Читать книгу Baby, Baby - Roz Denny Fox - Страница 9

ATTENDING LACY’S FUNERAL was even harder than Faith had imagined. She was touched by the number of people from the hospital who came out of respect for her. Likewise, by the number of Lacy’s old friends from high school and college who’d shown up. Faith made a mental note to catch Abigail Moore after the service so that she could tell her about her namesake.

A few acquaintances had sent flowers and cards. Including Kipp Fielding III. His was an ostentatious arrangement of red and white roses. They dwarfed Michael’s small white basket of violets. The violets brought tears to Faith’s eyes; they were Lacy’s favorite flower and Michael must have gone to a great deal of trouble to find a florist to provide them at this time of year.

More surprising than his thoughtful gesture, however, was seeing the man himself walk into the chapel. He paused at a back row and greeted two couples who’d arrived earlier. People Faith had never met. Now it was obvious they’d known Lacy through Michael.

He didn’t tarry long with his friends. Head bent, he walked slowly down the center aisle and knelt in front of the closed casket. Faith had thought her tears were all cried out until she watched his jaw ripple with emotion several times before he leaned forward to kiss the oak-grained lid. There was a decided sheen to his eyes when he rose. Or maybe she was watching him through her own tears.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say when he sank onto the bench beside her. Even if she’d thought of something, she didn’t trust her voice not to break.

“I swung past the apartment to pick you up,” he murmured. “You’d already gone. You must not have listened to the messages on your answering machine. The last one I left said I’d booked a car service for us. I know you don’t own a vehicle.”

Faith clasped and unclasped her hands. The truth was, she had listened to the message. But Lacy’s lawyer ordered her to have as little contact as possible with either of the two men. The attorney, David Reed, had been quite adamant, in fact.

Fortunately, Faith was saved from answering Michael when the minister stepped up to the pulpit. She’d asked Reverend Wilson to keep the service short in deference to the people who had taken time off work. However, his opening prayer droned on and on.

Ending at last, the minister segued into a poem by Helen Steiner Rice. The words celebrated life, and Lacy had been particularly fond of them. Anyone who’d ever received a note from her would recognize the piece, as she’d had it reprinted on the front of her monogrammed note cards.

Next, a singer—a woman Faith had selected from a generic pool on file at the funeral home—had half the people in the chapel sniffing and wiping their eyes with her rendition of “The Rose.” Faith chose the song because Lacy had worn out two CD copies of it. Too bad if anyone thought the lyrics inappropriate for a funeral. Faith wanted the service to epitomize Lacy’s life.

Her own cheeks remained wet as the minister delivered a tribute she’d written yesterday. The words hadn’t come easily, but Faith wanted people to know that her sister wasn’t shallow and vain, as some might remember her from high school and college. For one thing, Lacy had artistic talents. Before her debilitating illness, she’d dreamed of becoming an interior designer. If the media chose to cover the funeral, Faith also wanted them to report how selfless Lacy had been, giving her life in exchange for healthy babies. But it was all she could do to listen to the eulogy. The tears coursed down her cheeks and plopped on the lapels of her new navy suit.

Before Reverend Wilson brought the service to a close, Michael turned to Faith and whispered, “May I say a few words?”

“Of c-course,” she stammered. When he stood, she was shocked to discover her right hand had been tightly entwined in his. Faith immediately pulled away, but she missed the warmth of his hand as Michael stepped to the pulpit and faced the small gathering.

“Lacy Ellen Hyatt Cameron passed through our lives at warp speed,” he began in an unsteady voice. “Her sojourn with us was much too brief.” He paused to clear his throat, and Faith saw his fingers tremble. She lowered her gaze to the floor and sucked her upper lip between her teeth, biting down hard to hold off a new bout of tears.

However, Michael didn’t dwell on Lacy’s death. He invited everyone to remember the woman who’d lived life full-tilt. “The Lacy we all knew brightened a room just by being in it. She hated sitting still. She loved to go and do. She loved to argue and debate.” His voice cracked a little, but a semblance of a smile curved his lips as he suggested she was probably even now testing St. Peter’s mettle. “It’s that Lacy who’ll live on in my heart and I hope in yours as well.”

People were dabbing at their eyes as he sat down again. Faith felt as if a weight had been lifted. She’d blotted away her tears while the minister offered a final prayer. “Thank you, Michael,” she managed to say once everyone began to mill about. “Lacy kept things to herself this last year. I…we…stopped communicating.” Faith licked a salty tear off her upper lip while twisting a tissue into bits. “If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in work, I keep thinking she might have confided in me more. I’m afraid I gave up too easily, trying to reach her at the beach house. When she didn’t return my calls, I…” Faith didn’t finish the statement.

“I’m more at fault than you are, Faith,” Michael said, his hazel eyes dark and troubled. “I let our lawyers act as go-betweens after she filed for divorce. I should have sat down with her when I returned from Norway. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that she ended up hating me.”

“I’m sure she didn’t feel that strongly, Michael.”

“Then how come Fielding believes I’m a first-class SOB?”

“On the phone, Lacy seemed happy enough at Christmas. She didn’t give the slightest indication you two would be splitting up in January.”

“When you called, she put on a convincing act. She was pretty upset with me for missing most of the major holiday parties we’d received invitations to. Every passing day, she seemed to feel more resentful of the time I devoted to my patients. I didn’t know how to bridge the chasm between us.”

“I’m sorry, Michael.” Faith stood and bent down to pick up her purse. She started to walk away, then turned back. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Lacy’s craving for attention goes back to her childhood. To when our entire household centered on our mother’s poor health. At the same time, it terrified Lacy to think her illness might somehow force her to become dependent on others—like our mom had been. Looking back, I believe Lacy assumed the transplant would make her one-hundred percent good-as-new.”

Michael tugged at his lower lip. “Which explains why she became so terribly hostile toward follow-up care. I wish you’d said something sooner, Faith. You’ve answered my biggest question. I never understood how Lacy could act so cavalier about the second chance she’d been given. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. You’d think I’d have picked up on her feelings.”

Faith touched his arm. “You were too close to the problem. It dawned on me gradually, after you two had left Boston.”

“We were married for five years. How could I completely miss what bothered her so much?” he asked with a snag in his voice. “Kipp got the picture, didn’t he?”

“It’s a little late for recriminations. Kipp treated her so shabbily he’s hardly in a position to judge you.” Removing her hand from Michael’s arm, Faith backed away. “Uh, Michael, I have to go. The funeral director just signaled that it’s time for me to get in the family car to make the trip to the cemetery.”

“You’re doing that alone? I’d planned to ride with friends.” He waved toward the back of the chapel. “I’ll keep you company if you’d prefer.”

“No. Please don’t change your arrangements. Someone from the funeral home will accompany me. Right now, I need a minute to decide which flowers go to the cemetery and which I want sent to the hospital to brighten our waiting rooms.”

“All right,” he said, frowning. He let her go, yet didn’t join his friends until the director approached Faith and the two left the room.

THE ASSEMBLY AT THE GRAVESIDE was smaller than the gathering at the chapel. As there wasn’t to be a formal reception, friends took the time to speak with Faith before claiming seats beneath a shade tent. She was so caught up in talking to Abigail Moore, relating Lacy’s desire to name her daughter Abby, Faith didn’t realize Michael had arrived and had slipped into the seat beside her. Or not until he exhaled sharply.

Abigail sobbed. “I’m so surprised and…and humbled. Lacy phoned me once after she’d moved back to Boston. Just to talk, she said. I suggested meeting for lunch, but she put me off. I never knew she was pregnant, Faith. I feel as if I let her down. Call me when you take the babies home. I’d love to visit.”

Faith nodded and pressed Abby’s hand. She winced when Michael leaned over and hissed in her ear. “I was under the impression Dr. Finegold lost Lacy during the delivery. When did she name the twins?”

“Before she went up for her C-section. Lacy gave me custody, remember. And she wasn’t aware that she carried twins. It’s common for women to name their babies, Michael. Abby was what Lacy had called her child. I chose Nicholas,” Faith said, injecting a challenge in her voice.

Michael’s brows puckered. He probably would have said more if the minister hadn’t asked them to stand for a prayer. Relieved, Faith tore her gaze from Michael’s flinty eyes. Bending her head, she willed her bucking heart to slow. David Reed had specifically warned her not to provoke either Michael or Kipp Fielding III. He said to refer them to him for answers to any and all questions concerning the babies.

She shouldn’t have let Michael’s earlier vulnerability reach her. Well, it wouldn’t happen again. He and Kipp were her enemies. She’d do well to remember that.

Faith was first in the circle of mourners to lay a carnation atop Lacy’s casket. An attendant had provided each person with a flower. The director sidled up to Faith as she stepped out from under the awning, asking if she preferred to mingle a bit or return to town. “Town, please,” she said with a tremor. “I’ll come back tomorrow for some private time with my sister.”

The short walk to the waiting car proved to be the hardest part of the entire ordeal for Faith. Her knees wobbled like the front wheel of a novice bike rider. She would have stumbled and maybe even fallen if the director hadn’t had a firm grip on her elbow. The shaky feeling kept her from turning back for a last look. Not that she would have had a clear picture anyway. Once she was sitting in the car, her nose pressed to the side window, the lovely hillside with its spreading elms and soft carpet of green all ran together. There was such finality attached to the ritual of leaving the cemetery. Up to now it had been easy to pretend that Lacy was only a phone call away. Watching the blur of row after row of headstones stripped away the fantasy, underlined the truth. Her only sister was gone, and there were too many things left unsaid between them.

On the ride back to town, Faith went through half a box of tissues the director had thoughtfully provided.

It was barely noon when the black car pulled up outside her apartment. So little time, Faith thought frantically—it took so little time to cut you forever from the sphere of a loved one.

The long afternoon that lay ahead seemed interminable as she stepped out of the car into the sunlight. And once she’d changed clothes, she found she didn’t want to be confined with her thoughts. She could go mad worrying about what Michael and Kipp might be plotting with regard to Lacy’s babies. Yet, if she stayed here, Michael could call or show up unexpectedly and further debate her right to name the babies. He hadn’t seemed happy with the names she’d chosen.

She considered going to the hospital nursery. There she could hold part of Lacy close, thus assuring herself and the babies that she’d protect them from the men who’d taken such a recent interest in fatherhood. Though in a worst-case scenario, Faith knew one of the two men was the children’s biological parent. She might be more willing to face up to that fact if the loss of the twins’ mother wasn’t so terribly real just now.

On the spur of the moment, Faith grabbed her purse and left the building, deciding to wander aimlessly downtown; she’d visit the twins later. She had no particular destination in mind—until she found herself in front of a major department store. Then she remembered the list of items needed to set up a nursery for the babies. Why not shop now? After all, David Reed, Lacy’s lawyer, had told her to outfit a room. He said a judge would certainly take her readiness to provide the babies with a home as a positive sign if it came to a court battle. In her heart, Faith feared it would come to that. What she didn’t want to think about was which of the three combatants would win such a fight. Kipp Fielding III, Michael Cameron…or her.

“Be optimistic,” she muttered under her breath as she hurried into the store.

Upstairs, the baby department, with its array of pastels and primary colors, infused warmth back into Faith’s cold limbs. Buying for Lacy’s babies was going to be fun. Faith so rarely shopped for fun. In her mother’s stead, she had learned at an early age to weigh price against serviceable value. To be frugal. It was a practice she adhered to when buying for herself. She was determined to give Lacy’s babies all the things she’d never been able to give Lacy. That included lavishing them with her undivided attention. She’d been so young, so totally inadequate as a surrogate parent to her sister. Things were different now. Her life was different.

As she wandered through the baby furniture, Faith chose cribs and dressers with clean, classic lines. Beautiful wood that would endure. Crib bedding was another matter. Faith tried to imagine what Lacy would have wanted for her children. Lacy’s taste in clothing and furnishings, had tended toward flashy colors while Faith gravitated toward softer shades. She thought about her apartment done in ivory, gray and mauve, and deliberately purchased two wild circus quilts richly patterned in blocks of green, yellow, orange and blue.

The saleslady steered her toward matching crib sheets, bumper pads and a diaper stacker. Next, she added large clown decals for the wall. She’d already decided to paint the nursery walls four different primary colors. She might even pick up paint on the way home and begin the project this evening.

Toys. Faith spotted them across the aisle. She headed straight for a large plush monkey with a funny face. How foolish, she thought, squeezing its soft body. The stuffed animal was bigger than either of the twins. It’d be far more practical to buy a nice mobile or a couple of small rattles. But she couldn’t make herself let go of the monkey. It remained hooked on her arm as she reached for an equally impractical giraffe. Faith had to stand on tiptoe to grab the giraffe from the top shelf. In so doing, she dislodged a pile of bears.

“Goodness!” Bears of all sizes tumbled onto the other side of the display.

“Hey!” Faith heard a faint, gruff protest. She dashed around the corner and almost bowled over a man covering his head with both arms to ward off raining bears.

It took Faith a moment to realize she knew that profile. “Michael? What are you doing here?”

“Uh, hello, Faith.” Michael shifted two small teddies to his left hand, and began to pick up the larger ones spilled across the carpet—a move that placed him in direct visual alignment with Faith’s trim ankles. Hands unexpectedly clumsy, Michael dropped the bears he was collecting. His mouth felt dry as cotton. Lord, what was the matter with him?

Faith’s attention focused on the two bears Michael kept separate. One was pink and the other blue, both washable terry cloth. They matched two soft receiving blankets draped over the crook of his elbow.

Several silent minutes passed before Michael realized he was the only one righting the bears. Faith’s gaze remained fixed on his intended purchases.

“I stopped off at the nursery after the funeral,” he explained, halting his task long enough to meet her eyes. “A nurse, Teri I think was her name, said premies respond to having the type of blanket they’ll be wrapped in at home laid over their isolettes. She also suggested tucking small toys inside. Along with frequent holding, she said, that gives premature babies a sense of well-being.”

A sharp pain sliced through Faith’s stomach. Her first reaction was to wonder why Michael hadn’t gone straight back to New York where he belonged after the funeral. Her second was more an overwhelming sense of fear than a clear thought. A fear that this situation was cartwheeling out of her control.

“You don’t have any idea what type of blankets Abigail and Nicholas will have when they go home,” she said tartly. “I’m outfitting their nursery. Not in pink or blue. Lacy liked wild colors. Bright colors.” She said it almost desperately.

Michael’s face appeared so crestfallen, she almost regretted her outburst. Or she did until it struck her that he was going behind her back to gain entry into the nursery, despite her request. No doubt he’d used his status as an eminent surgeon to inveigle his way in.

Faith’s voice dropped. “Go home, Michael. Don’t make me get a restraining order against you. I spoke with Lacy’s lawyer last night. He said she was very much of sound mind when she came to his office to draw up those custody papers. He further said that if you or Kipp Fielding want visiting privileges, you’ll have to request approval through Family Court. Any questions you have are to be directed to him. His name is David Reed. You’ll find him in the phone book.”

“Why would you drag Lacy’s good name through court? Look at her recent behavior. The doorman at our apartment knows she left me that night in January in a fit of anger. From there she had a torrid affair with a married man. Then she ran off without telling anyone and hid out. Think, Faith. She deliberately went off her lifesaving medications.”

Faith heard only the warning that overlaid his apparent concern. Pain exploded in her chest. She should have suspected Michael was being nice at the funeral to put himself in a good light. Now she could believe this steely-jawed man with the hard eyes had driven her sister away. “And you’re lily-white?” she said angrily. “Lacy left you because you were obsessed with work. Somehow I doubt a judge will find it her fault that Kipp pretended to be single. No one knows better than you, Michael, that Lacy’s anti-rejection drugs were experimental. Who’d fault her for not wanting to jeopardize her unborn child?”

“I see. You and Lacy’s lawyer have it all figured out, don’t you, Faith? Well, I wouldn’t spend a lot of money furnishing that nursery if I were you.” Michael drew himself up to his full six-foot-three height. “Courts have been more favorable to fathers over the last few years, especially if they have the means to provide for their kids. I have the means several times over. And the desire. Tell that to your David Reed.”

Faith watched him stride down the aisle. She felt as if she’d been trampled by an elephant. Michael stopped to pay for his purchases, chatting easily with the sales-woman as she rang them up. He appeared impervious to the fact that he’d left Faith shattered and it struck her how little effect her words had had on him. Michael Cameron intended to apply the same tenacity that had made him a world-famous surgeon to overturning her guardianship of Lacy’s babies.

He obviously didn’t realize she could be tenacious, too. More determined than ever to outfit the nursery as Lacy would want, Faith finished her shopping and requested everything be delivered. Leaving, she visited a paint store. And lugged the heavy cans up to her third-floor apartment. Then she put all other plans on hold while she ran to the hospital to visit the babies. She needed to touch them. To hold them.

Faith cuddled Abigail first, and then Nicholas. “You’re going to love the room I’m fixing for you,” she told them both as they gazed at her with unfocused eyes.

The pediatrician came in while she was there. He unwrapped the babies and checked them over thoroughly. “They’re gaining like champs,” he said over their chorusing squalls. “Two more weeks at this rate and you’ll be able to take them home.”

“So soon? That’s wonderful news! The nurses seemed to think they’d have to stay here much longer.” Faith couldn’t contain a happy smile.

“If they’d lost a lot of weight, that would have been true. Nicholas only lost an ounce and Abigail two. The way they’re chowing down, unless something unforeseen crops up, my guess is they’ll both top five pounds soon. Dr. Finegold mentioned your predicament, Faith. For what it’s worth, I’ll be glad to put in a good word for you. The babies may be stable, but caring for premie multiples can be tricky. I like knowing they’ll be under the care of a trained nurse.”

“I appreciate your vote of confidence, Dr. Sampson. I’m planning to take at least six months off from work. A year if I can swing it financially. Our administrator said he’d hold a position open as long as possible. Otherwise, I’ll use our on-site day care. I’ve already placed my name on the waiting list. Gwen in E.R., said the day care has openings from time to time.”

“If you’re able to stay home six months, that’s great, Faith. A year would be icing on the cake. After I examine the twins next week, I’ll give you a call. I should be able to give you their actual release date then.”

“Thank you,” Faith murmured. She watched him cuddle Abigail while she diapered Nicholas. She felt all thumbs and hoped he didn’t hold that against her. She hadn’t diapered a baby since Lacy was little. “I’ll get the hang of this soon,” she promised.

Sampson laughed. “I have no doubt you will. Call my office and ask my receptionist to put you in touch with a parents-of-multiples support group. They have a newsletter and meetings where other parents of twins, triplets and upward exchange information. My other advice is to lay in a mountain of diapers. You won’t believe how many you’ll go through in a day.”

“Diapers.” Faith snapped her fingers. “I went shopping today and bought out the store. Even paint for the nursery walls. How could I have forgotten diapers?”

The physician handed her Abigail and gave a wry glance at the wet spot on the front of his lab coat. “Breaks of the trade,” he said as Faith apologized for leaving him holding a near-naked baby so long.

“Always remember to diaper Nicholas first. Or he’ll decorate those newly painted walls.”

“They aren’t painted yet. As soon as I leave here, I’m going home to do that. Two weeks,” she mused happily, giving each baby a kiss before she tucked them back into their warm cocoons.

By dinnertime that evening, Faith’s muscles ached so badly she could hardly stand up straight. The result of her labors pleased her, however. The walls looked cheery, complementing the soft gray carpet and white ceiling. She liked the room.

It suited her to keep busy and to restrict her thoughts to the subject of the babies. So after eating a light dinner, she went to work recovering the cushions on a comfortable rocking chair—the only piece of furniture she’d saved from the old house. The chair had belonged to her mother. Faith remembered how on good days her mom would sit by a sunny window and rock the infant Lacy. As the cushions cut from jungle-print chintz took shape, Faith imagined herself rocking Nicholas and Abigail to sleep.

It was an image that remained with her until she received a phone call from David Reed the next day. “Faith, could you come down to my office, please? I’ve got faxes from Kipp Fielding’s legal team, and also from Michael Cameron’s attorney. I want you to see what we’re up against. We need to plan our strategy.”

“What strategy?” she asked weakly. “Lacy signed custody of the children over to me, as you know. I agreed to raise, clothe and feed them. What other strategy do we need?” She heard his sigh and the creak of his chair.

“I know you’re not naive, Faith. I explained during our first phone consultation how messy custody fights can get. On top of that, this case is quite unusual.”

“How so?” she asked, although she knew more or less what he’d say.

“Normally it’s a matter of determining visitation rights for a noncustodial parent. Occasionally Family Court has to intervene for grandparents. But your case has two men claiming to be the twins’ father, and an aunt—you—to whom the biological mom assigned full custody. To say nothing of a very influential grandpa. Fielding Junior made a fortune on Wall Street. It looks as if he’s prepared to use it to guarantee himself a grandson.”

Faith’s legs wouldn’t hold her. She fell into a chair. “So are you saying it’s hopeless?”

“No. Oh, my, no. Your position in the triangle is equal to the others at this point. Old man Fielding may have New York judges in his pocket, but his clout won’t be half as great in Boston. I’ve cleared an hour on my calendar at one o’clock. It would be in your best interests to meet with me, I think.”

“Of course.” Faith barely had time to say she’d be there before he hung up. Her nerves were completely jangled. She could practically see Reed rubbing his hands together. He’d struck her as something of a barracuda. Maybe that was good. She hoped it was. And hoped he was clever enough to solve the matter in her favor, preferably within two weeks.

Faith showered and dressed with care, then left for her appointment. After all, if she expected the man to represent her enthusiastically, it would help if she made a good impression. She hoped his fees would be manageable—another thing that worried her. They hadn’t discussed what he charged. Faith had a fair savings account, but she’d need it to allow her to stay home with the twins.

Broad-winged bats beat up a storm in Faith’s stomach as she walked downtown to the building where Reed’s offices were housed. Passing a corner café, it dawned on Faith that she’d skipped lunch. She didn’t think she could eat a bite, but she certainly hoped her stomach didn’t growl at an inopportune time during their session.

“You’re prompt,” said a matronly receptionist when Faith checked in. “Mr. Reed likes that in a new client. Just let me ring his office and let him know you’ve arrived. Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea, Ms. Hyatt?”

“No, nothing, thanks,” Faith murmured, hoping she was the only one who knew her hands were shaking so hard she’d spill a beverage. As she’d only seen one other lawyer in her life, when she needed power of attorney to take charge of her father’s welfare, she didn’t know what to expect of this so-called strategy visit.

“Come in, come in, Ms. Hyatt,” boomed a jolly voice.

Faith leaped out of the chair she’d taken in the corner of the waiting room. No wonder he sounded so jolly. David Reed resembled Santa Claus. Though dressed in conservative blue rather than a red suit, he was round and sported white hair and a full beard.

“You don’t look a thing like your sister,” he said, clasping Faith’s cold hand.

“No,” she murmured, “I don’t.”

He merely nodded, indicating she should take a chair near his desk as he closed his office door. “Well, I hope you’re more solid than you look. This fight could be long and nasty.”

Faith’s heart sank. “I…I assumed the court would uphold my sister’s wishes.”

Reed steepled pudgy fingers. A fair-sized diamond winked in the sunlight streaming through a window that overlooked Boston Common. “Your sister was less than forthright with me, Faith. May I call you Faith?”

“Please do. How, uh, in what way did Lacy lie to you?”

“For one thing, she led me to believe the baby’s father was dead. Oh, she didn’t come right out and offer to produce a death certificate, but she implied as much. She never said a word about being divorced. In essence, Lacy let me think the money she willed you and her unborn child had come to her through an inheritance.”

“I didn’t know she’d left any money. She never said anything. We hardly had time to cover the custody papers, which, to be truthful, I signed quickly to ease her mind. I never expected her to d-di-die.”

“I believe you, Faith,” Reed said, bouncing his fingers together again. “I hope the judge will. Either of the other two legal counsels could imply you want custody only for the money.”

Faith gasped. “Surely not! I’d planned to care for the babies out of my own savings. I doubt that whatever Michael settled on Lacy was a huge amount.”

“The living trust your sister set up is approximately half a mil. You, if made custodian, have access to the interest until the babies turn twenty-one. Add to that proceeds from the sale of a beach house. Another seven hundred and fifty thousand.”

Faith tried to keep her jaw from dropping but didn’t succeed.

“I see you had no idea,” David said. “I wish I’d gotten your reaction on video. Now you understand my concern. The Fielding team will surely make an issue of the money. And I’ve got no doubt that Dr. Cameron knows how much his ex-wife was worth.”

Clasping her hands tightly, Faith brought them up under her chin. “I don’t want Lacy’s money, Mr. Reed. Is there a way to put it completely in trust for the twins?”

“There is. But you might not want to be so hasty. If your aim is to win full custody of those infants, it could get costly.”

“Of course that’s my goal. As I explained, I have three bedrooms. I rented a larger place, assuming my dad would stay with me after he sold his house. In fact, he’s living in an assisted-care facility, so I have lots of space. I’ve already turned one bedroom into a nursery,” she said passionately. “I can’t believe either Michael or Kipp will offer the twins as much love and attention as I’m prepared to give.”

“Maybe not,” David said bluntly. “But one of them is the natural father. That’s why I wanted to talk to you face-to-face, Faith. Fielding’s team has demanded that the court order DNA testing. It takes four to six weeks after they give the go-ahead—and they will,” he added. “The test will establish paternity beyond any doubt. If we dig in and fight after that, we’ll be contesting a bona fide parent. I’m not saying we couldn’t win, considering the mother didn’t think highly of either Cameron or Fielding. It does mean that preparing our case will require a lot of expensive hours. I’ll need a full-time legal researcher and a legal secretary assigned exclusively to this.” He paused. “To be honest, the case intrigues me. Hell, I foresee it being a tremendous boost to my practice.”

For the longest time, Faith chewed the inside of her mouth and stared out the window. “I only want what’s best for Nicholas and Abigail,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I realize it’s a monumental decision. Maybe you’d like to go home and sleep on it. Those men both have the best counsel money can buy. I want you one-hundred-percent committed before we jump into a dogfight.”

Faith refocused and looked into his serious blue eyes. “I am committed,” she said. “You just hit on the whole point. Kipp Fielding has money coming out his ears and a Roman numeral after his name. Oh, he wants Nicholas all right. To carry on his prestigious family name. He doesn’t give a damn about Abigail. Michael has money, too. But my sister divorced him because he was never home. He’s a world-famous doctor, who’s completely consumed by his work. Lacy thought I’d be the best person outside of herself to raise her child, er…children. Unless the court can show something colossal to make me change my mind, I’m going to fight. I don’t need to sleep on it. If holding on to custody takes every penny of my portion of Lacy’s estate—so be it.”

Her impassioned speech set the wheels in motion. All the way to Lacy’s apartment, where—as she’d promised Reed—she’d handle the disbursement of her sister’s belongings, Faith prayed she was doing the right thing for the babies. Unfortunately, she couldn’t shake the image of the tears Michael had shed when he held the twins. A court fight would turn Michael against her. He’d most likely end up hating her. But she’d promised her only sister—and she’d lost her heart to those babies. What did it matter that she’d lost her heart to Michael years ago? That was then. This was now.