“And I’ll try again in a bit to get a hold of Fiona and get back to you if I do. You let me know if you find something out first. I’ll be praying.”
“Thanks, Mom.” And he’d be praying there was no reason for praying.
Andie met him as soon as he walked in. “I talked with Aimee and Amelia.”
“And?” He yanked down the zipper of his jacket.
“I’m going to let them tell you.”
Marc shoved his hand through his hair. He could understand the value of having teens take responsibility for their actions, but Andie had kids. She should know how anxious he was to get any information about where Fiona and Stella were.
“They’re in the dining room,” Andie said, following him in.
Aimee and Amelia sat on the far side of the big maple table, looking like suspects in a TV crime show waiting to be interrogated. For a second, he wondered if he was the good cop or the bad cop.
He pulled out a chair across from them. “Do you guys know where Fiona took Stella?” He rubbed his palm on his pant leg. He’d made it sound like Fiona had kidnapped Stella or something.
They shook their heads in unison, and Amelia said, “Fiona told Stella they were going to make a picnic at your house.”
“And Mom said we should tell you that Stella said her tummy hurt a while after she got up from her nap,” Amelia and.
“You didn’t let her eat anything I said she couldn’t have, did you?” He should have written down the list for them.
“She wanted an apple with lunch, so I peeled one like you told us to.” Aimee picked at the purple polish on her nails.
“That’s good,” he reassured her.
“When Stella finished, she begged for another, but I told her not now. She tried to take one from the bowl. I told her no and asked her if she wanted to finger-paint to distract her.”
“And?”
Amelia jumped in. “After Fiona picked up Stella, I found two apple cores and a wrapper from a granola bar under my bed. Aimee had left the box of peanut crunch granola bars out on the table.” She gave her twin a pointed look.
“And Amelia wasn’t watching Stella closely and let her open the front door and run outside to meet Fiona.”
“Girls,” Andie warned. “We’re trying to help Uncle Marc, not place blame on each other.” She shot him a sympathetic look. “I tried to call Fiona, but it went to voice mail. I left her a message and a text.”
The knot in his stomach tightened. Fiona wouldn’t have handled the twins’ lack of supervision well, although he suspected she’d been left in far more dangerous situations at Stella’s age.
Amelia didn’t let it drop. “You were the one who probably left the door unlocked, and Fiona already read me the riot act on that one. You would have thought I had put Stella in danger on purpose. Nothing bad happened.”
Marc raised his hand as the teens glared at each other. “Both the apple peels and nuts and fiber in the granola bars could have upset Stella’s stomach. Did you tell Fiona that Stella didn’t feel well?” Fiona tended toward hypervigilant. That might have prompted her to take things into her own hands and call Dr. Franklin.
“I didn’t,” Amelia said.
“Me, neither,” Aimee answered.
“It doesn’t matter. Thanks, Andie, girls. I’m going to call Stella’s doctor and find out if Fiona took her up to his office in Saranac Lake this afternoon.” Although if she had, they should have been back by now, unless Stella had been admitted to the hospital.
He clenched his fists under the table. If Dr. Franklin had sent them to the medical center in Saranac Lake, Fiona should have contacted him. His phone was working now. Unless, through her family filters, Fiona thought she needed to protect Stella because he and the twins were neglecting her. But Fiona had repeatedly said all she wanted was to be Stella’s aunt.
Then a bunch of memories rushed in at once. The carnival. Admitting his feelings to Fiona. What he’d thought was her reciprocal admission. The way they meshed, and she always backed him up with Stella.
What had happened today that Fiona hadn’t trusted the family or him for help? His head and heart ached with unanswered questions.
Chapter Thirteen
Fiona carried an exhausted Stella from the medical center to the car and buckled her into her seat, blinking away the juxtaposition of Beth’s features on Stella’s drowsy face. The medication Dr. Franklin had given Stella had finally calmed her. Fiona pushed the door closed so as not to disturb Stella and dragged herself into the driver’s seat. Between her own fears and the strain of trying to comfort Stella while they waited for the results of the test the doctor had ordered, Fiona was as drained as the little girl.
She checked her phone for cell reception and anything from Marc before starting the car. Still nothing. Fiona started the car and headed toward the Northway to take Stella home. Dr. Franklin had ordered the ultrasound Stella had been scheduled to have next week. Fiona wanted to share with Marc that the doctor had found no blockage—her greatest fear. A blockage had been the beginning of Beth’s decline. But would Marc even understand the importance of that? He’d been slow to read the information on the websites Dr. Franklin had recommended and to accept Stella’s illness. Fiona rolled her head against her shoulders to relieve the tightness in her neck that was triggering a headache.
The doctor had found signs of inflammation, though. Inflammation that had probably been there before Stella had eaten the apples and granola that had aggravated it. How had Marc missed that? Stella must have shown signs, said something, and he’d ignored it. The voice of a younger Fiona spoke through the growing pain of her headache. He hasn’t lived through this before. Like Dad, he doesn’t want to see it. But someone has to.
A couple miles outside of Saranac Lake, her phone buzzed with a call, and her already racing heart picked up tempo. The snow banks on either side of the road left no shoulder to pull off on, so she couldn’t take the call, not while driving with Stella in the car. Fiona glanced at the number. The call was from Marc’s mother, not him. But he was Stella’s father. She was his responsibility, not his mother’s.
As she approached the entrance to the Northway, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Andie. The call was followed by a text. Fiona saw the turn for the on-ramp and drove by it, heading east toward Burlington, Vermont, away from Paradox Lake and the Delacroixs. Andie and his mother couldn’t cover for him, like she couldn’t cover for her negligent mother when she was a child, as much as she’d tried to. But she was an adult now.
“Daddy,” Stella murmured.
Fiona shot a glance over her shoulder. The little girl appeared to still be fast asleep.
Fiona slowed the car for the lower speed limit in Westport, a sick feeling spreading through her. If she was an adult, why was she punishing Marc and his family by not taking Stella home, not pulling over to take their calls? Because she was acting on old instinct, running like her mother had whenever her hard life got harder.
But she wasn’t her mother. She had everything she wanted in Paradox Lake—family and the love of a good man, if Marc and the Delacroixs would still have her, and her work. She swallowed her nausea. Her impulsive reaction today had probably ruined any legal avenues she might pursue for visitation with Stella if Marc chose to withhold it. So she had to depend on Marc’s forgiveness.
Her phone pinged again with a text from Marc, and she immediately pulled to the curb.
Where are you? Are you and Stella all right?
Westport, she texted. She’d explain when she saw him. Stella is okay.
As for herself, Fiona wasn’t sure she was okay or ever would be. This whole disaster was her own fault—for letting the past, her fears and that crazy instinct to run consume her. That’s why she’d never pursued romantic or family relationships. Despite the acceptance by the Delacroixs as family, obviously she still di
dn’t know how to do family and love.
On our way home, she texted before turning the phone off. What she needed to say had to be said in person.
It was nearly ten o’clock when Fiona pulled into Marc’s driveway. He was out of the house and beside her before she had even finished unbuckling Stella from her car seat. Tall and strong, with a rawness in his expression that made her heart bleed.
“I’ll get her,” he said, stepping between her and Stella. He lifted the little girl out of the car and hugged her close to him without waking her. “You said she’s okay. I got a call from the pharmacy about a prescription.”
“Yes, to calm the irritation.” Fiona shivered. While still warm for March, the evening temperature had dropped well below the afternoon high, and she wore only a spring jacket. “Can we go inside and talk?”
Marc’s hesitation drove a stake through her heart.
“Yes, you need to fill me in on what Dr. Franklin said.”
And a lot more if he’d let her. She followed him into the house.
“I’m going to put Stella to bed.”
He went upstairs, leaving Fiona to pace his living room, straining to hear if Stella woke up. She prayed not. She needed to have her say before she left. Marc returned a few minutes later, and she handed him the printouts from the doctor’s visit and emergency room that she’d grabbed from her car. Fiona shifted her weight from foot to foot as he read it.
“Sit down.” His tone lightened. “Please.”
She perched on the edge of the recliner, not allowing herself the intimacy of sharing the couch with him.
He dropped onto the couch. “Why?” He lifted his hands helplessly.
She picked at a rough edge on her thumb cuticle. “We went to the store to get the food for the picnic. Stella was crying. She was in pain. The twins were so casual about what they’d fed Stella. The front door wasn’t locked. Stella ran out.” She knew her words were jumbled. They made little sense to her, so she was sure they didn’t make any to Marc.
“Breathe,” he said, a gentle command.
He doesn’t hate me, the little girl inside her said.
“I was scared. I imagined the worst, a blockage. That’s how Beth’s decline started.”
“Stella isn’t Beth. You could have contacted me.”
“I tried.” She dragged out her phone for the text she’d sent and stared at it, heart sinking, before showing him the words. “But I sent it to the wrong person.”
“It didn’t raise a red flag when I didn’t respond?” A muscle worked in his jaw.
She leaned forward. “It did. I called you and didn’t get through, so I called the restaurant. Sean said you were with your partners interviewing the chef candidate. I didn’t know when you’d get back from New York City. I had to do something. I called Dr. Franklin’s office.”
“I was in Albany, not New York. I could have been back in an hour.” His voice was flat. “You should have called my mother or Connor. They would have let me know, and he would have driven to the hospital to be with you, pray with you, so you and Stella wouldn’t have been alone.”
“I should have. I know. I’m not used to having people to rely on for help.” Fiona straightened. “I did what I thought was best.” Her voice trailed off. “At the time.”
Marc plowed his fingers through his hair. “Kidnapping my daughter? Ignoring calls and texts from half of my family?” He shook the hospital report. “Where have you been all this time? The last anyone saw or heard from you was this afternoon.”
“The store. The hour’s drive to the medical center in Saranac Lake. The doctor’s. The hospital for a test.” Fiona’s voice faltered. “Stella fell asleep. I drove around. I was trying to build up the courage to come home and face you.”
“Because your first instinct was to run, like your mother.”
Hurt constricted her throat. But in the end, she hadn’t fully given in to that instinct as her mother would have. She’d come home with Stella. Fiona cleared her throat. “No, because I love you and Stella, and I know I really messed up.”
* * *
Fiona’s admission of love and her pain drew him to her. But he couldn’t touch her, or he’d lose his resolve. “I was scared, too, when I couldn’t get a hold of you. I imagined the worst—an accident, losing the people I love most again.”
“You love me?” she whispered.
He clenched his fists, so he wouldn’t reach over and shake her. Of course he loved her. “I do. But I don’t think it’s enough for us.”
Fiona drew back as if he’d struck her. He reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb against her soft skin. “You can’t let the past rule you, taking responsibility for everything and micromanaging life into your idea of perfection. God is the only one who’s perfect. Not you or me or Pastor Connor. God has a plan for each of us. We have to open our eyes and hearts to that plan.”
“I’m trying. The Let Go Meditation with Noah at Bridges.”
“I know.” He stilled his thumb and squeezed her hand.
“You have to understand. Especially after my stepfather left, I grew up feeling like I was the only responsible person in the house, always in fear of losing my family. Stella’s pain, her crying, took me back to that fear and helplessness.”
Anxiety tightened her features as if she were reliving that time, those moments. “We could meet with Noah or Pastor Connor,” she said. “I emailed Noah to get together, the three of us, to talk about all the extra time you’re throwing into your work. It’s been bothering me.”
“But you couldn’t come directly to me and talk. I admit that the past couple weeks I have been putting in more time at work and spending less time with Stella and you. If you’d said something, I would have recognized it sooner. We can’t have a true relationship if you need to keep barriers between us, or if you hide your needs.”
His voice cracked, along with his heart. “I know I did that with Cate, imposed my plan on God’s plan. I put myself in charge of making us a picture-perfect, up-and-coming young professional family, right down to dictating Cate’s treatment against her wishes at the end and closing out my family to deter them from pointing out what I knew deep down. I was fooling myself that my way was God’s way.”
“How did you stop?”
“Prayer. Lots of prayer. I’m still praying, which obviously I need to be since I didn’t pick up that I was putting work ahead of you and Stella.” He avoided her gaze so he could finish what he had to say. “And stepping back from the situation. Letting others in to help me with the burden of healing. That’s what we need to do, step back from each other.”
Fiona nodded. “Stella and your family, too?”
“My family loves you for yourself, whether you and I are a couple or not, and I won’t keep Stella from you. You’re her aunt.”
Fiona pulled her hand from his, taking a piece of his heart with it. “That’s all I asked to be.” She stood. “I’d better go.”
He watched her leave, back straight, steps measured. But he’d come to want more. So much more. And he couldn’t help feeling he’d failed Fiona. He’d have to let go himself—of his dreams of him and Fiona and Stella as a family—and think of Fiona as just Stella’s aunt, like his sisters. He knew better than to pursue fixing something he couldn’t fix again. He’d go it alone. It would be simpler that way.
Chapter Fourteen
I’m not going to make the egg hunt. I have to drive down to Glens Falls. Mom will bring Stella over to the park a little before one. Meet her at the waterfall.
Marc’s text made Fiona’s heart stumble. True to his word, Marc hadn’t kept Stella away from Fiona. He’d kept himself away instead.
After nearly a week, an interminably long week, of not seeing or talking or texting with Marc, Fiona had been looking forward to being with him for the Bridges Easter egg hunt as much as sh
e’d been looking forward to the time with Stella. Did the hope that filled her at his trusting her with Stella alone today, and the intense relief that his family wasn’t treating her any different, make her pitiful?
Claire was as friendly as always at work. His mother had called one evening and chatted about the plans for Renee’s baby shower tomorrow afternoon. She’d even invited Fiona to have Easter dinner with them next Sunday. Fiona had demurred on the dinner, wanting to see how this afternoon’s egg hunt with Marc and Stella went.
Now, it was just her and Stella. Fiona admitted to herself that she’d messed things up by not opening up to Marc about her family and her fears earlier—by not trusting Marc and God. Maybe if she could talk with him again. But it didn’t look like that would happen today.
She finished her usual Saturday morning chores and headed out into the nippy late March day. While the sunny warm weather last week had melted most of the snow on the ground, today’s overcast weather made it chilly enough for a winter jacket and gloves. A few minutes later, Fiona arrived at the park to find Terry and Stella already waiting for her.
“Feena hurry!” Stella shouted when Fiona opened her car door. “Mia’s here.”
Good. She and Mia’s aunt, Kat, could hang out together while the girls hunted for eggs. Kat wasn’t Marc, but Fiona had enjoyed talking at the adult Bridges meetings. She should make some friends outside the Delacroix family.
“Hi,” Terry said. “I don’t know why Marc had to go down to the restaurant this morning.”
“It’s work. I understand.” What Fiona understood was that it was a good excuse for Marc, who was surely not ready to see her again after last week.
“He’s fortunate to have you to step in and help with Stella at the last minute when one of the rest of us can’t.”
Fiona warmed at being included in this way, but hadn’t she learned her lesson about expectations? She had what she’d originally wanted, to be Stella’s aunt. She should be thankful.
“Come on.” Stella slipped her hand in Fiona’s.
A Mom for His Daughter Page 17
