He looked across the table at her delicate profile illuminated by the track lighting overhead and remembered the softness of her skin when he’d brushed her jaw while fastening his motorcycle helmet on her. No. He hadn’t believed it. He wanted to believe it to help build the wall between them that she wanted, and he needed, to maintain his focus on his project and his mission.
“Nothing, really,” Becca said.
Despite the truthfulness of her words, they stung his masculine pride.
“Come on,” Tom said. “Before the next hearing, I need to know if I should ask you to excuse yourself from debating and voting on Jared’s project.”
He looked at Jared as if he would, could, step in and clear things up for him.
Becca twisted the mother’s ring with Brendon’s and Ari’s birthstones that she wore on her right hand. “My car wouldn’t start after work last Friday. It was the alternator. Jared was driving by and stopped. I’d tried to call you but couldn’t get through. Jared said you and Karen were on vacation.”
Tom nodded and she rushed on. “He said he’d take a look at it and fix it if he could. We made a deal that I’d buy the parts and pay him for his labor with a home-cooked meal.” She stopped.
“That’s it?” Tom scratched his head.
“He did a few other things. To the car.”
Jared stepped in man-to-man. “You know how it is. I finished the alternator and started looking at other things.” He grinned at Tom.
Tom grinned back. “Yeah, I know how that goes. Then, you’re not dating or whatever you kids call it now?”
“No,” Becca said quickly. “Absolutely not.”
She might as well have added never.
“And I’ll be paying Jared the going rate for the other work. I’ve looked everything up online.”
He wanted to say she could take as long as she needed, but not in front of Tom.
“Good,” Tom said. “I don’t see any conflict of interest at this point.”
“I’ll recuse myself before the vote if I see any problem,” Becca said.
“Sounds good. You two go on home. I’ve got to lock up.”
Jared pushed away from the table and stopped. About a half hour before the public hearing had adjourned, he’d told Dan he could leave since it was getting so late and Dan had a long drive back to Albany. Jared had figured he could catch a ride with one of the Hazards. They all lived just up the road from the parsonage. Except they were long gone.
“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “I need a lift home. I came with Dan and he had to leave.”
“I—” Becca started.
“No problem.” Tom talked over her. “I go right by the parsonage.”
“Thanks,” Jared said.
Becca snapped her mouth shut, and Jared realized he’d spoken too soon. Unless his guess was wrong—and he didn’t think it was—she’d been about to offer him a ride. He shouldn’t have been so quick to accept Tom’s offer. Jared shook off his disappointment. No. It was better for both of them if he took her direction from the other night and kept his distance.
Chapter Nine
Jared padded downstairs in his cutoff jeans, Autodromo Daniel Bonara racetrack muscle shirt and bare feet. After tossing and turning for hours, he’d finally fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning and had slept almost to eleven. With the public hearing continued to next month, he had a lot of time on his hands. Maybe he’d grab a breakfast sandwich at the General Store and wash his bike this morning, then call Emily about getting together to talk about promotion. It couldn’t hurt to get his information out there over the next few weeks.
The parsonage phone rang. He waited a moment for his brother to pick up the other extension in his home office, then slipped on his shoes and started for the front door.
“Jared.” Connor’s shout stopped him. “The phone’s for you. I’ll bring it down.”
He couldn’t just pick up the extension down here?
Connor bounded down the stairs, handed him the phone and waited.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” the woman at the other end said. “I’m looking for Jared M. Donnelly.” The woman stumbled in her speech. “Pastor Donnelly said you’re Jared M. Donnelly.”
He frowned at his brother. Somehow a fan—or worse, some race bunny—had gotten their home phone number.
“Jared M. Donnelly, who used to live at...” The woman gave the address of the house on Daniels Road where he and his brothers had grown up.
The way the woman kept using his middle initial was odd. He hadn’t used it professionally. One more way to separate him from his namesake. “Yes,” he answered without thinking.
“Finally.”
Jared could hear relief in the woman’s voice.
“My name is Chris Sutton. We live in Morrisonville, outside of Plattsburgh. I have your daughter, Hope.”
Not again! Jared clenched the phone. He’d been through one false paternity suit following his wild time after his mentor’s death. It was not something he wanted to go through again.
“I don’t think so.”
“But...” Her voice wavered. “You said you were Jared M. Donnelly. That you’d lived on Daniels Road. Your name is on Hope’s birth certificate.” Her voice grew stronger with a tinge of desperation, “I suppose you’re going to tell me there’s another Jared Donnelly in Paradox Lake.”
“This conversation is over.” He hung up.
“What was that?”
“Some woman trying to claim I’m the father of her child. Says my name is on the girl’s birth certificate as her father.”
“Could you be?”
Jared glared his answer. Not likely in Plattsburgh, at least. He pushed the possibility of elsewhere to the back of his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids. With his racing school, he was planning to devote his career to helping kids. And he’d certainly take financial responsibility if he had a child. But he wasn’t father material. He had no frame of reference.
“I know that New York State requires a father to sign an acknowledgment of paternity before he can be listed on the birth certificate.”
Jared ignored his brother’s raised eyebrow at his knowing that information. “I didn’t sign any acknowledgment. And the woman had the audacity to get sarcastic and say she supposed I was going to tell her there was another Jared Donnelly in Paradox Lake.”
Jared and Connor stared at each other. “Dad,” they said in unison.
Jared punched the callback button on the phone. “Ms. Sutton?” he said to the woman who answered. “This is Jared Donnelly. Sorry I hung up on you. I think it’s my father, not me, you’re looking for.”
“Hope’s father was ten or so years older than her mother.” The woman’s relief at his callback was obvious. “Can you put me in touch with him?”
“No, I’m sorry. We haven’t seen or heard from him in almost seven years. How old is Hope?”
“Six.”
That fit with his father’s disappearance. He would have been in his late forties when she’d been born.
“You’re not the girl’s mother?” he asked.
“No, I’m her day-care provider. Her mother died four years ago, but Hope always lived with her grandmother. After your father, you’d be Hope’s closest living relative.”
Why was this woman looking for his father now if her mother had died four years ago? Something didn’t sound right.
Chris Sutton continued, “Her grandmother passed a couple of weeks ago. She had a heart attack but seemed to be doing well until she picked up an infection in the hospital. She was only fifty-nine. When she was seemingly recovering, Hope’s grandmother had me go to her house, get her strongbox and bring it to the hospital. She gave me Hope’s birth certificate and the Acknowledgment of Pa
ternity your father signed. She said if anything happened to her, Hope had family on her father’s side in Paradox Lake.”
“And that would be us.” Jared felt as drained as if he had just finished a round of weight training at the gym.
“When can you come? I’ve been telling Hope that we would find her daddy. I probably shouldn’t have kept her after the funeral, but she was so lost and is used to us. I hated the thought of contacting Child Protective Services. My husband spent five years in the foster care system until he was adopted when he was ten. We didn’t want that for Hope if she had family.”
“I want to talk with my dad’s stepmother, and an attorney.”
“I understand.” The woman sounded skeptical, as if he’d blow her off.
“I’ll let you know as soon as possible.” The Donnellys, except for his father, took care of their own. That was one of the reasons he’d returned. He hung up and turned to Connor. “Apparently, we have a little sister.”
Jared filled Connor in on the details and pulled his cell phone from his pocket to call his attorney. He pressed “contacts” and stopped. “Connor,” he called to his brother, who was heading back to his office. “Do you have a business card from the lawyer who handled Bert Miller’s estate?”
“Yeah. It’s in the drawer of the coffee table.”
Jared shuffled through the drawer and pulled out the card. It would be better to use a separate lawyer for this private matter rather than his business attorney. Although he didn’t know Bert’s lawyer beyond the time he and his brothers had spent with him at the reading of Bert’s will, his card said family law, and Jared was willing to trust Bert’s judgment.
He made his calls and was surprised at how quickly he was able to pull things together. And he didn’t care that he’d played his celebrity card with the law office to do it.
Eight hours later, he pulled into the parsonage garage with Hope fast asleep in a booster seat in the back of his car, a hole torn in his heart by the rage he felt for his father’s actions and Hope’s quiet sobs that hadn’t stopped until she’d fallen asleep about halfway home. The attorney had said he would take care of all the custody details, that there shouldn’t be any problem making Jared Hope’s guardian since his—and Hope’s—father had been missing for years.
He got out, opened the back door and gazed at his little sister. As Gram had said, even if the Suttons hadn’t had Hope’s documents, there would have been little question that she was a Donnelly. Except for the length of her hair, she looked exactly like Jared had in his kindergarten school photo.
“Time to wake up, Hope,” he coaxed as he unfastened the straps to her booster seat. Gram had said it would be better to wake her up so she could see the house and where she was sleeping before they tucked her in for the night.
Her eyes opened wide and she let out a scream. “I want my Grammy. I want Chris.”
He hugged her to him and carried her into the house, silently praying, Dear Lord, I know You don’t give us more than we can handle, but this has to be close. Please guide me to do what’s best for Hope because I have no idea what to do with a six-year-old little girl, let alone one who has lost everyone close to her.
* * *
“You’d think he’d have the decency to bring her somewhere other than the church parsonage,” Debbie Norton said.
“Hmm?” Becca sat at her desk in the small day-care office reviewing the list of kids preregistered for Vacation Bible School next week. The Sheriff had dropped off Debbie and the kids about fifteen minutes earlier. He’d needed to run to the General Store for fishing bait and thought she and Debbie could catch up while he did. So far, the catching up had been about how much the kids had wanted to stay at their father’s, but Matt and Crystal were entertaining this weekend, so Crystal had needed to get the house ready.
As usual, business and socializing came first with Matt.
Becca had work she needed to finish today, so she half listened while Debbie prattled on.
“Jared Donnelly,” Debbie said.
Becca gave Debbie her full attention.
“He has a daughter, you know. It has to be his daughter. One of my friends texted me. She saw them at the soft-serve ice-cream stand. Said the little girl looked exactly like him.” Debbie paused for effect. “Seriously, what kind of father could that man be? The things Ken read about him in those racing and celebrity magazines. Disgusting.”
Becca’s grip on her pen tightened. Debbie’s mention of Jared’s offtrack life while he’d been on the circuit brought up her inner questions about how well she knew him. The fact was she had trouble picturing his reported wildness. But that could be because she didn’t want to. If Debbie was right, he had an illegitimate daughter, a fact he hadn’t thought to mention to her or, evidently, anyone else. Becca placed the pen on her desk and flexed her fingers. The little girl must live with her mother, and if she spent time with Jared, he must still have some kind of relationship with the mother, even if it was just as parents.
Becca pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. “If Jared has a daughter, where else would she stay? Jared lives at the parsonage.”
“About that, I’ve heard talk that some of the Community Church parishioners want to ask Pastor Connor to tell his brother to live elsewhere. The vote to call Pastor was close, and I suspect some people regret their vote now.”
Becca didn’t have to think hard to guess how her ex-in-laws had voted.
“I assume you’re taking Ken’s advice and staying clear of Jared.”
Becca pushed the list she’d been checking to the side. Debbie must not have heard about Jared and her Saturday night dinner. If she or the Sheriff confronted her about it, Becca could honestly say that she’d cut whatever fragile ties might have been developing between them. It disgusted her that Matt and his parents always had her walking on eggshells. But the alternative of a custody battle seemed worse.
“The girl is about Ari’s age. You wouldn’t want Ari to become friendly with her. It’s enough that Brendon has a misplaced infatuation with that man.”
Becca slapped her hand on the desk and her ex-mother-in-law started. “Debbie, you’re talking about a little girl. If she’s going to be staying, visiting for any length of time, making friends here may make her more comfortable. I’ll mention to Pastor Connor that Jared might want to enroll her in Vacation Bible School.”
“Well.” Debbie huffed. “I suppose that might help her. Her father is certainly no role model.”
Actually, a lot of people Becca had talked with thought he was, despite the stories about him that had appeared in the entertainment magazines. She wasn’t going to argue that point with Debbie now. She just wanted Ken to come pick up Debbie so she could get back to her work.
“Ready?” the Sheriff said from the doorway.
“Yes, we’re all caught up,” his wife said.
“Good.” He fixed his gaze on Becca. “And nice job at the Zoning Board meeting. Putting up a facade of neutrality was good. Keep people guessing while you work to stop that no-good interloper Donnelly.”
Becca got up and closed the office door after looking in the hall to make sure no children had heard the Sheriff badmouthing Jared. Holding the doorknob, she said, “Tell me. Did you orchestrate the protest in Schroon Lake on Saturday?”
“Sure did.” An oily smile spread across his face. “Pretty clever of me to hire that woman who looked like you, if I do say so myself.”
“Clever isn’t the word that comes to my mind.”
His smile widened. “Did Debbie tell you about Matt taking the kids to Florida later this summer?”
Her chest tightened. “No.”
“A business trip with the kids and Crystal coming along. Matt’s up for a big promotion to the main office there. If all goes well, we may all be moving down there by the end of the summer
.”
Becca’s heart stopped. She knew Matt couldn’t move the kids to Florida without her consent, even if he had custody, which he was unlikely to be able to arrange by the end of the summer. Even if the Sheriff owned the Family Court judge, which he didn’t. But the threat was clear.
“So you two have definitely decided to retire to Florida, then?”
“Like I said, we may all be moving to Florida. Come on, Deb.”
Becca resisted heaving the coffee mug on the desk at the back of the Sheriff’s head as he and Debbie opened the office door and walked out. She was still shaking a couple of minutes later when Brendon darted in.
“Hi, Mom. Can I talk with you? Ms. Leanne said it was okay to come in from the playground.”
“Sure.” The work she had could wait. “Did you have a good time at your dad’s?”
“It was okay. The picnic thing, at least. The rest of the time, Dad was either working at home or at his office, and Crystal kept telling us to go watch TV or play in our rooms and followed us around like she was afraid we’d steal or break something.” He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the vinyl floor. “I don’t think she likes us.”
“Sure she does. She’s just not used to having kids around.” Becca suspected that Crystal wasn’t fond of any kids, not that she particularly disliked Brendon and Ari.
“If she doesn’t like kids around and Dad works all of the time, why did he say we’ll be spending a lot more time at his house? Do I have to?”
Brendon’s words took her back again to her begging her father to not make her go to stay at her mother’s. No, not if I have any say in it, and I do.
Love Inspired May 2015 #2 Page 32
