From Here to Paternity

by Christine Rimmer

  “Swear it.”

  “I swear it. I will.”

  He went out, closing the door softly behind him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A week went by.

  And another after that.

  All of a sudden it was July. The nights were still chilly and the river was too cold to swim in.

  Still, the days were long and lazy and warm. The kids were out of school, and constantly running in and out of the diner, getting cold drinks to go.

  Independence Day came and went. Charlene watched the town parade go by beyond the diner windows. She skipped the Fourth of July dance that night, though even from up at her house a half mile away, she could hear the music playing down in the town hall.

  She tried not to wonder if Brand was there, tried not to picture him dancing, holding some other woman in his arms, someone sweet and pretty, someone ready to say yes where Charlene had said no. She tried to tell herself it would be for the best, if he found someone else. If she saw them together, if all the folks in town started talking about Brand and his new girl.

  If he had someone else, maybe she’d start getting used to the whole idea that she’d really lost him, that he wasn’t coming back to her. Because he wanted more from her than she could give him now. He wanted her trust and a promise of forever.

  And she just wasn’t up to that—to trusting in forever. She didn’t believe in forever anymore.

  Three times she’d seen him on the street since he left her. Each time he had nodded and smiled. She nodded and smiled in return—and they both kept walking.

  Yeah. She wished he’d get a girlfriend, at the same time as she knew that, if he did, she couldn’t bear it.

  In the meantime she ran her business. She took care of Mia, who continued to be the sweetest, most contented baby in the world. She waited for Sissy to come to her senses and come home.

  The day after the Fourth was a Wednesday. Irma called Charlene at the diner.

  “I have good news and I’m feeling festive. So how about a nice, big steak at the Nugget? Chastity says she can look after Mia.”

  “You know what? I’ve got a couple of steaks in the fridge. Nice ones. We don’t need to go out.”

  “Well, I know that, but—”

  “I could really use a good bottle of wine to serve with the steaks, though…”

  “Honey. Are you certain? Because I’d love to take you out.”

  “Positive. What do you say? Six-thirty?”

  “I’ll be there. With wine.”

  Irma brought a very good Cabernet and opened it when she arrived. She poured two glasses. Then she detoured back to the living room to take Mia out of the playpen for a kiss and a cuddle.

  From the kitchen Charlene heard her happily chirping, “All right, my darling. You just lie back down. Great-aunt Irma has important news for your Aunt Charlene.”

  Humming to herself, Irma returned to the kitchen and braced her hands on her slim hips. “Stop fiddling with the salad,” she instructed. “Get over here and join me in a toast.”

  So Charlene dried her hands and joined Irma at the table. They both raised their glasses. “To…?”

  Irma beamed. “To my bright and shining future here in the Flat, where I have at last discovered what really matters in life.”

  “Here’s to that.” Charlene clinked her glass with Irma’s and then sipped. “Yum. Excellent.”

  Irma took a sip, too. “Oh, yes. Very fine.” Then she giggled like a girl. “I’ve been just dying to tell you. I bought that tumbledown old house three doors up from the Sierra Star.”

  “The old Lockhart place? No one’s lived there for six years…” Charlene didn’t know whether to congratulate her aunt—or offer condolences.

  Irma laughed again. “I know, the house is a complete disaster. Lucky, lucky me—since I’m getting a nice, fat settlement from Larry, I mean. We are talking millions here.”

  “You’re serious. He’s worth that much?”

  “He’s not worth squat. But he’s rich. I plan a total renovation. Inside and out. Should be quite an adventure.”

  “Oh, no kidding.”

  “And in the meantime, I’ll stay at the B&B with Chastity.” She set her wineglass on the table and clapped her hands. “I am so happy, honey. I just can’t tell you. I just can’t explain.”

  Charlene nodded. “And I’m happy for you.” She set down her own glass.

  “Oh, thank you. I’m happy for me, too.”

  Charlene held out her arms. Her aunt moved into them. They shared a nice, long hug.

  When Charlene turned for the sink again, Irma said softly, “And you know that I want to be happy for you.”

  Charlene began cutting a tomato into wedges. “I’m fine. Honestly…”

  Irma picked up her wine again. “You are such a bad liar. You know you miss that man terribly. And I know without having to ask him, that he misses you. Whatever went wrong between you—”

  “Aunt Irma—”

  “—call him. Work it out. Don’t let another day go by without—” The chime of the doorbell interrupted her. “Now, who could that be?” She smiled. Wide. “Maybe it’s him.”

  Charlene rinsed her hands. “Oh, stop. Of course it’s not.” But just the thought that it might be had her pulse accelerating and her cheeks feeling warm.

  The bell chimed again.

  Irma said, “Would you like me to get it?”

  “I’ll do it.” Charlene grabbed a towel and turned for the living room. “Check the green beans, will you? Don’t let them boil over.”

  “Be happy to.”

  The bell rang a third time—a long, blaring chime. Whoever was out there was way too impatient.

  Charlene rushed to the door and pulled it wide. Her sister was waiting on the other side.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hey,” Sissy said.

  Charlene could hardly believe her eyes.

  Sissy wore a tight red skirt and a tube top. Her only jewelry was a giant-size pair of silver ear hoops.

  Oh, God. Sissy. In the flesh, standing right there on her own front porch.

  Sissy. At last.

  “You gonna let us in?”

  Us? Charlene had been so busy staring at Sissy, she hadn’t even noticed the skinny guy with the tangled mass of black dreadlocks standing behind her.

  “Hey,” the guy said.

  “This is Jet.” Sissy stuck a thumb back over her shoulder.

  Charlene pasted on a smile. “Hi, Jet.” She felt rooted to the spot.

  “Well?” Sissy demanded.

  “Oh. Sorry. Sure…” She stepped back, and the two of them slouched into the foyer.

  Sissy spotted the playpen and went right for it. She scooped the baby up into her arms. “How’s my sweetie, huh? How’s my darlin’ Mia Scarlett?”

  Mia giggled and cooed in Sissy’s embrace, as if she knew her mommy. Sissy nuzzled her pink cheek and kissed her, making loud smooching sounds, rocking from side to side, whispering, “Oh, you are so sweet. Mommy’s so glad to see you, Mommy has missed you so much….”

  It was right about then that she caught sight of Irma standing in the arch to the kitchen, still holding her nearly empty glass of Cabernet. All the coos and baby talk stopped. “What the hell?” she muttered, her soft mouth curving into a sneer.

  Irma said, gently, with a tender kind of sadness, “Sissy. I’m so pleased to see you’re all right.”

  Sissy whirled on Charlene and spoke low and furiously over the patchy gold curls on Mia’s head. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I live here,” Irma said pleasantly before Charlene came up with an answer.

  Sissy let out a low sound of pure outrage. “Here?” she demanded of Charlene. “With you?”

  “No,” Charlene told her. “She lives at the Sierra Star.”

  “For the time being, anyway,” added Irma. “But I’ve bought a house on Commerce Lane. As soon as I’ve fixed it up, I’ll be moving in there. Your Uncle Larry an
d I are divorcing.”

  “No…” said Sissy, still looking furiously at Charlene, showing Irma her back.

  “Yes,” said Irma. “I’m on my own and enjoying every minute of it.”

  Sissy let out a hard string of expletives. Mia, picking up her hostility, started to fuss. “Here,” Sissy dangled the baby toward Charlene. “You’d better take her. She’s used to you by now….”

  Charlene was only too happy to get her arms around Mia again. She rocked her gently from side to side and the fussing stopped.

  Sissy finally turned back to face Irma. “Look. I don’t care why you’re here. Just keep away from me, okay?”

  “I’m so sorry you feel—”

  “You ruined my life and you know it. I hate you.”

  “Oh, Sissy. If only—”

  “Shut up,” said Sissy. “I’m not here to hash out old times with you. Just keep the hell away from me, understand?”

  “Yes. All right. If that’s how you—”

  Sissy chopped the air with a hand. “Just keep away. I mean it.”

  With a slow nod, Irma backed to the table and sat. She poured herself more wine, sighing heavily as she set the bottle down.

  Charlene rubbed the baby’s back and thought how much her aunt had changed.

  Truly, really changed.

  Charlene heard Irma let loose that sigh of resignation in the face of Sissy’s bitterness and rage, and knew it had happened at last. Slowly, over time, with tenderness and love, her aunt had won her over. She’d come to trust Irma—to do the right thing. To be sweet and classy and fair and generous to a fault. And to sit down and be quiet when there was nothing else she could do.

  The skinny guy spoke up then. “Sissy, let’s get to it.”

  Get to what? Charlene cradled her niece close and tried to remember her manners. “We were about to have dinner. If you’d like to—”

  “Forget dinner,” Jet interrupted. “We’re not here for that. We need to talk.”

  Charlene brushed Sissy’s arm. “What’s going on?”

  Sissy wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Sit down or something, okay? Jet’ll explain.”

  “But—”

  Jet cut her off. “Do like she said and sit your ass down.”

  Charlene’s stomach churned. She felt…threatened, suddenly.

  She cradled Mia closer and edged around the coffee table. “Okay, I’m sitting.” She kept her voice level and looked squarely at Jet. “Explain.”

  “All right.” Jet couldn’t seem to keep still. He danced from one sneakered foot to the other. “All right. It’s like this. That baby you got there? I’m her dad.”

  Oh, no…Charlene turned to Sissy. “Is that true?”

  “Sure,” Sissy said, too swiftly. “Yeah.” She still wouldn’t look directly at Charlene.

  Anger bloomed inside Charlene, overwhelming her growing fear that her sister and this Jet character were up to no good. “Wait a minute.” She kept her gaze on Sissy, daring her to meet her eyes. “What about Brand? I thought you claimed he was Mia’s dad.”

  Jet grunted. “Who?”

  Sissy let out a nervous titter of laughter. “Oh, that. I just did that to freak you out.”

  Charlene had suspected as much—but still. It hurt. A lot. To hear Sissy admit so offhandedly what she’d done, to hear her giggle about it as if it were some harmless prank. “How could you be so cruel—to me, or to Brand?”

  Sissy had the grace to wince. But then she stuck out her lower lip in a sulky pout. “You always hated him. What do you care if he suffers a little?”

  “It so happens I don’t hate him. And whether I hated him or not, I care. Believe me. I really care.”

  “Don’t look at me like that. It was only a joke.”

  “You see me laughing?” Charlene demanded.

  Sissy sulked harder. “Well, and besides. Brand treated me like crap.”

  “Hey,” said Jet, still bouncing around on the balls of his feet. “I’m tryin’ to explain the situation here….”

  Charlene ignored him. “Brand gave you a job. He tried to help you get started here in town when you swore no way you’d be working at the diner….”

  “What?” Sissy whined. “All of a sudden you’re on his side? He totally disrespected me, okay?”

  “How?”

  “Hey. Listen up,” said Jet.

  Charlene didn’t so much as glance his way. She’d just put it together. Oh, she should have known. “You made a pass at him, didn’t you? You threw yourself at Brand and he turned you down. So you trashed his office and ran off with the petty cash.” And he never told me. Because he knew how it would hurt me.

  At least her sister still had the grace to blush. Sissy threw up both hands. “Oh, so what? So I had a huge crush on him and he turned me down flat. So I thought I’d get myself a little revenge, get people talkin’ about him the way they always whisper about me. So I made a mistake or two. Let’s just forget about Brand for now, okay? He’s not the father. He’s really not. I admit I shouldn’t have accused him. I’m sorry I did it, okay? But he’s got nothing to do with anything right now.”

  “Yeah,” said Jet. “Can we get down to business here, huh?”

  It was all way more than Charlene wanted to deal with. “What business?”

  Jet cracked his knuckles. “It’s real simple. We want—”

  Charlene cut him off. “I want to hear it from Sissy.”

  Sissy was studying her shoes. “Jet will tell you,” she mumbled out of the side of her mouth.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’re talkin’ to me. So listen up. It’s like this. I’m putting a band together, see?”

  Mia was drooling. Charlene grabbed the diaper she’d left on the coffee table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Irma reaching for her purse.

  “You listenin’?” Jet demanded.

  She nodded. “A band?”

  “Yeah. Rock and techno, with a reggae beat.” Jet kept talking as Charlene smoothed the diaper on her dry shoulder and shifted the baby to that side. Over at the table, Irma rose from her chair and disappeared deeper into the kitchen, out of sight from the living room. Neither Sissy nor Jet seemed to notice. “Hey.” Jet snapped his fingers at Charlene. “Pay attention. I’m talkin’ here.”

  Charlene said, “I told you. I’m listening.”

  “Good. Because this is how it is. I’m headed for the big-time, ask anyone who’s heard me play. And Sissy and me, we know we’re not cut out to be raising any kid. So it’s like this. You give us ten thousand and we sign that kid over to you.”

  Surely Charlene hadn’t heard him right. “Sign her over?”

  “Whatever you call it.” Jet feinted left and then right. Really, he looked like he was on speed or something. “You know. Like you can adopt her and we’ll sign the papers all legallike, so she can be your kid.”

  Charlene glanced at her sister—who continued to stare at the floor. She couldn’t believe Sissy would sink that low.

  Neither could Irma, apparently. She slid into view again from somewhere over by the stove, her purse still clutched tight in her hands. “Oh, no. Sissy. You can’t be serious.”

  Sissy glanced up then—just long enough to glare at Irma. “Shut up. I mean it. Stay out of this.”

  “Let’s get this clear.” Charlene spoke slowly and carefully. “You two are offering to…sell me your baby?”

  “Call it what you want,” growled Jet, still bouncing from foot to foot. “I get the money, you get the kid.”

  “Oh, no…” said Irma.

  “Shut up,” Sissy screeched at her.

  Irma did what she was told. Charlene was quiet, too, cradling Mia close, glancing from Sissy to her hyperactive boyfriend and back to Sissy again.

  The crazy thing—the terrible, sad thing—was that Charlene found herself tempted to agree.

  She could get the money together. And Brand was a lawyer. He would know how to make it work—and funny, wasn’t it? How he was the first person she thou
ght of to go to for help, the first one she wanted to talk to about this?

  Right now she longed to jump up and run out the front door. Run and run, holding Mia close—straight to Brand.

  To talk it over. To ask his advice, to ask him to help her figure out what to do next.

  Because she trusted him.

  Again. At last. She did. She trusted him with her secrets. She trusted him to help her. She trusted him to be there when she needed him.

  She trusted him with her heart.

  “Well?” Jet demanded. “What do you say? Have we got us a deal or what?”

  Charlene gaped at him. This was Mia’s father? Oh, God…

  Charlene ached for the innocent child in her arms. She ached for her sister, for this choice she was making that would haunt her for the rest of her life. “Oh, Sissy. How could you do this? How will you ever forgive yourself?”

  “Listen to Jet,” Sissy muttered. “That’s how we do it. You deal with my man.”

  Her man kept talking. “We want the ten thousand in the next twenty-four hours. And we want you to get a loan or something, give Sissy her half of the diner. Two hundred thousand. That’s what we want for her share of that greasy spoon. We’ll wait a week for that, for you to get a loan or whatever you have to do. But for the baby, we want ten thousand tomorrow. Got that? Tomorrow.”

  Charlene had heard about enough. “Sissy. Snap out of it. Tell this idiot he’s crazy.”

  But Sissy, always the mouthiest, most independent of females, was now all about deferring to her man. “Just say yes, Charlene. Just do what he says.”

  In a pig’s eye. “Forget about it,” Charlene told Jet. “I’m not giving my sister a cent while she’s under the influence of a creep like you.”

  Jet stopped bouncing from foot to foot. His thin face flushed red. “What did you say to me?”

  “Let me make this very clear. No. I’m not buying Mia. And I’m not giving you anything for my sister’s share of our restaurant.”

  “You’re…not?” said Jet, as if he couldn’t quite believe she would dare to simply tell him no.

  “That’s right. I’m not. And I want you to leave my house. Now.”

  Jet blinked. And then he sneered. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll take you to court.”