by Robin Wells
But this fear was different than the kind that came from watching a scary movie or reading a murder mystery. This fear was alive—a loathsome, hungry creature, a creature intent on devouring her heart and consuming her soul. This fear concerned her daughter.
She felt alone, so alone. She longed to call Helen and Ben, but she didn't want to burden them with this the night before Helen's surgery.
Besides, she thought somberly, the advice she needed went beyond what a friend could give. She needed to talk to an attorney.
Henry. Annie froze in the hallway as the thought settled around her.
"Henry. Of course," she murmured. Henry Marlow would know what to do. An old friend of her grandfather's, Henry was retired now, but he'd practiced law up until a few months ago, when a stroke had forced him to move into the nursing home where Pearl lived. Henry had handled the probate on her grandparents' estate. He was no longer able to walk, but his mind was still sharp as a razor. Annie had talked with him just last week when she'd visited Pearl.
Why hadn't she thought of Henry sooner? She'd go see him first thing in the morning. She'd take Madeline with her and let Pearl keep an eye on the baby while she sought the attorney's advice.
A loud yap broke through Annie's thoughts. She looked across the living room to see Hot Dog standing by the back door, his long, skinny tail wagging.
"You need to go out, fella?" Annie crossed the room and opened the door for the dachshund. The fat little dog waddled out onto the darkened patio. Annie flipped the light switch by the door; illuminating the back lawn.
With any luck, Annie thought, maybe Henry could shed some light on her situation as well.
Sunlight streamed through the windows of the sunroom at the Shady Acres Nursing Home the next morning, creating a sheen on Henry's bald head. The old man had always reminded Annie of Humpty Dumpty, with his large, egg-shaped head and small, thin-boned frame.
"Jake Chastain," the elderly man muttered, staring at the business card Annie had just handed him. "Hmm."
Annie leaned forward on the yellow-and-green cushion that covered the white rattan sofa. "Do you know him?"
The old man nodded grimly, his bald head bobbing to the right. The stroke had weakened the left side of his body, so all of Henry's actions seemed unbalanced. "Know of him. He joined his father-in-law's firm a few years ago. Tom Morrison has one of the biggest law firms in Tulsa."
"Are they any good?"
Henry made a sound halfway between a harrumph and a cough. "Probably the best."
Annie's spirits took a nosedive.
"They specialize in corporate law. Mergers, acquisitions, that sort of thing. Tom Morrison has a lot of clout." Henry's mouth curved in a half grin. "Not to mention a knack for contributing to all the right judiciary campaigns."
Annie frowned. "You mean he's crooked?"
"Oh, no. ' Just well-heeled and well connected. He knows all the right people."
Annie felt a rekindling of hope. "So if they specialize in corporate law, they probably don't know much about custody cases."
"I wouldn't say that," Henry cautioned. "A firm as large as theirs can provide full legal services. They'd bring in outside counsel, if need be. They'd do whatever it took to win." Henry ran his good hand across his jaw.
"They don't so much specialize in corporate law as they specialize in winning."
Annie's shoulders slumped. Just her luck—Madeline's father was not only an attorney, but one of the meanest, baddest dogs in Tulsa's legal junkyard. She drew a deep, steadying breath. "So will you represent me against them?"
Henry's blue eyes were kind under his heavy lids. "I'm no longer practicing law, Annie."
"But you still can, can't you? You still have your license?"
"I'm still a member of the bar, if that's what you mean. But there's nothing to represent yet."
"There will be."
Henry's head wobbled as he nodded. "I'm afraid you're right." He shifted his weight in the wheelchair and peered at her closely. "Look, Annie-I'm no match for the likes of this firm. Hiring me to represent you against them would be like using a BB gun against an armored tank. You need someone who can play on the same field."
"I don't have a lot of money."
"You could mortgage the ranch."
Annie shook her head. "I already took out a mortgage to pay for repairs. The barn needed a new roof and the foundation of the house was badly cracked—then we had to buy a new hay baler, and I'm diversifying into alpacas, and I had medical expenses from having the baby that insurance didn't cover... " Annie's voice trailed off. She could go on and on, listing all the ways she'd spent the borrowed money. All of the expenditures had been necessary, but that didn't matter now. What mattered was that the money was gone, and she didn't have the income to qualify for a second mortgage. Annie swallowed. "I'm barely keeping my head above water now."
The right side of Henry's forehead knit in a frown.
Annie clasped her hands in her lap and steeled her spine. "Give it to me straight, Henry. What are my chances?"
"Depends on what you want."
"To keep things the way they are. To keep this man out of Madeline's life."
Henry's head gave a doleful, lopsided shake. "Well, then, I'm afraid they're not good. If he can prove paternity, he'll probably at least get joint custody."
A cold chill shimmied up Annie's spine. "I won't stand for that."
"You're likely to have no choice."
Annie's throat grew unnaturally tight. She gazed down at the bright yellow-and-green sofa cushion, a combination no doubt chosen for its cheerfulness. It sure wasn't cheering her now. When she spoke, the voice didn't seem to be her own. "What if Madeline and I were to move away?"
Henry regarded her keenly from his heavy hooded eyes. "You mean out of state?"
Annie nodded. "Maybe even out of the country. To someplace hard to find."
Henry shook his head. "Jake .Chastain has a lot of money, Annie—the kind of money that has long arms. I'm afraid you'd simply end up depleting your resources to no good end. And there's another issue to consider, as well. You could end up looking reckless and unstable, uprooting the child and moving away for no reason. That's the sort of thing that could work against you in a custody battle."
"Work against me?"
"If Chastaine decides to go for full custody of the child, he'll try to prove you're an unfit mother."
Annie stared at Henry, her head reeling. Her whole life revolved around Madeline. From the moment she got up in the morning to the moment she fell asleep— not to mention any time Madeline awoke or murmured during the night—the child's well-being was Annie's chief concern. "How could anyone think I'm unfit?"
"No one who knows you would ever think that," Henry reassured her. "But that doesn't mean a judge couldn't be persuaded otherwise."
"But it wouldn't be the truth!"
"I hate to say it, Annie, but the truth doesn't always win out. It's all in how the facts are presented."
Annie's spirits slumped. The thought of sharing Madeline was gut-wrenching. The idea of losing her altogether was unbearable. "Do you think he could do that?"
Henry's eyes were grim. "It's not outside the realm of possibility. Especially for a firm like Morrison and Chastaine."
Annie stared at Henry numbly.
The man let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his head. "I hate to say it, Annie, but I've seen money influence the outcome of custody judgments in all too many cases."
"But Madeline's my flesh and blood. I'm her mother!"
Henry gave a lopsided nod. And if the blood tests confirm it, Chastaine's her father. You told me yourself you thought he was."
Tears welled up in Annie's eyes. She blinked hard, trying to hold them back.
Henry leaned forward and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Look, Annie. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but your best bet is to try to work out an amicable arrangement with this man."
Annie fought a childish urge to put
her hands over her ears.
"Madeline could do a lot worse than Jake Chastaine for a father," Henry continued. "His money and connections could open a lot of doors for her on down the road."
"If I'd wanted to share my child with a man, I would have just gotten pregnant the old-fashioned way!"
The high-pitched whine of a hearing aid made Annie turn toward the doorway. Pearl stood in the doorway, leaning on the baby stroller, her curly white hair forming a wild white halo, her eyes round and wide behind thick plastic trifocals. She appeared for all the world to be eavesdropping.
Henry wheeled his chair to face the doorway as well. "Turn down your hearing aid, Pearl." Henry tapped his fingertip against his ear.
"All right, all right." Pearl fiddled with the gadget, and the screeching noise halted. Madeline kicked her feet against the footrest of the white and blue stroller and smiled gaily at Annie. Annie grinned and waved at her child.
"If you don't mind, Pearl," Henry continued, "this is a private conversation."
“Shucks. All the interesting conversations around here are private ones," Pearl grumbled. She looked at Annie. "I couldn't help but overhear you, dear. I know I'm not supposed to meddle in other people's business, but I haven't lived this long without learnin' a few things, and one of the things I've learned is that some old-fashioned ways don't need any improvin'. Makin' babies God's way is at the top of the list. Why, I remember when my husband and I were your age—my goodness, if we hadn't had to work to eat and eat to live, we would have been baby-makin clean around the clock. Why, I remember one afternoon in particular, when—"
Henry made a choking sound that ended in a fit of coughing,. At length he cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, Pearl, Annie and I are discussing a legal matter."
"We'll be finished in a few moments," Annie added. "Is Madeline behaving for you?"
"She's being a perfect angel. We're taking a little stroll down the hallway."
"I'll catch up with you as soon as Henry and I are finished."
"Guess that's my cue to leave, eh?"
Henry nodded.
The old woman teetered down the hall, leaning on the baby stroller as if it were a walker.
Henry's mouth curved in an apologetic grin. Annie tried to smile, but her lips refused to cooperate. She placed a hand on her side, where a sharp pain was developing.'
Henry regarded her, his eyes kind but solemn. "As I was saying, Annie, you need to think of the child's best interests."
"I am thinking of Madeline's interests. That's why I chose to have her by artificial insemination in the first place."
Henry's right brow lifted quizzically.
Annie folded her arms around her stomach. "My parents had a lousy marriage," she explained. "I was married once myself, and that marriage was lousy, too. I'd love to have a marriage like Ben and Helen have or like my grandparents had, but those seem to be awfully rare. I know from personal experience how hard it is on children when their parents don't love each other. Rather than put my child through that, I decided to have my baby without the complications of a man."
Annie sighed and gazed out the window at the courtyard. Two elderly women in wheelchairs rolled side-by- side across the patio toward a flowerbed of marigolds. "I thought I was making sure my child would never be caught in a tug-of-war between her parents. But now it looks like Madeline's going to be caught in the middle anyway."
Henry drummed his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair and regarded her solemnly. "I'll help you any way I can, Annie, but you need to give this matter some serious thought. I want you to go home and ask yourself if you really want to deprive your child of the love of a father."
"He doesn't love her. He doesn't even know her!"
"From what you told me, that's not his fault, is it?" Annie hated to concede the point, but she had no choice. She glumly shook her head.
"You need to take that into consideration, Annie," Henry said gently. "And if Mr. Chastaine contacts you again ...”
"Not if. When," Annie said bitterly.
"Well, when he contacts you, I advise you to be cordial to him, to talk to him and find out what he wants. Don't give him any reaction—don't agree or disagree or argue about anything. Your goal—your assignment, if you will—is to figure out what he's after. Then give me a call, and we'll work from there."
"Okay." The word came out on the tail of a sigh. The right side of Henry's 'brow furrowed. "Are you. all right? You don't look so welt."
"I'm feeling a little under the weather," Annie admitted. "I didn't sleep very well last night."
To put it mildly. She'd tossed and turned all night, then awakened with a headache and a dull ache in her side. The pain seemed to be getting sharper, and now she was feeling queasy to boot. The stress of the situation was really taking a toll on her.
The intercom speaker overhead crackled to life. "Ladies and gentlemen, our weekly bingo competition is about to begin in the front parlor."'
Annie rose from the sofa. "Thanks for your help, Henry. I'd better go get Madeline so Pearl won't miss her game." She stretched out her hand.
Henry gave it a warm squeeze. "I know this is upsetting, but it's going to all work out."
"I don't see how."
"It will, Annie. You just have to have faith."
Faith didn't seem like much of a weapon against a big gun like Jake Chastaine, Annie thought woefully. She headed down the hall to collect her child, suddenly. anxious to hold her child, to feel the little girl's chubby arms around her neck, to inhale her sweet, milky scent. Madeline was her life, the very heart of her heart. The thought of a stranger laying claim to her knifed at Annie's soul.
And yet, against her will, Henry's words echoed through her mind-do you really want to deprive your child of the love of a father?
Chapter Five
The soft tinkle of silver and fine crystal greeted Jake as he entered the formal dining room of the Southern Oaks Country Club in north Tulsa that evening. His stomach tensed as he spotted Tom and Susanna at their usual table in the corner. He wasn't looking forward to telling them the news about the baby, and yet it wasn't something he could very well keep secret. His former in-laws were the closest thing he had to family, and Tom was his business partner as well. In the normal course of things, he already would have talked to Tom about the situation, but the older man had been at an out-of-town legal seminar for the past two days.
With a nod to the maitre d', Jake wound his way through the maze of linen-covered tables. He hadn't been here in a couple of years, yet the place was unchanged. The carpet was still so thick it felt like quicksand, the walls still hung with expensive oil paintings, the tables still set with glimmering votives and fresh flowers. It was fine dining in its highest form, the kind of place where the silver was real and the crystal had more lead in it than the James gang after their final shootout. The place was too staid for Jake's tastes, but it was one of Tom's favorite restaurants, and Jake had often dined here with his in-laws and Rachel.
They hadn't come here together since her death. Jake glanced toward the chair where Rachel had always sat, and was relieved to note that a waiter had removed it.
"Jake—I'm so glad you could join us." Susanna smiled up as he reached the table.
"I'm so glad you asked me." Jake had been surprised when his mother-in-law had called that morning and invited him to join her and Tom at the club. The woman had turned into something of a recluse since Rachel's death. Tom had privately complained to Jake that she seldom left the house, had no interest in seeing friends, and had dropped all of the civic work she had before cared so fervently about. According to Tom, Susanna sometimes didn't even get out of bed. Even when she did, she often spent entire days in her bathrobe.
On the few occasions when Jake had been to their home since the accident—holiday dinners and a couple of times when Tom had barbecued by the pool—Susanna had been as impeccably groomed as ever, but the sparkle had been missing from her eyes. Instead of actively joi
ning the conversation, she'd sat quietly, only speaking when addressed.
After the last visit, Jake had asked Tom about it. "Is she angry at me?"
"Why would she be angry?"
Jake had lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, but he'd looked away, unable to meet Tom's gaze. "Well, if I'd gone to the airport to pick up my folks instead of asking Rachel to go, she'd still be here.”
His father-in-law had patted Jake's shoulder in a paternal fashion. "Don't be ridiculous. Susanna doesn't blame you. Neither of us do."
"She sure acts distant."
Tom had given a sad smile. "Susanna's distant to everyone. Especially me."
Judging from the warm way she was smiling tonight, though, she was back to her old self. She looked like the woman Jake remembered—the one who loved life, who took an active interest in everything around her, and who always looked out for the comfort and welfare of others.
Jake bent and kissed her cheek, inhaling the scent of her White Shoulders perfume. Jake knew the name of her favorite fragrance because Rachel had sent him to purchase a bottle one year when it had been his turn to do the Christmas shopping. The memory brought a pang.
Jake hid it with a smile. "You look wonderful."
It wasn't just an empty compliment. Susanna was in her mid-fifties, but she looked at least a decade younger. Her figure was slim, her skin pale and unlined, her hair dark and pulled back in a stylish French twist. She wore a black dress with a pearl necklace. It was a simple outfit, but on Susanna, it looked expensive and stunning.
She treated him to a dazzling smile. "Thank you. So do you."
"It's good to see you out and about."
"It's good to be that way." Fingering her pearls, she leaned forward and spoke in a confiding tone. "My friend Joan dragged me to a doctor. He's been treating me for clinical depression, and, well, the medicine seems to be working."
"That's wonderful."
Tom made a sound deep in his throat. "It won't be wonderful if she gets hooked on that stuff?'
Susanna turned and gazed at him, her dark eyes earnest. "The doctor assured me that antidepressants aren't habit forming."