His Secret Child Read online

  “You didn’t say anything bad. But cone of silence anyway.” Susan gave her a quick side-arm hug.

  The girls started clamoring to join the fun, and Susan and Fern climbed out, too, to help them. “Daisy’s great,” Susan said. “You’ll see, once she’s not your caseworker anymore.”

  Yeah, great. That’ll be when I don’t have a kid anymore. Fern bit back a sigh. There was no reason she was entitled to have a child, just because she’d befriended Kath. It had been an unexpected gift and an honor that Kath had chosen her to raise Mercedes when she’d realized that she was terminally ill.

  Fern had been in almost daily contact with Daisy since the blowup when Mercedes had found out Carlo was her daddy. Daisy had coached her about how to handle Mercedes’s emotional storms, and had recommended consistent routines, an extra bedtime story and plenty of attention. According to Daisy, Fern was doing great. And Carlo, while he was visibly upset about Mercedes’s rejection, wasn’t taking it personally. He understood that a new change so soon after Kath’s death was bound to upset Mercedes.

  The thing was, though, that Mercedes needed closure. And so did she. Seeing Carlo almost every day wasn’t helping her to care less for him. It just made her admire him more. His strength, his gentle patience, his efforts to make Mercedes laugh... It said a lot about the kind of man he was. He was a rock in the midst of a stormy time, and the temptation to cling to him grew bigger every day.

  But she couldn’t cling to a man who would never really love her.

  Keep busy. She’d been following that mantra, working on her writing and illustrating when Mercedes was at Carlo’s, putting in extra hours at the library.

  Keep busy. Even now she needed to focus on the activity at hand, not go off into her own spinning thoughts.

  She laced up her borrowed skates and followed Susan’s lead, teaching Mercedes first to take giant steps in the skates on the nonslippery snow, and then heading out onto the pond for some very clumsy skating. Fern was learning right along with Mercedes, and she tried to model good sportsmanship about her own ridiculous lack of skill.

  Finally, they got to where they could skate slowly around the pond, holding hands, with only a few falls. Thankfully, Susan had thought of knee pads for the kids. Fern could have used a pair herself.

  Treasure each moment. It wouldn’t be much longer that she’d have this precious hand in hers.

  Afternoon sun peeked through the clouds, casting a golden light on the pond, glinting off the snow. She could smell the bonfire the guys were already building in anticipation of staying through twilight. She didn’t know if they would stay; Mercedes’s eyelids looked heavy, a reminder that this was her nap time.

  They needed to stick with regular routines, as Daisy had been emphasizing. But then again, it was important for them to have some fun time together, to get out with other families and be social.

  No matter how short or long was the time she’d parent Mercedes, Fern knew she’d never feel absolutely certain she was doing it right. Parenting was complicated, requiring a million little decisions. She had a renewed respect for all the parents she knew.

  And doing it alone was more than challenging.

  Fern thought of the time she’d spent with Carlo and Mercedes out at the farm. Thought of the happy moments at her house before the revelation that had shattered Mercedes.

  Oh, she wanted that. She’d never known it before Carlo, but she wanted the whole lock, stock and barrel of family. Not just kids and pets, but a man.

  Not just a man, but Carlo.

  Throughout these past awful weeks, he’d never lost his temper, never yelled, never criticized. Compared to all the foster dads of her youth, he stood out as first-rate. Let alone that he was heroic, and handsome...and that he’d kissed her. For some time, however brief, he’d found her attractive.

  It was enough to sweep a shy librarian right off her feet.

  Beside her, Mercedes abruptly sat down on the ice—her preferred way of stopping—pulling Fern down, as well. Fern giggled and turned to the little girl. “What happened?”

  But the question died on her lips. Mercedes was staring ahead, lower lip trembling, face flushing red. Meltdown warning signs.

  Fern followed the little girl’s gaze. Carlo.

  Her heart thudded and she felt her breathing tighten.

  Carlo skated slowly toward them and Mercedes scooted into Fern’s lap. “I’m not going with him. Don’t make me go, Mama. I’ll be good.”

  Fern’s heart constricted at the pain in the little girl’s voice. It was pain she understood, but she also knew Mercedes had to get over it. “Tell you what,” she suggested. “Let’s show Mr. Carlo—I mean, Dad—how well you can skate.”

  “I don’t want to show him. I wanna go home.”

  Fern struggled to her feet, but Mercedes’s desperate clinging pulled her right back down again. “Don’t make me go, Mama!”

  Fern drew in a deep breath and fought for calm. People were staring, and if this was hard on her, it was twice as hard on Carlo and Mercedes. She closed her eyes and tried to pray, an effort that lasted only a couple of seconds before nerves made her open her eyes again.

  “Hey, buttercup,” Carlo said, coming closer and tweaking a lock of Mercedes’s hair. “What’s up?”

  “Go ’way.”

  “She’s doing a great job of skating,” Fern said, meeting Carlo’s eyes over the crying child. He was so handsome, and the pain and worry in his eyes made her ache for him.

  “I wish she’d show me how to do it. I’m not very good.”

  Mercedes peeked out.

  “Do you think if I just did it like this, it would work?” He leaned precariously out on one leg and fell.

  Fern chuckled, knowing it took more skating skill to do what he’d done than it would to skate more normally. “Should we show him?”

  “All right,” Mercedes said reluctantly.

  She got to her feet with Fern’s help and together they took a few shaky, gliding strides across the ice. “See, Carlo,” Fern called back, “you have to use two feet.”

  “Yeah,” Mercedes added.

  It was the most communication the child had offered Carlo since she’d learned he was her father. “Let’s watch and see how he does,” Fern suggested.

  They turned and watched as Carlo glided on both skates, then lifted one leg out behind him and promptly fell.

  “No, Daddy!”

  She’d called him Daddy. Fern’s world froze.

  From the looks of things, Carlo’s did, as well.

  “Do it like this!” Mercedes demonstrated.

  “Do you want to hold his hand and show him?” Fern asked, her heart just about breaking. She pointed Mercedes toward her father, holding her lightly from behind.

  “Would you?” Carlo held out a hand from his position, low down on the ice. “I think I need some help.”

  Fern watched, barely breathing, as the little girl slowly skated away from her to her father.

  Letting out a sigh, Fern watched as Carlo carefully got to his feet and took Mercedes’s hand.

  The pair of them made a couple of rounds on the ice. Fern watched, her mitten pressed to her mouth, the other hand across her belly. What a bittersweet feeling. She didn’t want to give up Mercedes, but she knew it was in the child’s best interest to have a good relationship with her father. Which probably meant to live with her father. Not with her.

  Problem was, she felt as if a hole had been cut in her gut.

  She skated off by herself, looking out at the snowy fields. Father God, I really need You here. I need to cling to You, because I have to learn how to let this little girl go.

  She didn’t hear words for an answer, but from somewhere, calm crept over her. God was with her. God would make the outcome right. God would help al
l of them. Not that it wouldn’t hurt, but the Lord would be there for her. She could lean on Him.

  When Carlo brought Mercedes back, the little girl was full of pride. “I helped Daddy, Mama Fern! I helped him learn to skate!”

  “That’s great.” Fern smiled and a painful peace, the Lord’s peace, settled over her.

  “Thanks, kiddo,” Carlo said, patting Mercedes’s shoulder as Roxy skated up.

  “You’re welcome, Daddy.” She said it loud enough for her new friend to hear. Like Roxy, like most kids in Rescue River, she had a daddy now.

  The two girls skated clumsily away, leaving Fern and Carlo alone.

  “That went really well,” she forced herself to say.

  “Yes, I think she’s opening up to me. She’s precious. Amazing.”

  “She is.” Standing here with Carlo, watching the child they both loved, felt like everything Fern had ever wanted.

  “Are you sure we can’t—”

  He was going to talk about a pretend marriage again. And she couldn’t trust herself to keep resisting, not with the way she felt about him. “No. We can’t.”

  A muscle twitched in Carlo’s square jaw as he looked away, back toward the crowd at the bonfire site. “Excuse me. I have to talk to someone.”

  “Okay.” She watched him skate away, admiring his grace. Was there anything he didn’t do well?

  Would she ever stop feeling heartbroken over him?

  And then she realized that Carlo was headed toward Daisy. Great. She watched as the two engaged in animated conversation. Carlo seemed to be trying to convince Daisy of something, because she shook her head, and he talked more, and then she cocked her head to one side as if she was considering.

  What were they saying? Was he telling her how Mercedes had connected with him, meaning that now he could take Mercedes full-time?

  Fern watched, her eyes blurring with tears, until Roxy bumped into her. “Sorry, Miss Fern!”

  “It’s okay.” And then Fern did a double take. “Where’s Mercedes?”

  The girl shrugged. “She was crying. She didn’t want to play.”

  Fern’s Mom Radar turned on. “Where did you see her last, honey?” she asked as she scanned the pond.

  “Over there.” Roxy waved vaguely toward the wooded side of the pond and skated off.

  Fern scanned the crowd at the pond. Pulled out her glasses, which she’d dumped because they kept fogging up, and scanned it again. Squinted to see the area the little girl had pointed out, now darkening in the late-afternoon gloom.

  She started skating, searching frantically, a vise tightening around her chest. Where was Mercedes?

  * * *

  Carlo pulled his hood up against the increasing cold and nodded at Daisy. “I’m sure.”

  “Because if you change your mind,” she said, “the judge could get irritable, think you’re not stable. Which is the problem you face in your custody case anyway.”

  “Nope. Fern’s her mother in every real sense of the word. I’m making arrangements for a better place to live, out in Troy and Angelica’s bunkhouse, but that won’t match what Fern has set up for her. I think we can work together and figure out a joint custody arrangement.”

  Daisy’s face broke into a smile. “I love that you’re looking at Mercedes’s best interests. I’ll start the paperwork tomorrow.”

  A frantic shout from the cluster of skaters in the middle of the pond kicked Carlo’s adrenaline on.

  “Who’s that yelling?” Daisy asked.

  “Sounded like Fern.” He turned and skated toward the crowd, heart racing. Fern wasn’t a yeller, and that hadn’t been a fun-loving shout. Something was wrong.

  He reached her where she stood in the middle of the pond, face white. “It’s Mercedes,” she gasped out. “I’ve hunted everywhere and I can’t find her.”

  Behind him, Daisy skated up while Susan came from the other direction.

  “Let me check with Roxy,” Susan said, pointing toward the child they’d come with, and skating over toward her.

  “I already did,” Fern called after her. “She said Mercedes was upset and wouldn’t play. Oh, why didn’t I keep closer watch on her?”

  Carlo’s pulse raced as he looked around the pond, trying to spot his daughter. “But she was so happy just a couple of minutes ago, skating with me.”

  “That’s how she’s been lately. Her moods have been really up and down.” Fern was turning around slowly, shading her eyes, scanning the area. Her breath came in ragged gulps.

  “That’s normal with all she’s been through.” Daisy had a hand on his arm and another hand on Fern’s. “Maybe she got overwhelmed with feelings. Some kids run off when that happens.”

  Carlo’s heart was racing and his head spun with guilt. Had he caused this, somehow, by pushing Mercedes to skate with him? And it was cold out here, no place for a child to be alone as twilight fell. No telling who was lurking around, possibly meaning harm to a little girl. And the ice had been checked, but there was always the chance a fall or a current had made it thin.

  But there was no time for emotions. And as Fern buried her face in mittened hands, her shoulders shaking, he realized he had to take the lead. Finding Mercedes was up to him.

  “Everybody, gather round,” he roared out in the same voice he’d used to command a company of soldiers. “Over here. Everybody. Now.”

  Members of their group skated their way quickly, seeming to recognize the seriousness in his voice.

  Quickly he explained the situation to them, described what Mercedes was wearing. “Let’s get organized. We need somebody to take care of the kids and keep them happy and together. And ask them what they saw without scaring them.”

  “I’ll do that,” Susan offered. “I know the kids.”

  “Keep them near the bonfire, and keep it stoked up,” he said, making the plan as he spoke. “We’ll need somewhere warm to bring her if we find her. When we find her.” Important to keep everyone’s confidence up. They would find her. They had to.

  And they could use all the help they could get. “Someone needs to call the cops. I don’t think there’s anyone dangerous out here, anyone who could have taken her, but we should cover all our bases.”

  At that, Fern’s sobs increased. He regretted having to say it, but there wasn’t time to be sensitive, not now. If someone had taken Mercedes, every second was important.

  “I’ll call Dion,” Daisy said, already on her phone.

  People chimed in, offering to help, accepting his leadership without question.

  He started assigning territory. “Ralph, right?” he said, pointing to a burly man whom he’d seen skating well. “You get a couple of people and cover this whole pond. Look for breaks in the ice, spots near the edge where a kid could hide or—” his voice cracked a little “—fall in. Here, punch your number into my phone first.”

  He turned to a woman who wasn’t wearing skates, a sporty outdoors type who’d been helping to gather wood for the fire. “You get a group. Even numbers. Go through the woods in pairs. Stay where you can see each other.”

  She nodded, started pointing at people to help her, assigning them partnerships. Good.

  “Parking lot,” he said to the two remaining adults. “Look in and under every car. Give your phone numbers to Daisy and Susan.”

  Which left him and Fern, and she was shivering and sobbing. “Let’s think,” he said, putting an arm loosely around her. “There’s no time for tears.”

  “But it was my fault!”

  “Snap out of it!” He softened the words with a squeeze to her shoulders. “We know her best of all. You do. What kinds of places does she like to hide?”

  “She likes to get into little places.” She sniffed. “Like that book, Hide and Seek Sammy. Oh, Carlo, I’m so sorry.�
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  “It’s not your fault. Come on.” He guided her over to the gathering area, found her a seat by the bonfire and sat down himself, removing his skates and pulling on his boots. “You stay here with Susan and Daisy and the kids. She’ll be drawn to the fire as it gets dark, and I want you here.” He gave Daisy a meaningful look. “I mean it, no searching. You stick together and wait for her.”

  Fern nodded, her shoulders still shaking. This highly competent woman had finally lost it.

  “We’ll find her,” he promised. There was no room for doubt here, not in this type of situation. You had to keep your confidence up. “Pray. Hard.”

  He ran off toward the far side of the lake, checking every small spot, praying the whole time. Lord, help me find her. Don’t let me lose her before I’ve had the chance to be her dad. If You let me find her, I’ll give her up, whatever she needs, whatever’s right.

  He searched clumps of bushes, checked dry cattails sticking up through the ice. Waved and called encouragement to the other searchers. Went hoarse with calling his child’s name.

  His fingertips and his toes were going numb, and his face felt raw in the wind, but all he could think was how cold Mercedes must be.

  He dipped in and out of the woods, because even though there were searchers there, he knew he was better trained than any of them. His eyes automatically scanned for small footprints and his ears were alert for little-kid cries.

  But there was nothing. He’d gone most of the way around the pond with no sign of her. His stomach tightened as he reluctantly concluded that someone might have taken her.

  Please, Jesus, keep her safe.

  Then he saw the outline of a rowboat, upside down, covered with snow.

  In a flash he thought back to one of the stories they’d read together during the blizzard. Something about boats, all the uses of boats.

  Upside down, it’s a home for a clown. The picture had shown a clown peeking out from the edge of an upside-down rowboat.

  Would she really?

  He ran to the boat. The wind was fierce now, whistling through the pines, making his eyes tear up. He couldn’t tell if the boat had been disturbed. “Mercedes?” he called, quieting his voice.