“Can we have some time to think about this?” Leslie’s question brought a surge of cool relief. “Until tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Jim stood. “I have copies of the will for each of you. For obvious reasons Cal wanted its contents to remain undisclosed until now. Read it over and give me a call when you’re ready.”
Kip accepted his packet and escorted the women out into the cold Ohio day, Jim’s parting words ringing in his mind. Call when he was ready? He’d never be ready.
JONATHAN STOOD in the doorway of the upstairs bathroom, watching as Nana braided Kayla’s hair. Her fingers moved real fast over and under and on top and around, and the hair just went into place. He wasn’t ever going to be able to do that. ’Specially not with his little sister squirming the whole time.
“What’s gonna happen to us?” He kinda felt like throwing up as he waited for Nana’s answer. But he had to find out, didn’t he? If he was the only man now…
“I don’t know, child.”
He could see himself in the mirror. His face, which was just a boy face, was there. And his hair was boy hair, too, and Nana cut it a lot, so the red color that was like Daddy’s didn’t really show. His skin was always the same though he prayed till he fell asleep that he’d wake up with light skin like Kayla’s, instead of dark like Nana’s and Mama’s. The older kids at school weren’t going to call her zebra and skunk and white chocolate and swiss roll and salt and pepper and a bunch of other things he didn’t know what they meant.
“It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”
“What’s that, boy?”
“Why they don’t wanna know me and Kayla? Because I’m black and they don’t want no half ’n half.”
Jonathan jumped back from the door when Nana dropped her comb and whirled at him. “Don’t you never say nothin’ like that again, boy, you hear me? Not ever.”
Jonathan nodded. And stayed real quiet. He knew better than to talk back to Nana when her face got all pointy like that.
But just ’cause he didn’t say nothin’ didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it. So…he’d wait some, but if he got too scared about his baby sister and stuff, he’d just shove as much as he could carry in his special backpack that Daddy and him went to get for school, and go far away, so they wouldn’t be thinkin’ bad thoughts about Kayla ’cause of him. Kayla’s skin looked almost the same as Daddy’s. They’d like her fine.
He’d bet that old crying lady that Nana said was Daddy’s mama could make her fingers do Kayla’s braids. ’Course she was old, but pro’bly she had a sister like Nana’s who wanted to take care of her and would take care of Kayla, too.
“CAN I GET YOU SOMETHING to drink?” Leslie stood behind the wet bar in her mother’s family room Friday evening. Clara was at a friend’s house for an impromptu gathering of the six or seven women who’d raised their children together and supported each other through all the following phases of their lives. Which left her and Kip alone—both guests in her mother’s house.
“Bourbon would be great.” Kip flipped on the switch for the gas fire, leaning an arm on the hand-carved mahogany mantel as he stared toward the flames. He’d said very little since leaving the attorney’s office that morning.
Not that she’d been all that communicative, either. She’d spent most of the afternoon listening to Clara. Helped deal with the myriad details of closing down a life. And spent a couple of hours on the phone with Nancy, checking on details at work.
“Rocks or no?”
He didn’t glance up from the fire.
“Rocks, please.”
After getting his drink, she poured herself a glass of Riesling. Her mother had redecorated this room since Leslie had lived at home. It didn’t look anything like Leslie remembered. And still, she was uncomfortable here.
Shrugging off things that had no rightful place in her life, or mind, she handed Kip his drink, losing herself for the briefest of seconds in his compassionate brown gaze.
Until she had to look away. She curled up on the end of the plush rose-colored sofa closest to the fire, instead. She hadn’t been warm since she’d arrived in Ohio.
“I keep thinking about those kids in foster care….” Kip’s voice trailed off as he once again stared into the gas flames that bounced almost rhythmically, creating the same splashes of amber and gold color over and over again.
“Foster care?” She hadn’t meant to come across so defensively, but his comment took her completely off guard.
He turned holding the bourbon he’d asked for but not yet touched. “Isn’t that where orphan children go these days? Into foster care?”
The chill that had been surrounding her for days intensified, leaving her adrift, alone in an Alaska-like wilderness.
“You don’t intend to honor Cal’s wishes.” All day long, in the confusing array of possibilities that had tortured her mind, she’d never once considered that they wouldn’t somehow provide for Cal’s children.
He sat on the edge of a maroon-flowered armchair, his feet on the intricately designed wool rug that covered most of the beige-carpeted floor, his bourbon glass held with both hands between his knees. “Do you?” He sounded as surprised as she felt.
Leslie took a sip of wine. Set the glass on the table. Clasped her hands together, shoulders hunched, and shivered. “I honestly don’t know what I think,” she told him, meeting his eyes. “The problems are so vast I can hardly even begin to make a list of them. I live in Phoenix. You live here. The kids would be separated. If I took Kayla, my mother would only get to see her once or twice a year. Aside from the fact that I’d lose a job I love and my means of support as well, I absolutely cannot move back to Ohio. My home—hell, my life—is not equipped to handle a toddler. The smell of vomit makes me vomit. I know plenty about the world of finance and nothing at all about potty-training. I work long hours, travel. I’ve been known to swear on occasion….”
Hearing herself, Leslie flushed.
Kip was grinning at her. “I don’t think that last one disqualifies you from much of anything—including sainthood.”
In spite of herself, her state of mind and inner turmoil, she smiled back. She’d always loved the times Kip was in their home.
“My brother knew me well,” she said. “He knew there’d be no way in hell I could turn my back on a two-year-old orphaned child, let alone one of my own flesh and blood. Add to that my only brother’s dying wish that I care for his beloved daughter.” She took another sip of wine. “If I desert that child, I’ll lie in bed every night hearing her cry and feeling Calhoun turning over in his grave.”
“You’re one intense woman, you know that?” Kip asked, taking a sip of bourbon. “And you have a way with words, too.”
“So, am I wrong?”
He shrugged. “How would I know how you react to vomit?”
Leslie swirled the wine left in her glass. She had a one-glass-a-night rule, but tonight she’d already given herself permission to break it.
“The thing is, I’m also fully aware that any decisions I make affect you, too.”
“How so?”
She watched him for a moment, trying to remain impartial to the way his short dark hair tried to curl around his head, to the broad shoulders and the muscled thighs in the tight jeans he’d changed into when they got back here that morning.
Leslie was still wearing the gray wool suit she’d had on. She was comfortable in the persona her work clothes gave her.
“You going to tell me it wouldn’t give you a few bad nights if I decide to take Kayla and you turn Jonathan over to the state?” she asked. “I know you, Kip Webster. There’s no way you wouldn’t be thinking of that little boy, not only orphaned and abandoned, but separated from his little sister, too.”
His reply was to finish the rest of his bourbon in one long swallow. Before she could offer him another, he was walking over to the bar.
“And if you do take him and I take Kayla to Phoenix, we’d eventually feel compelled to provide
opportunities for them to see each other. We’d have to decide how to handle communication and visits and maybe even have to spend some time together at Christmas. Or at least arrange to let the kids do so.”
She had no idea where any of this was coming from—she supposed from that subconscious part of her mind Juliet was always telling her about. It was leading her to other difficult conclusions, too.
Like the possibility of taking Jonathan as well as Kayla if Kip really didn’t want him. Realistically, how could she even consider that?
When Kip came back with a full glass, he settled on the other end of the couch.
“And there’s another whole issue we haven’t even touched on,” she said slowly, frowning. “It affects our decision, either way.”
“What’s that?”
“These kids are of mixed race. That can create psychological problems if they’re not given the right kind of emotional support.”
“I guess so, but how do you know that?”
Leslie smiled fleetingly. “I spend a lot of time on planes. Reading magazines because I can’t concentrate on business when half my energy’s consumed with keeping the plane in the air.”
“You didn’t read on the way here.”
She could hardly remember the trip. She owed him for her ticket, she was sure, as she didn’t remember buying it, either.
“I took a sleeping pill.”
He sat forward, elbows on his knees as he stared into the fire again. “So tell me what you think about this whole mixed-race thing.”
Leslie leaned an arm against the side of the couch, tucking her feet underneath her. “I haven’t thought about it all that much,” she told him honestly. “Except that I know there’ll be issues. I realize you’re seeing more mixed-race marriages these days, but there are still a lot of small-minded people and raised eyebrows.
“The little I know about black culture is fairly stereotypical and probably not very accurate. African-Americans have their own concerns that we can understand intellectually but not emotionally. These kids face the risk of not being accepted by either group—whites or blacks.”
Kip glanced sideways at her, nodded. “And if we take Kayla and Jonathan, we’ll be facing that risk with them.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to comb Kayla’s hair!”
“I wonder if Abby celebrated Kwanza with them.”
“People might stare. The bigoted ones might show disapproval.” She couldn’t even begin to contemplate the struggles Jonathan and Kayla could encounter in their lives. “And I wonder if being of mixed race could lessen their chances of being adopted. Especially Jonathan, since he’s older. At the very least, it could reduce the available choices, since they’d only be able to pass as the biological children of a mixed-race couple. A lot of people don’t want it automatically known that their kids are adopted. They want it to look as though the kids could be theirs biologically.”
Kip sat back, taking a smaller sip from his glass. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “And to take it a step further, they could be more at risk for abuse in a foster home, if that was where they ended up. You hear about the abuse that goes on in some of them, and I’d guess that a kid who didn’t look like the rest of the kids would be more of a target. As much as we like to think differently, even in the twenty-first century there’s still far too much prejudice among us.”
Leslie was moved by his clearsightedness and his compassion. Moved by it and persuaded. Her decision was made. Saturday or not, she was calling Jim in the morning. She wanted those temporary orders issued—for both kids—and permanent ones started, as well.
Whatever it took, she was going to find a way to make this work.
CHAPTER THREE
“YOU’VE BEEN UP ALL NIGHT?”
Shirt unbuttoned, shoes on the floor, Kip lay back on the couch in Clara’s family room and watched as Leslie, dressed in a black running suit and tennis shoes, came in. He’d heard her on the stairs.
“I dozed off,” he told her, stretching the truth a bit. He’d been in a kind of trance, but wasn’t sure he’d ever really slept as the dark hours dragged by. “Being here in this house, trying to make sense of the present, to figure out the future, I found myself wandering back to the past. Did you know that Cal once told me he was never going to have kids?”
Leslie perched on the arm of the chair across from him. “Don’t most guys think that way in high school?”
“I sure did.” Lethargic, Kip didn’t move, just lay there with his arms at his sides, head propped up on the arm of the couch. If he didn’t get up, he wouldn’t have to face the first decision in his life that just might be too big for him. “I didn’t change my mind about it, either.”
“You don’t have to take him, Kip,” Leslie said, her blue eyes soft. She’d pulled her mass of auburn curls into a ponytail on top of her head. Even without makeup she was beautiful.
God, how she’d grown up. He’d thought about that during the long night, too. Vacillated between great interest in the new Leslie, and anger at her for changing from the kid sister she’d always been. Angry at her for tempting him.
“I was thinking about the time Cal and I came out of the locker room after a particularly great Friday-night game to find the Saylor twins waiting. They’d set aside the whole night just for us. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
Kip grinned at Leslie as he relived, just for a second, those easier days of youth when things had seemed black and white rather than the confusing shades of gray he now knew them to be.
“From what I remember, that was all in a day’s work for the two of you,” Leslie said, smiling back. “Or a night’s…”
“Yeah, well, the Saylor twins were…special.”
“Loose you mean.”
“Generous is how I’d describe them.”
Shaking her head, Leslie grinned even more. “You’re an embarrassment to faithful men everywhere, Kip Webster.”
He should probably sit up. But it felt so damn good lying there, talking to her. Natural.
“Hey, now,” he said, “I’m not unfaithful. Being unfaithful means there had to be faith to begin with. Promises and vows—which I haven’t made. I’ve never once pretended to be anything other than what I am.”
“And that is?”
He opened his mouth with a ready quip, met her eyes, and closed it again, smile fading.
“I’m honest, Les. I never allow a woman to think she’s the only one in my life.”
Her grin was gone, too. “Has there ever been a time there’s been only one?” The question was almost a whisper.
“There’ve been more times when there’ve been none.”
“No!” She reached across and yanked at his toe before dropping into the chair. “The great Kip Webster without a woman?”
“I didn’t say it happened—just that there’ve been more times when I didn’t have a woman than when I had only one.” He didn’t join her attempt to return them to the lighthearted conversation of moments ago. “You know something?” he said, completely serious. “That night when the Saylor twins were waiting for us, Cal and I had already agreed to go right home and get a good night's rest. We’d told your mother that first thing Saturday morning we'd move an elderly client of hers out of the house she’d just closed on….”
Kip could remember that night like it had been the week before.
“I was halfway to the car with the twins, fully prepared to pull an all-nighter and then help your mom, but Cal would have none of it. He said we could see the twins the next night. I thought he’d lost his mind.” Kip couldn’t find the smile that should have accompanied the boyhood memory. All he could find was the panic that had set in when Jim Brackerfield pronounced him guardian of a five-year-old boy.
“So you went out with the twins and Cal came home?” Leslie asked.
“No, I was spending the night at your house. And Cal was right. They agreed to see us the next night.”
Swinging his legs to the fl
oor, Kip sat up. “But that’s the thing, Les. I would’ve gone. It never even occurred to me not to go. I’m just not the responsible type.”
When she leaned forward, Kip could see a hint of the cleavage he’d first noticed when she was about fifteen and he’d been leaving for college. He’d only ever seen her twice since then, until now. At her high school and college graduations.
“You were seventeen, Kip!”
“I like women, Les. I can imagine meeting someone at a business lunch, stretching lunch to dinner and completely forgetting to pick up the kid from daycare or wherever he might be.”
“Have you ever had a cat?” Leslie asked.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“That time mine was hit by a car and almost died and you drove me to the vet. While we were waiting, you told me your dad wouldn’t allow you to have a pet but when you were on your own you were going to get a cat. Couldn’t be a dog because they had to be taken for walks and you weren’t planning to be home every night.”
Since her words only added weight to the dread already consuming him, Kip didn’t share her humor. “See what I mean? Even then I knew I couldn’t be relied on.”
“Did you ever forget to feed your cat?”
“Of course not.” He wasn’t a complete imbecile. “He always had a clean litter box, too. He was almost ten when he got leukemia. I can’t tell you the nights I sat up with him before he finally had to be put down.”
“There you go,” Leslie said, standing up. “You like to play, Kip, but you’ve never been one to shirk your responsibilities. Take that night with the Saylor twins,” she said, her mischievous grin affecting him in mysterious ways, “you’d have gone, but you also would’ve shown up to help my mother, worked your ass off, then gone home and crashed as soon as you were done.”
Maybe. But…
“And that would’ve been a horrible example to set,” he told her. “You know me, Les. I was born wild. If it hadn’t been for your family taking pity on me, I wouldn’t have any idea at all of what family life’s supposed to be like. And I didn’t totally get it even when I was here. How many times did I worry your mother sick because I forgot to call when I was coming here and I was late? Or forgot to come over, period? I was arrested at sixteen for possession of an illegal substance…”
The Promise of Christmas Page 3