WHOSE CHILD?

by Susan Gable

  Her lower lip trembled, and more moisture, tears this time, tracked down her unhappy face. She shook her head violently, flinging droplets across the counter.

  He should have known three days ago when Lexie had flashed him that Cheshire-cat grin of hers that he was in for trouble. "Sweetheart, we have to wash your hair. I promise, I won't get any soap in your eyes."

  Sarah shook her head. "That's not how Momma does it."

  A chuckle, covered up with a cough, escaped the old man at the table. Pappy ducked his head lower behind the newspaper.

  "What are you laughing at?"

  "Nothin'. Just got a tickle in my throat, is all."

  "Maybe it's that thing you've got stashed upstairs making you cough, huh?"

  The old man dropped the paper and stared at him. "Now, you mind your manners, boy. You gotta admit, there's a certain humor in you trying to take Lexie's place with the young'un. Ain't working too good, is it?"

  David blew out a long sigh. "No, it's not."

  "Patience. That and you're trying too hard, boy. Not to mention the fact that there's just certain things women are better at than men."

  "Don't let Lexie hear you say that. She'll be all over you for being chauvinistic." He glanced across the center island at his daughter's miserable little face, and his heart clenched. Would they ever connect? Seemed like all he did was screw things up with her. Lexie had covered bath duty again, which, to his surprise, didn't include hair washing because apparently Sarah had a major thing about getting her hair washed. Sarah had refused to let him give her a bath. That didn't bode well. What was he going to have to do, hire a live-in nanny just so his kid would be clean?

  He balled up the towel in his hands and tossed it to the countertop, locking eyes with Sarah. "Maybe she'll show me how she washes your hair. Would that be okay?"

  She nodded, then drew her arm across her nose. Pappy chuckled again as he left the room.

  David turned his head back toward the stairs. "Lexie!" he yelled again.

  Upstairs, Lexie forced a smile and ignored the bellow echoing up the stairwell. "As you can see, you've got a private bath, your own balcony and a king-size canopy bed. If you fill out this card and hang it on your door tonight, in the morning I'll bring up a tray with your breakfast."

  The young bride blushed an adorable shade of pink that matched the blouse she wore. "Thank you."

  "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I hope you'll enjoy your stay with us." Lexie paused in the doorway as the groom held the knob, eager to usher her out. "Oh, and don't forget to blow out the candles before you fall asleep."

  "No, ma'am, we won't forget that. Wouldn't want to burn down the place. Leastways, I think we've got other heat sources to worry about for that."

  "Ronnie!" The woman blushed deeper, sounding slightly scandalized.

  Lexie chuckled as the door closed behind her. The pair had married a few days earlier in a little town about forty-five minutes away. Small-town economies being what they were, Mill Creek B&B did a strong honeymoon business for local couples.

  Ah, young love. They'd held hands the entire time Lexie'd shown them the house and all the amenities they wouldn't be taking advantage of. Past experience with honeymooners had taught her the bed and the bath would be all they really needed.

  Descending the back staircase, she brushed aside a twinge of jealousy. Someday there would be a man who looked at her the way the red-haired freckle-faced groom had watched his young bride. The way her father had always watched her mother.

  With total adoration.

  The dream of being married to a man who loved her so completely was the one dream she wasn't fully ready to let go of. The one she still believed could—would—come true someday.

  "Lex—"

  Lexie clamped a hand over David's mouth from the final stair. "Must you bellow like that? I was trying to get my newlyweds settled into the honeymoon suite, which happens to be right above this kitchen, thank you very much. I'm sure they're not going to appreciate hearing you holler like an enraged elk, or whatever the heck that was supposed to be." She removed her hand and pushed past him into the kitchen.

  "Being honeymooners, I'm sure they've got much more important things on their minds than my yelling." He followed her, picking up the bottle of baby shampoo from the counter and thrusting it at her. "I need some help here." He jerked his chin in Sarah's direction. "Apparently in my bumbling maleness, I don't know how to wash hair the way Momma does it." A slow sigh escaped him. "Just like I don't know how to make a peanut butter and elderberry jelly sandwich, or 'tuckle' a child into bed or read a story."

  "Oh. And here I thought it was something important with all that hollering."

  "Momma, it is 'portant." Sarah sniffled. "I need you!"

  "I wasn't talking about you, baby. I meant David." Lexie smiled at the little girl, then retrieved a dry washcloth from the drawer next to the sink. Part of her—a small part—felt badly for David's discomfort. Most of her, however, felt vindicated. The man had apparently never given a moment's thought to how he was going to care for his daughter once he'd gotten her back, and Lexie adored every incident when he discovered just how difficult parenting could be and how complex a child Sarah was.

  She wasn't the blank slate that some philosophers—unquestionably male philosophers—had proclaimed children to be. No, Sarah definitely had her own opinions. And though shy with strangers, at home she wasn't bashful about making those opinions known.

  "He don't listen to me!" Sarah proclaimed as Lexie dragged the step stool in front of the sink. "I told him that's not how Momma does it, but he did it wrong anyway." She sniffled again, though her tears had stopped when Lexie had arrived.

  "Well, come on. Let's get this over with, okay? The sooner we start…"

  "The sooner we're done!" Sarah finished as she climbed up onto the stool.

  Lexie wrapped a bath towel around the little girl like a cape, then helped her press a dry washcloth over her eyes. "Hold that tight. Tip your head back as far as you can." She reached for the sprayer. As she worked, David watched intently. If nothing else, he was an eager student.

  Twenty minutes later, she'd washed and dried Sarah's hair, and the three of them had gone upstairs. Lexie helped Sarah into a dry pajama top, which the child insisted be done in Lexie's room so David couldn't see. When they returned David reached for the bedcovers and drew them back. Sarah scowled at him.

  "Sarah," Lexie admonished, torn between her desire to prolong her own time with Sarah and wanting the child to connect with David. "I don't think you're being fair to David. I think you need to give him a chance to show you what he learned last night about how to read stories and tuckle you in."

  "But, Momma—"

  "Don't 'but Momma' me. Do I give you a chance to practice new things?"

  She bobbed her head, the freshly washed curls bouncing.

  "Okay, then. You give David a chance. I'll be back in a little while to kiss you good night."

  David's eyes widened, and he offered her a tentative grin. "Thank you," he mouthed silently. He accepted the book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, which Sarah thrust into his hand, then settled onto her bed. Lexie nodded at him, and left via the connecting door to her bedroom.

  She opened the window about an inch, causing the curtains to flutter with the cool night breeze, and caught the scent of wood smoke from someone's fireplace. Perfect early-fall night for a fire. Across the street, several lights gleamed in the clinic—Kegan probably dealing with some minor medical crisis that could range from a child's upset stomach to someone needing stitches … to delivering a baby.

  The low murmur of David's voice as he read to Sarah floated into the room. He had a deep voice, strong. Lexie was glad that he and Sarah were getting to know one another. Especially since she no longer had to worry about Angela, or Sarah's safety.

  So why did she feel morose? This was a good thing. Right?

  To forestall the feelings, she grabbed a book from her
nightstand and flopped down on her bed, immersing herself in fiction, a place where good always triumphed and happy endings were possible—at least in the books she chose.

  A few chapters later, David appeared in the doorway. "She wants you to kiss her good night now. I think you'd better hurry, she's fading fast."

  The room reflected the green glow from Sarah's night-light. Lexie sat on the edge of the little girl's bed, smoothed the curls from Sarah's forehead and placed a kiss in the middle. Then she kissed each cheek, finishing with the one with the birthmark, a ritual she'd begun the day she'd brought Sarah into the world, one designed to remind her that love made everything beautiful, even the, birthmark. "I love you, baby."

  "Love you, too. Sing me." Sarah rolled onto her side and snuggled deeper under the covers.

  "What do you want me to sing?"

  "The sunshine song."

  Self-conscious with David standing in the doorway, Lexie very softly began to sing "You Are My Sunshine." When she got to the part about not taking that sunshine away, she glanced over at him. He shuffled his feet and looked at the floor.

  Lexie finished the song and moved into humming the same tune as she rose from the bed, tucked the covers around the now-sleeping child and dropped another kiss on her forehead. After turning on the monitor, she locked the door leading to the hallway then crooked her finger at David, motioning for him to follow her out through her bedroom.

  "I keep the hallway door locked at night when there are guests in the house," she explained in a near whisper.

  "Good idea. You never know what kind of kooks you could get."

  Kooks like Angela? Lexie could tell by the way David's eyebrows drew together that she didn't have to say it, he was already thinking the same thing. She moved to her nightstand and picked up the other half of the baby monitor, which she extended to him. "Here. You can have night-call duty. Might as well get used to it."

  "Okay. But how do I get in there if she needs me?"

  "I guess you'll have to come through here. I'm a light sleeper. If she calls, I guarantee, I'll be awake before you are. So, don't make either of us wait."

  "You don't keep your own door locked? What if some kook decided he was more interested in you than Sarah?" He took the device from her.

  She shrugged. "Nah. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."

  "So I can see. And her, as well. Little Princess Lexie is all grown up. You've changed a lot. For the better." He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, then brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. "You're really good with her, Lex."

  She held her breath as warmth spread beneath his gentle caress. Tilting her face upward, she silently urged him not to break the spell that seemed to have the night standing still around them. Even the breeze had stopped blowing the curtains.

  But his eyes widened, and he dropped his hand, shattering the illusion.

  Which she should have expected. After all, this was David. Despite her being "all grown up," she doubted he was ready to see her for what she really was—a woman. A woman who'd had a crush on him forever.

  But if he followed through with a kiss on her forehead, like the night of the prom, or like she gave Sarah, she was going to slug him.

  He backed away, raising the monitor in the air and gesturing toward the door with the antenna. "I, uh, I guess I should go. I … have some programming to get done tonight. I'll listen for Sarah."

  She nodded. "Okay. Good night."

  "Oh, one more thing. I won't be around tomorrow morning for Dad duty. I have an appointment in Missoula with a lawyer to talk about getting Sarah's birth certificate changed. 'Night." He turned and hustled out of the room, leaving her staring at his back as he retreated.

  Okay. It was definite.

  She was going to slug him.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  Friday morning, David strode from the lawyer's office, legalese bouncing around in his head: this code and that code, and pursuant to this subsection, proof of paternity…

  Damn, he hated lawyers.

  After climbing into the rented Blazer, he reluctantly hauled out his cell phone. He spent a few minutes staring at the keypad, then finally forced his fingers to move, dialing a number at the federal courthouse in Erie. "Judge Wysocki, please. If he's available. Tell him it's David Mitchell."

  Canned classical music, horrible stuff designed to soothe but that actually irritated the crap out of him, savaged his ear for several minutes before it cut off and a deep voice said, "David! This is quite a surprise."

  "Yeah, I'm sure," David muttered.

  "How are things going with your little girl? You know, you should call your mother. She's concerned about you and that whole situation."

  "I didn't call for a lecture on familial duties, especially not from you. I called because I need a favor, and I figure you owe me, oh, at least several hundred at this point." Though it was costing him to call in the man's marker, for Sarah, he'd do just about anything. Including swallow his pride.

  "You know I'll do whatever I can to help you, David. What's the problem?"

  "I need you to help decipher some legalese for me, and maybe cut through the red tape necessary for me to get my daughter's birth certificate changed. You see, unlike you, Dad, I actually want my name on my kid's birth certificate."

  "You're never going to forgive me for that, are you?" Papers rustled in the background, which didn't surprise David. He had never been given his father's undivided attention.

  "Probably not." Not for that, or for the fact that he'd missed out on having a dad growing up, or for the times his mother had shed tears over the Judge's broken promises. "I've heard enough times about the marriage, the sick wife, the career. Whatever. Right now, your excuses don't matter. What matters is my child. Mine. And I want the legal documents to back that up. Who do you know in Montana? Can you help me, or am I just wasting my breath with you, as usual?"

  "I'll do what I can. You have the surrogacy agreement? You want Angela listed as the mother, and you as the father, right?"

  An image of Lexie's face appeared, as she'd looked last night, singing to Sarah. Her eyes had been laced with a deep pain when she'd stumbled over the words about her sunshine being taken away. He banged his fist against the steering wheel. "Yes. No. I don't know." He sighed. "This is so complicated."

  "Not really. Legally Lexie Jacobs has no rights to the child at all. She's not the child's biological mother."

  "I know that. But Sarah calls her Momma, and she's only known Lexie in that capacity. I have to figure out what's best for my little girl." It sure didn't matter to Angela anymore. Hell, it hadn't mattered to Angela in the first place, but he'd been too preoccupied with getting what he wanted to see it.

  "They may want proof of paternity."

  "Already covered. DNA tests in process as we speak."

  "Excellent. Fax the report to my office as soon as you have it. I'd say you have until then to decide how you want the revised certificate to read. Although legally it should read you and Angela."

  "Legally I suppose it didn't matter that mine had a blank space on it. Morally you ditched your responsibilities."

  The scratching of a pen against paper stopped, and a long silence followed. "Sometimes a man makes a mistake."

  "Is that what I am?" David tightened his hand around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

  "That's not what I said."

  "Yeah. Look, I have to go. I'll fax that stuff to you as soon as possible." He flipped the phone shut, ending the conversation before the old man had a chance to say anything else. He turned the key and eased the truck into Drive, exiting the parking lot.

  What a mess he'd created. Not a mistake. Never in a million years would he refer to his sweet little girl or the process that had created her as a mistake. But the situation was a lot more complicated than he'd ever imagined. When Lexie had offered him a chance at a child of his own, he'd jumped
at it, not wanting to adopt because he'd spent too much time on the receiving end of his stepfather's disparaging remarks, how he wasn't good enough because he wasn't blood bound to the man. He hadn't considered the fact that he didn't give two shits about the blood-bond he did share with the Judge.

  What made a parent? Was it the strand of DNA he shared with Sarah?

  The DNA Sarah shared with Angela? God, now that was a scary thought. Almost made him wish for the DNA results to somehow reveal that he was the father, and somehow, Lexie was truly her mother. Which was totally impossible.

  But it seemed more comforting than the idea of his sweet child sharing genetic code with a woman like Angela.

  Even if that meant he'd have to share Sarah with Lexie for the rest of their lives.

  He shook his head, as if it would do some good in clearing his thoughts. He pulled onto the highway that would take him back toward Mill Creek, back to the daughter who was reluctantly giving him a chance to try to get to know her.

  Back to Lexie…

  This whole suddenly-a-dad thing had knocked him for way more of a loop than he'd expected. What else could explain the impulse that had damn near overwhelmed him last night, when he'd brushed his hand over the smooth skin of Lexie's cheek and almost given in to the temptation to kiss her?

  John leaned against the post at the bottom of the stairs, easing the dull ache in his knee while absorbing all the bustle of the house. From the library, Lexie's warm voice flowed as she read to the circle of children around her. Sarah snuggled against her side on the leather couch, and Connor, the little boy from next door, sat on the other side. A small flock of kids fanned out in a half circle on the rug in front of her.

  The scents of homemade cinnamon rolls and coffee along with the chatter and laughter of the kids' moms came from the kitchen, where the women held a book swap, trading paperbacks. Lexie held story hour twice a month on Saturday mornings, another way she helped raise money for the town's new fire engine fund. The parents dropped donations into a basket in the library—never a set amount, and always on the honor system. Lexie never kept tabs. He knew she did it just as much, if not more, for the kids themselves.