by Barbara Gee
“What list?”
“I like to write down potential epitaphs when I hear them.”
“Epitaphs?” he asked, raising a brow.
“Yep. And now I have a new one to add to my list. ‘Elizabeth Belle Simon. Beloved daughter and sister, and not just anyone.”
“Well good, I’m glad I could contribute. I think. What are some of the others on your list?”
She chuckled. “It’s not a serious list, mind you. I call them epitaphs, but I don’t expect any of them to actually be carved into my grave stone. They just tell me things about myself, sometimes good, sometimes not so much. But they have to come from other people—I can’t make them up myself. That’s the rule.”
“Examples?” he prompted.
“Well, Maddy once told me that I’m ‘hopelessly weird, outrageous, and crazy, but in a good way.’ And Tuck says I’m ‘gifted at hearing yes when people say no.’ Which I guess has something to do with the fact that I can be a little persistent about getting my way.”
“I’d like to see your whole list sometime.”
“Everyone should have an epitaph list,” she said as she layered turkey and ham on the bread. “Cheese?”
“Sure.”
“Pickles?”
“No, thanks. Not a pickle fan.”
“Oh, there you go!” Libby laughed as she slapped the second piece of bread on top of the sandwich. “That can be the first entry on your own list. Ryan—wait, what’s your middle name?”
“Grant.”
“Ryan Grant Anderson. Beloved son and brother, and not a pickle fan.” She chuckled. “Not exactly profound, but you’ve gotta start somewhere.”
He grinned and accepted the sandwich, leaning back against the counter as he took a bite. “Thanks for this. Getting groceries was the last thing on my mind.”
“Understandably so,” she said, nibbling on a piece of cheese.
He nodded, the smile fading as his expression became pensive again. “Do you think one day I’ll be able to put ‘beloved father’ on that list?”
Libby nodded, her eyes filling. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“I’m not even going to ask why you’re so confident, I’m just going to try to believe it.”
“Don’t expect too much too soon, though,” she cautioned. “It’s going to be a huge adjustment for both of you, so don’t get discouraged. Just love him, Ry. That’s what he needs, and that’s what’ll get you through.”
Ryan swallowed and put his sandwich down, then reached for her hand and pulled her toward him. “I’m really am glad you’re here, Libby Belle,” he said, his voice rough. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Do you think he’ll look like me?”
“If he’s lucky.” She put her hands on his waist and dropped her cheek against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart. “You’re kinda cute, you know.”
“So was Eve.”
“I’m sure it’s still hard to believe she’s gone.”
“Yeah. She was always so full of life.” Ryan was silent for a moment. “I had strong feelings for her, I just wasn’t ready to take the next step and she was tired of waiting. But I’m glad most of my memories are good ones, so I can help Hank remember her that way.”
“I’m glad, too.”
His arms tightened before falling away. “I hate that he’s going to be scared when the social worker shows up to get him. I wish there was a better way.”
“They deal with scared, confused kids on a regular basis. I think it’ll be okay, and having his grandparents take him for the night will help a lot.”
“I’ll make it up to him.” He picked up the sandwich again and walked to the living room. “I’m going to check in with the detective,” he said over his shoulder. “Thanks again for the food.”
Libby put away the meat and cheese, grabbed a bottle of water and her laptop, and went to her bedroom. She settled cross-legged in the middle of her bed and opened the computer. With an hour or so to kill, she might as well get some more work done. But first she bowed her head and silently asked God to give comfort and peace to Ryan and his little boy when they met for the very first time.
When she opened her eyes, Ryan was leaning against the door frame, his expression unreadable as he watched her.
“Was that for me?” he asked softly.
Libby hesitated. She knew how he felt about praying, but she could only tell him the truth. “Yeah.”
He gave a slow nod. “Thanks.” And then he walked on down the hall.
CHAPTER 17
“Do you know where the courthouse is?” Libby asked when they got in the car.
“Yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s close to the police station.” Ryan drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he waited for a car to pass so he could pull out of the drive. “They should be picking Hank up right about now. Poor kid.”
“Eventually he won’t remember this part,” Libby assured him. “It’ll just come to be known as the day he met his dad for the first time.”
“I hope he feels a connection,” Ryan said. “Even though he doesn’t know me, I hope he feels something that tells him we’re connected, and I’ll always take care of him.”
Libby looked over at Ryan, concentrating on his physical characteristics, things that might have been passed on to little Hank. The thick brown hair, its blond highlights even more abundant after a week of working outside in the sun at the ranch. The dark, dark eyes under slightly winged brows. The proud, straight nose and firm lips. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. And the tall, well-shaped, beautifully muscled body of an athlete. Or warrior. He was both.
Libby felt her cheeks heating up and she had to look away. Ryan Anderson was her idea of masculine perfection, plain and simple. She was glad their minds had been so occupied with little Hank these last few days. With all the time she’d been spending with him, it would have been all too easy to let her attraction to him get a little out of control. She was proud of herself for shoving her feelings for him aside in order to focus on things that were far more pressing.
They stopped at a red light, and Ryan started drumming his fingers again. Libby reached over and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his and then putting her other hand on top.
“It’s going to be fine, Ryan. I’m excited. Little Hank has been waiting to meet you all his life, he just doesn’t know it yet.”
“There’s the courthouse,” Ryan said, pointing ahead. “There’s a parking lot on the far side.”
“Oh, there’s Patrick, waiting at the bottom of the steps.” Libby said, waving to the attorney as they drove past.
Ten minutes later the three of them were settled in a small private room in the big building, waiting for word on little Hank. Patrick and Libby chatted quietly while Ryan paced, his jaw clenched so tightly Libby could see the muscles bunching under his skin.
They all froze when there was a light tap on the door, just before it swung open to admit a forty-something woman, dressed in a navy suit, with a sweet smile and kind eyes.
“Mr. Anderson?” she asked, holding out her hand to Ryan. “I’m Marilee Hendricks, the case worker assigned to work with you and Henry.” She chuckled. “I don’t know why I even asked that in the form of a question. After seeing your son, there’s no doubt about who you are. My goodness, you certainly do have a little mini-me.”
Libby saw Ryan’s throat convulse as he swallowed. “He looks like me?” he asked.
The social worker’s brows shot up. “You haven’t seen any photos?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, there’s no doubt he’s your son, but the DNA test will make it official. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She turned to the others. “Nice to see you again, Patrick. And who else do we have here?”
Ryan introduced Libby, then looked at the other woman hopefully. “Is he here?”
Marilee nodded, then gestured to the small table and chairs. “Le
t’s all have a seat. Yes, Henry is here, he’s with my colleague in the next room, having a little snack while we talk.”
“How did it go at the house?” Ryan asked anxiously. “Was it traumatic for him?”
The woman sat forward, clasping her hands on the table. “It’s a little hard to say, Mr. Anderson. Henry appears to be a very reserved little boy. He showed very little emotion, although I suspect that’s because he’s been conditioned not to do so, and not an indication that he doesn’t feel deeply. He gave us absolutely no trouble, but when he thought I wasn’t looking I saw him wiping his eyes. That’s why I believe he’s been, er, encouraged not to show emotion or cause any kind of a ruckus. I understand from Patrick here that his step-father has not been a loving influence in his life. Henry is no doubt still grieving the loss of his mother, and my guess is his step-father wasn’t inclined to indulge that grief, and thus Henry has clammed up, so to speak.”
“So how should we handle this?” Ryan asked. “I don’t have any other kids, so I don’t have any parenting experience to draw from. Any advice you can give me would be welcome.”
Marilee sat back in her chair, her smile gentle. “There are no set rules. My best advice is to just go with your heart and your gut, Mr. Anderson. What Henry needs most is reassurance that you’re going to be there for him. If the outcome of your custody petition was in any doubt, I would recommend against making promises about taking him home to live with you, but in this case that should be perfectly fine. Of course he’ll be with his grandparents tonight, as agreed, but after the court hearing tomorrow, he’ll be with you. I assume you’ve given a DNA sample already?”
“I did. Yesterday.”
“We’ll swab Henry’s cheek before he leaves here today. Even if the judge gives you custody tomorrow, it won’t be locked up tight until after the results come back. And I will need to visit you at your home every day for the first week. Just to make sure things are going okay. It’s standard procedure.”
“That’s fine,” Ryan said. “What if he asks about his step-dad? What if Hank asks to go back home with him?”
“Naturally you won’t want to tell him that Anthony will likely be going to jail. Just emphasize that you’re his father, and his mommy contacted you and asked you to come because she knew he would be happiest living with you. And mommy knew best, because she knew him better than anyone else.”
Ryan nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
“We’ll also tell him right away that his grandparents will be here soon and he’ll be going to a hotel with them tonight. All indications are that they get along very well, even though he hasn’t been able to see them since Eve passed. They were certainly very willing to help us ease this transition for Hank. I suspect that if things don’t go as smoothly as we hope, they’ll be happy to stay here in town as long as needed.”
“I appreciate that, and I’ll be sure to let them know how grateful I am. Can I see Hank now?”
Marilee smiled. “I don’t see why not. I’ll go bring him in.” She patted Ryan on the arm as she stood up. “Hang tight, Daddy. Back in a minute.”
Ryan looked across the table at Libby. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and just shook his head.
“I know,” she said softly.
“Marilee’s the best,” Patrick told them. “If she thought there were going to be problems, she’d have told us. It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”
He nodded, looking toward the door. When the knob turned he stood up quickly, while Libby and Patrick moved to the far side of the room, not wanting to intimidate Hank with a wall of strange adults when he walked in.
Marilee stuck her head in, her smile wide. “Ready in here?”
“Ready,” Ryan said, pressing his hands to his thighs. Libby was pretty sure that was because they were shaking.
Marilee opened the door wider and stood aside, smiling encouragingly and holding out her hand. “Come on in, Henry. Your daddy is very eager to meet you.”
Libby saw a small hand reach out to take Marilee’s, and then Ryan’s little boy walked slowly into the room. She and Patrick gasped simultaneously, and Libby pressed her hand to her chest. She could only stare as the miniature Ryan took a few more steps forward. His hair was more blonde than brown, but otherwise he was Ryan’s son through and through. Adorable.
Hank was staring at the floor by Ryan’s feet, as if he were afraid to take that first look at the man he’d been told was his father. Finally he looked up, way up, and Libby saw the saddest little dark eyes she had ever seen.
“Oh,” she breathed, unconsciously grabbing Patrick’s hand.
Ryan dropped to his knees, his gaze fixed intently on his son. “Hey, Hank.”
Marilee smoothly stepped in when it was obvious that Ryan couldn’t say anything more than that at the moment.
“Henry, sweetheart, Ryan here is your daddy. Remember we talked about him?”
Hank’s eyes dropped to the floor again, then he gave a tiny nod.
Ryan cleared his throat. “I came as soon as I found out about you. Your mom sent me a letter and asked me to come.”
Hank snuck another look at the man kneeling in front of him, then his eyes darted over to where Libby and Patrick waited.
Ryan placed his hands on his thighs and stared at his son for a few more moments, then rose slowly to his feet. “These are my friends, Libby and Patrick.”
Libby walked over to Hank. She desperately wanted to hug the little boy, anything to try to take that sadness out of his eyes, but she knew instinctively it would be too much too soon. She could only imagine how much harder it was for Ryan to keep his distance.
“Hi, Hank,” she said, smiling. “I’m so glad to meet you. Your dad could hardly wait to get here to see you. We were really far away when we got your mom’s letter and it took a while for us to get here. We had to fly on a big jet.”
Hank’s eyes shifted briefly to Ryan, then back to Libby. She could see that he had questions, but he didn’t ask them. He just looked down again.
Marilee put her hand on Hank’s head. “How about we all sit down over here and get to know each other. Would that be okay with you, Henry?”
The little boy didn’t answer, he just followed Marilee over to the table and chairs.
“You can sit here beside your boy, Ryan, and the rest of us will sit across the table. Henry, honey, do you have anything you’d like to talk about? Any questions you’d like to ask your dad?”
One thin shoulder went up in a shrug, but he kept his gaze fixed on the table.
Ryan turned his chair to face him. “Okay, how about I tell you some stuff about me first, and then maybe you can tell me some things about you.”
Again the shoulder went up and down.
Ryan looked at Libby, wanting some guidance. She just nodded encouragingly.
“Okay, well, I can start by telling you that your mom and I were real good friends. I met her a long time ago, when we were in high school, and she was a very special lady. I’m real sorry she got sick. And I’m sorry I didn’t meet you sooner. I guess your mom thought it was best if your family was just you, her, and your other dad. Anthony.”
“Anthony’s not my dad,” Hank said quickly. He didn’t look up and his voice was soft and husky, but at least he had finally spoken.
“But you lived with him for a long time. I know it’s going to be real different for you to come live with me, but that’s what I’d like you to do,” Ryan said carefully.
A tap sounded on the door, and Marilee’s colleague poked her head in. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mr. Anderson, but there’s a detective here who needs to talk to you. He said it’s important.”
Ryan looked at Patrick, who was already getting to his feet.
“You go on, Ryan,” Marilee said. “Libby and I will keep young Henry here occupied. It shouldn’t be long.”
“I’ll be right back, okay Hank?” Ryan asked.
Hank didn’t respond, but as soon as Ryan stood,
he turned his head and watched him closely until the door shut behind him. Libby was pretty sure that was a good sign. Hank was curious about his dad, he just didn’t want to show it. She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, smiling at the scared, confused, sad little guy.
“You look like your daddy,” she said softly. “Don’t you think so? I bet if you saw a picture of him when he was five like you, you’d think you were looking at your own picture.”
Hank’s dark eyes fastened on her. As Patrick had predicted from the beginning, it seemed he might be quicker to respond to her than to Ryan, simply because she was a woman, like his mother.
“Do you have a picture?” Hank asked softly.
“No, but I’m going to try to get one. And I know just who I can ask. Your dad’s mom. Did you know you’re going to have another grandma and grandpa now, too?” Ryan had finally called his parents and brother the night before to fill them in. Naturally they were stunned at the news, but also chomping at the bit to meet Hank.
Hank’s ears seemed to perk up, and Libby went on. “You even have cousins. Do you know what cousins are?”
He nodded slowly. “Jake has a cousin.”
“Is Jake one of your friends?”
He nodded again but offered no further explanation.
“Do you want to know something else about your dad?” she asked, smiling conspiratorially.
He looked at her, not willing to commit. “Your dad is a policeman. A real good one, too.”
This time a spark of interest flared in his dark eyes, but he still didn’t speak so Libby went on. “He works in a town kinda close to here. But he’s taking a vacation from his job right now. That way you guys will have plenty of time to get to know each other better.”
“Does he drive a police car?” Hank asked.
“He sure does.”
Hank studied Libby’s face and she got the feeling he was trying to decide whether he could trust her.
“Anthony said he wasn’t my real dad,” he said finally. “And he said my real dad didn’t want me to be his boy.”
Libby fought the urge to pull the little guy into her arms and never let go. Instead, she moved over to the empty chair beside him and took his hand in hers. “Anthony was mistaken, Hank. Your dad didn’t know about you.” She glanced at Marilee to make sure she was doing okay. The social worker gave her a nod, so Libby continued.
