To Be a Family (Harlequin Superromance)

by Kilby, Joan

  Last night she’d cried herself to sleep. He’d put it down to tiredness, homesickness and unfamiliar surroundings. He’d tucked her into bed with the doll his mother had brought, but when he’d checked on her in the night, again he’d found her rolled in a blanket on the floor. He’d carried her back to bed. In the morning she’d been back on the floor.

  Breakfast this morning was another disaster. He couldn’t comb her hair into a proper pigtail to save his soul. He’d run out of cereal and she didn’t like toast with Vegemite, or bacon and eggs. In the end he’d found a mango in the back of the fridge.

  She had been excited about going to school. Until, that is, she’d seen the huge building and the hordes of children in the playground. He couldn’t blame her for being shy—the population of the school was larger than her village—but he didn’t know how to deal with it. All his nieces and nephews were outgoing, gregarious kids.

  He knocked on Katie’s classroom door. She was a quiet person. She must be able to relate to Tuti.

  “Come in.” Seated at her desk, Katie was placing big tick marks in a notebook filled with printing practice. “Sit down.”

  John glanced around for Tuti. She was curled up in a beanbag chair at the back of the room, her nose buried in a picture book. She glanced up, but he motioned for her to stay there while he spoke with her teacher. Gingerly, he lowered himself onto a chair made for a six-year-old, not a grown man, a tall one at that. Feeling ridiculous and at a distinct disadvantage, he waited while Katie finished the notebook she was marking.

  She took her time, writing an encouraging note and adding a parrot sticker. Finally she put down her red pencil, closed the notebook and placed it atop the stack on her right. She folded her hands on her desk. “So.”

  John could still recall his grade-one teacher. Mrs. Renwich had frizzy orange hair, wore glasses on a long chain that sat on her ample bosom and smelled like corned beef. Katie was the complete opposite. Silky dark hair that waved softly around her shoulders, a sweet floral scent, a ready smile and the kindest eyes he’d ever known. Right now she made him more nervous than Mrs. Renwich ever had.

  He was still chafing over the way she had said he didn’t know her. True, it had been a long time since they’d been together, and she’d undoubtedly changed some. But how was he supposed to know her if she kept refusing to talk to him?

  “How did Tuti do today?”

  “There are issues. Before we get to those I’m interested in knowing what type of environment she’s come from. It will help me deal with her individual needs.” Katie lowered her voice. “Have you always known you had a child?”

  Since he wanted her help with Tuti, he guessed she had a right to ask. John looked her in the eye. “Yes. I met Nena, that’s Tuti’s mother, a month into my stay in Bali back in—”

  “I know what year you were there.”

  He cleared his throat. Of course she did. Tuti’s birth date was on her enrollment form. Katie would have figured out her conception to the day. “Nena was a lovely person. We had a good time together, while it lasted. The baby wasn’t planned, but once Nena found out she was pregnant she wanted the child. What she hadn’t wanted was an Australian husband.”

  He stopped, aware he was giving too much information, justifying himself, explaining more than necessary because of his and Katie’s past.

  “Was a lovely person?” Katie said.

  “Nena died in a motorcycle accident. That’s why I went to Bali, for her funeral. The women there sometimes ride sidesaddle—in sarongs. Often not wearing a helmet. Half the time hanging on to a kid or a basket of fruit or chickens. It’s—” He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s the way they do things there. It’s just lucky Tuti wasn’t with her at the time.”

  Katie stared at her hands turning the red pen over and over. “You’re sure she’s yours?”

  “Positive.” This had to be hard for Katie. They’d talked about having children together many times. Even got around to picking out names. Or he’d tried to. She could never agree with him on when they should start a family. Or even choose a wedding date.

  “What made you decide to bring her home with you?”

  “I had to.” John shifted position on the small chair with a grimace. The edge was digging into his butt. “When I went to Bali I fully intended to pay my respects, make sure she was provided for, and scram.”

  “But?” Katie’s dark eyebrows rose.

  “It wasn’t that simple. The day after the funeral she showed me where she went to school. It was little more than a shack, with no facilities. I asked her uncle, Wayan, to send her to school in a bigger town and I would pay. He told me she wouldn’t be going back to school. She was needed at home to look after her younger cousin.”

  Katie frowned. “Aren’t there laws that say children have to attend school?”

  “Yes, but they’re not always enforced. School is pretty hit-and-miss for some Balinese. Ex-pats and rich locals attend school regularly. The poor, not so much.”

  “And is her family poor?”

  “They weren’t too badly off when Nena was alive and contributing her paycheck. Wayan is a fisherman, but he barely catches enough to feed the family. Nena supported not only herself and Tuti, but helped support Wayan and his family. It’s not their fault. The old way of life based on farming and livestock has broken down, fish stocks are depleted and the people are dependent on tourism. But tourism has been down in recent years.”

  “That’s rough.” Katie rubbed her thumb over her knuckles. “But do the monetary concerns outweigh the advantages of her living with a family she’s grown up with? Surely you could afford to plug the gap that Nena left and let Tuti stay there.”

  “I’m keeping up payments to the family.” John blew out sharply through his nostrils. Katie didn’t want to know him, yet she thought she could tell him how to run his life. “I’ve made my decision. Which, I may add, is my decision to make.”

  Katie tapped her pencil on the desk. “Decisions can be reversed if a mistake has been made.”

  “I’m not going to chop and change the poor kid. She’s staying and that’s final.” John stopped himself from showing his frustration. Regardless of his feelings, he needed Katie on his side, for Tuti’s sake. “I hadn’t planned on bringing her back. But when I saw her—” If Katie didn’t want to know him anymore he wasn’t going to tell how Tuti had reminded him of himself as a child and of his mother. “I couldn’t leave her. She might not realize it now or for a few years, but someday she would think back and realize I’d just walked away from her. She would think she didn’t matter to me.”

  Katie went still, her dark eyes simmering. “And now, after seven years, her existence does matter?”

  Suddenly the air was charged with the memory of how he’d walked away from her. Didn’t Katie know that she’d been everything to him? Couldn’t she understand that he never would have left if she hadn’t pushed him away? They’d gone to the mat over her refusal to get a mastectomy, which he’d been told was the best option to ensure her long-term survival. Instead, she’d tried all sorts of crazy herbal treatments, hours of meditation, eating only raw organic food—he didn’t know what all—before finally accepting chemotherapy followed by a lumpectomy and radiation treatment.

  Remembering Tuti was in the room, he glanced over his shoulder. She’d left the picture book and was playing with the class guinea pig, poking a sliver of carrot through the bars of the cage. He still didn’t know how much she un
derstood and how much of her silence was due to her being overwhelmed by her new life. She seemed oblivious to the conversation.

  “Seeing her in person tipped the scales,” he went on. “Until a few weeks ago she’s been…abstract. Nena had convinced me Tuti was better off if I wasn’t in her life at all rather than be a stranger who dropped in every once in a while.”

  “Personally, I would agree with that.”

  Katie sat there judging him when she had no idea. No idea. “Maybe it was better, maybe not. But once I’d met her, staying away wasn’t better for me. She’s—” He searched for the words. “She’s flesh of my flesh.”

  Katie made a huffing sound.

  His hands fisted on his thighs. “You wouldn’t understand, not having a child of your own.” Immediately he regretted that low blow.

  Her eyes widened. White creases appeared at the sides of her mouth. “Oh, and you’ve been a parent for all of five minutes.”

  “Don’t take that personally. I didn’t understand, either. I still don’t, not really.” He met Katie’s gaze. “All I know is, Tuti and I are connected. I couldn’t walk away and leave her.”

  Katie dropped her gaze to the pencil in her hands. “And does Tuti feel that connection?”

  “I don’t know. As I said, she doesn’t talk.”

  “Which brings me to the issues I referred to earlier. Today she’s spoken not a word, not in English or Balinese. Her mother’s death must have traumatized her. Developmentally she’s taken a step backward.”

  John shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s that.” He explained the Balinese attitude to death. “You should have seen her at the funeral. She wasn’t happy but she wasn’t overcome with grief either.”

  “And are you an expert in a child’s way of dealing with grief? Her mother’s death might not sink in right away. She may need time to process. You should get her counseling.”

  “How is that going to work if she won’t speak English?”

  “Psychologists have ways of dealing with children who are pre-language,” Katie said.

  “Isn’t that a specific set of parameters for sexual abuse situations?”

  “Maybe that’s the side of child counseling you see in police work but there’s more to it than that. I’ll give you a name of someone.” She paused. “You do realize I hope that you can’t carry on with your life the way you always have. Kids need a parent to be there for them, especially when they’re coping with major life transitions. I recommend you take some leave from work, spend time getting to know Tuti, let her feel safe with you.”

  “I have work commitments. A major drug investigation is underway—”

  “What’s more important, police work or Tuti?”

  If he said police work, all the arguments he’d just made for bringing Tuti home would be meaningless. But he couldn’t afford to take time off right now. Besides, he wasn’t going to let Katie dictate how he should handle his own daughter.

  “I’ll think about it.” He rose. “Tuti, time to go home. Come.” John knew she understood the word. He tried to make it sound friendly, not an order. She left the guinea pig and started toward her locker at the back of the classroom. “I’ll touch base with you tomorrow,” he added to Katie.

  He and Katie waited in awkward silence while Tuti gathered her lunch box and backpack. All these years he’d wanted an excuse to talk to her. He’d flirted and teased, partly because she wouldn’t have a conversation, partly because it was less painful than acknowledging they were finished, that there was nothing left, not even friendship. Now they had a real reason to talk to each other but it was fraught with tension.

  No doubt Katie resented the fact that he’d had a child with someone else so soon after they’d broken up. Had she ever stopped to think how she’d made him suffer by making the choices she had? She’d been the one to throw away their future, not him.

  “Did she like my book?” Katie asked at length.

  “She loves it so much she takes it to bed with her.”

  Katie’s face lit. “I’m glad.”

  Once upon a time her smile had been like sunshine in his life. Now he looked away.

  A small hand crept into his. Tuti gazed up at him, questioning. No matter how she’d struggled against wearing the school uniform, no matter how she’d refused to sleep in a bed, no matter that he had no idea how to deal with a six-year-old girl, not once had she rejected him. From the minute he’d hoisted her onto his shoulders at Nena’s funeral she’d trusted him. It was humbling. Yes, he was pretty certain she felt the connection, too.

  He cleared his throat. “Tuti, can you say goodbye to Miss Henning? Selamat tingall.”

  Tuti ducked her head.

  “Goodbye for now.” Katie leaned down and hugged the girl. Tuti clasped her around the waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “We’re going to Springvale,” John said. “To pick up foods she’s familiar with from the Asian market.” Seeing Tuti and Katie embracing so affectionately, he added on impulse, “We’ll have dinner while we’re there. Would you like to come?”

  Katie hesitated. For a moment he thought she might say yes. Then she shook her head. “I have work to do.”

  “Okay, fine.” It was a dumb idea, anyway.

  “You’re going to have to get used to being with her.”

  “It’s not that…” He trailed away. It was, partly. He adored his daughter but he was floundering. Not that he was going to let Katie know that. “Come on, Tuti. Let’s go.”

  Tuti smiled at Katie and gestured to her.

  Katie smiled back and waved. “Goodbye.”

  Tuti shook her head and motioned with her hand to her mouth as if eating.

  “She must have understood what I said about dinner,” John said.

  “And that you invited me. That’s good. The more English she understands the easier it’ll be when she starts to speak.”

  Tuti put her hands together in the universal gesture of prayer or pleading. Above her steepled fingertips, her dark eyes danced merrily.

  “She knows how to charm,” Katie said drily. “Must have got that from you.”

  “Tuti, Katie is busy. You’ll see her tomorrow.” He tugged gently on her hand. Her shoulders slumped, but she allowed him to lead her out the door.

  “Wait,” Katie said.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I’LL COME WITH you after all,” Katie said. By his own admission John knew nothing about children, much less little girls. “I’m an expert at buying the healthiest fresh ingredients. When cooking for kids, it’s important to have a balanced diet.”

  John bristled at her comment. “I cook, too. A healthy meal isn’t all about googly berries and wheat grass extracts. Tuti won’t eat that crap.”

  “Goji berries.” Katie, reaching for her cardigan and purse, stiffened. He had a blind spot when it came to her health choices. “I was only trying to help. By all means, go by yourself.”

  Tuti’s gaze swiveled from Katie to John. Oh, dear. She might not understand every word but she could surely pick up on the tension. John had invited impulsively, and she’d accepted equally impulsively. They’d both made a mistake. But Tuti would be the one to pay.

  John noticed Tuti tracking their exchange, too. “No, you’re welcome to come along,” he said grudgingly. “I’m sure between us we can get what she needs.”

  Katie hesitated, then nodded. It was too late to back out now. She walked slightly ahead of John down the school cor
ridor. This was her turf. Plus, she needed to maintain some distance. She’d vowed years ago never to go out with him again.

  Yet here she was, helping him shop for his daughter. And joining him for dinner. She’d forgotten that part when she’d agreed to help buy groceries.

  It was okay. She would handle it—for Tuti’s sake. The little girl ran up to her and took her hand. Katie took it with a smile. Her budding affection for Tuti was bittersweet. John hadn’t stuck with her to have the family they’d planned. She’d thought he loved her, believed he would be loyal, the way her father had been loyal to her mother when she’d had breast cancer. But no, John couldn’t handle her illness. He’d gone off and had a kid with someone else.

  The fact that Tuti was unplanned didn’t make it better. Her mere existence hurt more than Katie could have imagined, almost as if she was being taunted by her own dream. Here she’d beaten cancer, made a great life for herself, written a book even. Yet the husband and children she longed for remained elusive. That husband should have been John. And Tuti should have been their child. But he wasn’t, and Tuti wasn’t. So much for her dream.

  She went in John’s car since Springvale was thirty minutes away and it made no sense to go separately. The open area food hall was a maze of fruit and vegetable stalls, seafood, butchers and poultry. Most shoppers were Vietnamese, speaking in their own language. Tuti clung tightly to Katie’s hand.

  John tried to take her hand, too. She let him but wouldn’t relinquish Katie’s hand so the three of them wound their way awkwardly through the crowded marketplace. Finally John gave up and let go.

  Katie met his gaze. “Don’t take it personally. I’m her teacher.”

  “But I’m her father.”

  Katie wasn’t likely to forget. She could see traces of John in the girl. Not appearance necessarily, but his energy and humor, elements of his personality John seemed to have buried. He’d always been the wild one, an adventurer, blowing where the wind took him, with no clear pathway for the future. After high school he’d drifted in and out of various jobs. Surfing and Katie herself were the only constants in his life.