Snow Baby

by Brenda Novak

  “Shut up,” Dillon hissed. For a moment Chantel thought Amanda might defy him, but the expression on his face succeeded in quelling her. When she fell silent he beckoned Brittney and Sydney the rest of the way into his arms, hugged them close, then pointed them back toward the stairs. “Mommy and I have to talk for a little bit, okay? You girls go to your room. I’ll come up in a minute.”

  Reluctantly they obeyed. Chantel began to follow them, to give Dillon and his ex-wife the privacy they needed, but Dillon took her hand and guided her outside with them.

  “I don’t care whether Sydney’s blood father is some trainer named Phil or the man on the moon,” he said when the girls were safely out of earshot. “She’s mine. I’m the only father she’s known.”

  “If you want to continue as her father, I’d suggest you let the girls come home with me. I’m their mother.”

  “Then start acting like it.”

  “I will as soon as you start paying your child support.” Amanda angled her chin up at him, obviously thinking she’d played the trump card, but Chantel could see from the anger flashing in Dillon’s eyes that his ex-wife had pushed him too far.

  “I was going to offer you a deal, Amanda. I was going to pay for the divorce and help you get back on your feet if you signed custody of both girls over to me. But you know what? I’ve changed my mind. You can sink or swim on your own. And if you think you can win and don’t mind every sordid detail about your past being dragged out for the world to see, then take me to court.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and opened the door for Chantel to precede him.

  “That’ll get expensive,” Amanda taunted. “It would be cheaper just to cooperate with me. I’ll let you see the girls whenever you want.”

  He turned back. “Seems I’ve heard that story before. Only this time I’m not buying. It’s over, Amanda. You’re not having the girls because you weren’t taking good care of them, and I have no reason to believe you’ll do any better in the future.”

  “How dare you criticize me! You have no idea how difficult it is to be a single mother!”

  “You’re not single very often.”

  “But I love them!” Bewilderment emerged beneath her anger, and Chantel felt a moment’s pity.

  “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

  “So I messed up, made a mistake. It’s not like you’re perfect.”

  “Then pull your life together and we’ll set up some visitation. I’m not trying to hurt you, only protect them.”

  “That’s not true! You’re trying to punish me for the divorce! But it’s not going to work. You’ll pay through the nose if you try—”

  “Cost doesn’t matter anymore, Amanda. Only what’s right and fair,” he said, walking inside.

  “You won’t be saying that when the blood tests come back!” she flung after them. “I’ll get the girls! You wait and see!”

  Chantel felt Dillon flinch and wished she could shield him from the pain. “I can only hope you love Sydney half as much as I do,” he said softly, and closed the door behind them.

  THAT NIGHT Dillon worked late in his study, trying to finish a set of plans that were already two days late. He struggled to put Amanda and her threats out of his mind, but there was no escaping the terrible fear that clutched at his belly. How vengeful would his ex-wife be? Ever since the divorce, he’d pulled his punches, hoping to protect his girls from the worst of the emotional trauma and confusion. But now he realized there was only one way to achieve the peace and consistency he wanted. Which meant the situation was going to get a lot worse before it got better. Was it fair to drag Chantel through a lengthy court battle?

  Dillon thought of her upstairs, sleeping in his bed, and wanted to go to her. She’d been so quiet earlier, all through dinner and putting the kids to bed. He’d wanted to hear that she agreed with how he’d handled Amanda, but he hadn’t been ready to reveal his own troubled feelings. So he’d let her go to bed alone.

  Now he longed to have her arms around him, her voice whispering in his ear. But she wasn’t even sure she wanted to marry him; he could hardly ask her to tackle his fight to keep the girls. Maybe that was what frightened him, kept him from going to her. That and the fact that she had enough to worry about just hanging on to their baby.

  Another difficult subject. He gave a frustrated sigh. How did he tell the girls about the baby? He’d told his mother already, so the news had to come out soon. But first he and Chantel had some decisions to make.

  DILLON SHOWERED as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake Chantel while he got ready for work. But as he stood in front of his dresser, looking for socks to match his suit, he realized she was watching him.

  “You didn’t come to bed last night,” she said.

  “I slept on the couch. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  She didn’t say anything for a minute. “I think you should take me back to the condo. I refuse to put you out of your own room.”

  “You’re not putting me out of my room. I was pretty distracted last night and I couldn’t sleep until late. Plus, I had some work to finish.”

  “I’m feeling better today. I can take care of myself.”

  He crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. Yesterday he’d been so certain they should get married. Now he wasn’t as convinced. For the first time he realized, as more than just a passing acknowledgment, that a stepparent situation wasn’t hard only on the kids. It could be difficult for parents, too. He wondered if that difficulty was what had caused his mother’s many divorces and feared that, by marrying again, he’d be asking for the same kind of trouble. “Are you upset about what happened with Amanda?” he asked.

  Chantel shook her head. “I’m not upset, just worried. About you and the girls.”

  He eyed the sack that held the bridal magazines he’d brought home yesterday. He’d had such high hopes when he’d bought them. But after Amanda’s appearance, he hadn’t even taken them out of the bag.

  “Do you think she’ll go through with the blood test?” Chantel asked. “Surely she can see that it’s not what’s best for Sydney.”

  “I don’t know what she’ll do anymore. She’s not the same person I married.”

  “And if she does go through with it?”

  “I’ll have to comply.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then pray she’s wrong.”

  “But you don’t think she is.”

  Dillon let his doubt finally show on his face. He’d carried it inside him for so long, so deeply hidden. But now that Amanda had confirmed his worst fear, he couldn’t hide it anymore, at least not from Chantel. Worse, now that his ex-wife had pointed the finger at Phil, he thought he recognized similarities between Sydney and the muscle-bound trainer. He hated that he saw them, wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him, but there it was. “I don’t know what to think,” he said at last. “But I know I want you here with me.”

  He held his breath, waiting for her reponse, and finally she nodded. “Okay.”

  THE NEXT MORNING the girls came up to say goodbye to Chantel before thudding down the stairs again and slamming the door. She heard the engine of the Landcruiser roar to life, the higher whine of reverse, then nothing. Just silence.

  Poor Dillon. She remembered Amanda’s vindictive threat and the pain in Dillon’s eyes, and felt the same anger she’d felt yesterday. She was glad Dillon planned to fight for his girls. But she feared for what he might have to endure before it was all over. Sydney didn’t look much like him. Given Amanda’s past, it was easy to believe the child belonged to someone else, and because of that, Chantel didn’t hold out much hope that a blood test would prove Dillon’s paternity. But in his heart, where it mattered, Sydney belonged to him, and Chantel ached at the thought of his daughter being torn from him.

  If the worst happened, maybe their baby would help ease the loss. She knew one child couldn’t really compensate for another, but hoped a new life might do something
to fill the absence Sydney would leave behind. Dillon wouldn’t be the only one hurt—Brittney would be devastated.

  The phone rang, and Chantel scooted over to the nightstand to answer it.

  “If this is Brittney, you’ve grown up awfully fast.” The voice was raspy and held a hint of surprise.

  “This is Chantel.”

  “Oh, yeah? Seems to me I’ve heard that name a time or two.” There was a pause during which Chantel didn’t know what to say, couldn’t imagine whom she was talking to—and then the man finally identified himself. “This is Dave, Dillon’s uncle.”

  Dave. Fleetingly Chantel remembered Dillon’s mentioning something about his uncle Dave the night they met. He was like a father to him, wasn’t he? But he didn’t live close by. “It’s nice to talk to you, Dave.”

  “Did I miss Dillon?”

  “Yes, he just left to take the girls to school. Then he’s heading to the office.”

  “Well, I don’t need anything, really. Just wanted to call and give him a hard time. His mother phoned here yesterday, saying he was getting married. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you?”

  She could hear the teasing in his gruff voice and liked him instantly. “Actually I wouldn’t. I haven’t agreed to anything of the sort.”

  “You’re making him work for it, huh? Well, nothing wrong with that. Reva made me sweat for two weeks before she gave me an answer.”

  Chantel heard a woman’s voice in the background but couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. Dave laughed at it, though.

  “I’m not trying to make him sweat,” she told him. “I just want to be sure he’s doing it for the right reasons.”

  “He’s an honest boy. You ask him. He’ll tell you why he’s doing it.”

  “Are you sure he won’t just tell me what he thinks I want to hear?”

  “Positive.”

  Yes, Chantel liked this man. He looked at things in their simplest form. He trusted Dillon, and his trust was absolute.

  “He’s been goin’ through a lot with that ex-wife of his,” he added. “You hang on, little lady, and I think you’ll be glad.”

  “I’ll hang on,” she said, realizing that, at least in one sense, Dave was right. She’d wanted Dillon to woo her with words of love, to hear him speak his undying devotion, but he was dealing with a lot at the moment, and had been almost since they’d met. She’d been so caught up in her own concerns over Stacy, perhaps she hadn’t given enough consideration to the obstacles he faced. He wanted to be part of their baby’s life. He needed someone to help look after the girls and to take care of him, whether he knew it or not. And Chantel had nothing but time. Why not marry him and let him think he was doing the right thing, taking care of her? There were certainly worse things than marrying the man she loved! She stifled a giggle.

  “When will I get to meet you?” she asked Dave.

  “You tell me when the wedding is, and me and Reva, we’ll be there.”

  Chantel laughed. Everyone was so sure there was going to be a wedding. She was beginning to believe it, too. “Dillon and I will call you tonight.”

  With a smile Chantel hung up and dialed the senator’s office. She had to tell Maureen about the pregnancy and see what her options were at work. She wanted to keep her job, but the next few months presented some uncertainty.

  “Senator Johnson’s office.”

  “Getting tired of answering the phones?” Chantel asked, recognizing Maureen’s voice.

  “We’ve been busy,” she admitted. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. I’d like to come back next week.”

  Maureen hesitated. “The senator’s here, Chantel. He wants to talk to you.”

  The senator? Chantel’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t talked to him since before she got sick, but she’d often wondered what he must think of her extended absence. Surely his patience was coming to an end. And now she had to tell him about the pregnancy. Yikes!

  Chantel took a deep breath as the senator’s voice came on the line. “How are you, Chantel?”

  “Better, Senator, thanks.”

  “Are you ready to come back to work? We really need someone here.”

  “I understand, sir. And I am ready. But before we make any plans, there’s something I should tell you.”

  “What’s that?” He sounded leary, and for good reason.

  “I just found out a few days ago what’s wrong with me. I’m pregnant.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she awaited his response.

  “That’s good news, isn’t it?” he said.

  “It is for me, sir. But I know you need someone you can depend on, and this is a high-risk pregnancy. The doctors don’t know how much of the next six or seven months I’ll be able to work.”

  There was a pause. “Do you want to keep working?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then I’m sure we can figure something out. Why don’t you start again on Monday and we’ll go from there. If it turns out you can’t handle full-time, we’ll cut back your hours and hire someone to help you.”

  “Really? You’d do that for me?” Chantel could hardly believe it.

  “I just had a constituent send me a large donation for my campaign because we’d been so responsive to her in her time of need. Turns out you were the one she dealt with here. You’re doing a good job. We’d like to keep you.”

  Chantel smiled. You’re doing a good job. We’d like to keep you. Few words of praise had ever sounded better. Chantel just wished her father was around to hear them. Goodbye New York. Goodbye modeling. Wade had been wrong all along. She could make it without him. Goodbye Wade. There’s nothing else you can ever do to hurt me. “Thank you, Senator,” she said. “I’ll be there on Monday.”

  She hung up. Then, just because she felt better than she had in a long time, she dialed Stacy’s number—and when the answering machine came on, she actually left a message.

  She knew her call wouldn’t be returned, but at least she’d reached out—again. Maybe someday Stacy would change her mind.

  CHANTEL PICKED UP THE GIRLS from school and helped them with their homework. They didn’t talk much and said nothing about Amanda, but seemed to be in good spirits.

  Thank goodness children are so resilient, Chantel thought.

  By the time Dillon returned from work, she’d already fed Brittney and Sydney and had his dinner warming in the oven. And she was glad she did. He looked exhausted.

  “How was your day?” she asked.

  “Busy, but I managed to stop by your condo to water your plants and get your mail.” He piled the stack of letters, bills and junk mail on the counter.

  “Thanks. That was really thoughtful.”

  “It’s not hard to be thoughtful when you’re all I think about,” he said with a grin.

  Chantel glanced up the stairs to make sure the girls were still playing in their room, then sauntered closer and put her arms around his neck. “I think that deserves a reward.” She kissed him, long and hard and hungry, and when she pulled away, she caught the gleam of surprise in his eyes.

  “That’s quite a welcome. I could get used to coming home to this.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’ve reconsidered.”

  “What?” He bent his head to look at her.

  “Your proposal. I’m going to marry you. We’re going to become a family.”

  DLLON FELT SOMETHING lurch inside him, a combination, he guessed, of fear and excitement. “Do you think we can make it work?” he asked. “Despite everything?”

  She reached up to stroke his cheek. “I’m not a quitter. Are you?”

  He gazed into her eyes, knowing he’d never needed to hear anything so badly. “You’ll stick it out with me, then, even if it gets rough?”

  “Even if it gets rough. We’ll just batten down the hatches and weather the storm.”

  He drew her to him and hugged her tightly, bending to bury his face in her neck and to breathe in her clean sweet scent. Chant
el, his Chantel. It sounded good. It felt right. God, how could something so wonderful happen to him right in the middle of his emotional tug-of-war with Amanda? “I’ll always take good care of you,” he promised.

  Chantel murmured some kind of response, but Dillon missed it. Instead, he heard two distinct giggles and looked up to see his girls staring down at them through the banister.

  “I told you they were kissing,” Sydney announced with another giggle.

  Dillon almost pulled away from Chantel, afraid that what the girls had seen would upset at least one of them. But then he realized they weren’t upset at all. They were grinning from ear to ear.

  “I knew it,” Brittney said.

  “Knew what?” Dillon challenged.

  “That you liked her.”

  “And how did you know that?”

  “Because you always look at her like this.” She gave her sister a lovelorn glance, batting her eyes dramatically, and Dillon laughed. He should’ve known there’d be no fooling them.

  “Come on down, you two,” he said. It was time to announce the wedding, but he’d save the baby for later. “Chantel and I have something to tell you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DILLON PARKED in front of Stacy’s house and sat in his car for a few minutes, staring at the light burning in her window. She was home. Her car was in the driveway, and he could hear her television from the street. Taking a deep breath of warm spring air, redolent with the scent of gardenias blooming in the neighbor’s yard, he prepared himself for the confrontation to come. Stacy wouldn’t want to see him, but he had to talk to her, for Chantel’s sake. Each day he stopped by her place to pick up her mail and check her answering machine; without fail, the moment he walked through the door at home, she asked if there’d been any messages from her sister. And each day he had to tell her no.

  Getting out of his truck and pocketing his keys, he strode to the door, wondering if Stacy would even let him in. He had a high opinion of Chantel’s sister, wasn’t sure he wanted to see her worst side, but with all the emotional upheavals of late, he figured one disillusionment more or less wouldn’t really matter.