A Mom for His Daughter

by Jean C. Gordon

  “Stella doesn’t see her as a stranger anymore, now that you two have been spending more time with her.”

  “Spending time with Fiona as Stella’s aunt,” he felt compelled to clarify for his mother and, admittedly, a bit for himself.

  “Stella was all about Fiona this, Fiona’s house that this afternoon. I hadn’t realized the three of you had spent time there.” His mother smiled.

  “We stopped by to pick up Fiona for the Bridges sledding party.”

  “Stella told me all about the party, too.”

  His face flushed. No way could Stella have known he’d been about to kiss Fiona. “We had a lot of fun.”

  “She also said something about watching her Frozen movie at Fiona’s, and you cooking.”

  “We talked about that. Fiona offered to take Stella on a Saturday if I needed to work.” He ignored the look his mother gave him about working on a Saturday. “While Stella was fine at Fiona’s when we were there, I’m not sure how comfortable she’d be if I wasn’t with her, so I said we could all do it sometime. I’d make lunch.”

  “Then you won’t mind that I invited Fiona to join us at the End of Winter Celebration in Ticonderoga?”

  Marc scratched his head. How had Mom gone from Stella watching a movie with Fiona to the End of Winter Celebration?

  “Fiona said that although she’d lived in Ticonderoga as a child, she’s never been.”

  If his mother had the few glimpses he’d had into Fiona’s childhood, she wouldn’t find that at all strange.

  “The whole family is going,” she went on.

  “What did Fiona say?” It would be fun taking Fiona.

  “She said she’d get back to me. I told her to go ahead and get back to you.”

  Marc closed his eyes and counted to three. “Do you remember what happened the last time you tried to fix me up with someone?” He faked a shudder.

  “I’ve never done that. Besides, this is a family tradition. Fiona is family now.”

  Right. They were all family. But he doubted he and his mother and Fiona were on the same page, or even in the same book, on the definition of his and Fiona’s family relationship. Maybe it was time he did something about clarifying that.

  Chapter Ten

  Fiona fussed with the curly streamers of ribbon she’d made on top of Stella’s wrapped birthday gift. She hoped the little girl would like the Elsa doll castle she’d bought her. When she’d gotten back to Marc about coming to the End of Winter Celebration with him and his family today, she’d asked him what Stella might like for her birthday. He’d seemed nearly as clueless as her but said she couldn’t go wrong with anything from Frozen and rattled off what Stella already had.

  Pulling one of the streamers out and letting it pop back, Fiona remembered the talking family dollhouse her parents had gotten her and Mairi for Christmas the year the mill where her stepfather had worked closed. Fiona wondered now if they had used his severance pay for gifts that year. It was the most lavish Christmas she remembered.

  Her eyes prickled with unshed tears. How she and Mairi had loved that dollhouse. They’d still dragged it out and played with it when they were far older than the ages it was meant for. That’s why she grabbed the castle when she saw it on the shelf.

  Fiona put Stella’s gift in the bag from the store to protect it from the light snow falling and bounded down the stairs to her car. Tossing the gift on the passenger’s seat, she put her key in the ignition and turned. All she got was a clicking noise. She tried again and got the same.

  Fiona slapped the steering wheel before she whipped out her phone. Hopefully, Marc hadn’t already left and wouldn’t mind picking her up. He shouldn’t since he’d already offered. She’d been the one who’d insisted on driving herself, in case she hit a point where she felt uncomfortable surrounded by his family—or with him and the growing feelings she might have trouble hiding.

  “Hey,” she said when he answered his phone. “Does that ride offer still stand?”

  “Sure.”

  “My car won’t start,” she added, by way of explanation.

  “You caught us just in time. We were headed for the door.”

  “Okay, then I’ll expect you in a few minutes.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Had she caught an upbeat tone in his voice, or was it only that she wanted to hear one? Same as last week, she’d only spoken with Marc a couple of times this week. Both times he’d sounded harried and had said he was busy trying to get everything to come together with the restaurant setup. Most likely, any difference she’d heard in his voice today had been because he was glad for the weekend and some downtime with Stella—as if there was any downtime with an active three-year-old.

  Fiona called Hill’s Garage about her car and ran a set of keys over to Mrs. Hamilton to give to the tow truck driver when he arrived. Then she waited outside for Marc and Stella. “Happy birthday, birthday girl,” she said over the seat back as she slid into Marc’s SUV.

  “I’m free now,” Stella said, holding up her mitten-clad hand with what Fiona assumed was three fingers raised.

  “I know you are. You’re getting to be such a big girl.” Fiona’s mind flitted to Beth, who hadn’t been much older than Stella when she’d died.

  Stella beamed with a smile so like Mairi’s that it sent a shot of happy nostalgia through Fiona, lifting the pallor of her other memory.

  “Feena come to my party?”

  Fiona looked over at Marc. He hadn’t said anything about a party. Nor had his mother. The party must be tomorrow, since the carnival lasted until after dark today if they stayed for the fireworks. Fiona repositioned the bag with Stella’s gift on the car floor. Of course, she couldn’t expect to be invited to every Delacroix family event, but to be left out of Stella’s birthday was a blow. She shook off an all-too-familiar feeling of exclusion.

  “Stella thinks the carnival is her birthday party, no matter what any of us have told her,” Marc explained.

  Fiona’s heart lifted. “Works for me. It’s her birthday, and there’s food and games. Sounds like a party to me.” She winked at Stella, who blinked back with a giggle.

  “And to warn you.” Marc shifted in his seat. “Mom is playing along with Stella. She plans to buy a cake at the bake sale, put in candles and sing right before the fireworks start. She’s sure we’ll have no trouble getting a couple of tables to have the cake in the Armory where the refreshment stands are.”

  “What, no ice cream?”

  “Don’t even mention it, or she’ll send someone in search of some.”

  Fiona laughed, egging him on. “We can do it large and have her open gifts, too.” Fiona lifted the bag she’d brought from the floor.

  “You’ve been hanging out with my mother too much.”

  His laugh rumbled through her. And not as much as I’d like to with you, the voice in the back of her head said. “I’d really like to see her open my gift.” Fiona couldn’t keep the joyful anticipation of having found what she thought was the perfect gift out of her voice—or her heart.

  “That must be some present.”

  “I hope so.” She should be more careful not to set herself up for disappointment in case Stella wasn’t as enthused.

  He shook his head. “You’re as bad as Mom. What am I going to do with you?”

  Once again her internal voice intruded. Love me, it shouted, silently assuming the little-girl persona Fiona had thought she’d permanently shed. What was it about Marc that stripped her down to her bare essence?

  “Birthday present?” Stella asked, leaning forward in her car seat, trying to see the bag Fiona held.

  “Shh.” Fiona pressed her fingers to her lips. “Not until after we have cake. First, we have to see the clown, have our faces painted, try out the bouncy house and get a balloon animal.” She rattled off the carnival activi
ties she’d read about in the newspaper that she thought Stella would like.

  “Balloons.” Stella clapped.

  “And,” Marc said, “ice skate and try a round of miniature golf. At the Bridges sledding party when I said I’d teach you to golf, you said miniature golf was more your speed.”

  “Don’t you think Stella is too little for skating and golf?”

  “Yes, I meant you and me. I have the twins lined up as a relief team so we can spend some time together.”

  Fiona fingered the handle of the plastic bag. “Your nieces? Are you sure Stella will be okay with them?”

  “Stella’s fine with them, and you had to have noticed that she’s becoming less timid with other women overall.”

  Fiona avoided his gaze. She knew Stella was more comfortable around her. Was Marc lumping her in with the crowd? She swallowed the lump building in her throat. After their almost-kiss while sledding with Stella and the cozy talk in front of the wood fire—not to mention his mother’s one-eighty pivot to considering Fiona one of the family—Fiona had found it difficult to block thoughts that maybe their relationship could be about more than Stella.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call your nieces women,” she managed.

  Marc creased his brow. She hadn’t meant to sound so strident. A lot of people used teenage babysitters. But Stella was special—and she needed special care.

  “They’re seventeen going on eighteen. You couldn’t have been much older when you had custody of Mairi.”

  “I was a college sophomore.” He was right about not being much older in years, but she had been in responsibility and experience. “And there’ll be a lot of people there. Strangers.”

  “She’ll be fine. You worry too much. I’ll ask Mom to keep an eye on all of them.”

  Fiona bit her lip. She wasn’t faulting Terry Delacroix. Maybe it was because she’d raised six kids, including two sets of twins, but Marc’s mother was pretty casual with her grandchildren. Certainly nothing like the way her own mother had been, but...

  “Hey, you okay?” Marc reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

  She had to brace herself not to give away the shiver that his touch sent through her despite the heated seat and warm air blasting from the dashboard.

  “It’ll give you and me some time together. I’ve been so busy with work that we’ve hardly talked the past two weeks.”

  “I’d like that.” A smile spread across her face. Fiona relaxed back into her seat. Time together. She did like the sound of that, even if she might be reading too much into it. It was Stella’s birthday. She was spending it with the little girl for the first time, with food and games and companionship.

  Her glance slid sideways to Marc, taking in his broad shoulders, running down his arms that she didn’t need to see beneath his coat to know their power and sense the inner strength he exuded. Despite any inclination he might have to get caught up in his work and momentarily put it ahead of family, that inner strength told her that he was a man who would fight tooth and nail for his family and other loved ones if challenged.

  Marc caught her appraising him, and the right corner of his mouth quirked up.

  Fiona willed her cheeks not to flush and pointed out the windshield to his left. “Was that an eagle?” she asked.

  “I must have missed it,” he said. “I was looking at the scenery to my right.”

  She lost out to the flush and looked out the passenger window. While gathering her scattered emotions and putting them back in their safe compartments, an uncharacteristic thought struck her. Why not release them and see where they went? Today might be the perfect time to apply the letting-go techniques of the online Christian meditation Noah was doing with her and some of the others in the adult Bridges group.

  Relax and let whatever would be happen. No stops. No regrets.

  * * *

  “Party!” Stella shouted minutes later when they arrived at the Armory in Ticonderoga.

  “Yes, we’re at the carnival.” Marc helped her out of the SUV, knowing she didn’t catch his correction. But he needed to tamp down her excitement some, or they could be in for a long day. Then again, what did it matter if they let Stella think the festivities were for her birthday? He didn’t think she had that firm a grasp on what a birthday party was to have many expectations. Her only reference was the little party her group had had at The Kids Place for her friend Mia’s birthday. This would serve fine as Stella’s party.

  His lungs burned. His mother had planned a party last winter for Stella’s second birthday, and they were going to come up. But there had been some last-minute personnel problems at the restaurant and he’d felt he had to stay and cover. Stella’s usual babysitter hadn’t been available on the short notice, so he’d had to use a childcare service. His baby had spent her birthday with a stranger.

  Looking back, he saw he could have gotten coverage for the restaurant. What it came down to was that after the agony of having spent Christmas at his folks’ without Cate, he hadn’t been ready to face his big rambunctious family again only a couple months later. Lord help him, but he’d welcomed the excuse not to come celebrate Stella’s birthday in Paradox Lake last year.

  “Daddy! Let’s go.” Stella tugged his hand.

  “All right. Let me get your backpack and lock the car.”

  He watched Fiona walk around the front of the vehicle while he grabbed Stella’s things. His heart turned over. From the bounce in her step, Fiona might be as excited about the carnival as Stella was. She’d said she’d never been before, and for whatever reason, he liked the feeling that he was the one introducing her to this local and family tradition.

  “Do you have everything you need, Fiona? Before I lock the car.”

  “I do,” she said in a bright voice that matched her step. “I’m going to leave the you-know-what in the car and get it later when we’re ready to have cake.”

  “Birthday cake,” Stella said. “With fire, Gammy said.”

  “You mean with candles.” Fiona joined them. “Three because you’re three today.”

  “Free! Fire!”

  Marc caught Fiona’s gaze as he shook his head. He laughed. “We’d better watch it. I think we may be raising a little pyromaniac here.”

  The smile Fiona gave him in return outshone the bright winter sun on the pristine layer of new snow that had covered the ground while they were driving here. He suddenly felt overdressed despite the bite to the air.

  They were doing that, he realized, raising Stella together—as much or more than he and Cate had, since he was much more active and responsible a father now. His heart ached for what he and Cate had and hadn’t had, but that was in the past. As for Fiona’s contention that she wanted nothing more than to be Stella’s aunt, she did far more for Stella than his sisters did. Not that he’d asked much of them lately, or nearly as much of his mother. He seemed to naturally think of Fiona first, and not only when he needed help with Stella.

  “Daddy, you’re a slowpoke.”

  He dragged his gaze from Fiona. “I didn’t know we’re in that much of a hurry.”

  “We don’t want to miss anything, do we, Stella?” Fiona asked.

  “No.” Stella shook her head so hard, the ties of her snowsuit hood came loose.

  Marc released Stella’s hand and bent to tie the strings.

  “Hold hand,” Stella ordered when he righted himself.

  Marc slipped his hand around his daughter’s.

  “Feena, too,” she said. “No get lost.”

  “We talked about the crowds and sticking close so neither one of us gets lost,” he explained.

  Fiona moved to the other side of Stella and reached for her hand.

  “No, Daddy’s hand. He’s big and strong.”

  The corners of Fiona’s mouth twitched as she readily moved to his other side and slipped her hand into
his with no hesitation.

  Marc braced for a repeat of the jolt of attraction he’d felt when he’d squeezed her shoulder in the car. His gaze dropped to her at his side. From her lack of a discernable reaction at either touch, she must not have felt anything. He scuffed the toe of his boot in the snow. Fiona had made it abundantly clear that all she wanted was to be Stella’s aunt. That’s where their relationship ended.

  She shivered.

  Or did his touch affect her after all?

  “Let’s go inside,” she said. “I’m getting cold out here.”

  Cold? His temperature had risen a couple more degrees. So much for his touch affecting her like hers did him.

  He cleared the scratch from his throat as the three of them started toward the building. “Mom said for us to all meet by the photo booth.” Which now had him wondering if Mom had plans for them other than simply meeting there. Fiona might like a picture of her and Stella. Or they could have one taken of the three of them. As a remembrance of Stella’s birthday, not because he wanted a picture of Fiona. He had enough virtual ones plaguing him at inopportune times.

  “That’s the info she gave me, too, not that I have any idea where the photo booth might be.”

  “Mom called you to check on us? To see whether you were coming?”

  “No, she called about Renee’s baby shower and asked if I had the agenda for today.”

  He hadn’t realized there was an agenda, except for the cake later and his plan to carve out some time alone with Fiona.

  “When I said I was driving myself, she checked to make sure I knew where to find everyone.”

  “Good, I wanted to make sure Mom wasn’t up to anything.” Like pushing me at you. He wanted to take that journey at his own pace.

  Fiona laughed.

  “You don’t know my mother. One time...” He started to tell her about one of her matchmaking escapades and stopped. Showing Fiona his dorky high-school self wasn’t any way to impress her. Was that what he wanted to do? He tightened his hold on her hand. Yeah, maybe it was.

  “Over here,” his mother called when they got within thirty feet of the photo booth. “Since everyone is here now, I want the photographer to get a family photo before everyone goes off in their own direction.”