Irresistible Daddies Series Box Set

by Katy Kaylee

  Sitting in her wheelchair to one side of the kitchen, she supervised my learning to cook. She pointed out the cumbersome notebook on the top shelf. “Those are all my favorite recipes,” she told me. “They come from everywhere and I haven’t been able to reach that notebook for years. Let’s give them a try.”

  We ordered ingredients delivered and spent our days devising the next meal. I suppose when you grew to be her age, that was all there was to look forward to. Michael flourished, his chubby baby cheeks so kissable you couldn’t pass them by. He sat in his little carrier, his eyes that were so like Nathan’s following me as I moved across the kitchen. Eventually he began to sit on his own and soon he was crawling. We had to baby proof the house and it was wonderful. In the evenings, when Ellen would be watching television, already in her bed, I would take Michael with me and go to the library where I could use their computers. I had managed to resurrect the job of writing blog posts and that brought in a small, but steady flow of income. Since room and board was included with Ellen, I was able to bank the money, saving it for a time that I knew was coming. Ellen would not be there always and eventually Michael and I would have to find a place of our own.

  Then one day he came the phone call. It was Penny, the nurse who had been so kind to me when Michael was born.

  “Remember me?” She prodded.

  “Of course, I do. What took you so long to call?”

  “I might ask you the same.”

  “I know, but for Michael and me it’s been a matter of survival and we finally found a place where we can rest for a while. How are you?”

  Penny cleared her throat. “I could get into big trouble for this, but I wanted to share something with you.”

  “What is it?”

  “There is another patient who was just recently discharged. I can’t name names, you understand. But he was here recuperating for a long term and I would drop by and visit with him to cheer him up. One thing led to another and he told me the story of his life. I have to tell you, Christina, there were some amazing similarities to what he said and the stories you told.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You said Michael’s father didn’t know about him and that he was out of the country. The facts match. He told me about a young woman whom he loved. Now, I don’t know what you’re going to do with this, but I couldn’t carry it around on my chest forever. Obviously, as I said, I can’t give you names or addresses, but I can give you the story that I found a man who very much fits the description you gave me. Good luck, Christina and give Michael a hug for me.” The line went dead and I sat there, holding the cell in my hand, my mind racing.

  Penny had to be wrong. The coincidences were too great. I knew that Nathan was in Europe and if he had come back, I would’ve seen signs of it at his house. There weren’t any. He knew my phone number but never tried to call me. There was every indication that Nathan Abernathy never wanted to see me again, and I really couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t continue to put myself through the hell of missing him. I had to let it go, and so I did. I turned back to my life with Ellen and Michael and only looked forward. I never went back on the dating site. That side of my life was done, and besides, I couldn’t bear to see that little green light next to Nathan’s name or for him to see mine. So I stayed away.

  Then, two months after the phone call, Ellen died in her sleep. I found her when I went in to wake her for breakfast. Michael was too young to understand what had happened, but babies can be very perceptive and I think he knew something was wrong because he cried nonstop. I called an ambulance and they came to pick her up. I knew there was no one to notify and that she had retained the services of an attorney to carry out her last wishes. I went through the house, cleaning thoroughly but before I left, I did one thing. I took her binder of recipes to the library and photocopied each and every one. I stopped by the office supply store and with that, I began my own binder of recipes. It was my way of having a little bit of her alongside me. Michael and I were due to leave the next morning when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a well-dressed man with neatly trimmed gray hair.

  “Are you Christina McKay?”

  “Yes, and you are?”

  “I’m Delbert Smith, Ellen’s attorney. Do you have a moment?”

  “Yes, of course. Won’t you come in?” I tiptoed back to check on Michael and saw he was sound asleep in his crib.

  I offered Mr. Smith some tea but he shook his head. “I won’t be staying long. Miss McKay, as I assume you probably know, Ellen had no family left. She telephoned me about a month ago and asked me to revise her will which formally left everything she had to charity. She made a revision and it involves you, Ms. McKay. Ellen will due this house and a modest amount of money which should permit you to maintain the house, pay the taxes and have a conservative, but reasonable means of income in perpetuity. She also made an allowance that is to go into a trust so that when Michael graduates from high school, there will be money for tuition at a college of his choice.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I don’t know what to say. I had no idea.”

  He looked at me sternly. “I’m happy to hear that. So many times my elderly clients find themselves employing companions at the end of life and are taken advantage of. She assured me many times that that was not the case with you. In fact, she told me you would be surprised and indeed, your surprise seems very legitimate. Now then, if you will sign these papers, I will have the deed transferred and a copy sent to you. I’ll add your name to the account at the bank and remove hers. If you’ll visit the bank soon, you can order checks or debit card, take the money out and put it in your own account, whatever you choose.”

  “I just can’t believe this. She was such a good person and it was a pleasure to be here with her. I needed a companion as much as she might have.”

  “Well, maybe God saw an opportunity to bring two lost souls together.” He handed me the papers and I scanned them quickly before signing and dating the copies. I handed them back to him and he stood up, inserting them into his briefcase. “Well, that’s all I came for. Good day, Ms. McKay.”

  Then he was gone. I sat there trying to absorb what had just happened and heard Michael fussing. I went into his room to change his wet diaper and told him about it, even though he didn’t understand me. I needed to tell someone.

  I did as the attorney had advised and visited the bank. My name was on the account and I ordered checks and debit card and withdrew a small amount out in cash. With that money I stocked the kitchen with food and bought myself an inexpensive computer. That allowed me to work from home and I would no longer have to take Michael with me to the library, which was a good thing because he was into everything. At night, I slept alone, and my heart ached for Nathan, but I told myself I was okay, and Michael was fine. I would say to that. Somehow, my luck had changed and for the better.

  19

  Nathan

  The time had come to begin living life again. I had gone through the periods of mourning for two people but it was time to move forward. Maybe Christina had been sent to ease me through the transition, even though in many ways she had added to the pain. I resigned myself to the belief that it wasn’t her fault, nor was it Macon’s. It just was what it was. Acceptance and moving on is sometimes the only option were given. Some people never have the chance to experience the closeness I’d felt with her.

  When it came to Macon I had to content myself with what I thought we had between us. No two people tell the same story of an event and Macon wasn’t there to justify or explain himself. Damn, why did I use those words? They suggested guilt when there was none. Macon had every right to live his life the way he wanted to, including paying the ultimate price. I loved him and I always would, but my days of controlling were over. I’d vowed that to myself from the hospital bed when I was helpless and dependent on others. Never again when I assume control over another human’s life.

  Moving forward meant getting back to my practice and I
had misgivings. If my objective was never to control people, could I be a good therapist? Could I show them every option open to them, or what I obscure those I didn’t approve of? Did I have that right? It was an ethics issue, one that I had no business exploring at that point in time.

  My practice had dwindled considerably in my absence. It was okay, I expected that. I checked around and found an open position at a prison that wasn’t far from Milwaukee. My job would be to counsel the inmates. How hard could that be? I applied and my credential spoke for themselves. In fact, as I entered the outgoing psychologist wanted to know why I’d given up a lucrative practice to come and counsel those who had harmed society. My answer was candid. “Maybe in a sense I feel as though I’ve harmed society, or at least my family. It won’t hurt me to be humble and to see life from another perspective.”

  I’m not sure whether he really cared what I answered, but he had done as obligated and asked the question as I would’ve done. The job was mine and I began the following Monday. I entered a world unlike anything I’d seen before. The currency was influence, whether that was derived from having the strongest gang at your back or the right connections to get anything done you wished. It meant everything. Connections could get you a job in the laundry instead of digging ditches, so to speak. The latter got you outside, but that also meant in February when it was 20 below and the prison issued clothing totally inadequate for the conditions.

  In some ways, I grew up during that period. I saw life at a subsistence level and realize that having a lot was not always the best option. Portability was important. If your bag was filled with unneeded things, you told her to wait that cost you. Living Lane and being in the moment was perhaps the richest way to live.

  I learned about the law and I learned about breaking it. I recalled patients I’d seen over the years and almost without exception, every one of them should have been imprisoned at one time or another. It was the human spirit, to revolt against the rules. We’d all done it, myself included. It wasn’t anything grandiose like stealing a car or selling acid to kids in the school yard. It was something as simple as forgetting to report some of the cash payments that came across the desk or letting Macon drink a beer when he was 15 because I wanted him to hate the taste and avoid it for life. As the saying goes, there but for the grace of God go I. I told myself that several times a day as I listened to the stories.

  I went back by the college one late afternoon, with the excuse of using the library but I knew what I was after. I wanted to see if she was still working there. I was disappointed, but maybe I deserved to be. I had taken off and left her, leaving too much space between grief and resolution. I never considered the fact that she may be grieving for Macon, too. As well as for me and for the innocence lost. I’d always made things be about me, rationalizing that if I were strong, healthy and happy, I would be better able to take care of those weaker around me. I knew that was an egotistical point of view intended to make excuses for my behavior. When I left the building, I bent over and picked up a small pebble from the yard. I slid it down the inside of my shoe beneath my instep. As I walked, the pain reminded me to be grateful for every moment when life was smooth because you were never sure when that pebble would find its way into your shoe. It was my personal form of redemption.

  20

  Christina

  My life had finally found a norm. With the exception of a few tugs at my heart, I was content in all aspects. Michael and I had a safe and comfortable roof over our heads in enough money, supplemented by my writing, to buy everything we needed. I knew that he would go to college when the time came, which may have been the biggest gift Ellen had left me. It was a sense of contentment about the future. Life passes from one hand to the next.

  Michael has begun to toddle around, at first by holding my finger and now he’s completely autonomous. I was both thrilled at the accomplishment and frightened at the possibilities of what he could now run into or over. Motherhood had changed me. I was less selfish, less self-absorbed and I looked at the world as being a place filled with people who needed my help. I may have even developed a little God complex along the way.

  I decided to take Michael to the park so that he could be around other children and learn the way of the streets early on in life. One section was reserved for the very young with simple, safe playground equipment. I could put him at the top of the slide and hold his back with my hand as he went down its path. I held him up as he gripped the monkey bars and kept him from falling when he lost his grip. I took part in all the normal motherhood activities like asking how old another child was in comparing growth and physical capabilities. Michael fell somewhere in the middle. I suspected his strengths were going to prove to be mental and that part scared me. How would I raise a boy who was intent on mischief? The answer was simple. I needed his father; we needed his father in our lives. But that was not to be, so we learned to work around that and when I was asked what Michael’s father did for a living or whether Michael took after his father and looks, I just smiled and said he was no longer with us. Some people took that to mean that he been killed. Others thought we’d been deserted and still others…well, people thought the wildest things and it really didn’t matter.

  When we got home, I gave Michael his dinner followed by a bubble bath and clean pajamas for the night. Worn out with the unusual activity, he fell asleep within seconds and I tiptoed out, leaving the door open just a crack so I could hear him. I went into the living room and flipped on the television, cycling through the channels or nothing looked interesting. I decided it was not the television offerings, but me that was uninterested. I had loads of things on my mind after having been at the park all day. Was I prepared to be a single mother and live alone for the rest of my life? I didn’t think so. I had too much to give to a relationship. Maybe I’d find someone and get married, even have another child or two so Michael wouldn’t be the only one. There were always possibilities. Restless, I flipped off the television and the computer came into view. It drew me like a magnet and it wasn’t long before I had a glass of iced tea and the mouse in my hand. I went to the same old site, it was familiar, like a bar you frequent. Before I logged on, it occurred to me that just maybe I’d change my outfit for the night. My old subscription had expired so I signed up a new and created a phony name. I pulled a picture off the Internet, a young woman who strongly resembled me so there wouldn’t be any questions should I ever actually find someone to meet. I could explain.

  The dating site operated by offering regional possibilities. Naturally, that put Nathan into my stack of eligible bachelors. I went through the faces, one by one, ruling each went out. Some looked sneaky, some like players and others were just plain ugly, at least to me. Then came up Nathan’s face and his red dot. I let out a deep sigh and just as I was to flip on to the next face, his dot went green. He was online!

  I felt the pain somewhere deep inside a new it was because I wanted him and he was out of reach. He had no idea it was me, my picture and profile were elusive to say the least. Still, I wanted some form of contact with him even if it never went any further than exchange of hallows. It took me three sips of the tea to decide to go ahead with it before he logged off. I clicked on his name in a message box popped up. “Hello.”

  I waited, maybe even five minutes, while he decided whether to respond. I imagined he was already talking with a dozen beautiful women closer to his age and that I would be seen as a bothersome youngster and whom he had no interest.

  “Hello yourself.” I heaved a sigh of relief. He had answered me!

  “You look interesting.” I didn’t want to give away too much. I had to be careful so that he didn’t guess it was me.

  “You look young.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No. There was someone special in my life once who was probably about your age.”

  “I see. Is there anyone in your life right now?”

  “Are you applying for the job?”

  “Cou
ld be. Tell me about yourself.”

  There was a long pause and when the message finally popped up, I saw why. He had typed an entire paragraph and I knew he was a two-fingered typist. “I appreciate your contacting me, but I’ve been out of the game for a long time and not entirely sure if I want to get back in. Actually, I was just browsing through pictures when you messaged. I have to be up early tomorrow, I have quite a drive to where I work. Maybe we can talk tomorrow night?”

  “No problem, I’ll look for you around seven.”

  I watched as his green light turned red and knew he had disconnected, so did I. I treated myself to a long hot bath and daydreams even though I knew they were unrealistic. Nathan wasn’t interested in reuniting with me. He had his chance and passed it by.

  The next evening I was online at 6:30, hoping he might get home early and log on. As usual, he was punctual and sign down at the dot of seven. The message box popped up immediately. “Good evening.”

  “Hi. Thanks for not standing me up.”

  “That’s never been my style.”

  “So, this is not an attempt to find out how much money you make, believe me. I’m fine as I am. But I just wondered, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a psychologist.”

  “That’s interesting. I bet you hear a lot of stories.”