Читать книгу His Unexpected Family - Patricia Johns - Страница 12

Chapter Three

As Emily pulled up to the little cemetery just outside of town, she could see her extended family already milling about, talking in small groups. She parked her SUV behind her parents’ sedan and sat there for a moment. Cora was asleep in her car seat in the back, and Emily looked at the tiny form, her pink tongue sticking out of her mouth. She was adorable, and she’d never remember today—the day her mother was buried. Part of Emily felt guilt for all of this—for not being Jessica, for being the stand-in mother and not the real thing.

Emily smiled wanly as she saw her grandmother tottering past with a cane. Her sixty-year-old son walked along next to her, a hand under her arm. This was what family did. They came together when they needed each other most.

As Emily got out of her vehicle and went around to unfasten Cora’s car seat, she noticed her mother walking in her direction. She was a plump woman with red dyed hair, wearing a black-and-white print dress.

“There you are,” her mother said as she bustled up. “And there is the little one....”

Her mother’s eyes misted, and her chin quivered a little as she looked down at sleeping Cora.

“I’m nervous,” Emily admitted quietly.

“Don’t be.”

“Is it crazy to feel guilty?”

“Yes.” Her mother nudged her teasingly, blinking back her tears. “You didn’t choose this, sweetheart. Jessica chose you. Feel honored.”

Emily nodded and lifted the car seat off the base. It was a lot heavier than just the baby, but she’d always seen mothers packing around car seats with babies inside, so she thought there must be some logic to it. As they walked together over the lush, green grass, Emily looked up at the gray, overcast sky. It was somber and threatening rain, a combination that seemed appropriate today.

“How is Uncle Hank?” Emily scanned the people already there, looking for Jessica’s father. His wife had passed away a couple of years ago from breast cancer, and now he’d lost his only daughter.

“He’s over there, with Aunt Eunice.”

Emily’s gaze traveled past one of her cousins with triplet toddlers she was trying to control, to her uncle, who stood a little ways off next to an older woman who was patting his arm. He looked weak and exhausted.

“Poor Uncle Hank....” Emily sighed. She saw him look up and notice her. “He probably wants to see Cora.”

They angled their steps in Hank’s direction, the soft sod sinking under their heels. The lines of graves were straight and solemn, drawing her gaze along them. All eyes seemed to be on Emily as she passed, but aside from a few waves of greeting, they seemed to sense where she was going and let her continue on her way.

“Isn’t that Steve?” Her mother looked across the cemetery. A man was bending down to talk to a little girl. It was her cousin Steve, all right, with his too-serious air that she used to tease him about when they were younger. His wife was slender and petite, and true to form, her navy blue dress matched the three little girls. They seemed to be just arriving, as the toddler was being strapped into a stroller by her father.

Emily was silent for a long moment, watching her cousin. He was a few years older than Emily, a very conservative, straightlaced man with a picture-perfect family. Sara still looked svelte and young, despite three pregnancies, and she had that gentle mother quality about her—the kind of woman you expect could kiss a boo-boo better and halt an escaping toddler in her tracks at the same time. She stood up straight and looked in Emily’s direction, but didn’t lift a hand in any kind of hello. Emily could feel the tension zipping toward her from all the way across the cemetery.

“Go on and see Uncle Hank,” her mother said. “I’ll give my condolences to your cousin.”

Emily nodded, and her mother gave her arm a quick squeeze before heading off in the other direction on her mission to intercept. A cool breeze picked up, carrying with it the electrical scent of threatening rain, and Emily shivered. She adjusted the knit blanket a little closer around Cora and took a deep breath.

Lord, I can feel the tension already, she prayed silently. I hate this.

As she made her way across the sod, an image rose up in her mind of the handsome chief of police. Somehow, the thought of him was comforting, and on a day like this, comfort seemed to be what they all needed. Uncle Hank looked up at Emily morosely as she came up to where he stood. He gave her a small smile of hello and looked down into the car seat. He stretched out a finger to stroke one little hand, then stood up straight again.

“She looks like her mother.”

“I thought so, too....” Emily blinked back the tears that misted her eyes. “I thought you might want to see her, Uncle Hank.”

“Thanks.”

“Why don’t you come by later?” Emily asked. “You come hold her anytime you feel like it.”

He nodded slowly, then swallowed hard. “I didn’t even know...”

“Did anyone?” Emily asked.

“I don’t think so. Why didn’t she tell us?”

Emily just shook her head. That was the million-dollar question.

“Well, the little one is here, and she’ll be much loved.” The lines in the older man’s face deepened as he looked down into Cora’s tiny face. “I wish June could have seen her.”

Emily felt her eyes brim with tears at the catch in his voice. “Are you going to be all right, Uncle Hank?”

“Oh—” he took a deep breath “—I’ll keep on keeping on, I suppose.”

“Cora needs you, too, you know.”

He nodded silently. “I still can’t believe she didn’t tell me. Not even when the baby was born.”

The pain he felt was more than loss; it was betrayal. Jessica had been a loved daughter, the girl who looked nothing like either parent, and more like a fairy left by the door. She was slender and beautiful, hair bright red and eyes deepest green. Her mother had often joked that if she hadn’t given birth to her herself, she wouldn’t have believed that they’d produced her. But the past few years had been hard on the family, and relationships had got strained.

“You were a good dad, Uncle Hank,” Emily said softly.

“But was I?” He turned his grief-stricken eyes onto Emily, and she had no answer for him. Emily hadn’t seen her cousin in several years, either, a small detail that meant little to a cousin but was heartbreaking for a parent.

“Hi, Dad.”

Emily turned to see Steve approaching quickly. He passed Emily without a glance and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck. They held each other for a long moment and Emily looked away, sensing their need for some privacy. She stepped back, not wanting to intrude, but as she did so, Steve released his father and looked toward Emily.

“Hi, Em,” he said. “Good to see you.”

“You, too. I’m sorry about Jessica.”

Steve nodded and gave a sad shrug. “This is the baby?”

He bent down over the car seat in Emily’s hand and looked at the tiny infant for a long, silent moment.

“Hi,” he whispered softly. Cora stirred in her sleep.

“She looks like Jessica, doesn’t she?” Emily asked.

Steve looked up at Emily, his expression unreadable. He pushed himself back to his feet and looked up as his wife and daughters approached. Sara came straight toward Emily and bent down to look into the car seat.

“Hi, Cora,” she whispered. Sara had perfectly straight, dark hair cut in a short bob. She gave Emily a sad smile. “This must be harder on you, Emily,” she said.

Emily wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

“A newborn is a big responsibility,” Sara went on, her voice low and sympathetic. “No sleep, the expense, the change in lifestyle...”

“It’s all right.”

“Well, it is when you have a husband to support you through it all. I can’t imagine doing it alone.”

“I’m handling it.”

“It’s been, what, a week?” Sara smiled wanly. “Trust me. I’ve done this three times. This is the easy part.”

With a smooth smile, Sara turned her attention to her father-in-law, putting her arms around him and crooning out her condolences. Emily took a deep breath. What were her responsibilities here?

“I’m just going to say hello to...” Emily started to edge away from the group, not even bothering to finish her sentence.

“Wait, Em.” It was Steve. He walked toward her, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Emily waited till he was at her side, then started walking back toward the rest of the family. Steve matched her pace.

“This can’t be easy for you.”

“That’s what Sara said.”

“Oh, come on, Em. You’re single. Do you ever want to get married? Finding a guy with a baby isn’t going to be easy.”

“Don’t worry yourself over my romantic life,” she retorted. “Look, Steve, I know this is really hard. None of us knew about this baby. Jessica is gone. It’s a hard time on the whole family.”

“No, it’s worse for me.”

“Of course. Jessica was your sister. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“And Cora is my niece. She’s only your—what—second cousin?”

The scent of the approaching rain was getting stronger now, and the wind started to pick up. She shivered and began to walk faster.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“She belongs with me and Sara.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re her closest relatives. You aren’t.”

“Jessica chose me. This wasn’t my idea. She named me Cora’s guardian in her will.”

Steve stopped, and Emily turned to face him. She could hear the low rumble of thunder far off in the distance and tears welled up in her eyes. What did he want from her? Did he expect her to just hand the baby over and walk away?

“You don’t want this.” Steve shook his head slowly, as if disappointed with a small child. “It might seem all romantic and sweet now, but babies are a huge amount of work. What about your career?”

“Let me worry about that, Steve. I’m a grown woman.”

“Fine. But when you change your mind, call me. I’ll come and get her.”

The dripping condescension in his voice was almost more than Emily could bear, and she turned around and walked away, moving toward the grave site. The service would begin soon, and they would all pay their last respects to Jessica Shaw.

When Emily looked back, she saw Sara staring after her with a strange intensity, the wind ruffling her short hair and her little girls standing at her knees. Uncle Hank didn’t seem to be noticing very much in his grief, and he was talking to Emily’s father, both men nodding sadly.

They expected to bring Cora home with them today, she realized with a chill. Did Steve and Sara really think it would be that easy, to simply point out the hard work a baby would be and have her pass Cora off like a piece of luggage? That image of Chief Greg Taylor rose in her mind again, and she knew exactly who she needed to talk to—the one person without a personal interest in this.

“The service is going to start soon.” Emily looked up in relief to see the compassionate face of her mother. “Come on, sweetie.”

Together, they made their way with the rest of the family toward the grave site where the minister was waiting, the pages of his Bible fluttering in the rising wind. It was time to say their goodbyes.

* * *

Rain pelted the sidewalk outside Greg’s office window. The afternoon light turned almost dusky in the rainstorm, and he leaned his elbows on his desk and looked out at the downpour. The plains offered little shelter from a summer storm, and as the clouds gathered, the wind whistled through the buildings. The air smelled of electricity and wet earth, and he inhaled deeply, enjoying the finger of air that wriggled through the crack of the open window. It was an old building, the kind with windows that opened at the top, leaning back on a brass hinge, and today he was thankful for the connection to the outdoors.

It had been a long morning. Before coming into work, he’d dropped by the nursing home to see his mother. The dementia was worse lately. A few months ago she remembered him perfectly and would look up at him with a smile, but this morning she frowned at him in confusion.

“Why are the police here?” she asked. “Is everyone all right?”

He hated scaring her like that.

“Yes, ma’am,” he’d said softly. “Everything is fine. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

He knew better than to try to remind her of who he was. It would only upset her further—she would seem to remember for a moment, and then suddenly look fearful, wondering why an officer was in her room and what the bad news must be. She always associated police with bad news when she was confused.

One of the nurses had given him a sympathetic pat on the arm, promising to call him when she was more aware.

What he hated worse than scaring his own mother was the helplessness. As a cop, he was used to solving problems. He had the authority to stop bad things from happening, and he made sure he did that. He was a big man, muscular and tall, and he was accustomed to the automatic respect his physique demanded, but when it came to his mother, none of these things mattered. She didn’t see him as her protector; she saw him as a threat. He wanted to do something—fix it, if he could. He wanted to put his big, brawny body between his mother and the disease that snipped away at her memories, but he couldn’t.

Sitting at his desk, he’d been going through the mounds of paperwork that came with his position, but his mind kept slipping back to his mother. After his dad was gone, his mother had a lot more to worry about, raising two kids on her own. She went back to work as a secretary. It was a job she was good at, but it kept her away from home more often than she liked.

Greg and his sister, Lynn, generally looked out for each other after school. But during school hours, Richard Pike, one of the bigger guys in his class, decided it was his life’s mission to make Greg as miserable as possible. From his head being plunged into the toilet to being beaten up during recess, Greg’s school life had been misery. Then he’d come home to the empty house and he’d sit there watching whatever show was on, trying to forget about the ache in his heart from losing his dad, and trying not to think about the next day, when he’d have to go back to school and face Richard all over again. Times like those, all he wanted was a hug from his mom, but she wouldn’t be home from work for hours yet.

That was before he learned how to box.

His mother wasn’t the only person on his mind, however. Thoughts of Emily had been worming their way in there, too...images of her with Cora in her arms and that sparkle in her eye just before a smile slid onto her face. Greg knew all too well that mixing work with pleasure was a really bad idea, but somehow his thoughts of Emily were the most comfortable thoughts available to him, so he didn’t push them away.

Scanning a form and signing the bottom, he put the paper aside and flipped down to the next triplicate form waiting for his attention. Outside, thunder boomed and the room suddenly lit up with a flash of lightning. He glanced up again. The wind had shifted direction, blowing rain in through the open window, and he stood up to shut it.

There was a tap on the door, and as he flicked the lock on the window into place, his secretary, Joyce, poked her head in.

“Chief? There’s a Miss Shaw to see you. Do you have time?”

“Yes, definitely.”

He’d answered rather quickly, to his chagrin, and Joyce smothered a smile. He hated it when she thought she could read him like a book, and he gave her an annoyed look as she stepped back and pushed the door open.

“Come on in, Miss Shaw,” she said, and she gave Greg one more look of amused knowing. Emily stepped inside, Cora’s car seat in one hand, a blanket draped over it. Emily, on the other hand, was completely drenched. Her hair was slicked down against her head, and a trickle of water ran down her cheek. She wore a black pantsuit that was equally sodden.

“What happened to you?” he asked, coming toward her. “Joyce, would you go get some towels, please?”

“You bet, Chief.”

Emily shrugged and laughed self-consciously. “It was really coming down out there. I should have just waited in my car till it let up, but then I thought I could make it and—” she waved her hand “—it doesn’t matter.”

Greg laughed. “Well, it’s nice to see you. Cora looks dry.”

Emily looked down at Cora with a tender smile. “Warm and dry,” she agreed.

“Here.” Greg helped her to peel off the black suit jacket she wore, and he took his sport coat off the hanger on the back of his door. Draping it over her shoulders, she shivered involuntarily and looked up at him gratefully. “Have a seat.”

Emily sank into the chair across from his desk. He could see the tension in her face, along her jaw and around her eyes.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“It’s a welcome break.” He gestured to the pile of paperwork. “So how are you?”

“I’m fine.” She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, then she shrugged. “I’m not fine. Today was Jessica’s funeral.”

“That’s right. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He avoided the funerals. It was part of his attempt to compartmentalize the suffering he had to see in this line of work.

“No, it’s all right. Don’t worry about that.” She shook her head, dismissing it. “Steve was there.”

“Oh, how is he?”

“Steve is Steve.” She gave him a tight smile. “He wants me to give him custody of Cora.”

“I see.” Greg wasn’t entirely surprised to hear this. Custody was a complicated thing at the best of times, but it got worse when the children were so tiny. Everyone wanted to raise a baby. It was the kids who were old enough to have attitude and emotional issues that got shuffled around a lot.

“He was pretty pushy about it. Sara was... I don’t know how to describe her. She was pretty intense. I got the distinct impression that they expected me to hand Cora over, and they’d go home with her today.”

“Did they say that?”

“Not exactly.” Emily sighed and looked away for a moment. “I know I probably sound like a crazy person right now, but they kind of scared me.”

“No, you don’t sound crazy.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a grateful smile. “I just wanted to come by and pick your brain a little.”

“My pleasure.” He leaned back in his chair, and just then, the door opened again, and Joyce came in with a couple of towels from the women’s locker room.

“Thank you,” Emily said, taking one and shaking it out. She blotted her face and hair. Joyce slipped back out without a word.

Emily peeked down under the blanket at the sleeping baby and then let the towel fall to her lap. She looked at Greg silently for a long moment, worry creasing her brow. He let the silence stretch, waiting for her to speak.

“Greg, what happens in these cases?” she asked finally.

“You’re the guardian named in the will,” he said. “That makes you her legal guardian, and Steve can’t just bully you into changing that.”

She nodded. “Is that final?”

“Well...” He didn’t want to scare her, but he didn’t want to lie to her, either. “Nothing is ever entirely final, I suppose. Unless you adopt her.”

“Can Steve contest the will?” she asked.

“In theory. Do you think he’d go that far?”

Emily sighed. “I have no idea, but he was pretty focused on convincing me to give her up today at the funeral.”

A finger of irritation wormed through his stomach. He didn’t like the thought of someone trying to bully her, and it made him want to throw his weight around a little. Instead of voicing his feelings, he asked, “Did he threaten you?”

“No.” She laughed softly. “This is Steve we’re talking about. He got snide and condescending, but that was it. He’s my cousin, after all.”

Greg made a noncommittal sound. Yes, he remembered Steve well. He’d been both snide and condescending in high school, too. He’d never been cruel on the level of Richard Pike, but he’d made a couple of junior guys pretty miserable senior year, and Greg had taken it upon himself to stand up for them. Steve was a bully, and if there was one thing Greg could not abide, it was a bully.

“Do you want to raise Cora?” Greg asked, changing the subject.

“More than anything. I know this seems strange because I’m not exactly in a position to be taking children into my home, but I do. I’ve fallen in love with her. I don’t want to give her up.”

He nodded silently. Of course she didn’t. Who wouldn’t fall in love with that baby? The entire department here in Haggerston had fallen in love with her.

“Have you seen these sorts of cases before?” she asked, her full attention focused on his face.

He nodded slowly. “Yes, a few times.”

“What normally happens?”

“Well, normally, the parents have named the godparents in their will and nothing changes.”

She nodded, visibly relaxing. “Have you ever seen a will contested?”

Greg sighed. “It’s probably best not to worry about this sort of thing unless you have to.”

“Maybe so, but I’m worried now.” She didn’t look the least bit daunted. “What happens when the will gets contested?”

“It gets ugly,” he admitted. “Everyone loves the baby and wants to raise it. Everyone has a reason why the other people are a terrible choice. People say things they can’t take back and close-knit, loving families end up fractured. It can get really bad.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Her voice softened, and he had to lean forward with a creak of his chair to catch her words.

“That doesn’t mean that will happen to you,” he added. “You’re her legal guardian, okay? That hasn’t been contested.”

She nodded. “I know. Thanks.” She slipped his jacket off her shoulders and rose to her feet. “I appreciate this.”

Greg stood up, too, and he came around his desk, then sat on the edge of it. “I’m not a father,” he said. “But I deal with a lot of parents in this job.”

“Me, too.” She chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s true.” He shot her a grin. “Then you’ve probably been told the same things I’ve been told. Parents start worrying from birth. They worry about all sorts of worst-case scenarios, most of which never happen.”

“So don’t be silly?” she asked.

“Not at all.” He chuckled. “I was going to say that worrying is part of the package when you’re a parent. Maybe just realize that you’re not alone in your worries. Consider it more a welcome to the club.”

Emily’s warm gaze met his, and her eyes crinkled up into a smile. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.”

Greg felt a sudden wave of satisfaction. “Anytime.” He meant it more than she realized, he was sure.

Just then, Cora began to fuss, and Emily rocked the car seat gently. “I’d better get her home,” she said quietly. “I don’t have another bottle with me.”

“Take care.”

Emily turned toward the door and opened it.

“Oh, and Emily—”

She turned back, those deep brown eyes meeting his once more.

“Come by anytime, okay? I mean that.”

“Thanks.” She flashed him a smile. “I appreciate it.”

With that, she slipped out, and he listened to the sound of her heels clicking as she made her way through the station, the rhythm blending into the hustle and bustle of police activity. With a smile to himself, he turned back to his paperwork.