A Mom for His Daughter

by Jean C. Gordon

  His father nodded, understanding showing in his eyes.

  “You can’t mean to just bring her into your...our family,” his mother said.

  Marc sensed a tone of almost fear in her voice. Mom was always so open and giving. When he was growing up, their house had been a haven to any of their friends needing one.

  “Stella isn’t ready to be told who Fiona is,” he said. “We’ll be working on that in the Bridges program.”

  “This Fiona is going to be part of that?” his mother asked.

  “Yes, we talked with Connor about it Wednesday evening.”

  “You’ve known since Wednesday?” His mother pressed her lips together.

  He wasn’t about to admit that he’d known in his gut for a week, since Fiona had told him on the phone. “All three of us are going to the Bridges meeting tomorrow, and I plan to invite Fiona to Sunday dinner at the house.”

  He hadn’t actually planned to, not until this minute. But something inside him wanted to crack his mother’s uncharacteristically stony facade, to open her up to the family accepting Fiona.

  Because, he realized suddenly, he wanted to accept her.

  Chapter Four

  Fiona breathed in a deep lungful of the crisp mountain air before she pulled open the door to the Hazardtown Community Church hall. She’d gone back and forth as to whether it would be better to be one of the first to arrive for the Bridges meeting or one of the last, and had decided on last. She hadn’t wanted to risk being there with only Marc, Stella and the meeting leader, even though that was the idea of the Bridges program, to help bring together members of changing families.

  Fiona swallowed, remembering what Marc had said about Stella’s hostility toward women like her. Perhaps arriving early when fewer people were here may have been better after all, given that she didn’t know how Stella would react to her.

  Too late now. She stepped into the hall, the door closing behind her with a startling bang that brought everyone’s attention to her.

  “Welcome,” a man called to her.

  “Hi.” Fiona looked past him to the table where the group was gathered, searching for Stella. She saw only adults, and her gaze settled on Marc’s expressionless face. The others blurred around him. She set her jaw against the shudder that threatened her composure. She wasn’t that poor little Bryce girl anymore that everyone had been quick to pity, no matter how little time her family spent in one place.

  “I’m Noah Phelps, the group facilitator,” said the man who’d greeted her. “You must be Fiona.”

  Fiona pulled her focus from Marc. She lifted her chin. She’d been the last to arrive. Not the unobtrusive entry she might have wanted, but she’d accomplished her goal of not being alone with Marc and Stella.

  “Come join us,” Noah said. “We were about to go around the table and introduce ourselves.”

  Fiona slipped into an empty chair kitty-corner across the table from Marc.

  “As you already know, I’m the director of the Bridges program at the Christian Action Coalition. I’ll be moderating the group. Unlike the children’s programs Bridges offers, this group will focus on the needs of the adults in the transitioning families. Let me remind you of the confidentiality agreement you all signed when you registered for the group. What we share in group stays in group.”

  Absorbing Noah’s words, Fiona looked around the table. Most of the people appeared to be couples, except for one, an older woman with a twentysomething man that might be a mother–son or mother-in-law and son-in-law pair.

  Noah continued, “This group is as much or more about your sharing what you’ve found works for your family as it is about my providing guidance to give your new family structure a solid start.”

  Fiona gazed down at her hands, running one thumbnail against a rough edge of another. She wasn’t against getting some guidance to use as a ruler against her perceptions. The promising start she’d made with Marc businesswise—his asking for a contract before his partners had agreed—hadn’t carried over when their situation became personal. And the start she’d thought she’d provided Mairi had crumbled when Fiona hadn’t been there to hold it up.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. That had been her life. The glimmer of something going well followed by crushing reality. Her stepfather’s new job that had ended up being a prelude to his leaving. Her mother’s multiple promises of a new start. Fiona’s optimism when a teacher at her first high school had taken an interest in her, only to have her mother pull her out of the school a few months later for another new start. Fiona pulled her hands apart and straightened. That’s why she meant to be there for Stella, to carry through—no matter what it took.

  “I’ve done enough talking. Now it’s your turn.” Noah motioned to the person on his right. The people between Noah and Marc shared about themselves and their families.

  Fiona had been wrong. A few of those attending were single, divorced or widowed, with children. Had Marc signed on for the group before she’d told him Stella was her sister’s child? For whatever reason, that thought relaxed her.

  “I’m Marc Delacroix.”

  Fiona focused on Marc.

  “I have a daughter, Stella, who’s almost three.”

  Fiona’s stomach flip-flopped at the emotion in Marc’s voice when he said Stella’s name.

  “My wife, Cate, died of cancer almost two years ago, and after a tough time of it on our own, I moved here with Stella to be close to my family.” He glanced at Fiona for a split second before looking away and taking a deep breath. “Stella is adopted, and this week I learned that she has an aunt in the area on her birth mother’s side. So Stella is adjusting to new family on both sides.”

  The introductions moved around the table to Fiona. She’d been right that the older woman and younger man were an in-law combination, and one of the other women was an aunt raising a niece whose parents had abandoned her.

  “Fiona,” Noah prompted her.

  “Hi, I’m Fiona Bryce, and I’m the aunt Marc mentioned.”

  She glanced across the table and ignored the frown Marc shot her for sharing the detail he hadn’t. Why wouldn’t she tell the group? They needed to know why she was here. She hadn’t brought a child with her. Besides, this was a small town. The information would be out soon anyway, even if no one here leaked it. That’s the way it was.

  “I was working out of the country. I returned briefly after I was notified of my sister’s death, but I didn’t know I had a niece until last week.” She lowered her gaze to the table to avoid any looks of sympathy in the other people’s eyes so she could get through her introduction. “Stella doesn’t know who I am—yet.” Fiona smiled around the table, ending with Marc. “That’s it.”

  “Thanks, Fiona, everyone,” Noah said. “I’ll let Renee know she can bring the children back in.”

  The woman next to Fiona nudged her elbow. “Noah had his coworker take the kids to one of the Sunday school rooms to play while we had our meeting.”

  “I wondered where they were. The pastor said we’d be interacting with the kids.” She bit her lip. Interacting. That sounded stilted and impersonal.

  “Fiona,” the woman sitting next to Marc said—the other aunt in the group. “Do you want to trade places since you’re with Marc?”

  She wasn’t exactly with him. Fiona looked to Marc for direction, considering Stella would be returning to him when the kids came back. He’d assumed the reserved expression he’d had when she’d joined the group at the table, which irritated her. They were supposed to be working together for Stella.

  “Yes,” she said, louder than she’d intended. “Thanks.”

  She and the woman changed places, with Fiona positioning her chair as far from Marc as she could without looking like that was her intention, which it wasn’t entirely. She wanted space for Stella to climb on his lap, as well as a buffer between he
r and the guarded signals radiating from the stoic-looking man beside her.

  The sound of high-pitched voices and little feet preceded the children’s appearance at the inner door to the hall. Noah led the children in, with a woman who looked so much like Claire and Marc that she had to be another sister or other relative following behind, holding Stella’s hand.

  “My youngest sister, Renee.” Marc answered the question in her mind with a chin lift toward the door.

  Fiona felt Renee’s gaze on her before she saw it. “She knows?”

  “Yes. She works with Noah, and I told my parents the other night,” Marc said.

  His face didn’t give her a clue as to how they’d reacted. She counted the family members who knew: Marc’s parents, his brother-in-law Pastor Connor and, Fiona assumed, Marc’s other sister Natalie, the pastor’s wife.

  Renee walked the children to their parents and guardians, bringing Stella over to Marc last and approaching him from the side opposite Fiona. The little girl scrambled onto Marc’s lap and gave him a big hug. A wave of longing for her sister, for family, rolled over Fiona.

  “No Luc today,” Stella said.

  “Luc’s our sister Natalie’s little boy,” Marc said.

  Fiona remembered. The toddler in the video Pastor Connor had showed her.

  “He goes to preschool with Stella.” Renee had walked around behind Marc’s chair. “I’m Renee Maddox, Marc’s sister.”

  “Fiona Bryce.” She met Renee’s blatant perusal and reached around her obvious baby bump to shake her hand.

  Fiona dropped her hand to her lap as Renee left to join Noah at the head of the table. She was going to have to get Marc aside and talk with him about her meeting his family, preferably one or two at a time. That way, she could talk with each of them personally before they set themselves against her as a group.

  Marc’s low voice answering Stella’s chatter brought back her longing. He had a whole army of people behind him. Her throat clogged. She only had herself to rely on to make a family with Stella.

  * * *

  “So you had a good time with the kids and Aunt Renee?” Marc asked.

  Stella nodded at him. “Aunt Nay.”

  That made three of his sisters that Stella had been willing to go along with, without him, although she hadn’t said more than a word or two to any of them. He glanced over his shoulder at Fiona, whose eyes were fixed on Stella with a look that he could only describe as hunger. He tightened his grip on his daughter.

  She pushed away. “No hugs, Daddy. Balloons.”

  He followed her pointer finger to Noah and Renee, who were pulling balloons from an industrial-size trash bag.

  “We’re going to have balloon races, with cookies and juice afterward and balloons for everyone to take home,” Noah announced.

  Marc turned to Fiona. “Before you got here, Noah explained that the game will give him and Renee an opportunity to study the family dynamics, as Noah said.”

  Fiona stiffened before she answered. “I see.”

  Marc sympathized. He couldn’t say that he felt any more comfortable than Fiona seemed to.

  Noah motioned to them. “Everyone up here with their family partner. Kat and Lydia, Renee and I will be your partners,” he said to the woman who had changed places with Fiona, and another woman who was here by herself. “The object of the game is to pass a balloon back and forth with your child until you get to your partner on the other side of the room. Then your partner will pass it back and forth until he or she and your child are back here.”

  Marc stood, placed Stella on the floor and took her hand. “Let’s go.” He smiled and motioned to include Fiona. She returned a half smile and followed slightly behind.

  “One of you and your child line up here.” Noah directed them to a line of blue tape on the floor. “The other needs to be across the room with Renee for the second leg of the race.”

  “I’ll go first,” Marc said.

  Fiona nodded and started across the room.

  “No.” Stella stamped her foot as if she’d just noticed Fiona. “Not her. Aunt Nay.”

  Fiona stopped, frozen in her tracks, waiting.

  “Go ahead, Fiona,” Noah said before Marc could reassure his daughter.

  He turned a steely gaze on the director, not waiting to see what Fiona was doing. Renee had said she’d told Noah about Stella’s aversion to lighter-haired women and the meltdown she’d had when the woman in the grocery store had talked to her, and Fiona had just said Stella didn’t know her yet. Was the man trying to set off his baby so he could observe them?

  “I could switch places with Renee.” Fiona was back beside him.

  “Aunt Nay,” Stella repeated in a relatively calm voice.

  Noah raised his hand like a stop sign before squatting to Stella’s level.

  Marc sucked in a breath and sensed Fiona close beside him doing the same. He checked the impulse to tell Noah to back off his little girl. But he’d only give him so much leeway.

  “Stella, your aunt Renee has to do her job with her team on the other side of the room. Do you know what a job is?”

  She nodded. “Stella puts socks away for Daddy.”

  Marc released his breath in a whoosh when she answered Noah. He and Stella played catch with rolled socks from the laundry basket, with her tossing them in the open drawer.

  “That’s an important job,” Noah said. “Your aunt Renee has a job, too. She needs to help her team get its balloon back to this side of the room. Fiona is on your team. It’s her job to help you get your balloon back.”

  “No Feena,” Stella said.

  “Do you know Fiona?” Noah asked, waving her over.

  What was Noah doing now? He tapped his toe on the blue tape. They could simply sit out and let the others play.

  “Stella, this is Fiona. Fiona, this is Stella,” Noah introduced them.

  “Hi, Stella,” Fiona said.

  Marc clenched his fists to his side, waiting.

  “I’m your...”

  She wouldn’t. He hadn’t liked it, but he understood why Fiona had told the group. But telling Stella that Fiona was family here, in front of a room of strangers... His clench tightened. Mom was right. What did he know about Fiona Bryce?

  “I’m your daddy’s friend, and I’d like to be yours.”

  The tension drained from him, replaced by admiration for Fiona’s sensitivity. “Yes, Fiona is Daddy’s friend.”

  Sunday dinner couldn’t come fast enough. The sooner his family all knew, the better. And he liked the idea of Fiona being presented to others as a friend, for now. She was Claire’s friend. Marc ran his gaze over Fiona’s delicate features, and the attraction that had surprised him when they’d first met returned. Maybe he liked the idea too much.

  Stella turned her back to Fiona and wrapped her arms around Marc’s leg. “Stella no talk Feena,” she said into the denim of his jeans.

  Marc placed his hand on Stella’s coppery curls and glanced from Fiona to Noah. Both were nodding.

  “No, you don’t have to talk with Fiona,” he said, relieved that they understood. Today was the most Stella had interacted with anyone but him in almost longer than he could remember.

  Stella pulled away and tipped her face up to Noah. “Stella do balloons.”

  When he turned to celebrate the moment with Fiona, she was already almost across the room. His shoulders slumped. What was with him? He set his jaw. It wasn’t as if they really were friends.

  The balloon races had everyone laughing—the little ones with the joy of throwing, punching, kicking or otherwise getting their team balloons to their partners and running ahead to receive the partner’s pass, and the adults at the children’s efforts.

  His team’s balloon crossed the blue-tape finish line with what looked like an unplanned dropkick by Stella, followed by
her and Fiona trotting across the line.

  Marc scooped up Stella and spun her around. “That’s my girl.”

  She giggled, a sound he heard far too infrequently.

  He placed her down and rose, arms still open, to face Fiona. By impulse, he leaned forward as she stepped toward him. Time halted for a second when he caught Fiona’s eyes widen and readjusted his movement from a congratulatory hug to a pat on the back.

  “Nice job, partner.”

  A little hand patted his leg. “Nice job, Daddy.”

  Fiona laughed, defusing whatever subconscious thought had drawn him to her. It was probably that he just plain missed being a complete family.

  “That was some competition,” Noah said. “I see our helper, Mrs. Donnelly, has the cookies and juice all ready.”

  Marc had been so into the race and watching Stella and Fiona that he hadn’t even noticed Natalie there. She must have entered the hall through the kitchen door.

  Noah motioned to a long table set up on the kitchen side of the hall. “Everyone take a seat. There are plenty of chairs.”

  Marc took his daughter’s hand and looked at Fiona. “Come on, team. Let’s find our seats.”

  He sat with Stella on one side and Fiona on the other, and after the simple grace of God is great, God is good, so we thank Him for this food, Natalie walked over to the empty seat on the other side of Fiona.

  “Is this seat taken?” she asked.

  Marc tensed. What was his sister up to?

  “No,” Fiona said.

  Her response was neutral, but she appeared to sit up straighter. Or maybe he’d only imagined it.

  Natalie pulled out the chair and sat. “I see Noah paired you up with my brother and Stella. We haven’t met.” But his sister probably knew who Fiona was. He hadn’t told Connor not to tell her. “I’m Marc’s sister Natalie Donnelly,” she continued.

  “Fiona Bryce. Nice to meet you,” Fiona said.

  “Fiona?” Natalie said, her voice rising.

  Marc’s air passages constricted. Here it comes. Connor must have told Natalie. He looked sideways at his sister to see if her face registered any of the hostility Mom had expressed. Natalie looked more as if she were trying to place Fiona’s name.