by Loree Lough
A glimmer of hope sparked in her. “What do you mean…‘if that’s what the person wants’?”
“Well, sometimes a cousin, a grandparent, whatever, will go for guardianship instead of full parental rights, either because the kid’s parents are still in the picture, or maybe because they’re in some sort of bad trouble and the relative is hoping that when things straighten out, the kid can go back home to them. And sometimes, folks plain don’t want the expense and bother.”
“But…but Liam doesn’t have anyone except for—”
“Exactly. So if Buchanan wants to adopt the kid, they’re gonna let him. He’s a close blood relation, and the way the state sees it, a kid is usually better off with family than anybody else. Face it, pal. You’re fighting a losing battle. As long as he hasn’t killed anybody lately, Connor Buchanan, Esq., is gonna be a daddy in a little while.”
“But he isn’t married, and his schedule is frantic, and he lives alone, and—”
“Change the ‘he’ to a ‘she’, and you could be describing yourself,” he gently reminded her.
“I have my parents to help me. And loads of friends. Who has Buchanan got?”
“Not ‘who,’ but ‘what.’ He’s got money. I don’t mean to sound vulgar, Jaina, but whatever he doesn’t have, he can buy. He has, as they say, ‘the wherewithal’ to take care of the child.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “Is that the reason you wanted to go to lunch, Skip? To rain on my parade?”
“Course not, but…” He paused, then patted her hand. “Okay. Here’s my honest, professional opinion. If Buchanan wasn’t in the picture, I’d bet my last paycheck the judge would let you adopt, considering—”
“Considering what?”
“That his mother left the…left Liam with you and wrote that heart-tugging note and—”
“You really think Buchanan will win?” she broke in, unable to get her mind off a comment Skip had made moments ago.
“It’s rare, real rare, for a woman in your position to get custody.”
“It’s rare, but it happens from time to time, right?”
She could tell from Skip’s expression that he was torn. Part of him wanted to help her by not offering any false hope, while another part couldn’t resist the pleading look in her eyes.
“Well, I shouldn’t be telling you this—it wouldn’t be right to give you false hopes—but a couple years back, I handled a similar case. Remember that woman who found a baby in the trash can behind her apartment building?”
The story had been in all the papers and on the TV news for days, Jaina recalled.
“Well,” Skip continued, “she brought it to the hospital, and the whole time the docs and nurses were checking its health, she stayed right there. When they gave the little guy a clean bill of health, she told ’em she wanted him.”
Jaina said, “I don’t remember how it turned out.”
“She got him.”
“Was she…?”
“Wasn’t married, owned a cleaning service, lived alone…the works.”
“Oh, Skip,” Jaina sighed, “do you think…?”
“See, this is just what I was trying to avoid. Listen to me, Jaina. That kid didn’t have a relative waiting in the wings, so unless you’re planning to get rid of Buchanan, it’s apples and oranges.” A few moments of silence ticked by before he said, “So, who are you having lunch with? Your lawyer?”
“No…”
“It’s high time you started planning a strategy, to discuss the girl’s letter and all. Who’d you hire? Maybe I know him and can put in a good word.”
“I don’t have a lawyer yet.”
“Jaina! What’re you waiting for?”
“When I need one, I’ll get one. I’m hoping that in the meantime, Buchanan will realize I’m in a better position to—” The sight of him smacking his palm against his forehead silenced her.
“I can’t believe this,” Skip said. “Don’t tell me your business lunch is with—”
“Yes, Connor Buchanan.”
“Are you out of your everlovin’ mind? Consorting with the enemy? You have no chance of beating him in court, and you’re gonna—”
“Hold on a minute, pal. ‘No chance’? Just a minute ago, you said I had a slight chance. Which is it? C’mon, ’fess up. You know how important this is to me.”
He moaned quietly, then said, “Jaina, don’t do this to me.”
“A little thin-skinned, aren’t you, Skip? Especially since I’m still wiping the dirt off my face.”
“Huh?”
“After you rubbed my nose in it,” she explained, impatience ringing in her voice.
“I didn’t mean things to sound that way at all,” he said. “It’s just that we’ve been good friends a long time, and I’d like it to stay that way.”
She rolled her eyes. “Really, Skip,” she said on a mocking laugh, “what could you possibly have to say that would threaten our friendship?”
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He took a deep breath. “You’re doing the right thing for all the wrong reasons. This attachment you have for Liam? In my professional opinion, I think you’ve turned him into a substitute.”
“Substitute? For what?”
“For the babies you think you can’t have,” he said quietly.
As her heart thundered, Jaina’s free hand clenched and unclenched. The babies I think I can’t have? She would have shot his opinion down if the words hadn’t frozen in her throat.
“It’s perfectly understandable, but it isn’t healthy, not for you or for Liam. You’ll only end up brokenhearted again.”
“Again?”
“The way you were when Bill…when he—”
“You haven’t had any trouble speaking your mind so far. Go ahead. Say it. When Bill died and left me to pick up the tab.”
“Stop it, Jaina. That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He breathed an exaggerated sigh. “Look, I have a meeting with my boss and I haven’t even pulled the case histories yet. Can I call you later so we can finish discussing this?”
“We’ve already finished discussing it.”
“There you go again.”
Jaina emitted a low growl of frustration. “What does that mean?”
“You can’t hide from the truth because it’ll find you every time.”
“What truth am I hiding from this time, Dr. Freud?”
Skip chuckled. “Go ahead, insult me if it helps.” He cleared his throat as if preparing for the seriousness of what he was about to say. “When they take Liam from you—and it’s pretty likely they will—it’s gonna break your heart. Those are the facts, and pretending they don’t exist won’t make them go away.”
Go away. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll take Liam and head out of town. No, that wouldn’t solve anything. Not for Liam, certainly not for her.
She bit her lower lip to stanch the sob aching in her throat. It seemed as if Skip was deliberately trying to hurt her. But why? Why had he told her the story about the woman who’d adopted the baby she found in a trash can? Why give her some small hope to cling to, then retract that hope entirely?
“I know I’m being rough on you, Jaina, but what kind of friend would I be if I lied to you? I know how these things play out. I see it everyday.” He paused, looking as genuinely contrite as she’d ever seen him. “Would you have preferred it if I lied to you and said it was all going to work out just fine?”
She shook her head. “No… I guess not. At least now I know what I’m up against.” Then, in a stronger voice, “Are you coming to the parade with us tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“According to my watch,” she said, forcing a lilt into her voice, “you have to get ready for your boss.”
A slight pause, then Skip said, “You know I love ya, don’t you?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she managed to say, “Yeah, I know.” But she didn’t know anything of the kind. She seemed to
have made a habit of developing close ties with men who were bad for her. “You don’t want to be late. Now get going.”
“See you tomorrow,” Skip said cheerily, and left.
Jaina glanced over at Liam, sitting in the middle of the playpen, trying to decide between his squeaky red fire engine and the yellow plastic dump truck she’d bought him. She cried softly as Skip’s warning reverberated in her ears. She didn’t want to lose Liam.
That first night, as she lay on the floor beside him, a thousand worries had kept her awake. Did he understand, in some instinctual way, that he’d been abandoned? Did he sense that his mother was dying? And if he did, Jaina had wondered, how would she assure him he’d be well cared for, always? Because what did she know about babies? Would she know if, when he cried, his tears were from hunger or gas…or fear?
When he woke fussing the next morning, Jaina couldn’t explain it, but something had told her that a clean diaper and a sweet song was all it would take to calm him. And it had. From then on, knowing when he needed a nap or if a hug was called for seemed as natural as inhaling and exhaling. In just two weeks, he’d become the center of her world.
One of the hardest things about having been told she might never be able to have children of her own was the fear that if she adopted a baby, as everyone advised her to, she couldn’t love the child as deeply or completely as a baby she’d given birth to herself. Jaina’s feelings for Liam were proof that love for a child could be all-encompassing and all-consuming, no matter what. If she couldn’t keep him…
The accident hadn’t killed her, but it had come close. Neither had the subsequent physical therapy—though at times, as she struggled to regain the use of her legs, she thought it might. And somehow she’d managed to keep body and soul together, even after stepping into the hideous orange jumpsuit at Jessup. Those six months had changed her forever, had hardened her in so many ways. Being tough, she learned early, was the only way to survive. Innocent? Guilty? What did it matter to women who’d been sentenced to two, five, twenty years? Jaina got through it by dipping into a reserve of inner strength she hadn’t known she possessed. It never ceased to amaze her that no matter how many times she went to it, the well always seemed just full enough to provide the fortitude to go on despite the hardship. Only recently had she come to realize that it had been kept full by the love of Almighty God.
But how deep was it? How much more could she take from it? The ultimate test, she believed, lay just ahead. If Skip was right, if Buchanan succeeded in taking Liam from her, it would require so large a draft of courage and endurance, that the well might just run bone-dry.
When Connor called, as promised, to tell her he was leaving for the restaurant, he thought she’d sounded sad. That was odd, he told himself, remembering their brief conversation, because she’d seemed pretty up when she phoned him earlier. Could it be that she knew what he’d been up to? That he’d had a detective on her heels? That he’d started the machinery to take the baby from her?
Perhaps this motherhood thing was beginning to wear thin. She’d lived a full and busy life before Liam came along; maybe the added stresses and strains of taking care of him day in, day out, were proving to be too much. Which, in his opinion, would be a blessing in disguise because Connor wasn’t looking forward to taking the baby from her.
He set the scene in his mind: Jaina, teary-eyed and trembly-lipped, arms outstretched as he walked away with his bawling nephew. His heart beat double time and he winced, forcing the picture from his mind. He ran a hand through his hair. If thinking about it made him feel like such a heel, what was it going to be like when the real thing happened?
And it was going to happen because he intended to raise that boy as his own. He didn’t want to fight her; that would mean dredging up her past. He knew hers was just the kind of story that media vultures were always hunting for. And he’d do everything in his power to prevent that, but…
He spotted her just then, crossing the street from the parking lot to the restaurant. Thoughts of fighting her were forgotten as he smiled unconsciously. Connor liked the way she walked, head up and shoulders back, each fluid stride causing her glistening chestnut brown curls to bounce a bit. Somehow her slight limp did nothing to distract from her grace. She raised a hand to tame windblown bangs, frowning slightly when they refused to cooperate. She’d worn a jean skirt cut a few inches above her knees, topped by a white summer-weight sweater. He noted a brown braided-leather belt around her slender waist and matching sandals on her tiny feet. Cinderella couldn’t have looked as pretty at the ball, he thought.
She saw him then, at the table on the other side of the window, smiled and raised a hand in friendly greeting.
He stood to remove his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. “I hope you haven’t been here long,” she said, settling into the seat across from him. “I left as soon as we hung up.”
“No, not at all,” he said. “I’ve only been here a few minutes.” Connor hadn’t felt this awkward since high school, when he asked the homecoming queen to accompany him to the spring dance. “I have to admit, even if I’d been here an hour, it would have been worth the wait. You look lovely today.”
Jaina blushed, then fanned her face with the menu. “I, uh, the air conditioner in my car isn’t working very well. I think it must need servicing. Freon. Something…” She took a quick look around the place, ran a finger down the food list. “You’ve eaten here before. What do you recommend?”
“They make a mean crab cake, and their pizza isn’t half-bad, either.”
She took a sip of water from a squat, red-rimmed tumbler. “There’s no price beside the crab cake platter.” Narrowing her eyes, she leaned across the table. “‘Market price.’ What kind of nonsense is that?” Clucking her tongue, she lifted her chin. “Mine is 9.95 year-round, period.”
Chuckling, Connor waved the waitress over. “I’ll have a glass of iced tea. Jaina?”
She laid the menu beside the small butter plate. “Make it two,” she said. Then, looking around conspiratorially, she wiggled her forefinger to summon the woman closer. “How much are the crab cakes today?”
The waitress looked left and right. “Eight ninety-five,” she whispered, “and they come with French fries and a side of coleslaw.”
Jaina’s brows rose. “Wow, a whole dollar less than mine.”
“Well,” Connor said, “you know what the sages say.”
“You get what you pay for,” they said in unison, laughing.
As the woman left to get their drinks, Connor commented on the weather, and Jaina repeated last night’s Orioles score. He asked if she’d heard about the dock-workers’ strike. She wondered if he’d seen the article about the president’s latest diet. Once the waitress had delivered their tea, Jaina opened her purse and sat back, smiling a bit.
“What?”
“This feels strangely like déjà vu. Except the last time I did this,” she said, pulling the letter from her purse, “we were in your office.”
“True.” He cocked a brow. “How’d you sleep last night?”
“Fine, thanks, and you?”
“Like a rock, as usual. Did you have breakfast?”
She tilted her head to the side and looked at him curiously. “Why…yes.”
“Good.”
Jaina nodded slowly. “Ahhh, I get it. You’re worried I’ll pass out again,” she observed, grinning mischievously, “and make a scene in front of all your lawyer friends.”
He chuckled. “They’ve already observed a young woman in my company making scenes. Then again, a swoon would be a refreshing change.”
Her smile faded. “I apologize for that business in your office. I wish I could explain it. Sometimes the strangest things remind me of…” Eyes wide, she bit her lower lip, then hid behind the menu. “So, you say you’ve had the crab cakes here?”
Though she’d left her remark unfinished, he knew where she’d been headed, thanks to O’Dell’s report. And because of what he�
�d read on his own, he understood for the first time that he must have said or done something that day to remind her of the accident. Whatever it had been, that’s what prompted the fainting spell. He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve had better, but then, I’ve had worse.”
She nodded again, and he took a swallow of his tea. He’d heard enough testimony, both in private quarters and on countless witness stands, to know what went on inside a women’s prison. He’d always felt many differing emotions when listening to ex-cons tell their stories. Some he thought deserved exactly what they’d gotten. Others he’d believed couldn’t possibly have deserved the punishment meted out in a court of law. But he’d always managed to keep his reactions to himself, to keep a safe emotional distance, because they’d all been virtual strangers.
But he knew Jaina. Knew her well enough to believe he might be falling in love with her. That anyone had used and abused this diminutive lady caused a roiling that started deep in his gut and ended at his tightly clenched fists. The muscles of his jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed. If he could’ve gotten his hands on that Bill guy, he’d have… You’re a hypocrite, Buchanan, he told himself, heart pounding with shame, because what you’re planning is going to hurt her more than—
“Connor? Are you all right?”
He met her dark eyes, reading genuine concern on her pretty face. Connor wrapped his hand around the glass of tea. “I’m fine. Why?”
Jaina blinked several times before answering. “You looked…” She grinned. “You looked like you were ready to commit a homicide.” Jaina feigned a look of terror. “Not a very smart place to murder someone, what with all these cops and judges and prosecutors around.”
He chuckled.
“So, who was the victim—me?”
The question made him sit up straighter. “Why would I want to hurt you?”
She laid the envelope beside the web-covered candle in the center of the table. “Because I’m going to fight you for Liam.”
Connor licked his lips. Nodded. He took another sip of the tea. “I can think of less messy ways to stop you.”
He saw the fear that widened her big brown eyes and winced inwardly. Well, you knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, he told himself.
