by Pamela Bauer
“I thought you had a date tonight,” Frannie said, one brow raised in curiosity.
“Plans changed.”
“You don’t look too upset over it.”
“I’m not. I found out he goes through women as fast as day-traders dump stocks.”
“What are day-traders?” Emma asked.
“People who play the stock market,” Lois answered. “So what do you think?” She addressed Frannie and the kids. “You up for some pizza?”
It didn’t take any arm-twisting to convince Alex that he should join them. The subject of pizza seemed to make everyone but Frannie forget about grandparents, dads, potential boyfriends and just about everything else. As they all piled into Lois’s car, no one said another word about Joe Smith.
But Frannie was having a hard time forgetting about the man. It had been that way ever since she’d returned to Minneapolis. And it wasn’t because of his uncanny resemblance to her ex-husband.
No, Joe kept popping into her mind because of the way he’d kissed her. It had been a long time since any man had made her go weak with a single kiss. She didn’t like the feeling. Nor did she like the delicious little tremor that traveled through her every time she remembered the way his lips had felt on hers. She wanted to forget that kiss. To forget Joe.
Only, she found that difficult to do, especially when Lois asked questions she wasn’t able to answer. Like why hadn’t Joe shown Alex photographs of him with his mother? Or a high school yearbook or a college diploma or any number of legal documents that quickly would have put to rest any mistaken identity?
Frannie knew that there was a bit of mystery about Joe. He’d said very little about himself except that he flew planes and took care of his ailing father. It was probably all she would ever know about the man. And it is all you need to know, a tiny voice whispered inside her head.
That didn’t stop her from thinking about him, or from wishing she could unravel the mystery.
EVER SINCE Frannie Harper and her children had gone, Joe had been restless. He wanted to attribute his uneasiness to the fact that their intrusion into his quiet and orderly world had forced him to look over his shoulder again.
The truth was that meeting Frannie hadn’t simply started him watching for the authorities. It had reminded him of what was missing in his life. A woman. Children. Maybe that’s why he was having trouble forgetting her.
Or rather, forgetting how sweet she’d tasted when he’d kissed her. He wished he could forget that night. If there was one rule he’d made for himself, it was to never kiss an unwilling woman. With Frannie he’d broken that rule. It was a good thing she’d gone back to Minneapolis the next day.
For the first few days after her departure, Joe had kept an eye on his driveway, hoping there wouldn’t be more unexpected visitors. Even though Frannie had assured him that she wouldn’t go to the authorities, he wasn’t sure that a sheriff wouldn’t come calling. By the end of the week, however, he began to think that his worry had been unfounded. He wanted to believe that the young mother had been able to convince her son that there was no need to contact the police.
Then on Friday there was a letter in his mailbox with no return address. The postmark indicated it had been mailed from Minneapolis. Joe tensed as he slid his finger beneath the flap and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a folded piece of lined notebook paper. As he pulled it out, a photograph fell to the ground. Joe picked it up and saw that it was a snapshot of Frannie and her three kids. Joe knew where in Minneapolis it had been taken, recognizing the sculpture behind them—a giant metal spoon supporting a cherry.
Seeing the picture of Frannie did funny things to Joe’s insides. She wore another long skirt and a loosely fitting blouse that covered her from shoulders to ankles, but he knew that beneath all that cotton were curves that could make a man’s heart race. All four of the Harpers looked happy, smiling with impish grins as they posed for the camera. Joe wondered what kind of man would desert such a beautiful family.
He turned his attention to the letter. Dear Dad, it began, and Joe grimaced. So the kid hadn’t given up hope that Joe was his father.
This is a picture of us last summer at the skulpcher garden in Minneapolis. It’s where we went for our vacation because we didn’t have any money to go on a real one. If you paid your bills we could maybe go to a cabin at a lake or to Wisconsin Dells.
Joe shook his head. It angered him to think there were men like this Dennis Harper. Joe had only spent a few hours with Alex, Emma and Luke, yet he could see they were good kids, kids who deserved to have a father in their lives. He continued to read.
Mom still has to make payments for the operation Luke had when he was a baby. Until she got her job at the newspaper, we didn’t have any insurance.
Newspaper? Was Frannie Harper a reporter? He raked a hand over his head, wishing he’d asked her what she did for a living. It could be she worked in a newspaper office doing clerical work. Or in human resources. Or in production. He didn’t want to think that she was an investigative journalist with a nose trained to look for stories that people chose to keep hidden. Because that meant she may have sniffed a story when she’d spent the night in his home.
Uneasiness had Joe setting the letter aside and reaching for his laptop. He needed to find out just who Frannie Harper was. Sitting at the kitchen table, he accessed the Internet, and in only a few minutes had learned she was a photojournalist who worked for a small weekly paper in the metropolitan area of Minneapolis and St. Paul. Several of her photographs were posted on the paper’s Web site. He enlarged each of them to get a better look at her work, impressed by the emotion she’d captured with her camera.
As he put away his laptop, he wondered if he should contact Frannie to find out what—if any—investigating she’d done on him. He knew that if he did, he risked raising her suspicions.
He picked up Alex’s letter. As he continued to read the boy’s words, Joe realized that whether he wanted it or not, he’d been dragged into the lives of the Harpers.
How come you don’t want us? I bet Grandpa would feel better if you would let us be your kids. He likes us. He told me so. Mom says I can’t do anything about who you are until I talk to Gramma. I don’t know when she is going to be home again. Until I talk to her I am going to keep writing to you and reminding you of your obligashuns. Alex.
Joe wished he could forget about Alex and his mother—rip up this letter and pretend they’d never been stranded at his home. Pretend they hadn’t mistaken him for another man. Pretend they didn’t exist.
He knew he couldn’t. And not just because he worried that Frannie Harper might use her connections at the paper to investigate his background. Another emotion kept him from ignoring the letter. In less than twenty-four hours, Frannie and Alex Harper had managed to make him care about them.
He could understand why he’d been drawn to Frannie. She was a lovely woman and he was a man who’d been alone far too long. But Alex? What was it about the boy that made him feel as if they’d established some connection?
Maybe it was because Alex reminded Joe of something he’d lost—the opportunity to be a parent. If it weren’t for the fact that his wife had suffered two miscarriages, Joe would have been the father of three children very close in age to Alex, Emma and Luke. He knew it was possible that Alex’s plea for a father rubbed a sore spot that had never truly healed—the place in his heart that still grieved over the loss of three children.
Dennis Harper hadn’t lost his children. He’d tossed them aside, not wanting to be a part of their lives. Anger at the stranger festered inside Joe. It wasn’t fair that Alex had such a deadbeat for a dad. Nor was it fair that Joe, who’d wanted children, had had his opportunity to be a father stolen from him. He knew it wasn’t likely that he’d ever know the love of a son like Alex, not when he was forced to live as a fugitive. If only…
“Joe?”
His father’s voice reminded him that this was not the time for sentiment. He couldn’t
allow emotions to rule his head. All that mattered was keeping his father safe. He didn’t have time to worry about a ten-year-old boy who had the misfortune of having a rotten dad. Or his mother. He needed to forget both of them.
But he found that difficult to do when each new day brought another letter. Joe thought about not reading them, but within minutes of finding one in the mailbox he’d ripped it open. With every word he read he found it more difficult to remain indifferent to Alex’s pleas. Nor could he forget about Frannie Harper. He hated to think of her children being without a father. Or of her having to bear her burdens alone.
He stared at the stack of letters, debating whether he should follow his instincts—those that told him something needed to be done. He went back to his laptop. Within minutes he had her phone number and address on the screen.
All he had to do was call her. Tell her about the letters. Ask her what he could do to help remedy the situation.
How come you don’t want us? Alex’s words echoed in his head.
Joe knew he had to put an end to the letter writing—not just for Alex’s sake, but for his own. He would call Frannie tomorrow.
IT HAD BEEN A HECTIC DAY for Frannie. First Luke had fallen off the bed and hit his head on his metal dump truck, necessitating a trip to the ER for stitches. Next Emma had received the news that her very best friend Ashley was moving to Pennsylvania and had needed a shoulder to cry on. Then Alex had gotten into a fight with one of the neighbor boys, coming home with a bloody lip and a bruised ego, which Frannie had discovered was far more difficult to mend than the cut on his face.
By dinnertime she was tired, she had a headache and she wondered how she would get through the remainder of the day. Then Ashley invited Emma to sleep over, and Lois called to say she had an extra ticket to the Twins game and would take Alex. That left Frannie alone with Luke, who was content to sit next to her, watch an animated video and eat popcorn.
It was all Frannie could handle that particular evening. By the time the video had ended, she was tempted to crawl into bed herself, but knew she needed to let Alex in when he came home. As she tucked in Luke, she noticed something dark and small near his pillow.
“What’s this?” she asked, reaching for the metal object.
“A ship,” he answered. He grabbed it from her hands and pushed it across his pillow, making a humming sound.
“I can see it’s a ship, Luke. Where did you get it?”
He looked over his shoulder and giggled.
“Luke, did you take that from Alex?” Again she reached for it. “Let Mommy see.”
One thing she knew about her younger son was that he liked to make a game out of everything. Tonight was no exception. He hid the ship under his pillow, then shoved both his hands behind his back and said, “Guess where it is, Mommy!”
Frannie played along. “Behind your back?”
He pulled both hands out and said, “Nope!” Then he pulled the ship from under the pillow. “See?”
Frannie discovered the ship was actually a paperweight with the U.S. Navy insignia on the bottom. Her heart sank.
“Show Mommy where you found it, Luke,” she instructed the three-year-old.
He hesitated, a guilty look on his face, so she said, “It’s okay. I won’t be angry.”
He tumbled out of bed and went over to where Alex’s backpack rested on the floor. With his finger he pointed to the open zipper, smiling slyly. “In there.”
“Okay. Come back to bed now,” Frannie ordered. He came running across the room and into her arms. After a bedtime story and a good-night kiss, Frannie left with the paperweight in her hand.
A TALK WITH ALEX confirmed Frannie’s suspicions. The paperweight belonged to Joe Smith. She told Alex that they would call him tomorrow evening as soon as she got home from her assignment.
When she arrived home, however, she discovered that Joe had already called and left a message for her. Her heart banged against her chest at the sound of his voice.
“Frannie, it’s Joe Smith. We need to talk.”
Alex, too, heard the message. “It’s Dad. I knew he’d call.”
Frannie sighed. “He didn’t say, ‘It’s your father.’ Maybe he called because he noticed his paperweight was missing. I’ll find out,” she said ominously as she picked up the phone.
Alex was about to make a beeline for his bedroom when she hooked an arm around him and said, “You stay right here. You’re going to apologize for taking it.”
Frannie’s heart beat erratically as she punched in the numbers. The phone rang several times before Joe answered.
She took a deep breath and said, “Hi. It’s Frannie Harper. Am I calling at a bad time?”
“No. Not at all. Thank you for returning my call.”
“Yes, well, it’s funny you called because I was planning to call you today myself.”
“You were?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes.” She tried to still her fluttering nerves. “I found out last night that we have something of yours. A small paperweight in the shape of a ship.”
“So that’s what happened to it.”
“You missed it?”
“I noticed it wasn’t on the desk, but I thought my father had moved it and couldn’t remember what he’d done with it,” he answered.
“Alex brought it home with him. He’s not a thief—” she was quick to point out “—he wanted to get something with your fingerprints on it.” There was dead silence on the other end, making Frannie very nervous. “He thought he could prove you’re his father,” she added quietly.
“Are you saying he went to the authorities and checked my fingerprints?”
Frannie wasn’t surprised that he sounded upset. “No. My sister told him it wouldn’t do any good. Dennis isn’t a criminal.”
“Thank goodness for that,” he said on a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Joe, for yet another inconvenience,” she added. “I’m sure that paperweight must have sentimental value.”
“Actually, it’s my father’s.”
She chuckled nervously. “Then, chances are it wouldn’t even have had your prints on it. I don’t think Alex realized that. I’m going to give the phone to him because he wants to talk to you, too,” she said, then passed the receiver to her son.
Alex looked as if he were being given a dose of poison to swallow, but Frannie refused the plea for mercy in his eyes and forced him to take the phone.
To her relief, he sounded remorseful, apologizing to Joe in a way that made her think she had done something right as a parent after all. That sentiment was quickly forgotten, however, when before ending the conversation he challenged Joe to a DNA test.
Frannie grabbed the phone from her son. “Joe, I’m sorry. Alex had no right to ask that. I certainly don’t think it’s appropriate or necessary in this situation.”
Alex stomped off to his room, which suited Frannie. It was difficult enough talking to Joe without her stubborn son trying to persuade her to say things better left unsaid.
To her surprise, Joe didn’t find Alex’s suggestion outrageous. “If we did a DNA test he would know once and for all that I’m not his father,” he said. “There’s something you should know, Frannie.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “What’s that?”
There was a short pause, then he said, “Alex has been writing to me every day. He’s sending pictures, lecturing me on how bad a parent I’ve been.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” She broke off, embarrassed. “I’ve told him you’re not Dennis, but he simply refuses to believe me.”
“Has he been able to talk to his grandmother?”
“He wrote to you about her?”
“He’s told me quite a few things about your family.”
That made Frannie wonder exactly what Alex had said in his letters. She briefly explained the reason they hadn’t been able to reach her mother-in-law. “Unfortunately, she is the one person who could convince Alex you’re not his father.”
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“Which means until he hears from her he’ll continue to foster the false hope that he’s my son. I’m sure you don’t want that any more than I do.”
“No, I don’t,” she agreed.
“Then, a paternity test may be the logical resolution to all of this. At least that way there would be no second-guessing on anyone’s part.”
“You’re willing to take one?”
“Yes. We both know what the results will be.”
“Yes, but the inconvenience…”
“Is worth the peace of mind,” he finished for her. “It needs to be done, Frannie. He’s telling me things a boy shares with his father.”
And it bothered him, as it would any man with a conscience, she thought. Joe was a man who cared about people. She’d seen that for herself.
“What do you think?” He waited for her answer.
“I think it’s kind of you to offer to do such a thing. I’ll ask my sister what’s the best way to handle this. She’s a lawyer.”
“There’s no need to get anyone else involved. I’ve already checked with a couple of labs here in the Duluth area. There’s also a company that will send someone to your house to get the sample from Alex. We wouldn’t even have to meet to get this done.”
She wondered if that was what he preferred. “Can I think about this and get back to you?”
“Yes, but I’d like to take care of it as soon as possible. The longer Alex thinks of me as his father, the greater the disappointment is going to be when he learns the truth.”
She knew he was right. “All right. You can go ahead and schedule the appointment in Duluth.”
BECAUSE JOE HAD REQUESTED that no one else be involved in the testing, Frannie hadn’t asked her sister’s advice. She had, however, planned to tell Lois about the DNA test—but Alex beat her to it.
“We’re going to Duluth tomorrow to get a DNA test,” he announced to his aunt the minute she’d walked in the front door.
“You’re doing what?” Lois gave her sister a glare that demanded answers.
