From Here to Paternity

by Christine Rimmer

  She shrugged. Defiantly. “I’ve got no regrets—not about that, anyway. I like running my own business. And I always planned to come back home after college, anyway. And you know, now we’re having this cozy little talk, I’ve been wanting to ask you…”

  “Why do I feel the urge to duck about now?”

  “What happened between you and Sissy last year? What made her run away? What made her break into your office and steal the petty cash?”

  He looked at her dead-on, no wavering—because he had nothing to hide? Or because he wanted her to believe he had nothing to hide? “I don’t know why she ran away. Why did Sissy do any of the things she’s done? And we’ve got no proof she’s the one who let herself into my office that night.”

  “You’re hedging.”

  “No. I’m saying I don’t know any more about the night she left than you do.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  “Sorry.”

  “But there is something else you can do for me—if you’re really serious about this helping thing.”

  “Name it.”

  “I want you to help me find her, Brand.”

  Chapter Six

  Brand did look away then—away and then back. “Let me get this clear. You have no idea where to reach her, no address, no phone number, no names of friends or relatives, besides the evil Irma.”

  “I have two phone numbers of girls she knew when she was in junior high. One’s disconnected. I reached the other girl, but she said she hadn’t seen Sissy in years.”

  “Okay, then. You’ve got two useless phone numbers.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve got, which is where you come in. You’re a lawyer. Don’t lawyers hire detectives now and then—you know, to get the goods on cheating husbands and stuff like that?”

  “Occasionally I’ll hire an investigator, yes.”

  “So hire one now. Someone to find my sister.”

  He studied her for a long moment. In the end he nodded. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks,” she said, and knew she didn’t sound the least grateful. She stood. “And you know, I think we’re done here, don’t you?”

  “If I say I don’t think we’re done at all, is that going to make any difference?”

  “No.”

  He looked at her expectantly for a few seconds. When she didn’t relent, he gave up and rose. She herded him toward the door and even opened it for him.

  But he didn’t just go out and leave it at that. Oh, no. “I was thinking…”

  She had the most awful feeling that he was going to do something really scary—like ask her out to dinner or maybe a movie. “Look,” she said. “Don’t. Okay?”

  One side of his mouth kicked up. “Don’t think?”

  He was altogether too charming and he always had been, with his fine, lean-but-buff body and gorgeous eyes and that sexy cleft in his chin. What was he after here, really? What did he hope to gain? Was this sudden desire to help her only about guilt over what had happened way back when?

  She said, “I just want to make this clear, Brand. Other than not telling anyone how Mia got to my house, and finding me a good detective to track my sister down, I don’t need any help. I truly don’t. I’m managing just fine.”

  His gorgeous eyes gleamed. And he wore the nicest aftershave now. Back when they were kids, it was the dimestore kind. She used to like it just because he was wearing it.

  But now…

  This close—which was too close—she had to keep reminding herself not to take in a long, hungry breath through her nose, just suck in the scent of him, he smelled so good. Not only manly…

  But pricey.

  She took a step back, far enough that she couldn’t smell him. “I’m serious. I’m managing. Gracie Dellazola is taking Mia when I have to work. And even your mother called and offered to watch her if I needed a break.”

  “Ma called? When?”

  “Sunday night.”

  “Well, good. I hope you’ll let her take the baby now and then.” His smile widened a fraction, as if he had some secret he had no intention of sharing. “She likes babies.”

  Charlene felt defensive again. She did have to watch herself. It was one thing to try and learn a little forgiveness when it came to him, and another altogether to let him get too far under her skin. “Admit it. You don’t even remember her name.”

  “Huh? It’s Chastity.”

  “Not your mother. The baby. My sister’s baby that you’re just falling all over yourself to help me out with.”

  “Of course I remember. And what the hell pulled your chain all of a sudden? I thought—”

  “See? There you go. Thinking again.”

  He stepped toward her. She moved back—and then realized she’d retreated. She held her ground when he took a second step, even though it brought him much too close again. She could see those amber lights in his eyes, raying out within the green. He said, “You should do something about that chip on your shoulder. It’s gotta be damn heavy. Ever consider just putting it down?”

  She wasn’t letting him sidetrack her on this. “The baby. What’s her name?”

  He hesitated long enough that she was sure he couldn’t know. And then he said, “Mia. Mia Scarlett Cooper.”

  So. Okay. He did know. She muttered, “Point for you.”

  “You never give an inch, do you?”

  “I do not want to fight with you, Brand. I want to…get along. I truly do.”

  “Well. Glad to hear it.”

  “I want to…let bygones be bygones.”

  “Charlene. For that, you’ll have to learn to forgive me.”

  “Listen. I’m working on it, okay? I’m doing the best I can.”

  He looked at her for an endless moment. And then finally, softly, he said, “Good night, Charlene.”

  She said nothing, only waited until he cleared her threshold so she could shut the door behind him.

  He was back the next evening, at the same time. She answered the doorbell, found him standing there and reminded herself that she was not the least bit glad to see him.

  “What?” she demanded.

  He braced an arm on the door frame. She knew very well he was prepared to stick his boot in there if she tried to shut the door on him. He said, “Gee. It’s good to see you again.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ve got news.”

  She felt light-headed all of a sudden, and had to suck in a deep breath that just happened to be filled with the expensive, manly smell of him. “Sissy. You’ve found her…”

  His teasing look faded. “No. I’m sorry, not that.”

  She clutched the edge of the door as her heart rate slowed toward normal again. “Then what?”

  “Let me in. We’ll talk.”

  “Brand.”

  “What is it with you, Charlene? You’re the only woman I’ve ever known who can make my name sound like a threat.” He paused. They stared at each other. And then he said it again. “Let me in.”

  Her house faced an embankment, with tangled woods above. There was no one to see them if she simply refused him, if she insisted he tell her whatever he had to say right there and then, at her front door.

  But she was trying to learn to get along with him. And if he wanted to come in for a few minutes, well, what could it hurt?

  She stepped back and gestured him over the threshold.

  “Why, thank you so much. I’d love to come in.”

  She shut the door behind him. “Why are you here?”

  He cupped his hand to his ear, as if he hadn’t quite heard her. “What’s that? A beer. Well, now that is downright neighborly of you, Charlene. I would love a beer.”

  “A beer.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, fine.” She turned on her heel, headed for the fridge and that beer he just had to have.

  He moved at a slower pace. She paused in the open arch to the kitchen and looked back to see him leaning over Mia’s pl
aypen.

  “And how are you today, Miss Mia Scarlett?” He gave a nudge to the mobile and the butterflies danced. Mia squinted and screwed up her tiny mouth. “So good to see you again.”

  “Wa-doo,” she said and made the giggling sound.

  “I’m just fine. Thank you,” he said. And then glanced up and saw Charlene watching him.

  She felt foolish for staring—but she covered it well, she thought, by ducking from sight on her way to the refrigerator. She got a couple of beers, then two glasses from the freezer.

  When she got to the table, he’d already plunked himself into a chair. She opened the bottles and poured out a glass, which she set, with the rest of the bottle, before him.

  “Cold glasses,” he said. “That’s nice.”

  She took the chair opposite him and filled her own glass. “Okay. You’re in my house. You have your beer. Now, what’s up?”

  “I hired an investigator to find Sissy.”

  She gulped the sip of beer she’d been drinking and set down the glass. “Oh. Well. That’s good.”

  “He works out of Sacramento. Name’s Bravo, as a matter of fact. Tanner Bravo.”

  That gave her pause. “You mean…another half brother?” Sometimes it seemed as if his notorious, now-deceased dad had had sex with half the women in America—had sex and married them and gotten them pregnant. With sons. So far, to Charlene’s knowledge, no daughters had been found.

  Blake Bravo was one for the record books. And fast on the way to becoming the most…productive polygamist in history.

  Brand said, “Yeah. Another half brother. And a half sister, too.”

  “He has a sister?”

  “That’s right. Her name’s Kelly. I found Tanner eight months ago. In the Sacramento yellow pages. I’ve used him a few times since then. He’s not only my brother, he’s also really good at what he does.”

  She was tempted to ask him what a small-town lawyer had needed a Sacramento investigator for. But he probably couldn’t tell her, anyway. What with client confidentiality and all that.

  And then again, it wasn’t likely he’d find many private investigators here in the Flat, population 860 on a busy day, now was it?

  She drank more beer. “So then, what happens next?”

  Brand took a business card from his shirt pocket and slid it across the table. “He’ll be in touch with you. Tomorrow. You tell him whatever he needs to know.”

  She took the card. Dark Horse Investigations. Tanner Bravo. There was a phone number and a long list of available services, including missing persons. “What will he need to know?”

  “Everything you know about your sister. Including those phone numbers you told me about.”

  “But one was disconnected and the other—”

  He put up a hand. “Charlene. Just give him the numbers. And your aunt’s address and phone number, too.”

  “Oh, God. He can’t tell her anything about—”

  “Stop,” Brand said. “Listen.” He waited, apparently to make sure she kept her mouth shut. When she said nothing more, he told her, “Tanner’s job is to get information, not give it out. He won’t tell your aunt a damn thing, I promise you. Also, you’ll need to tell him anything that might be a starting place for him. What high school Sissy went to, the names of friends she might have mentioned in passing, places she talked about, anything you remember about who she knows and where she’s been.”

  “I don’t know a lot.” She picked up her beer glass again—and then set it down without drinking from it. “Oh, Brand. I should know more about my own sister.”

  “It’s okay.” He said it kindly.

  “Uh-uh. No. It’s not. She…closed herself off from me over the years. And after a while, I kind of gave up, you know? Even when she came home last year…she was so hard to deal with. I didn’t know where to start getting through to her. I didn’t think I should push. So I didn’t. And before I knew it, she was gone again….”

  He reached across the table, brushed the back of her hand, and swiftly withdrew. She was grateful in spite of herself for that reassuring touch—as well as for fact that he didn’t let it linger, didn’t force her to pull away.

  “You did what you could,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Damn it, Charlene. You did. You fought hard to keep her. It didn’t work out. And you’re doing everything you can for her right now.”

  “What am I doing for her? Nothing.”

  “You’re taking care of her baby. That’s something. That’s a real big something.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “Well, it’s all you can do, so it’s going to have to be enough—that, and give Tanner whatever information you’ve got. You’ll need to make a list of everything you remember about your sister. I mean her friends, her likes and dislikes, her recreational drug use.”

  That hit home. She plunked down her glass again. “Recreational drug use? I never said—”

  “Write down everything, okay? No holding back. No thinking that you’re protecting her by not telling Tanner all of it. Because holding back is only going to make it all the harder for him to find her. Do you understand?”

  “I just don’t want him to—”

  “Charlene. Do you understand?”

  “You keep interrupting me.”

  “Because I’m trying to get through to you. I’m trying to get you to realize what you need to do if you want a prayer of finding Sissy.”

  “All right. Okay. I realize. I do.”

  “Good.” He poured the rest of the bottle into his glass. “Make that list tonight.”

  “I will. I said I would.”

  He drained the glass. “And how ’bout another beer?”

  She made a face. “You sucked that one down fast enough.”

  “You’re such a delightful hostess, you know that?”

  “Why, thank you. I try.” She got up and took another tall, cold one from the fridge, popped the cap off and set it before him.

  He filled his own glass that time. “So. What’s for dinner?”

  “Uh-uh. No way—and this Tanner, how much does he charge?”

  “I’ll handle it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He’ll send me the bill.”

  “No. Wait. He’s looking for my sister.”

  “I’m the one who hired him.”

  “Because I asked you to.”

  “Charlene.”

  “No, it’s not right that you should—”

  “Let me do this.”

  “I pay my own—”

  “Please,” he said.

  She dropped into her chair and sipped her beer. A slow sip.

  He spoke again. “You said you’d let me help, remember? This is a way I can help.”

  “I’m just not…comfortable, with you paying my bills, okay.”

  “I’m not paying your bills. I’m helping to find your sister. And it’s dumb to waste a lot of time and energy arguing over this, anyway. We have plenty of other stuff we could be fighting about.”

  Well, he certainly had a point there. She heaved a big sigh. “All right. I’ll let it go. For now. But I want to see his final bill, okay? I want to know how much this ends up costing.”

  He tipped his glass to her. “Final bill. Will do.”

  “Good.” And though she refused to go so far as to offer him dinner, she should probably dig up something to go with the beer. “You want some pretzels?”

  “I’d love some pretzels.”

  He stayed another hour. She should have shooed him out of there before then. But he actually volunteered to change Mia’s diaper when she started fussing.

  And that she just had to see.

  He did pretty well, actually. Though he couldn’t resist making man-type jokes about the whole process, jokes relating a loaded diaper to nuclear waste and the like.

  Charlene laughed at his jokes. They were funny. He’d always been funny. Along with charming. And much too good-looking
for her peace of mind.

  After he left, she cooked her solitary dinner and absolutely refused to dwell on how easy it would have been to thaw out a second pork chop. She fed and changed Mia and tucked her into her crib.

  Then she spent a good hour and a half sitting in the rocker with a spiral notebook, chewing on the end of her pen, trying to get down everything she remembered about her sister’s life that might help Tanner Bravo to find her.

  There wasn’t a lot. She’d known there wouldn’t be, but somehow, looking at the two measly pages of notes she had, all she knew about her little sister’s life since the age of nine…

  That was a bad moment. A really sad, bad moment.

  She booted up her computer and put the notes in there, so she could print them off for the detective whenever he called to talk to her. And when she went to bed, she put the notebook and pen on the nightstand next to the lamp, in case anything else occurred to her in the night.

  Nothing did.

  At four the next day Brand called her at the diner. “Tanner will be here in town at six,” he said. No preamble. No Hello, this is Brand.

  And no, she wasn’t the least bit excited to hear from him. Again. For the third day in a row. “Okay,” she replied, keeping her tone flat and completely noncommittal.

  “Take the baby over to Ma’s after you leave the diner. And meet us at the Nugget.”

  She cradled the phone in the crook of her shoulder as she made change for a customer who looked a little too interested, as if he was wondering who she might be talking to. And Old Tony Dellazola sat at the counter a few feet away. She cast him a surreptitious glance and he grinned at her.

  Really, nobody needed to know it was Brand on the other end of the line.

  “Let me call you back,” she said, very sweetly, into the phone.

  “I’m at the office.”

  “Fine. Five minutes.” She hung up and handed the customer his $2.98, along with a bright “Thank you” and a blindingly cheerful smile. “Tammy,” she said to the waitress behind the counter. “Keep an eye on the register.”

  “You bet.”

  Charlene picked up Mia in her bouncy seat and carried her to her office off the storeroom. She put the baby down and called him back. His receptionist/clerk/secretary, Rhonda, put her right through.