His Secret Child Page 15

  “Well,” he said, looking down at the table, “given the fact that Gramps already knows, and he didn’t hear it from me, I think we should move fast. How about tonight?”

  She didn’t think she could bear another encounter with Carlo in one day. But she also wanted to protect Mercedes, and after the emotional encounter they’d just had with the wounded veteran, talk about Carlo would be all over town. “Okay,” she said, “where?”

  “Where does she feel most comfortable? Would that be out at the rescue, since you’re staying there, or would it be at your home?”

  Fern drew in a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to have her cozy little retreat invaded by giant, gorgeous Carlo. Once he’d been there, she might never be able to exorcise the memory of him.

  But that was the place where Mercedes felt at home, and Mercedes’s needs took precedence. In fact, Fern had promised her that they could spend some time at home, among her familiar toys and games, tonight.

  “All right,” she said with a sense of impending doom. “Why don’t you come over after dinner tonight?”

  * * *

  That evening, Carlo approached Fern’s little bungalow as the sun sank below the trees that lined the snowy street. The house was in a neighborhood, but separated from the other houses by a little more land and a row of pines. That was perfect for Fern; she’d want to be able to keep to herself, but she was an integral part of the community, as well. In her quiet way, she helped others, from the kids at the library to the shut-ins at the Senior Towers. She might not know it, but everyone loved her.

  He was in a fair way to falling in love with her himself. Which was bad, because she’d given him a definitive no today at lunch. And as she’d pointed out, no meant no. His face heated at the memory.

  Seeing lights inside, he tapped lightly on the door, but no one came to open it. He pounded louder and rang the doorbell.

  “Sorry,” Fern said as she opened the door, her voice breathless.

  “We were making a cake!” Mercedes added, popping out from behind Fern. “’Cause Mama says there’s a surprise!”

  “There is a surprise,” he agreed, smiling at Mercedes, his heart pounding. How would she react when she learned he was her father?

  He’d called Daisy for advice and strategies about how to talk to Mercedes, and she’d offered to call Fern as well, so that they were on the same page. They had to tell her together, reassure her that she was loved, let her know the progression and what would come next.

  What would come next? Carlo didn’t know. He wanted to have Mercedes, to raise her. More and more, he thought he’d like to do it in the little town of Rescue River, where she was already comfortable, where she had friends and a day care and a church home, where she’d have an aunt and a great-grandpa who loved her.

  “She’ll surely transition to living full-time with you,” Daisy had said, “provided all the tests come back positive. But don’t promise that. Let her know that the judge will decide what’s best for her.”

  The whole situation had his heart aching and his stomach in a knot. This little girl had already faced so much loss, and he hated the idea of taking her from her very special Mama Fern.

  On the other hand, he wanted to know her and love her and raise her. And it didn’t look as though Fern would be able to get along with him to do that. He’d screwed up, plain and simple. He should have been easy and honest and up-front, and things might have been different.

  But for better or worse—in this case, for worse—he wasn’t a trusting guy who could spill his guts at a moment’s notice, express a thought as soon as he had it. In that, as in so many things, he and Fern were alike.

  “Come on, come see my house!”

  He slid out of his snowy boots, catching a whiff of chocolate as he let Mercedes pull him through the little cottage in his sock feet. He got a quick impression of a cozy gas fire, polished wooden floors with colorful throw rugs, and books. Lots and lots of children’s books, on shelves and stacked on end tables and in a basket beside Mercedes’s booster chair in the dining room. Among the stuffed animals piled in an armchair, he recognized Peter Rabbit and Paddington and the Stinky Cheese Man, who’d made Mercedes laugh hysterically each night during the snowstorm. And there was a Madeline doll; he recognized the character from childhood reading with Angelica.

  On a whim, he picked up the doll and made her recite a couple of lines from the Madeline book to Mercedes, and was rewarded when Fern and Mercedes recited the next line back at him.

  “Come see the cake!” Mercedes shouted impatiently, tugging at him.

  “You keep on surprising me,” Fern said, smiling up at him. “Did you read that book to your sister?”

  “At least five hundred times.” He swallowed, tried to steel himself to the effect of her innocent smile. “Has Angelica seen this place? She’d love it.”

  Fern nodded. “She and Xavier have been over here a few times.”

  Carlo pondered that as Mercedes showed him around the little downstairs. So Angelica and Xavier had been here, not knowing that they were actually related to Mercedes.

  The deceit just went on and on. Kath had never wanted to meet his family, and she’d stayed away from Rescue River during their short and stormy marriage, but what had brought her here in the end? He might never know.

  “Come see my room and my kitty cat!” Mercedes ordered.

  “Okay with you?” he asked Fern.

  “Sure.”

  Mercedes took them both by the hand and pulled them up half a flight of stairs and into a bedroom so sweet and girlie that it took Carlo’s breath away.

  What he wouldn’t have given to be able to provide Angelica with such a room back when they were kids. All pink and ruffly, with books on the shelves and a cozy window seat. More stuffed animals on the bed and a small table with a plastic tea set on it.

  He was beyond thrilled that Mercedes had such a wonderful place to live. How could he take it away from her? How could he possibly compete?

  Mercedes jumped up and down on her bed. “When you turn the lights off, there’s stars!” she said. “Do it, do it, Mama!”

  “When you stop jumping on the bed,” Fern said, looking stern.

  Mercedes clapped her hand to her mouth. “I forgot.” She sat down properly on the bed, hands folded.

  “Okay, ready?” Fern asked.

  “Ready,” Mercedes said.

  Carlo found his throat just a little too tight to speak.

  Fern turned off the light and the ceiling glowed with stars. Through the window, the purple and pink and orange shades of sunset showed above the evergreen trees.

  “Mama Fern wanted to make my room fancy and special, like me,” Mercedes explained reverently.

  Wow.

  After a minute, Fern flipped on the lights. “Cake next, or do you want to show Cheshire?”

  “Cheshire!” Mercedes cried.

  “He’s probably hiding in my room,” Fern said. “Why don’t you go pick him up, very carefully, and bring him in here?”

  “Mr. Carlo could come see your room.”

  Both adults shook their heads immediately. Though Carlo wouldn’t have minded seeing what kind of bedroom Fern had created for herself.

  After he’d met the cat, who looked decidedly unhappy to be awoken from his nap and manhandled by an overenthusiastic four-year-old, they headed down the stairs, Mercedes running ahead.

  He touched Fern’s arm, stopping her. “You’ve made a wonderful life for her here, Fern, and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.”

  She met his eyes, the muscles in her throat working, and didn’t say anything.

  “Look, I decorated it myself!” Mercedes cried from the kitchen.

  Carlo followed Mercedes into the eat-in kitchen complete with old white ap
pliances and blue-and-yellow curtains at the windows. On the counter was a lumpy-looking chocolate cake, decorated with an overabundance of sprinkles and M&M’S candies.

  Fern took a deep breath. “Let’s sit around the table and have dessert,” she said, her voice just a little shaky, “and then we’ll have our talk.”

  Carlo poured milk while Fern cut cake and Mercedes set out napkins and forks, and just like during the snowstorm, he got a feeling of family. And he liked it. A lot.

  If only...

  Fern cleared her throat. “So,” she said, pushing cake around on her plate, “Mr. Carlo and I have something to tell you.”

  “When’s the surprise?” Mercedes asked, her mouth full. “Is it after the talking? Did you bring it with you?”

  “Oh, honey,” Fern said with a laugh that sounded forced, “the surprise isn’t a present. It’s...news.”

  Mercedes cocked her head to one side and looked from Fern to Carlo. “Okay.” Her voice was a little subdued, and Carlo couldn’t tell if that was because she wasn’t getting a present or because she sensed something momentous.

  No point in delay. His heart felt as if it was going to pound right out of his chest. “The news is,” he said, “that I’m your daddy.”

  The child’s eyes widened with delight. “I got a daddy? Like Xavier?”

  “No,” Fern said in a controlled voice, “he’s your daddy because once, a long time ago, he was married to your mommy.”

  Mercedes looked puzzled. “But Mommy went to heaven.”

  “That’s right, and your daddy was far away and didn’t know.”

  She patted his arm, looking concerned. “Were you sad? Because it’s okay to be sad.”

  “Yes,” he said truthfully. “I was sad. But when I got here, I found out something very happy. I found out about you!”

  Mercedes studied him for a minute as though she was thinking hard. “You could stay with me in my room,” she said, “but I think mommies and daddies are s’posed to sleep in one bed.”

  “Oh, no,” Fern corrected, a pretty flush crossing her face. “Mr. Carlo isn’t going to be that kind of daddy. He’s going to live somewhere else. Like...like Bryson’s dad.”

  “And you can have a room there, too,” Carlo hastened to add, wondering if Fern or Angelica would help him decorate it, since his skills were minimal in that department.

  Mercedes’s lips pursed out in a pout. “I want the kind of daddy who lives in the same house.”

  Fern reached over to give her a side hug. “Things can’t always be just the way we want them to be, Mercy,” she said in a low voice.

  Mercedes struggled away and stood up, hands on hips, cake smeared across her face. “Wait. Mama Fern’s still gonna ’dopt me, right?”

  Fern looked at Carlo and he looked back at her. This was the tricky part. What had Daisy advised? He tried to remember the words he’d practiced.

  Fern spoke up. “Since you have a daddy now,” she said carefully, “you might not need to be adopted.”

  Mercedes’s eyes went huge and she climbed into Fern’s lap. “I wanna be ’dopted!”

  Fern’s arms went around Mercedes and she didn’t look at Carlo. “I’ll still see you lots and lots, I hope.”

  “We both love you,” Carlo chimed in, his heart aching. “That doesn’t ever go away or stop.”

  “Where am I gonna sleep?” Mercedes asked, her voice rising. “I get scared in the dark. I can’t go to sleep without Mama Fern.”

  “I know.” Fern’s voice was broken. “It’s hard.”

  Mercedes clung to Fern then, burying her head in Fern’s shoulder, crying. Gone was the happy, confident little girl who’d led him all around her house. Carlo sat helpless, staring at the misery he’d caused.

  “I don’t wanna go with him,” Mercedes said through her tears, looking up at Fern.

  “Shh,” Fern murmured, rocking her a little. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re staying with me for now. For a little while.”

  “You said it was a surprise, but this isn’t a good surprise.”

  Fern grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes and nose, took a gulp of milk. A deep, audible breath. “It is a good surprise, even if you feel a little sad now. It’s wonderful to have a daddy. Daddies are lots of fun.”

  “But I want you, Mama Fern. I need a mommy!” She paused, rubbing her hand across her nose. “I’m sorry I jumped on the bed. I won’t do it anymore.”

  “Oh, honey.” Fern’s arms tightened around the little girl. “It’s not your fault. You’re a wonderful girl.”

  “Then, why can’t I get ’dopted and stay with you?”

  “We’ll keep talking about it,” Fern said. “We’ll get to talk to a judge who will help us figure it all out.”

  “I don’t wanna.” Mercedes peeked out at Carlo then, her face thunderous. “You go away, mean man.”

  “Mercedes!” Fern drew in an audible breath. “We use nice words and respect.”

  Carlo waved his hand. “It’s okay. Maybe it’s best that I go for now?” He had no idea how to fix this.

  He should never have come home. He should have stayed away.

  “It might be best,” Fern agreed with a slight catch in her voice. “We’ll get together with you again...real soon. Maybe meet with Daisy.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, and escaped out the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Thanks for picking me up,” Fern said to Susan Hayashi on a cold Saturday morning. The past couple of weeks had been awful, and she’d wanted to beg off from the church ice-skating outing and hole up at home. But the fresh air would be good for Mercedes. And the companionship, because Susan was bringing Roxy, one of the kindergarten-age kids she tutored.

  They moved Mercedes’s car seat into Susan’s little car, and Susan cranked up a CD of kids’ music, adjusting the sound to be louder in the back. As they headed down a country road, Fern heard Mercedes laugh in the backseat. She sighed with relief.

  “Rough day?” Susan asked.

  “Rough two weeks.” Since Mercedes learned about Carlo being her father, a reality that the paternity test had confirmed, she’d had tantrums almost every day, along with bed-wetting and nightmares most nights. Mercedes wasn’t getting much sleep, which meant that Fern wasn’t, either. The strain was showing on both of them.

  “Is it about Carlo?” Susan asked quietly. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but the news is all over town that he’s Mercedes’s dad.”

  “Yep, that’s what it is.” Fern didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but on the other hand, she had to talk to someone. “This is just between us, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Fern cocked an ear back to make sure the girls were doing okay. When she turned around, she was glad to see them bent together over Roxy’s handheld game as the preschool music blared.

  “She won’t go with him,” Fern said quietly to Susan. “He’s supposed to have visits every other day, to get her used to the idea of him being her father and to prepare for her possibly living with him. But she hides in her room or has a huge tantrum. If he takes her, I hear her screaming all the way down the street.”

  It was awful, wrenching. Carlo had rented an apartment just a couple of blocks away from her house, and he’d bought toys and games and tried to make the place comfortable for his child, but she was having none of it.

  “Is she afraid of him?” Susan asked. “I mean, he’s kind of...large.”

  “I don’t think it’s that. He’s so gentle with her. I think it’s that she sees him as taking her away from me.”

  “Which he’s doing,” Susan observed.

  “Well, maybe. The hearing might be as soon as next week, and then we’ll know for sure how it’s all supposed to turn out. But meanwhile, they need to spend time together.” />
  “Is she clinging to you?”

  Fern nodded. “Either that, or defying and hitting me. It’s crazy.”

  Susan turned onto a smaller, snow-packed road, handling the car skillfully as it slid a bit. “It’s actually pretty normal.”

  “Really?”

  The young teacher nodded. “From all my coursework in special ed, I know that kids lash out at caregivers a lot when they’re making a transition. On some level, they feel as though the parent they’re attached to is pushing them out.”

  “That makes sense.” She looked out the window at the wintry farmscape, remembering her own multiple transitions between homes. She’d never struck a foster parent, but there had been plenty of times she’d just given up and withdrawn. “I was in foster care myself, so I feel for her,” she said to Susan, surprising herself. Mostly, she kept the details of her childhood private, but Susan’s accepting friendship made her comfortable, as though she could let down her guard.

  “Really?” Susan glanced over at her, eyebrows raised. “That must have been hard. Is Mercedes’s situation bringing up all that for you?”

  Fern cocked her head as she thought about it. “You’re really smart, you know? I’ve been feeling incredibly blue and awful, and it’s mostly about losing her, but it’s...it’s weird. It feels as if it’s me getting abandoned and pushed out, a kind of hole inside I haven’t felt in a lot of years.”

  “Childhood can come back to haunt you like that,” Susan said in a tone that suggested she had a few childhood issues of her own to deal with.

  As they pulled up to the lake—more of a small pond, really, with lots of children and adults laughing and playing—Fern put a hand on Susan’s arm. “Thank you again for getting us out,” she said. “I really want Mercedes to have a good time and just be a child. Stuff like this is perfect.”

  “Stick with me, kid.” Susan smiled at her. “Seriously, you should hang out more with Daisy and me. We’re the single supernerd girls of Rescue River, and we always have a good time.”

  “You’re friends with Daisy?” Fern’s stomach twisted. “My social worker? Are you going to tell her what we talked about?”