Stunned, Laura’s face fell, her eyes narrowing in dismay.
Jack removed an Internet article from his pocket, the one with an early picture of Kelly, and passed it to her. Laura read it, her face growing pale when she came to the end: Kelly Maines remains under a cloud of suspicion after years of running her nonprofit organization, which many detractors suspect is merely a front for personal gain.
Her eyes fixed on the page, Laura sighed loudly. “They really put her through the shredder, ain’t so?”
He agreed.
“So . . . Kelly must think Nattie is hers? Is that why she found you?”
Jack shrugged. “What other explanation is there?”
Her eyebrows arched. “You mentioned hairs.”
He told her what he’d found, and she frowned. “But, Jack, I’m sure my hair is all over the place.”
“I know I’ve got at least three of Kelly’s hairs,” Jack explained, staring at the kids running around, playing an impromptu game of kick the can.
He sighed, the noise of the park mingling with a swirling sense of unreality. “No matter what I think, or hope, I have to admit that Kelly looks like Nattie.”
Laura seemed to consider this and shook her head. “Kelly’s not Nattie’s mother.”
Jack was taken aback, surprised by Laura’s adamant tone. “But what if she is?” he pressed, unwilling to let it go. “I have to be ready for that.”
“No you don’t,” she said, her voice lowered to a hush. “She’s not Nattie’s mother.” Her continued conviction stunned him.
“But—”
“She would know by now, right?”
Nodding, Jack conceded this. After all, he and San had already taken this argument to the same conclusion.
“Is it such a stretch to believe she actually likes you?” Laura said gently.
Jack shrugged and let it go.
Hugging herself, as if suddenly cold, Laura sniffed softly. “I’m more worried about Nattie. She doesn’t need this.” She stood up and wandered back to the playground, where Nattie greeted her with unbridled enthusiasm.
Jack took a few shots with his ever-present camera, then made a little video of his munchkin. After a few minutes, Laura returned. Nattie wasn’t remotely ready to leave, and he wasn’t surprised. He felt the same way. Being here with Laura reminded him of the old days and the old hopes.
“Nattie really likes Kelly,” Laura said, continuing the topic. “This will break her heart.”
“She still talks about you every day,” Jack replied.
Laura looked away.
Come back, Jack thought. With the looming test results, their future was up in the air. Everything hinged on whether Kelly was or was not Nattie’s mother.
What if Kelly had never come into our lives? he thought. Laura wouldn’t have quit, and he could have spared Nattie another heartache, and in time . . . maybe, just maybe he and Laura might even have married. Was that so impossible to believe?
“I don’t see how Kelly and I can survive this,” he now whispered. “No matter what the test says.”
Laura nodded, lost in thought. She chewed her lip, clearly anxious.
Eventually they headed toward Laura’s home. Nattie sat in the middle but said little, tuckered out. In front of the house, Jack could see someone pull back the curtains and then let them fall into place again. Laura must have noticed, as well. She got out of the truck, stood on the gravel for a moment, then looked at Jack, her words confident, her meaning unmistakable. “You have nothing to fear. Okay?”
Jack nodded, and Nattie turned to Jack, questioning. He patted her back, and wondered again how Laura could be so convinced. But he didn’t push it. “I’ll call you to let you know how things turn out.”
“I’ll be praying,” she said, gave them a final wave, then was gone.
On the way home, Nattie buzzed with curiosity. “What was that about?”
“Grown-up stuff.”
“You mean, Nattie-can’t-know stuff.”
“Sorry, sweetie.”
Chapter 32
By midweek, Jack was still waiting on the DNA results. Jennifer at the lab apologized for the delay. “Usually it takes only three days. I’m so sorry. Let me track this one down, and I’ll get right back to you.”
In the meantime, Jack decided to sneak away from the office and make an attempt at dusting and vacuuming the house, rallying Nattie to help clean up the kitchen. Late afternoon, he received a call from one of his corporate jet clients, Stonebridge Capital Investments, requesting a flight to San Diego on Friday. The top brass hoped to treat its elite clients to a California vacation, free of the stress of flying commercial.
It couldn’t have come at a worse time, of course, but due to his contract, Jack couldn’t decline. They paid him well to jump through their last-minute hoops.
Wishing he could have called Laura to stay over with Nattie, Jack dialed San instead, who was eager for some extra time with her niece. Since her own place was in such disarray, due to packing and preparation for storage, San suggested she simply stay at his house. Nattie, of course, was thrilled.
Jack texted Kelly to cancel both standing dates, Friday and Saturday evenings, relieved to have an excuse. I’m flying the corporate jet to San Diego.
A few minutes later, she texted back: I’ll miss you. Have a great flight!
An hour later, Jennifer from the DNA lab called to explain the reason for the delay. “They’ve discovered two different hair samples and weren’t sure which ones you wanted tested.”
Jack had been afraid of this. “Can’t you test both samples?” he asked. “I mean, do two tests?”
Jennifer hesitated. “Well, sure. It will cost an additional fee. But do you know which is which?”
“No,” Jack replied, “but I’ll figure it out.”
So they settled upon a strategy. Jennifer agreed to ask the lab to label one set as Sample A, and the other set as Sample B. Although Jack didn’t know which sample belonged to whom, he guessed one sample had to be Laura’s—from the swing—and the other had to be Kelly’s—from the headset.
Jack swallowed his frustration and thanked Jennifer.
That Friday at the airfield, Jack preflighted the minijet, eager to take it up again. It was a fine specimen, with room for six passengers. He had just completed the flight planning when he received another call from the lab. The results were in. Jennifer agreed to email the document.
Perfect timing, he thought wryly, deciding to wait till he got to his room to look at it, postponing the final reckoning.
The flight itself went smoothly, although his raucous passengers were thoroughly sloshed by touchdown. Once there, a large Mercedes sedan, undoubtedly featuring top-of-the-line amenities, was already waiting. Good thing, too, Jack thought.
Once settled into his hotel, a sparse loft-style high-rise with wood floors and brick walls, Jack leaned back in the king-size bed, propped his tablet on his lap, found the email, and tapped Download. Seconds later, he had the document, two pages in all.
He closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer before scanning the top lines for immediate information. The moment of truth was highlighted in bold: Sample A cannot be excluded as being the mother of the child, Natalie Livingston, followed by the next line: Based on these data, the probability of maternity is 99.9999% as compared to an untested randomly chosen woman.
He closed his eyes and took a long, laborious breath, exhaling deeply. He could hear a siren in the distance, kids bustling down the hallway, the slamming of doors.
And there we have it, he thought. The worst-case scenario. Not only was San wrong, but Laura was wrong, as well. Jennifer had explained that nonexclusion was lab-speak for “positive match,” which meant only one thing: Kelly was Nattie’s birth mother.
He set the tablet to the side of the bed, leaned back, and briefly covered his eyes with his arm. Surely Kelly knew this, as well—that Nattie was her daughter. She’d probably known for weeks.
; Did she hope to simply join their family and then spring this news? Or even worse, battle him in court over Nattie?
I need to contact my lawyer, he thought grimly, doing a quick Internet search for custody cases, if only to confirm what he’d already suspected. It was unlikely that any court in the land would award Kelly custody of Nattie, not after all these years. But a judge might award her some kind of visitation.
He sighed. It was too soon to surmise the legal aspects. His phone beeped with Kelly’s texts, but he ignored them, growing more angry with each passing moment. It was time to put his measly cards on the table. He picked up the phone and did something last century. He dialed Kelly’s number.
Kelly answered on the third ring, her voice bright. “Hi! It’s great to actually hear your voice! How are you?”
He told her about the flight and the posh hotel they’d arranged for him, and she, in turn, told him about her day at work. “And first thing, I spilled coffee on my blouse, and I didn’t have another, so I had this big splotch for hours.” She laughed. “And then the market dropped two hundred and fifty points!”
“That can’t be good for client relations,” Jack replied.
“Which part? The market drop or the slummy-looking assistant?”
Jack felt a catch in his throat—everything sounded the same, as if San had never called him with the revelation.
What if I just pretended nothing happened? He shook his head at the notion.
“Bill doesn’t think it’s a true correction yet,” Kelly continued. “As it is, I had to field calls from nervous clients all day. They kept asking, ‘Are we in the market? Are we out?’”
Jack forced a chuckle. “But you can’t change positions on a dime, can you.”
“Not as fast as they would like,” she agreed, and as a long pause set in, it struck him again. He was talking to Nattie’s birth mother, the woman who’d brought his girl into the world. Despite his resentment over how she’d handled everything, he felt sorry for her.
Really, how could he be angry with a woman whose child had been kidnapped?
“I’ll be home this Sunday,” Jack said. “I was hoping you could come down on Monday, or . . .”
“Sure,” she said immediately. “Special plans?”
“I just thought we could talk.”
Another pause, then, “Hey, I’m a girl,” Kelly said humorously. “I love to talk!”
Minutes later, they hung up, but the mixed bag of anger and sadness and sympathy continued to hang over him.
The fact remained: Kelly had found her child. After spending years of looking, years of heartache and suffering, she’d finally found the daughter who had been taken from her. If anything, it was cause for celebration.
In fact, when she’d answered, he should have said, “Kelly, I have great news for you!”
Still holding the phone, he actually considered punching in her number again and redoing the conversation. They could finally rejoice together. He could forgive her on the spot, no questions asked.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not until he knew for certain why she had deceived him, and not until he determined her plans—for Nattie’s sake, and for his own.
Jack placed the phone on the lamp table and prayed for the strength to endure his own foolish ego.
———
Kelly hung up and sat at the edge of her bed, fear and panic setting in. I’m about to lose everything, she thought. Again.
She was tempted to text him back: What is this about? Maybe get a conversation started. But she resisted the temptation. She needed to see his face when he confronted her.
Her own test results had come back, but she hadn’t opened the document yet. The envelope containing the truth about Nattie still languished in her dresser drawer, because if she didn’t open the envelope, then maybe she hadn’t actually broken her promise. Yet another brilliant rationalization.
Kelly leaned back on her bed and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer for guidance. I’m sorry, she prayed. Forgive me. I really blew it.
Felix jumped up and rubbed against her side, rumbling softly, concerned by his owner’s tears.
How could I ever think that deceit was okay? She took the cat into her arms. She was tempted to call Melody. Not even Melody can dig me out of this.
The next day, Jack decided to clear his head with a walk around Balboa Park. While there, he called San, getting an update on things at home.
“Nattie’s been eating about ten Pop-Tarts a day,” she informed him. “Hope you’re okay with that.”
He could hear Nattie’s voice in the background. “Good one!”
Jack laughed but threatened her with broccoli. San relayed the message, and Nattie squealed with agony. “I’ll be good! I promise!”
By Sunday morning, his passengers were ready to return home. They arrived at the airport looking scraggly and disheveled, confirming Jack’s long-ago decision to abandon alcohol.
Once in flight and with the plane in auto, he began to anticipate tomorrow’s meeting with Kelly, thinking ahead to how Nattie would respond to the discovery that Kelly was her mother.
Nattie would probably associate the news with their earnest prayers, and who was to say she was wrong? Maybe this was how God answered a little girl, and if so, who was Jack to stand in the way?
He could imagine the conversation: “Kelly’s my birth mom? How did that happen?”
Regardless, it didn’t set well with him.
Get over yourself, he reminded himself again. Kelly has found her daughter.
Nattie greeted him at the door with all-out intensity. “I bet my weekend was better’n your weekend!” she exclaimed.
Jack couldn’t help laughing. “I bet you’re right.”
San was her usual overly cool self. “Hi there, jet-setter.” She socked Jack in the arm, then leaned over for a kiss from Nattie.
“Gotta go,” she said, and made a call me gesture to Nattie. “One more special night, ’kay?”
Nattie looked up at Jack, her eyes pleading, “Please?”
Jack chuckled. “Do you really think I’d say no?”
Nattie jumped up and did a quick high-five with her auntie.
San took off in her candy-apple-red Corvette, and Nattie led him into the dining room to inspect their artistic activities since he’d left, which included clay sculptures and two watercolor paintings.
Jack examined each piece closely, asking questions to show his interest. Later, he unpacked upstairs, reminding himself to tackle the laundry tomorrow morning. He sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, sighing nervously.
Nattie peeked in. “You look tired. Are you going to work tomorrow?”
Jack considered that. “Kelly’s coming down,” he said simply.
Wide-eyed, Nattie’s eyebrows arched. “Tomorrow?”
He nodded. “We need some time together,” he said, then added, “it’s going to be adult time, though.”
She scampered off. “Fine. I’ll settle for the scraps.”
On Monday afternoon, Jack leaned back in his office chair and studied his aviation trinkets on the far wall, trying to imagine how the conversation would go, unsure if they could actually talk here, in this big open house—with Nattie lurking about. While the thought of Nattie’s penchant for eavesdropping put the clamps on that idea, he didn’t want to be in a restaurant for this kind of discussion. Maybe a drive in the truck?
No, he thought. He picked up the landline and made yet another request of Diane, who was more than willing to have Livy watch Nattie for an hour. She asked about Laura, and Jack filled her in.
“I miss seeing her out in your garden.”
So do I, Jack thought.
Just after four-thirty, the doorbell rang, but silence followed—no hello, no opening of the door. Instead of walking in as she’d been doing for the past few weeks, Kelly had chosen to wait outside.
Chapter 33
The next thing he heard was the pounding of footsteps as Nattie
raced from her room to the door. Jack sat in his office, his heart hammering in his chest.
He could hear Nattie’s exuberant greeting, “What’s a girl gotta do to get a hug?”
Finally, he could put it off no longer and walked out to meet them both in the entryway. Kelly brightened, her smile filling the room, but the intensity of her enthusiasm only added to his gloom. She came to him, and he kissed her on the cheek, noting her flowery scent and the long black lacy top over jeans.
Nattie was dismayed. “A cheek kiss?”
“You’re going to Diane’s for a bit,” Jack told her.
Nattie’s face fell. She squished closer to Kelly, linking their arms together. “But Kelly just got here.”
“Sweetie . . .”
Nattie must have seen the seriousness in Jack’s eyes, because she stopped fussing. Mournfully, she headed for the door.
“Head right there,” he cautioned her, immediately regretting his bossy tone.
The door slammed behind Nattie, and Kelly’s own expression, despite her best efforts to appear pleasant, had turned into a mixture of happy dread. She looked at him pensively, stepping back a bit. “Is everything okay, Jack?”
He’d rehearsed his little speech, but now that the moment had arrived, nothing he’d prepared seemed appropriate.
He gestured toward the sofa, and she slipped around the edge, then sat down in the middle. She put her hands on her lap and smiled expectantly.
Jack sat down across from her, and without any kind of preamble, just came out with it: “I wish you had told me the truth, Kelly.”
Holding his gaze, Kelly said softly, “Can you be more specific?”
“You’ve been looking for your daughter.”
She pursed her lips and resituated herself on his couch. “I wanted to tell you, Jack. I had planned to tell you everything the day I met you, but—” Kelly stopped, moisture filling her eyes. She looked away, then forced a smile through her tears. She was clearly miserable, and he felt torn between anger and fear. Was he simply being manipulated . . . again?
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