by Megan Kelly
Tara closed her eyes again, glad she’d asked Kim, the teenage girl next door, to watch Jimmy. He wouldn’t have to witness her reaction to this call. “I did receive the papers, yes. So you know what the Summerfields are doing to me?”
“We heard at the club, and in the most humiliating way. They haven’t spoken to us directly. It’s been four lost years for them. The same four years we’ve spent worrying about you.”
“I’ve called you. Every month.” She’d maintained the same cell phone number in case they wanted to reach her, but had kept her location a secret.
She’d been in the background of a photograph featured in a recent newspaper article on the Wee Care. Small and grainy, the shot hadn’t looked anything like her and she’d shrugged off her apprehension. Now it seemed she’d have been better off avoiding cameras.
“Those weren’t phone calls,” her mom insisted. “Those were news briefs. You never said more than ‘we’re doing okay.’”
Tara slumped onto the couch. Was that pain in her mother’s voice? “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry, but I couldn’t come back.”
“You didn’t have to leave in the first place.”
“You and Dad didn’t want me to have Jimmy. I couldn’t stay.”
“You embarrassed us in front of our friends. What were we supposed to tell them when they asked about you?”
Tara straightened. Her daughter left home, pregnant and alone, and all her mother cared about was the gossip it caused? “Your friends?”
“We haven’t been able to socialize with the Summerfields since.”
“You’re worried about Jay’s family?” Tara thought her mom and dad would be angry with Jay for running out on her, and by extension, not be on speaking terms with his parents. Them suing her for custody should have put an end to any tenuous relationship they’d had.
“Well, it wasn’t their fault you got pregnant.”
Tara’s jaw dropped. Followed by the phone as she disconnected.
Calling had definitely made things worse. It had not only wounded her, but had destroyed her last hope someone could talk some sense into Jay’s parents.
DYLAN SQUEEZED the bridge of his nose, blocking off the headache caused by tension and his new daughter’s unceasing weeping. Every time he saw her, Lily had her back to a wall, her eyes fixed on him, and tears pouring down her face, accompanied by sobs, which became louder if he approached. Rosemary’s mother sometimes rocked her, bathed her face with a cold rag, or otherwise tried to console his child, but nothing worked for long.
In her late fifties, Violet Durant had a solid, no-nonsense quality about her. She’d probably be good at raising a little girl alone—better than Dylan was coping, anyway. The last several days of stress getting to know his grieving daughter and the nights when he’d lain awake with bitter thoughts about her mother had left his brain fried. But Violet also walked with a cane due to her arthritis. He’d seen her at the end of the day, barely able to move, and knew her taking in Lily wasn’t an option.
Dylan’s jaw ached to the point where he could barely unclench his teeth. Fortunately, everyone had gone away, leaving him, Violet and Lily in the echoing silence of Rosemary’s house. Not one of Rose’s friends had been surprised to learn he was Lily’s father. Apparently, she’d told everyone except him. She’d lived less than three hours away, with his child, and had never contacted him. None of the people he’d asked could—or would—tell him why Rose had moved to Salina from California, especially when her mom lived in Massachusetts. Since Violet had no idea, either, he doubted he’d ever get the answer.
She reached across the sofa cushion and put a hand on his arm. “I want to apologize again for Rosemary. She should have told you when she discovered she was pregnant, no matter what happened to your relationship. It’s not right you didn’t know about Lily.”
“Even seeing Lily, it’s hard to believe she’s real, that she’s mine.” He glanced across the room, where his four-year-old daughter—his daughter—rocked a doll in her arms. At least Lily had stopped sobbing for the moment, which she’d been doing since his arrival two days before. Now she just looked lost and alone, which wasn’t any easier to bear.
Glancing back, he caught the affront on Violet’s face. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I know Lily is mine.” He’d have to watch his phrasing—first Joe, now his child’s grandmother. “It’s just a jolt to see her, not only the fact of her existence, but that’s she already four. I missed so much, and she’s so…”
His chest ached, but he didn’t have a word to describe his daughter. Yes, she was beautiful, but looks wouldn’t have mattered. Yes, she was haunting in her grief, and breaking his heart, but he would have felt this way even if she were sunny and affectionate. This feeling was something else, something deeper. Something that made his chest hurt.
Violet had tamed Lily’s wavy, waist-length cinnamon hair into a ponytail. Unfortunately, the style exposed her pale, freckled face and red-rimmed eyes. However much he’d fallen in love with her from the first moment, Lily avoided him like the stranger he was.
“For the record,” he said, “Rose and I didn’t break up. We just stopped seeing each other. I don’t remember any one thing in particular, no fight or anything. Did she ever mention anything to you?” Like why she didn’t tell me about our baby? Why she moved to Kansas?
Violet shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. She stopped talking about you, until she told me about the pregnancy, that is. I just assumed you didn’t want either of them.”
“I would have.” He looked into the bright green eyes his daughter had inherited. Despite his panic and dread, he felt sure he’d have done the right thing. “I would have married Rose and been a father to Lily.”
“I’m sorry for all the rotten things I thought about you.” She smiled weakly.
“You’re welcome to visit us any time you can get away from your florist shop.”
Violet nodded. “I will. I’ll be flying to Kansas City so often you’ll wish you’d never said that. But you can’t take it back now.”
“Lily will need both her grandmas. You’ll always be family.”
Violet Durant, the woman who would have been his mother-in-law, collapsed in his arms, her shoulders shaking with silent tears.
THE WEEKEND CRAWLED BY despite the Memorial Day celebrations, as did the following Tuesday and Wednesday. Tara researched attorneys on the internet, reading through websites and newspaper articles when she could find them. Few lawyers listed their success rate in family cases, and she wouldn’t have trusted those who did. A few day-care parents had gone to family court, but most cases involving custody of children also involved divorce. One couple had adopted a child who attended the Wee Care. Tara called everyone she could think of, no matter how well or how little she knew them. She got some referrals to further her research, but she had to make a decision on a lawyer soon.
Tara returned from her afternoon stint in the day-care room on Wednesday to hear Betty talking in her office. The door stood ajar. A deeper, masculine voice spoke. Thinking Betty might need her to take a child to the playroom so she could talk privately to prospective parents, Tara poked her head around the door.
Dylan sat in a chair across from his mother’s desk. His stubbled chin and tired eyes shouldn’t have touched Tara’s heart, but Betty had told her of his recent discovery. Tara couldn’t help but compare him to her ex-boyfriend, Jay, who also had a love-’em-and-leave-’em attitude. As evidenced by his sudden trip to Portugal when she’d told him they’d conceived. She pulled back from the doorway, hoping Betty hadn’t—
“Tara,” her boss called. “Come in and meet Lily, my granddaughter.”
Tara set her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. Once inside, she avoided meeting Dylan’s gaze, her eyes all for the waif standing against the far wall.
“Hello, Lily.” She spoke softly in case the girl was easily spooked. Her defensive position spoke volumes about her unease.
Lily glided across the room. “Hi.”
The child whispered the word, then grabbed on to the folds of Tara’s pant leg. Their gazes locked for a moment before Lily laid her cheek against Tara’s thigh.
Betty’s slightly open mouth communicated her astonishment. Tara didn’t understand the situation, but the tension in the room enveloped her like sticky cobwebs.
Dylan’s jaw flexed, his eyes unreadable. “I guess that settles it. Looks like Lily’s found a soul mate. She should be happy here.”
Tara frowned at him. Why was he so surly? Didn’t he want his daughter to be comfortable coming to the Wee Care? A check of her boss’s desktop gave her an idea for escape. “Betty, do you need the forms for Lily’s registration? I can get the papers from the file cabinet.”
Betty nodded, and Tara eased Lily away. When she turned to leave, the little girl followed so closely she stepped on Tara’s heel. Dylan’s gaze burned into Tara while she retrieved the correct documents. She walked back to her employer’s office as reluctantly as Lily did, but resisted the urge to drag her feet like the child.
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked Betty.
“Please sit down, Tara. I don’t want to impose, but Lily seems to have taken a shine to you.”
“What my mother means,” Dylan said in a hard tone, “is that you’re the only one she’s ‘taken a shine to.’ Including me.”
Tara slid into a chair, the child at her side. Poor thing. No wonder the girl hadn’t warmed up to him if he used that gritty manner all the time. Didn’t he know how sensitive children were to nuances? If Tara could hear the resentment in his voice, so would Lily.
And why should he be resentful? Because he had to raise his daughter since her mother had died? She clenched her teeth, holding back the words that would not only get her fired, but hurt both Betty and Lily. She couldn’t remember what she’d ever found attractive about him.
Liar.
Tara flinched from the voice of her conscience and glanced down at Lily. Tears streaked the girl’s face. When had she started crying? Tara pulled her up onto her lap. The restraint with which Lily cried, as though the situation were hopeless, tore at her heart. To a little girl who’d recently lost her mother, it probably felt true. Tara cuddled her and kissed the top of her head.
Lily started quietly sobbing, the small noise all the more upsetting as she broke her previous silence. Tara darted a look at Betty and Dylan. Betty half rose from her chair, but Dylan waved her back down.
“She cries a lot,” he said, in a resigned tone. “I can take her.”
“I’m fine.” Tara rocked the girl against her. “This is hardly my first experience with a crying child.”
“We’ll take good care of Lily here,” Betty assured him. “She’ll adjust, Dylan. It’s only going to take time.”
“Do you think it will be a problem?” he asked, looking at Tara. “Mom said no, but I have a feeling you’ll be honest. Will it upset the other children if Lily doesn’t stop crying?”
“Dylan,” Betty said, “of course she’ll stop. This is all so upsetting for her. A new home, a new parent, the person she depended on not being in the picture any longer.”
Even though Betty delicately phrased the passing of Lily’s mom, Tara frowned as they discussed Lily as though the girl couldn’t hear.
He ran a hand down his face. “I might be able to take some time off, maybe work from home for a couple of weeks.”
“She’ll settle down,” Betty insisted.
“I hope so, Mom. But if she takes a while, Tara?”
She felt the girl shudder against her. She rubbed a hand over Lily’s back and impulsively hugged her closer. “Lily will be fine with us.”
Tara would make darn sure of it. Whatever it took, she’d guarantee this poor, grief-ridden girl had a safe place to land.
Chapter Three
Engrossed in her finances later that night, Tara jumped when the phone rang. She darted a glance at the clock as she rushed to answer before the ringing woke Jimmy. Ten-thirty. Who would be calling at this hour? Naturally, her mind leapt to disasters. Hospitals and ambulances, car accidents and heart attacks. But she couldn’t imagine who would have her listed as an emergency contact.
“Tara? This is Dylan Ross.”
Fear dried out her mouth. Betty. “Yes?”
“I hate to impose, but I need a favor. And I know we don’t really know one another well enough for me to ask, but…”
She could hear Lily crying in the background. Were they at the hospital? “What is it, Dylan?”
“Could you come over to my place? I can’t get Lily to settle down. She’s nearly hysterical.”
To his place? Was this a line? But Lily’s distress and the tension in Dylan’s tone painted a more logical picture.
“It’s Lily? Not your mom?”
His exhalation sounded in her ear. “No. Sorry to alarm you. Mom’s fine as far as I know. The problem is Lily. I can’t get her to sleep.”
The knot in her stomach loosened. Tara glanced down the short hall leading to the bedrooms. She’d have to awaken her child to comfort his. While it pained her to think of Lily crying inconsolably, she resented Dylan turning to her for a convenient solution. He should learn to take care of Lily himself and not rely on a near stranger.
“I wouldn’t ask, but I’m afraid she’ll make herself sick. Since she bonded with you today at the day care, I thought—I hoped—you’d be able to calm her down.”
“Jimmy’s asleep.”
“Oh.”
He didn’t add anything. Tara waited a moment for him to come up with an alternative.
“I’d send you one of Adam’s babysitters,” he said, “but they’re mostly high school kids, and they have school tomorrow. His daytime sitter might be available, but she has three kids in elementary school who she couldn’t leave alone.”
Tara sighed inwardly as he thought aloud. None of his options would work well. He must have tried everything on his own if he’d searched for this many solutions already. “I’ll come.”
“What about your son?”
“I’ll have to bring him.”
“I’m really sorry, Tara. If there was another way, I wouldn’t ask.”
She made a noncommittal sound, which he could interpret however he chose. Comforting a child wasn’t rocket science. Yet she’d noticed how Lily had kept her distance from him. His daughter may not be able to accept comfort from him so soon after meeting him. He’d disrupted her life, arrived when her mom was being buried, and taken Lily away from her home. Tara could understand her confusion and resentment, as well as his desperation.
“I owe you big-time.”
“Let’s see if I can do anything for her first.”
“It’s enough that you’re coming and that you have to wake your son. I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this.”
Did he mean sorry to ask, or sorry to ask her, she wondered as she wrote down his directions.
She wrapped Jimmy in a light blanket but tried not to rouse him. Perhaps he’d get through the coming hour or so without fully waking. Yeah, she thought. And then she’d win the big Lotto jackpot.
The drive took just ten minutes. Only a few other cars passed her, with drivers heading to their nice soft beds. Lamplight flooded the parking lot at the condominium complex where Dylan lived. She appreciated not having to navigate in the dark, but she tilted her head to shield Jimmy’s eyes from the glare. He nuzzled his cheek into her collarbone, resettling himself.
Please don’t wake up. She’d rather not deal with two fretful children if she could help it. Jimmy had roused briefly when she secured him in his car seat. She’d explained in a singsong tone what was going on, hoping he only heard the lullaby voice, not the details.
“Thanks for coming,” Dylan said, stepping back into his condo. “Do you want me to take him?”
Tar
a shook her head as she entered and located his couch. “Could you dim the brightness or turn the lamp off over here?”
As he did as she asked, she laid Jimmy down, and the boy opened his eyes. She brushed the hair from his forehead. “We’re at Mr. Ross’s house, honey, like I told you. You rest here while I go see what’s wrong with his little girl.”
Jimmy nodded, and his eyes drifted closed. With any luck, he’d sleep through this all until she got him back home. She didn’t want him irritable at the Wee Care tomorrow from interrupted sleep, nor did she want him getting his second wind now and being wide-awake for hours. Usually, he slept like a log. She only hoped that pattern held true this evening.
Tara straightened.
“I really appreciate your coming.”
Her storehouse of charity closed to this man. At the moment, she felt too aggravated to empathize with him. “I’m only here for Lily.”
“I know.” He gave her forearm a brief squeeze.
It should have been a formal gesture, like shaking her hand in gratitude. But it felt…personal. She told herself the tingle zipping up her arm was irritation. Maybe hives. She didn’t intend to be drawn to him, despite his good looks or sometimes charming nature. All sorts of vile creatures could be alluring. Venus flytraps. Boa constrictors. Jay. Now Dylan Ross.
“This way.” Dylan indicated the hallway.
She scowled, ruffled by her response to him. “I’ll just follow the sound of crying.”
His jaw hardened. “Look, if you don’t want to be here, just leave.”
“Fine time for you to say that,” she threw at him in a furious but quiet voice. “I already woke my son from a sound sleep and got him out of his bed to come over.”
“At least your son went to sleep.”
She clenched her teeth. So he was having a bad night. She felt sorry for Lily, not him. Pivoting on her heel, she marched down the hall toward the sound of the little girl whose anguish had brought her here.
The little girl who’d stolen part of her heart that after noon.
It took almost forty minutes to soothe Lily to sleep, tucked in with a frayed Winnie-the-Pooh bear. Tara snapped on a Cinderella night-light then left the door cracked. Her heart ached in her chest, and she felt wrung out.