To Be a Family (Harlequin Superromance)

by Kilby, Joan

  Adele brought her down from the clouds. “Before you say yes, I want you to be sure this is what you want. I know you’re committed to your teaching. We’ve talked about your career goals and your workload. You only wanted to write one book a year. Are you going to be able to do three books in twelve months?”

  “I—” Her chest tightened again. Could she write that quickly? Not just write, but paint the illustrations? Three books. She’d only plotted out one more book. Did she have that many stories in her?

  “Do you want some time to think about it?”

  She pressed a hand against her stomach and forced herself to breathe out. There was no way she was going to pass up such a golden opportunity.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I can do it. I will do it.”

  But as she hung up, her bubble of elation burst with a tiny pop. She’d given her word. Now she had to do it.

  No, she wouldn’t give in to anxiety. Que sera sera. She, evidently, was meant to be a writer, and a prolific one at that. She laughed aloud, partly with nerves, partly elation. With three new stories to write she would have to have adventures of her own now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JOHN BLINKED HIS EYES OPEN. Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains. For a moment he lay spread-eagled across his king-size bed, savoring the sheer comfort of waking up in his own home. A cool, dry breeze drifted in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of pine and eucalyptus and the kookaburra’s laughing call.

  Their plane had landed at ten last night and it had been after midnight before they’d gotten home. Tuti had fallen asleep in the car. He’d carried her in, still sleeping, in his arms and tucked her into the single bed in the spare room he used as a study.

  Now he rose, remembered to put his track pants on, and walked barefoot down the hall to his study. He peeked in the door. The folding cot, crammed between a desk and a filing cabinet, was empty. On the floor, a black pigtail poked out of a bundle of blankets. Her feet were stuck between the legs of his computer chair.

  He needed to make some big adjustments around here for Tuti to feel at home. Starting with getting her a proper bed and dresser and clearing space for her to put her things. Where, in his two-bedroom bachelor apartment he would move his computer and desk, he didn’t have a clue. Certainly not in his bedroom. Nothing quelled romance like a workstation next to the bed.

  Romance? Huh. With no woman in his life at the moment he didn’t need to worry about that. Anyway, with Tuti around, for him to go out at night, come home late, sleep with a woman in his bed… It was simply out of the question. His love life wouldn’t come into contact with his daughter’s life until and unless he was serious about a woman.

  Yep, his romancing days were over for the foreseeable future. Dead in the water at the ripe old age of thirty-five. Overnight he’d gone from being a carefree bachelor to single dad. This was going to be one helluva steep learning curve.

  Tuti shifted in her sleep. Carefully, he pushed the chair back and crouched to touch her shoulder. She blinked sleepily. “Hey, Tuti. Why are you on the floor?”

  She stared at him.

  Because that’s where she was used to sleeping, dummy. “Do you want some breakfast?” Again a blank look. “Are you hungry? Food?” He mimed eating.

  She sat up, the blankets falling away, exposing her bare arms in a thin T-shirt. Shivering, she pulled the blanket around herself.

  “I’ll turn the heat on.” The room temperature was comfortable but after living in the tropics she was bound to feel the cold. “May I?” he asked, picking up her faded pink backpack to find her something warmer.

  All her clothes were T-shirts and shorts. Her only shoes were a pair of flip-flops. Oh, man.

  He showed her where the bathroom was then hunted out an old sweatshirt of his that she could wear like a dress and a pair of thick socks. When she was warm and had a bowl of cereal in front of her he sat down to make a list of all the things she would need.

  Clothes. But what kind and how many of each item? What size? He had no idea of how to shop for a child. So he did what any red-blooded male would do. He picked up the phone and called his mother. “Hello, Mum? We’re back. Would you like to meet your granddaughter? Frankly, I could use advice.”

  “Would I?” Alison Forster let out a sound that was half sob, half laughter. “I’ve been dying for you to get back. In fact, I’ve been waiting years for this day. It’s not the way I imagined it but… I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  John hung up the phone. His mother had raised three kids and regularly babysat his sisters’ children. She would know what to do.

  Fifteen minutes later Alison Forster’s high heels tapped through the front door in a flurry of feminine excitement. She was all silk blouse, bouffant blond hair, loud voice and a cloud of perfume. In her bejeweled hands she carried bags loaded with dolls, a teddy bear, books and several outfits of warm clothing, including a pair of pink pants and long-sleeved top, socks and two pairs of running shoes.

  “I didn’t know what size to get but figured I could always bring one pair back. Or take Tuti to the shop with me if neither of these fit. I hope you don’t mind me taking it upon myself to buy her some things, but when you rang a couple of weeks ago to say you were bringing her home, well, I just got carried away.” Alison glanced around. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t mind a bit. In fact, I’m grateful.” John poked his head into the kitchen. “Tuti, come here, sweetheart. This is your grandmother.”

  “Hello, darling,” his mother cooed and enveloped Tuti in a hug, squeezing her hard. “You can call me Nana. I know we’re going to be great friends. We’ll make cookies and go shopping and I’ll show you where I work—”

  John winced as his mother prattled on. She had a huge heart but she could be overwhelming to people who weren’t used to her ebullient, extroverted style.

  Tuti pulled out of Alison’s arms and took a step back. She glanced at John and took another step back.

  “It’s okay,” he assured her. “Don’t be shy.”

  Alison held out a doll and tried to get Tuti to take it. “This is the latest toy, I’m told. All the little girls in Summerside have one. You want to be just like all the other children, don’t you?”

  Tears started in Tuti’s eyes. She bit her lip then, without a word, turned and ran from the room.

  “Oh, dear.” Alison’s manicured fingertips went to her lips. “What’s wrong? Doesn’t she like dolls?”

  “You came on a tad strong.” John hadn’t realized until now how much his mother must want him to have children. She didn’t try this hard with his sisters’ kids. He was counting on her to ease him into fathering Tuti, to taking some of the burden of responsibility off him. If Tuti was afraid of her, that wasn’t going to work out so well. “It’s her first day. Give her time. She’ll get used to you.”

  At least, that’s what he hoped. He glanced at the hallway down which Tuti had disappeared. Through work he dealt with juvenile offenders. On the other end of the spectrum were his nieces and nephews—well-adjusted children from loving homes, comfortable if not well-off, who all had two parents.

  It brought home to him again how out of his depth he was with Tuti. Not only from another culture, speaking another language, but she’d recently lost her mother. Really, what did he know about raising a kid like Tuti?

  “Thanks for the clothes and toys,” he said to his mother. “Help yourself to coffee. I’ll go talk to Tuti.�
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  He grabbed a teddy bear and some clothes and found her huddled beneath her blankets. Without a word, he handed the stuffed toy to her and waited, using the time to figure out how to explain the strange woman who’d hugged her too hard. He couldn’t remember, if he ever knew, the Balinese word for grandmother. After a few minutes Tuti emerged, her cheeks streaked with drying tears. She clutched the teddy bear to her chest and looked at him with huge dark eyes.

  “The lady—” John pointed in the direction of the kitchen then at himself. “My meme.”

  Tuti blinked.

  “You’re my child,” John tried again. “I’m her child.”

  Tuti looked blank.

  He sighed. Should he insist she come out and be polite? He had no idea what child-rearing manuals would say about that. If Tuti were an Australian kid being obstinate, he would probably do just that. But she was far from home, cold, and this was her first day. Instinct told him not to insist on anything. He would make excuses to his mother and ask her to come another day.

  “Never mind. Here, let’s put something warmer on you.” He pulled out the long-sleeved top. “Do you like pink?”

  At the sight of the sparkly design on the front of the shirt Tuti got out of the blankets and stood before him, shivering. John helped her dress, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. He’d blundered his way through this time. But if his mother couldn’t connect with Tuti what hope did he have?

  * * *

  “GET OUT YOUR notebooks and pencils, boys and girls.” Katie pointed to the carefully drawn alphabet on the blackboard. “Copy out the letters in your very best printing.”

  Heads went down, paper rustled, several tongues were tucked into the corners of mouths as the class of grade-one students got down to work. With a few minutes of quiet Katie sat at her desk and corrected arithmetic assignments.

  A knock came at the door. She opened it to John, wearing his police uniform and a grim expression. Her first thought was that something had happened to Riley, and she pressed a hand to her chest to ease a flutter.

  He must have seen her anxiety. “There’s nothing wrong.”

  “Thank goodness.” Her second fleeting thought, which bothered her in a different way, was how good he looked, his broad shoulders filling out a crisp blue shirt topped by epaulets, and his navy pants with the sharp crease emphasizing the length of his legs.

  Then a movement at his side drew her gaze to a little girl clinging to his hand. She was dressed in the school uniform, a blue-and-white gingham dress, one size too big. Her black eyes were huge and terrified. Tear tracks traced her round cheeks. One of the tiny silver circles in her pierced ears was twisted up. And her little pigtails, which stuck straight out from her head, were lopsided and uneven.

  Katie’s heart melted. Poor sweet thing. Had he found her wandering somewhere in Summerside and brought her to school? Why hadn’t he taken her to the office? “Who do we have here?”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” John said. “This is Tuti. I tried to get here before class began so I could introduce you. But first I had to buy the uniform then I had to get her to wear it. She’s not used to hard leather shoes....” He trailed off with a harassed expression. “Tuti, this is Miss Henning. She’ll be your new teacher.”

  Tuti. The girl who lived near a jungle. She looked like she could be Balinese. Had he brought this child to Australia for a visit? Why would he enroll her in school temporarily?

  “I don’t understand,” Katie said. “Who is she?”

  John cleared his throat and met her gaze. “Tuti is my daughter.”

  She stared at him. Surely she hadn’t heard correctly. “Your…?”

  “Daughter.” His hand on Tuti’s shoulder tightened protectively. “She’ll be six years old next month.”

  Katie laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. She clapped a hand over her mouth, aware that her reaction was inappropriate. And must appear bizarre to her pupils, not to mention to Tuti.

  “I don’t understand,” she said again. How could he have had a child without her? Idiot. Of course he could have. They broke up years ago. He’d left her. Since he’d returned to Summerside he’d never been without a girlfriend for long. He could have fathered a dozen children.

  But how was it that she’d known nothing about this Tuti? Who was her mother and why had John brought her here? Did Riley know about her? Questions crowded her mind, confusing her. Emotions she didn’t understand made her chest ache. But this wasn’t the time or the place to try to make sense of things. The little girl already looked distressed.

  Katie collected herself and forced a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Tuti. Would you like to join the class?”

  The little girl pressed closer to John and turned her face into his waist, her pigtails quivering.

  “Does she speak English?” Katie asked.

  “A little but she hasn’t said a word since she got here three days ago.” John’s eyes pleaded with Katie. “I’m sure she’ll get up to speed quickly but in the meantime she’ll need extra help.”

  “I already have a full class—the administration knows that,” Katie said. “She’d be better off with Phoebe Mallon. Phoebe has another English-as-a-second-language student.”

  “I asked specifically for you. Your assistant principal said it would be okay.” When Katie didn’t reply to that, he added, “I don’t know Phoebe Mallon. I know you. I know how much you love kids. I want someone who will care about her.”

  Care about his child with another woman. Really?

  Behind her, shifting chairs and whispers told her the pupils had finished their work and were getting restless. Probably curious, too, about the new girl. Dragging this out wouldn’t help Tuti. John was right about one thing. Katie loved children and she was a soft touch. She would make room for the girl in her class.

  “I’m going to read the class a story, Tuti,” Katie said. “Do you like stories?”

  Tuti stilled. Then she glanced up at John as if looking for confirmation.

  He nodded. “Story…book.” He added to Katie, “We’ve just about worn out the pages on yours.” He turned back to Tuti. “Miss Henning is the lady who wrote Lizzy And Monkey.”

  Tuti brightened a little.

  John crouched so he was eye level. “I have to go to work, Tuti. I’ll come back for you this afternoon.” Her bottom lip wobbled. He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Chin up,” he said, his voice gruff.

  Seeing his awkward, tender display of affection, Katie felt a reluctant tug at her heart. Of course she’d always known John would be great with kids. He was a favorite uncle. It made sense he would be a natural as a father.

  Tuti looked about to cry. To forestall the waterworks Katie held out her hand to Tuti. “Come with me,” she said warmly. “You can sit with Belinda.” She gestured to a girl with curly brown hair in the front row. Belinda liked to be teacher’s pet but Katie knew she would be kind and helpful. “Belinda, will you come and show Tuti where to sit for story time? Class, this is Tuti. Please welcome her.”

  The students parroted, obediently if raggedly, “Welcome, Tuti.”

  Belinda took Tuti’s hand, fussy and full of self-importance. “We have to get a chair and go sit in a circle. You can sit beside me.” Then she added in a whisper, “Don’t cry. It’ll be all right.”

  The children got up and moved to the story circle at the back of the class, the girls talking, the boys pushing. Tuti followed Belinda,
holding tightly to the other girl’s hand.

  John ran a hand through his hair and blew out a heartfelt sigh. “Thanks. I appreciate this.”

  “I’m doing it for Tuti.” Katie fixed him with a stern glance. “We’ll need to talk about how best to integrate her into the school community. Please see me this afternoon after class.”

  John’s mouth twitched. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “This isn’t a joking matter.” She didn’t like being put on the spot. She didn’t like how John had taken advantage of their history. And she didn’t like that he’d had a child with another woman so soon after he’d left her. It didn’t take a math whiz to calculate that Tuti had been conceived within a few months of his departure. When she was still sick with cancer. He and Tuti’s mother must have been making love while she was lying in her hospital bed.

  “Yes, I’ll do anything for my kids. But get one thing straight. You don’t know me.”

  John’s lips flattened. “Whatever. As long as we’re on the same page with regards to Tuti. I’ll see you at three-thirty.”

  He left and Katie turned back to her class. Belinda was chatting away seemingly oblivious to the fact that Tuti hadn’t said a word. Tuti glanced up at Katie, and across the room something tugged at Katie’s heart. Oh, no. No, no, no. She wasn’t going to fall for John’s little girl. She would do her best for Tuti as a teacher but that’s where it had to end. For seven years she’d avoided contact with him. The last thing she wanted was a reason to spend time with John Forster.

  * * *

  THE HALLS WERE empty when John returned to Katie’s classroom door that afternoon. Was she going to make him write out lines on the blackboard? I must not bring home foreign children.

  Frankly, he wondered if he’d made a mistake in doing so. It was one thing to feel a familial connection to Tuti and another thing for a bachelor to make a home for a little girl he barely knew and couldn’t communicate with.