“That’s the whole ugly story,” Mort finished. “I’ve been holding it inside, and this past year, when everything blew up, it was driving me crazy. I couldn’t focus on anything except how I drove your sister to this.”
Dismayed as he was, Edmond couldn’t let his father take all the blame. “Dad, Barbara’s twenty-four years old and a mother. She should have had better sense than to take part in a robbery.”
“I owe her a big apology,” Mort said. “But there’s no undoing the damage.”
“An apology would be a start.” Aware of how difficult this conversation had been, Edmond said, “Thanks for telling me.”
“Better late than never.”
His emotions in turmoil, Edmond said goodbye. His heart went out to Barbara at sixteen, betrayed by their father. And, to some extent, to Mort, who’d been eaten by guilt and just as hurt.
Edmond sat staring at the phone, mulling the implications for himself. He’d been certain after what happened with Barbara that he lacked the instincts for fatherhood. Would he have changed his mind if he’d known the real reason for his sister dropping out of school and moving in with Simon?
Melissa had accused him of deceiving himself about his aptitude as a parent. It hadn’t been a deliberate deception, but he might have been blinded by events beyond his control. And with her intuition, she’d understood him at a deeper level.
A noise from the hallway drew his attention.
Dawn stood holding a suitcase, an edge of cloth peeping out where she’d packed in haste. Confused, he said, “Are you planning to spend the night with your friends?”
“No.” Only then did he notice her red-rimmed eyes. “I heard you say grandpa isn’t sick anymore. Take me back.”
Edmond sure hadn’t seen this coming. So much for my fatherly instincts. “Yes, Grandpa’s better, but I’m still your guardian. You’re staying with me.”
“No.” She blinked, her little chest heaving. “I want to go home.”
Barely a week ago, he’d have been relieved. Now, giving her up was inconceivable. “I know I’m not the best uncle in the world, but you’re my little girl, Dawn.”
“Take me home!” she repeated in a fiercer tone. “I don’t want to stay here.”
Why was she mad at him? “Have I done something wrong?”
“I hate you!” Bursting into tears, the little girl dragged the suitcase back to her room and slammed the door.
Edmond couldn’t imagine what had provoked her. Although news of Mort’s good health might have prompted the idea of returning to her grandparents, Dawn’s reaction seemed excessive. Also, her mood had been subdued ever since they left the animal shelter.
There was a lot at stake, maybe his entire relationship with his niece. He had to keep trying.
Edmond walked down the hall and tapped on her door. “Can I talk to you?”
“Stay out!” she cried. “You’re not my father! You don’t even like children. You’ll be glad when I’m gone.”
Every word stung with old truths that no longer held. In the space of a few days with Dawn, Edmond’s perception of the world had changed. Sharing breakfast, watching her skip into sports camp each morning to join her new buddies, picking her up and learning about her day—he loved those things. How had he let her down?
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—return to being the uncle who dropped in once a week to take her to therapy. As Melissa had fought for her babies, he was going to fight for Dawn.
“I’d be miserable if you left,” Edmond said through the closed door. “Please let me in.”
“You and Aunt Lissa don’t need anybody else,” came the ragged answer. “Now you can be happy.”
What on earth was she talking about? He tried the knob, and found the door locked.
He supposed a stern, old-fashioned father would force the issue. But Dr. Brightman had said defiant behavior was natural, and Dawn’s actions weren’t placing her in danger. Edmond chose to let it ride and change tactics. “What should I fix for lunch?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Are you kidding? Your stomach’s growling so loud, I thought it was thunder.”
For a moment, it seemed Dawn might not answer. Then she said, “Peanut butter.”
“With jelly or marmalade?”
“I don’t care.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when it’s ready.” Grateful that she’d spoken to him, Edmond went to fix lunch.
He’d have to play this by ear. Edmond hoped he’d developed some essential paternal sensitivity, even if it hadn’t come naturally.
* * *
“IT’S ALMOST LIKE cheating.” Reaching the bottom of the steps, Melissa set the lock on the chair lift and eased out of the seat.
“Cheating?” Karen planted hands on hips. “With you and Zora both pregnant, I’m glad I didn’t remove this after Mom died.” She’d installed the device while caring for her mother, who’d battled Parkinson’s disease.
She had to admit, having an easy way to go up and down—including a remote that allowed her to summon the seat should Zora leave it on the other floor—would be invaluable.
“You’re wonderful,” she told her friend. “I’d be lost without you.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Rod demanded, descending from above, where he’d posted himself to keep an eye on Melissa’s maiden journey.
“Thank you, too.” She gave him a weary smile.
Following last night’s altercation with the Grants and her blowup at Edmond, Melissa hadn’t slept well. A short while ago, when Edmond had called, she’d assumed for a moment he might be willing to discuss their quarrel. Instead, he’d had more pressing issues on his plate.
He’d filled her in about Mort’s depression and the reason for it. Although she was glad the older man wasn’t suffering from dementia, the revelation about his brutality to Barbara turned Melissa’s stomach—and Edmond’s, too, she gathered. He’d also mentioned Dawn’s rebellion but assured her he would figure out the cause on his own. With no further comments, he’d ended the call.
She missed being on his team. On Dawn’s team, too. But it seemed her outburst last night had permanently closed that door.
“Something wrong?” Karen asked.
Melissa had no intention of mentioning either her quarrel with Edmond or his father’s revelation. Since her friend already knew about her other problem, she focused on that. “I’m worried about what to do if the Grants get me fired.”
“I’ll organize a protest.” Karen accompanied her to the kitchen to start lunch. “I remember when they proposed giving you the embryos, how uncertain you were and how much they pressured you.”
Nevertheless, Melissa doubted that would save her job. “I suppose I could find a laboratory position like I used to have. But I’d hate to give up working with our clients and my friends on the staff.”
“Screw that,” Rod said.
Karen glared at him. “Language!”
“Sorry.” Rod didn’t appear regretful, though. “Being around my daughters last night reminded me how important it is to fight for what you love, even if you lose. They know how much I love them because they understand how far I was willing to go.”
“I do intend to fight,” Melissa responded heatedly. “I’m talking about accepting the loss of my job, not giving up my daughters.”
Karen raised her hands. “I’m declaring a moratorium on arguments, spats, quarrels...”
“We weren’t quarreling,” Rod said.
“Much,” Melissa qualified.
“And sharp tones of voice,” Karen finished. “Okay, what kind of sandwiches does everyone want?”
“Depends on what’s available.” From the fridge, Rod extracted bread, cold cuts and condiments.
Melissa pitched in. Yet the m
oment she let her thoughts wander, they fixed on another kitchen a few miles away. What were Edmond and Dawn discussing over lunch? Had he uncovered the source of her rebellion?
For three years, Melissa had believed that her ex-husband had been wrong for her and that her closeness to him had vanished forever. Then, these past weeks, experiencing his tenderness, his devotion to his niece and his concern for his sister and parents, she’d let down her guard. No, she’d gone far beyond that. She’d fallen in love with him again.
But however she might feel about him, her loyalty to her daughters came first.
* * *
EDMOND HAD HOPED Dawn would emerge from her room for lunch in better spirits. Instead, the little girl stared down at her plate throughout the meal, although she did consume most of her sandwich and several cream-cheese-filled celery sticks, She responded to his questions in monosyllables.
As soon as she was done, Dawn grabbed her camera and scraped open the rear sliding door, avoiding Edmond’s gaze as she darted out. While she hadn’t repeated her insistence on leaving, neither had she unpacked her suitcase, he noted when he peered into her room.
Edmond considered placing an emergency call to Dr. Brightman. However, he wasn’t ready to admit failure.
After cleaning up the lunch dishes, he glanced out the window. Dawn’s small figure prowled through the bushes at the rear of the lot, halting as she spotted something. He adjusted his glasses and then he saw it, too, a flash of emerald hovering in front of an orange trumpet-shaped flower. A hummingbird.
How magical, and how endearing he found his niece’s fierce concentration as she took aim. Lowering the camera, she continued to watch the tiny bird.
I can’t give her up. Especially after what he’d learned about his father. Not that his dad was likely to hit her, but Edmond could never entrust Dawn to them. She was his child now.
Still, he had no clue why she was pushing him away. Since he was batting zero on that, he decided to seize this chance, with Dawn out of earshot, to call the Grants. Stiffening his composure, he pressed their number.
Nell answered. After greeting him, she said, “Vern’s not home.”
“Can we just talk?” Through the window, he watched Dawn. She’d moved on to investigate a neglected flowerbed where a few scraggly marigolds lingered. “This needn’t be formal.”
“I suppose it’s all right. Hold on.” In the background, a baby was crying. A minute later, the wailing stopped, and then Nell spoke again. “Okay, I’m settled.”
“How did you feel about last night’s discussion?” Edmond said.
Nell sighed. “I was picturing her the way she used to be, smooth and in charge. So it came as a shock to witness a different side of her.”
Unsure of her mood, he framed his response with care. “She caught me off guard, too.”
“I understand how uncomfortable and scary it is to carry triplets,” Nell said. “I can’t blame her for being upset.”
“She’d do anything for those kids,” Edmond said. “And I’d do anything to help her.” He hadn’t registered until he spoke how strongly he meant that.
“How do you feel about babies?” she asked.
“Me?” Tricky subject. “I don’t have much experience.”
“Ever hold one?”
“My niece.” Edmond responded, instantly hit by a sweet memory of her baby scent and wide-eyed gaze.
“How did you react?” Nell probed.
“I was afraid I’d drop her.” Edmond chuckled. “She’s seven years old now, and I haven’t dropped her yet.” Firmly, he steered back on course. “About the triplets...”
“I guess it was unrealistic to hope she’d accept our terms.” Nell’s frankness made him want to stand up and cheer. But they hadn’t won yet.
“I’d hate for Melissa to land in trouble at work,” Edmond said. “But she’s the mother of those triplets, and she’d put her life on the line for them, let alone her job.”
“How about you?”
The woman had a talent for throwing curve balls. “Excuse me?”
“How do you feel about these babies, specifically?”
He might as well be frank. “I’m still growing into the reality of being a father, but it’s astonishing. Transformative. Utterly unique...” The words choked off as he recalled Dawn’s anger. What if he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her?
“I understand,” Nell said. “Vern and I will talk this over and call you again.”
“Thanks.” Edmond waited in case she had more to say, but she clicked off.
Only then did it occur to him that she’d misinterpreted his comments about fatherhood. He’d been referring to Dawn, not the triplets. Hadn’t he?
The screen door slid open. “Who was that?” Dawn asked. “Why were you talking about the babies?”
Damn. He’d forgotten to keep an eye on her and protect her from this conversation. Too late, and if he lied, she’d sense it. Moreover, he’d be setting a bad precedent. “It was the donor mommy of Aunt Lissa’s babies. We were just discussing—”
Her face crumpled. “Don’t give away my sisters!”
“What on earth?” Surely she hadn’t drawn that conclusion from anything he’d said. “Where’d you get that idea, Dawn?”
She scuffed her shoe against the floor. “If I tell you, will you promise I can still play with them?”
“Amber and Tiffany?”
A short nod confirmed his guess.
“Of course you can play with your friends, whenever they’re available.” Edmond reached for his niece and, hesitantly, she scooted closer. “What did they say?”
“They heard Karen and Rod talking at their grandma’s house.” The story spilled out—the Adams girls had believed the babies might be given away to save Melissa’s job. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Distressed, Edmond lifted Dawn onto his lap. “That’s the problem with gossip. It doesn’t give you the whole story. Aunt Lissa and I hate this idea. It didn’t come from us and we’re fighting it.”
“You used to not want children.” She must have heard that from Barbara. Or maybe she was remembering something he’d said during the divorce, he thought remorsefully.
“That was a long time ago. People change,” Edmond said. “I have, a lot. I’d never been a father before. You’re teaching me all sorts of important things.”
His niece sniffled. “You wouldn’t be happier if it was just you and Aunt Lissa?”
“I’d be terribly sad without my little Dawn,” he assured her gruffly. “Nobody’s giving anybody away. Not you, and not the triplets.”
Her cheek rested against his shoulder. “You promise?”
“I’m not letting anyone take you. We’re a family.” His chest hurt from the swell of emotions. “As for the babies, they’re family, too. And so is your aunt.”
Could he honestly claim to be Melissa’s family, especially after their argument? But he was. He’d never stopped loving her, no matter how hard he’d tried over the years. He couldn’t bear to lose her again, or Dawn, or those three little girls who had become real to him before he knew it.
How ironic that, for so long, he’d carried the guilt of failing his sister. Although he still didn’t fully understand why Barbara hadn’t confided in him, he no longer believed that her actions were his fault.
And he no longer believed he was hopeless as a father. Today, he’d been sensitive enough to elicit the cause of Dawn’s unhappiness.
No wonder Melissa had been frustrated at his refusal to acknowledge his fatherly instincts. He had plenty of them. That left the hard part: what was he going to do about it, and about their disagreement?
What’s your best and worst case scenario? No, scratch that. What’s your goal?
Suddenly, his path became obvious. �
��I have an idea,” Edmond said. “But I need your help.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Snuggling against him, Dawn didn’t seem to notice the endearment she’d used.
Although Edmond suspected he might not hear that term often, it marked an important step. That was how love grew, he was discovering. Sometimes gradually, in fits and starts, and sometimes in a big leap.
He was ready for a leap. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I should have remembered not to play Scrabble with you.” Zora studied the board with disgust. “You always win.”
“I had lucky draws.” Collecting the tiles for storage, Melissa smiled at the picture they made, sitting at the table barely able to reach the board due to their swollen bellies. “We may not be able to play again for a while. My arms won’t stretch that far.”
Draped over an armchair in the den, Lucky glanced up from his computer tablet. “We ought to measure you guys to see who’s bigger.”
“Who cares?” Zora shot back.
“It would be in the interest of science,” Lucky continued. “Twins due in three months versus triplets due in four.”
“Our doctors already have that information.” Melissa had no desire to turn their pregnancies into a contest.
“Also, Melissa’s two inches taller than Zora,” Karen observed from the couch. “That might affect the results.”
“It’s an interesting idea, though,” Rod murmured from beside her as he lowered his medical journal. “Considering that we’re all sitting around like dullards on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Exactly.” Lucky ran a hand over his short dark hair. “My old roommates would have placed bets.”
“Your old roommates were slobs,” Zora said.
“But never boring.”
A phone rang. Everyone reached for pocket or purse before pausing in recognition of the ring tone. It was Melissa’s.
Her heart skipped at the name on the readout. “Edmond,” she answered. “What’s up?”
“Any chance your friends could babysit Dawn for a while?” He spoke with a cheerful lilt. “I’ll bribe them by bringing dinner.”
The Surprise Triplets Page 19
