“Is that the baby?” the caseworker asked, a second shriek echoing down the hallway. “Is he hurt?”
“No, he’s . . .”
Oliver glanced over his shoulder. Ms. Walker brushed past him.
“Damn it.” He followed in her wake, bringing up his contacts on his phone.
He had his brother’s and sister’s numbers on speed dial. Marsha’s, too. But none of them needed the distraction of knowing he couldn’t handle the one thing his family had asked him to deal with while he was in town. He stopped scrolling at another number and hesitated.
Teddy kept fussing, crying for sure. Ms. Walker was in the kitchen now—with a toddler Oliver didn’t know how to soothe and a little girl who might or might not be Oliver’s daughter. The Family Services caseworker would wonder about Camille being there without her mother. And Oliver would have to come up with some explanation that wouldn’t send Ms. Walker next door for a chat with Belinda Rosenthal. Lord knew what Selena’s mother would have to say about him.
He selected the number and texted, 911. My parents’ place. Hurry.
Emergencies only, he’d promised Selena. He rushed into the kitchen.
“Hello,” Ms. Walker was saying to Camille over Teddy’s sobs. “And who do we have here?”
This most definitely qualified as an emergency.
“What?” Selena panted on the Dixon front porch, sweaty from her run and freaked after Oliver’s text. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing had looked at odds when she’d sprinted by Belinda’s house: no fire, nothing exploding, no cops at the curb. The same with the Dixon place. She’d rung the bell and stopped short of pounding on the door to get in. Oliver had yanked the thing open before she could change her mind.
“I need your help.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the cluttered but empty living room, then down the hall.
God. She hadn’t been in this house in ages. But it still felt the same. Like a large family, like a lot of love, like a home you could be yourself in. Like heaven, she’d always thought.
“My help with what?” She staggered over a backpack that had been left on the floor, then gasped. Oliver’s arm had curled around her waist to keep her moving toward the kitchen. “You said it was an emergency.”
“It is. Just follow my lead. Please.”
“Oliver . . .”
“Please.”
His second please was partially drowned out by another woman’s voice. They rounded the corner and Selena stared for the split second it took her to recover from finding whoever else was in the Dixon kitchen—a woman she didn’t know, wearing work clothes in the middle of a Saturday—kneeling and talking with a happy-as-you-please Camille.
Selena rushed forward, alarm bells ringing again.
“Is everything okay?” she asked over her shoulder. “What’s my daughter doing here?” She drew Camille to her side and confronted the other woman, who was standing now. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Camille’s fine,” Oliver explained. “She’s been keeping Teddy company. And this is—”
“Teddy?” Selena asked.
“Marsha and Joe’s youngest,” he explained over the low-level racket of what must be the rest of the Dixon brood doing something in the dining room—presumably eating lunch. “He was sleeping while Fin and Lisa made—while I was making sandwiches for the kids. He spit up on me, and Camille was playing with him on the floor while I changed and the kids took their food to the dining room. That’s when Ms. Walker—this is Donna Walker from Family Services—rang the bell. So I called you. I thought it would be a good time for Camille to head home, before things got any more offtrack for Marsha and Joe’s site evaluation. You remember how important those can be for a new foster child’s placement.”
He sounded so certain he was making sense.
“What are you talking about?” Selena sputtered as Camille lifted the cute, red-headed little boy into her arms. “How did my daughter get here?” Selena cast Camille a disbelieving look. “You’re supposed to be next door playing while your grandmother works in the yard.”
“I’m Ms. Walker.” The other woman reached out her hand, all business. “Family Services. How exactly do you and your daughter know the Dixons?”
The rest of what Oliver had said, his stoically in-control expression with just a hint of desperation around the edges, sank in.
This was the Dixons’ caseworker.
“Teddy likes me,” Camille insisted. “He likes it when I come over to play, and Mrs. Dixon doesn’t mind.” She grinned at Ms. Walker. “I’ve known him for weeks now. So it’s okay. Mrs. Dixon said it was okay if I play with him sometimes.”
Which most definitely wasn’t okay with Selena.
But neither was Oliver making any worse an impression on Ms. Walker than he already had, thanks in part to Selena’s wandering spawn. Camille seemed fine, Selena consoled herself. And Teddy certainly was content in her daughter’s arms, whatever had happened before Selena got there. The enthralled baby reached a slobbery hand for Camille’s hair and tugged. Camille laughed. He let go of her ponytail and clapped.
Selena snagged the opening and knelt in front of her daughter.
“Sweetie, why don’t you let Oliver tend to Teddy now and head back next door to Grammy’s? Does she know you’re here?”
Camille shook her head as Oliver took the baby. She looked down at her favorite flip-flops. They had fabric daisies glued to the top of them.
“I heard noise from the kitchen,” she said. “The windows were open. The kids were talking and laughing, and there was a loud sound, and Teddy started crying. And I knew I could help. You weren’t back yet, and . . .”
“And I told you I would be only half an hour. You’re not supposed to leave the yard without an adult with you.”
“But I thought Mrs. Dixon was here, and I could help her bake for just a few minutes like before, and—”
“Like before?” Selena looked to Oliver. “How long has she been coming over here?
He shook his head, shrugged. His attention flicked toward the social worker.
“Am I to understand,” Ms. Walker said to Selena, “that you had no idea your daughter was here alone with Mr. Bowman?”
“She was never alone with me.” The tightness around Oliver’s eyes was the only hint to the degree of panic he was controlling.
“The baby doesn’t count,” Ms. Walker corrected.
“Lisa and Fin were just here,” Camille said, as if two more of Marsha and Joe’s foster kids were her good buddies. “They were helping make lunch.”
“And I knew she was here the entire time,” a voice said from the door to the Dixons’ backyard.
Belinda stood there. She’d been listening for who knew how long. She walked the rest of the way into the kitchen.
“Mom?” Selena asked.
“I stepped into my house to take a phone call and was watching through the window while Camille played,” Belinda explained to the social worker. “I saw my granddaughter scamper through the bushes and head over. Marsha’s never minded her coming for a visit before. I figured Oliver wouldn’t, either, until I had a chance to fetch Camille home.”
Selena skewered her mother with a we’ll talk glare.
“Mrs. . . . ?” the social worker asked.
“Belinda Rosenthal.”
“How well do you know the Dixons?”
“They’ve been my neighbors since I moved to Bellevue Lane, long before Oliver joined them.” Belinda matched Ms. Walker’s no-nonsense stare. “If Marsha trusts him with her kids, I’ve got no reason to worry about Camille being here for a few minutes while he’s taking care of the house for his parents. No one’s more careful with their children than the Dixons. And Oliver was just visiting our house the other day. Wasn’t he, Selena?”
Selena nodded. She clamped down on the rest of what she intended to say once Ms. Walker was gone.
“And I helped with Teddy.” Camille’s wide, innocent eyes, begged S
elena to understand. “I’m really good with him. Right, Oliver?”
“Better than me,” he said.
“High praise,” Selena muttered.
“I planned on sending her home as soon as I realized she was here,” he explained. “But things got a little out of hand. Teddy woke from his nap early.” He turned to Ms. Walker. “Why don’t you take him in and talk with the kids while I finish up with my neighbors?”
Ms. Walker took the toddler.
“I have another appointment this afternoon.” She looked less than thrilled at being dismissed but turned on the heels of her conservative, stylish pumps and struck off for the dining room. “I’d hate for your parents not to get the most benefit from my time here.”
“Thank you,” Oliver said when she was gone—to Belinda and Selena. “I can’t screw up Teddy’s placement for my parents.”
“It’s the least we could do.” Belinda looked down at Camille. “You promised me you’d stay in the backyard, young lady. I was scared out of my wits just now when I couldn’t find you.”
“So you didn’t see her come over?” Selena asked.
Belinda shook her head.
“You had no idea she’s been over here before?”
“No. But I didn’t want to make trouble for Marsha and Joe with their social worker.”
Oliver sighed. “Thank you, both of you, for covering my ass.”
“I’m sorry, Grammy.” Camille hung her head. “But—”
“She really was a big help with Teddy,” Oliver offered.
“Evidently, they’re fast friends,” Selena added.
“But—” Camille started to say again.
“Mom, would you mind taking her home?”
Belinda scolded Camille with an admonishing look. “It sounds as if someone’s not going to get any more outside playtime unless she stays with me or her mother.”
“But—”
“We’ll talk about this at home.” Belinda tried to lead Camille toward the back door.
“No.” Camille refused to budge. “I don’t wanna go. I won’t. I won’t go!”
“Camille?” Stunned, Selena knelt in front of her.
Her daughter’s face was bright red, her breath rushing in and out. She was trembling and close to tears.
“You shouldn’t have snuck over uninvited,” Selena insisted, “even if Mrs. Dixon’s let you before. You shouldn’t have wandered over without your Grammy knowing. But we can talk about it at our house.”
“But this is my house.” Her daughter stomped her foot. “I belong here, too. You said so, and I wanna stay. I wanna play with Teddy and the other kids before we move. Why do we have to move? Why do I have to go now, when—”
“This is not your house.” The words choked Selena. Or maybe it was the panic of watching her worst nightmare come true—her child hurt and scared because of something else Selena had screwed up.
She hadn’t stopped worrying over what to do about the Dixons since talking with Belinda last night. She’d stayed gone longer on her run than she’d intended, going over and over things in her mind while she’d rationalized continuing to avoid Oliver. How did she tell Camille? What did she say to Brad and Dru? What if Oliver wasn’t her daughter’s father like Selena had always hoped? What if he was and there was no chance for them to be a real family?
And now Selena was gazing into her daughter’s confused expression, wishing there was some way to make the next few minutes less scary than they were always going to have been, no matter what Selena said.
She felt Oliver’s hand on her shoulder. He knelt, too. She saw Belinda’s concern lock onto the three of them.
“When did I say this was your house, Cricket?”
“You told Grammy the Dixons were my family, too.” Two tears spilled from Camille’s eyes. Oliver gently thumbed them away. “Last night, on the porch. I couldn’t sleep. And I snuck up to listen. And you said you didn’t know how to tell me. Or ’splain about Oliver and . . . someone else. You said . . .”
Camille stared at Oliver, her tiny chest rising and falling while Selena’s heart imploded.
“Could you really be my daddy?”
Oliver stared into eyes that looked exactly like his. Or did he just want, badly as it turned out, for Camille to belong to him?
He’d lain awake the last two nights wanting another chance to talk with her, get to know her, make her smile and maybe look for himself a little in how she acted and talked. But now she was hurting, the way Selena had said she would. More tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Yes, Cricket.” Selena turned her daughter to face her. “Oliver might be your father. But we’re not sure.”
Camille looked back to him. “That’s what you were asking, when you were looking for someone’s daddy.”
Oliver nodded, his voice a no-show. His heart was a puddle of mush as Selena stroked her daughter’s arm and Camille flinched away.
“Oliver had just found out, sweetie,” Selena explained. “And . . .”
Camille backed into Belinda, and her grandmother’s arms closed around her.
“We wanted to be sure before telling you,” Oliver finally got out. “That’s why we’ve waited to tell you.”
We.
He caught Selena’s surprised glance at him making her decision to delay dealing with Camille’s paternity a we thing. Because he didn’t like how Camille was looking at her mom, as if Selena were suddenly the enemy. He took Selena’s hand and ignored the way she tensed at his touch.
“You’re not sure you want me?” Camille looked down at her flip-flops, gutting Oliver when her bottom lip quivered.
“Of course I want you,” he said. “And my parents for sure want you as their granddaughter, whether you’re mine or not. Everyone in this family will be thrilled to have you—look how much Teddy lights up when he sees you. But we’re worried about confusing you. We wanted everything to be okay for you when you found out.”
Camille stared at him. Hope, doubt, fear . . . it was all there.
“I always wanted . . . to be part of your family.” She snuck a peek at Selena and then up to Belinda. “It’s why I came over today, even if I wasn’t supposed to and I shouldn’t have listened last night, and I wasn’t going to tell what I’d heard. But I still wanted to be . . . to have a family like yours,” she said to Oliver. “But you knew and you didn’t tell me. You didn’t want me to know and . . .”
Her attention flickered to Selena before she turned in Belinda’s arms and buried her head against her grandmother’s tummy, crying so hard now she could barely catch her breath.
Belinda lifted Camille into her arms. “I’ll take her home and calm her down while you two talk.” She gave Oliver her full attention. “I really am sorry I lost track of her and set all of this into motion.”
Selena stood once her mother and daughter were gone, her hand covering her mouth. “How did this happen?”
“Fast.” Oliver winced at the memory of the frantic beginning to Ms. Walker’s visit. “It was all happening too fast. That’s why I sent you the 911. Camille walked into the middle of a complete meltdown. And then I didn’t know what to tell the social worker about her. Family Services might crucify my parents because of how I’ve handled things. But I couldn’t tell Ms. Walker that on top of everything else that I had an unsupervised minor over who’d been told not to visit the scary people next door. And I didn’t want to upset Camille. The last thing I wanted was to make her cry.”
Selena dropped her arm. Her hand slapped against the thigh of her jogging pants. “I guess that plan’s moot.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who let the paternity cat out of the bag to your daughter.” He rubbed his temple. “Damn it, I’m trying to do the best I can for everyone. And not ruin my parents’ chances to keep Teddy. There was no one else to help me this morning, no one close enough. So, I—”
“Knew I’d come running?”
“I knew you’d do the right thing once you got here. Just like you’ll
do the right thing now that Camille’s asking questions about me and my family.”
“The right thing being telling her everything?”
He had no idea anymore. “I want to protect her, too, Selena. I want to protect you both. But I’m worried about my parents, and I know you care about them.”
“And?” Selena looked as flabbergasted as he felt.
“And you kissed me the other night. You agreed to talk things through. Then I don’t hear from you for over twenty-four hours. I’m turning myself inside out, destroying potential business opportunities to stay in Chandlerville for my family—and for you and Camille now.” Staying for himself, too, because leaving felt more impossible by the hour. “Hell, Camille’s already figured out most of it for herself. But I bet you’re still trying to think of a way to deal with who her father is without dealing with whatever this is between us. Meanwhile, we can barely keep our hands off each other when we’re alone.”
Selena smoothed both palms down her thighs, drawing his attention to her toned, trim body. She looked like she could run for days. But she couldn’t run from them now. He found himself closer. He reached for her shoulders. He held fast when she went to pull away.
“You don’t distrust me nearly as much as you want to.” It had been a stunning conclusion he’d come to somewhere in the middle of last night. “And you don’t like it one damn bit.”
“No,” she admitted. “I don’t.”
“You’ve wanted me far away from you from the start,” he said, “not just from your daughter. This has never been entirely about Camille, has it?”
“Of course not.”
“Because you still feel guilty about things you did seven years ago?”
Selena shook her head, looking like she despised the both of them for her weakness.
He aligned their bodies until her heart beat next to his. She was warm from her run. She was looking up at him, seeing and feeling him. She was soft against him, like she’d been a lifetime ago, like in his dreams of her ever since.
“Because you wouldn’t have been able to stay away from me,” he said, “whether Camille was involved or not. And it terrifies you, what that could mean. There’s something in you for me, Selena Rosenthal. There’s something between us still.”
Let Me Love You Again (An Echoes of the Heart Novel Book 2) Page 20