“Is that possible? I mean, on a regular basis.” There must be a way to visit Barb, although the impression Melissa had from TV shows involved clanging prison doors, body searches and Plexiglas barriers. How intimidating for a small child. Or an adult.
“Yes, we’ll work it out once she’s assigned to a specific facility,” he said. “Right now, though, Barbara’s in transition.”
“Poor kid.” Although Melissa knew her former sister-in-law was in her twenties, she still pictured Barbara as a teenager.
“Her poor daughter,” Edmond said. “Sessions with a therapist, visits to Mom in prison, living with relatives. That’s hardly a normal childhood.”
“Children adjust.” That’s what Melissa had heard, anyway. “I’m grateful that my parents were wonderful. I had it easy.”
“Did you?” He shot her a skeptical look. “They never recovered from your brother’s drowning when he was a toddler. It felt to me like they tiptoed around you, and each other.”
Melissa hadn’t considered how much her childhood had been shaped by the tragedy that had occurred when she was five and Jamie only two. She’d taken her family’s tensions for granted. “That’s true, I suppose.”
“But as you say, you adjusted.”
Now that he brought it up, she could see the pattern she’d adopted. “I went to great lengths to avoid conflict, or any behavior that might upset my folks.” They’d never talked about Jamie, and only years later had her mother shared how much she regretted letting grief and guilt dissuade her from having another baby.
“We both took on the role of good child,” Edmond noted. “We tried to protect our own parents.”
“That’s true. We had a lot in common.” Melissa sometimes forgot how similar they’d been in most respects.
Edmond concentrated on the road ahead as they exited the freeway. A wide boulevard led through the business district of Norwalk, a city of about a hundred thousand people. A few signal lights later, he followed a series of side streets lined with unpretentious homes until they reached the place Melissa remembered well, a one-story house with a small, patchy lawn.
As Edmond parked, she took in the fading paint and scrubby bushes. She didn’t recall the place having such a tired appearance.
On the sidewalk, Melissa started to reach for his hand, then thought better of it. Much as she longed to help Edmond, she was only here as an observer.
For his sake, she hoped he and his parents could figure out what was best for Dawn.
* * *
WHEN PRESENTING OPTIONS to clients for divorces, custody issues or other family matters, Edmond prepared thoroughly. As a result, he was accustomed to experiencing a sense of calm as he geared up for action.
Not today. Although his initial near-panic had abated, he had to focus on breathing regularly as he rang the doorbell. Reviewing the situation with Melissa had reinforced his conviction that Dawn belonged with his father and stepmother, yet an undercurrent of uneasiness remained.
Inside, the floor creaked and the door unlatched to reveal Isabel Everhart, her stocky figure still robust at age sixty-three and her brown hair only lightly touched with gray. Her gaze moved past Edmond to Melissa. “Well, this is a nice surprise.”
“I’m glad to be here.” Melissa reached to hug her former mother-in-law. “Edmond and I are coworkers at the hospital now—I’m sure he told you that.”
“He didn’t tell me about this.” Ushering them inside, Isabel patted Melissa’s bulge.
“Long story,” she said apologetically.
“I wasn’t asking.” Isabel had always respected other people’s privacy. It was one of the many qualities Edmond liked about her.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Melissa said. “But we have more important things to talk about today.”
“Yes, we do.”
In the living room, Edmond’s father clicked off the TV and arose from the well-worn couch. In his late sixties, he had thinning white hair and weathered skin, the deep creases testifying to years of smoking. He’d quit during his first wife’s final illness.
“About time you got here,” he grumbled to Edmond. To Melissa, he said, “Dare I hope my son finally showed some smarts and won you back?”
“It’s good to see you, too, Mort.” She shared a light hug with the old man.
“You’re together again?” He’d always had a soft spot for his daughter-in-law.
“We’re friends, that’s all.” Edmond didn’t want his ex-wife’s presence to distract them. “Dad, Isabel...”
“If you didn’t knock her up, who did?” Mort demanded.
“That’s none of our business.” Isabel spoke more forcefully than usual. “Edmond, the lawyer called and broke the news about the sentence.”
Damn. He’d waited too long. “That should have come from me. I assumed this might be easier in person.”
“None of this is easy,” Mort growled.
“That’s neither here nor there.” Isabel continued briskly, “Mr. Noriega said he’ll have Barbara call you in about a quarter of an hour, and Dawn should be home any minute. We’d better talk fast.”
Edmond agreed. “Okay. About where Dawn’s going to live...”
“I haven’t had dessert,” Mort growled. “Be in the kitchen.” With that, he stomped off.
Although his dad had never been the sociable type, this was abrupt even for him. “He must be angry about the sentence. Or at Barbara,” Edmond guessed.
“Both, I suppose, but that’s not the whole story.” His stepmother took a seat in a flowered armchair, leaving the couch to her guests. “I’ll be frank with you.”
“Please do.” Now what? Edmond was grateful for Melissa sitting quietly beside him, hands folded in her lap.
“I know we discussed keeping Dawn here, but that’s no longer possible,” Isabel said.
Perhaps she didn’t understand how much support Edmond planned to provide, both financially and in practical terms. “This is a longer sentence than we expected,” he conceded. “However, I can arrange things...”
“Hear me out.” Isabel didn’t sound angry. In fact, he’d have pegged her emotion as sadness. “I have something to tell you.”
“Is it Dad’s cancer?” Edmond had believed that was no longer a threat.
“No.” In the early-evening light through the window, his stepmother’s square, plain face showed a sprinkling of age spots. “But Mort’s oncologist observed some behaviors that concerned him and referred us to a specialist.”
“Behaviors?” Edmond queried.
“Your father is showing signs of dementia.”
In the shocked silence that followed, Edmond became aware of random noises—the hum of electricity, the rattle of a truck on a nearby street, a dog barking in a neighbor’s yard. “I wish you’d said something to me earlier.” He’d assumed they were keeping him in the loop.
“We just found out this morning,” Isabel said.
“I’m so sorry.” Melissa regarded her in dismay. “What a horrible thing. And the timing is terrible.”
No wonder Mort had left the room before this discussion. “How severe is this? Is it Alzheimer’s?” Edmond asked.
“Too soon to be sure.” Isabel swallowed. “We’re arranging for further testing.”
“How’s Dad taking it?”
“He rejects the whole idea.” His stepmother shrugged. “Claims he’s fine.”
“That’s natural,” Melissa said. “It’s a scary diagnosis.”
“There’s no actual diagnosis yet,” Isabel corrected. “Just a suspicion.”
“He has to face up to this.” Edmond had heard that with dementia, early treatment could make a big difference.
“Face up to losing his grip on reality? His memories, his personality?” Isabel�
��s voice broke.
“You’re right.” Until now, Edmond hadn’t viewed this development from his parents’ perspective. “It’s devastating news.”
“We’re taking it one day at a time.” His stepmother sighed. “Obviously, we can’t raise a child under these circumstances. She’ll have to live with you.”
Dawn deserved a nurturing home with experienced adults. She faced a difficult adjustment. What chance did she have with an uncle who’d failed miserably when he’d tried to be there for his sister?
Edmond had confidence in his ability to handle challenges at work and in court. But when it came to raising a child, he was lost. If he failed Dawn—if she grew up consumed by anger, or so desperate for masculine attention that she ran to a man like her father—it would be even worse than what had happened with Barbara. He’d have no one to share the guilt with. The entire responsibility would fall on him.
Around him, the silence lengthened, and he appreciated the women’s willingness to let him struggle with his inner turmoil. Ultimately, what choice was there? Edmond had promised to supervise his niece’s care if necessary. And necessary it seemed to be.
Outside, a car door slammed and a childish voice called her thanks to someone. “She’s home,” Isabel said, unnecessarily.
He’d run out of time.
* * *
“NO!” MORE LIKE a two-year-old than a seven-year-old, Dawn thrust out her lower lip, folded her arms and sat rigid on her chair. “I can’t go live with Uncle Eddie.”
Melissa noted the frustrated exchange of looks between Edmond and Isabel. They’d spent the past few minutes gently explaining about the sentence and assuring the little girl that she’d be safe and happy with her uncle.
“I’ll rent a larger place where you can have your own bedroom.” Edmond was hiding his doubts well, in Melissa’s opinion. “You’ll enjoy Safe Harbor. Remember how much fun you had at the wedding?”
“You can take your furniture with you,” Isabel added. “And of course your books and toys.”
“No.” The little girl blinked back tears.
“Honey, Grandpa Mort has serious health problems.” Isabel peered toward the kitchen, but there was no sign of the old man. “And your uncle loves you.”
“A lot,” Edmond added.
“I love you, too, but I can’t live with you.” Dawn hunkered down. Even her short brown hair seemed to bristle with defiance.
Melissa glanced worriedly at Edmond. She knew it had been hard enough for him to accept his role as surrogate parent without this rebelliousness.
However, only the tightness around his mouth revealed his impatience. “All these changes are a lot for you to accept, sweetheart. But I’m not such a bad guy, am I?”
“No.” She sniffled.
“You can stay with Grandpa and me for a week or two, until your uncle’s prepared a place for you,” Isabel assured her. “That’ll give you a chance to wrap your mind around this.”
“I can’t!” More quietly, Dawn said, “I’m going to prison with Mommy.”
Her innocent loyalty brought Melissa near tears. What a brave little soul her niece was.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Isabel shook her head in dismissal.
“They don’t allow that,” Edmond said edgily. “None of us is happy about this long sentence, Dawn, but we have to adapt.”
“I am adapting!” she insisted. “I’ll wear an orange jumpsuit like prisoners on TV.”
“This isn’t a game of dress-up. You can’t play pretend prisoner.” At Edmond’s sharp tone, the little girl cringed.
Melissa had tried to stay out of the discussion. The problem was that, in their different ways, both Edmond and Isabel were so intent on persuading Dawn to accept the inevitable that neither questioned the cause of her stubbornness.
“Dawn, of course you’re upset about your mommy.” Melissa gazed into the little girl’s misty eyes. “But why should you go to prison with her?”
“If I’m not there, who’ll take care of her?” The question emerged breathlessly.
“What do you mean?” Edmond asked.
“She skips breakfast,” Dawn said earnestly. “She forgets to put the laundry in the dryer.”
“Believe me, in prison that won’t be a problem,” he muttered.
“You can’t be sure of that!”
He frowned. “I’m a lawyer, honey. I’m aware of how prisons operate.”
He was missing the emotional context, Melissa thought, and spoke again. “Dawn, do you believe it’s your job to take care of your mom?”
“Somebody has to,” she said. “I’ll stay with her. I don’t mind.”
“Prisons aren’t for children.” Edmond spoke more gently.
“You could ask them,” Dawn responded.
Melissa stroked the child’s hair. “It’s loving of you to try, but your mom’s grown-up. She has to take care of herself now.”
“And prisons are very well run. They have kitchens and laundry rooms and— Hold on.” Edmond drew his vibrating phone from his pocket. “Yes, Mr. Noriega? Thank you! Of course I’ll talk to her.”
The attorney must be about to put Barbara on the line. Melissa hoped her sister-in-law wasn’t in meltdown. That would only make things harder for Dawn.
Edmond carried the phone into the hall. As the little girl jumped up, Isabel touched her granddaughter’s arm. “Give them a minute, sweetie.”
Dawn plopped down again. Lips pressed together in a firm line, she sat shaking with tension.
Chapter Eight
“In court, I could tell the audience was pleased about the sentence.” On the phone, Barbara’s words rang with pain. “It’s awful how close those bullets came to hitting bystanders. I screwed up. I guess I deserve this. But I’m scared, Eddie.”
“Has anyone hurt or threatened you?” he asked, careful to face away from the living room to prevent his voice from carrying.
“No, but in this place they’re taking me to, I’m sure there’ll be women who’ve done all sorts of things. I’ve seen prison movies.”
He pictured his little sister’s frightened green eyes, much like Dawn’s. “Remember what I told you before. Be polite to everyone and don’t make friends or enemies. Don’t ask questions or accept favors.” Behind bars, there were different rules of social behavior. “I’ll arrange to visit as soon as possible.”
She hurried on. “Don’t bring Dawn till I’m assigned somewhere. At the reception center, I’m not allowed to touch anyone, and it would drive us both crazy. Mr. Noriega said I can’t have phone calls while I’m there, either, just paper to write letters. Oh, I wish I could hug her!”
“She’s worried about you.” That was an understatement, he thought. “Seeing you might reassure her.”
“Or terrify her. She has to get used to her new life. Please keep a close watch on her. Isabel means well, but...” The sentence trailed off.
“Isabel has her hands full with Dad.” Edmond summarized their father’s tentative diagnosis. “I’m sorry to drop this on you. I’m sure you wish you could be here for him.”
“Isabel will cope fine,” Barbara said. “You’ll take care of Dawn as you promised, won’t you?”
There was no room for hesitation. “Absolutely,” he said. “As soon as I find a bigger apartment, she’ll move in with me.”
“You’ll be a great dad.”
His sister was overestimating his abilities. “I don’t understand children,” Edmond admitted. “Melissa’s much better with her than I am.”
“Melissa’s there?”
“She came with me today,” he confirmed.
“That’s wonderful. I was hoping you’d reconnect.” Barbara had been enthusiastic on Saturday morning when he’d mentioned having run into his ex-wife.<
br />
No sense emphasizing that he and Melissa were merely friends. He hadn’t brought up the pregnancy, either, and wasn’t about to now. “She’s very fond of her niece.”
A small figure darted into the hallway. “Can I talk to Mommy?” Dawn demanded.
“My baby!” Barbara cried in Edmond’s ear.
“I’ll put you on speaker.” He tapped the phone. “Go ahead.”
From the front room, Melissa ventured into view, arms folded over her middle. They shared an apprehensive look as Dawn blurted, “I want to go with you, Mommy. Where are you?”
“Honey, I miss you.” Despite a catch in her voice, Barbara forged on. “Mommy did wrong. I broke the law and I can’t be with you for a while. Uncle Eddie and Aunt Lissa are there. You behave.”
Dawn broke into tears. “Mommy, you need me!”
Still holding out the phone, Edmond wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”
“Dawn, it’s the grown-ups’ job to take care of you.” Barbara spoke with more maturity than he’d heard from her before.
“Who’s going to cook for you?” the little girl persisted.
“They serve regular meals in prison. It’s like having my own restaurant.”
“What about your dirty clothes?” Dawn asked.
“Prisons have a laundry.” Barbara assured her. “Honey, until we can visit again, I’ll write you letters, real letters, not email. You can practice reading them.”
As his sister struggled to put up a brave front for her daughter, Edmond’s chest squeezed.
“I’ll write you, too, Mommy,” Dawn said. “Aunt Lissa, will you help me?”
“Of course,” Melissa assured her. “We can send pictures, too.”
“Mel? I’m glad you’re there. Oh, damn, I have to go.” Barbara sniffled. “I love you all. Eddie, take care of my baby.”
“I will.” His breath came fast but he held his emotions in check. No sense in all of them breaking down.
After a round of farewells, the call ended. Edmond flashed on a memory of his sister at about Dawn’s age. Sixteen and newly licensed, he’d picked her up one day after school.
The Surprise Triplets Page 8
