”

  Melody nodded, almost too exuberantly. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

  I did, Kelly thought.

  Melody put a straw in her water, took a sip, and fixed Kelly with a serious look. “I want to help you again . . . looking for your daughter.”

  Kelly was already shaking her head, thinking of Chet and Eloise. “I appreciate that, but I don’t do much active fund-raising anymore.”

  “Oh,” she said, eyes dimming slightly. “Do you still have that private detective?”

  “Ernie.” She smiled. “Yes.”

  “I liked him,” Melody replied. “He reminded me of my grandpa.”

  Kelly laughed, conjuring up the image. Melody’s grandfather Clarence was a sour-faced sweetheart. Just like Ernie.