Never Alone

by Lyn Cote

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Author the Author

  Title Page

  Epigraph

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Copyright

  “I want Angie,” Cash insisted.

  “I have a right to claim my only family—”

  “Dena and I were like sisters.” Jane felt the pinching around her heart. “Do you think I would have loved her more if we had been born in the same family?”

  “It’s not the same. You have your whole family. All I have is that baby. How can you be so selfish?”

  “I’m not being selfish. I’m following Dena’s wishes. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe my family is one of the reasons Dena wanted Angie with me?”

  Cash shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at the ground.

  “Don’t you see? Dena loved you, but she turned to my family for what she lacked.” Jane wanted to add, Dena wanted Angie to love God, too, Cash, but she knew this would shatter the tentative link she was trying to forge. Cash had never understood Dena’s love for the Lord.

  Instead she said, “Cash, you’ve decided to live your life solo, but I think Dena preferred Angie to be part of a choir…”

  LYN COTE

  Born in Texas, raised in Illinois on the shore of Lake Michigan, Lyn now lives in Iowa with her real-life hero, Steve, and their son and daughter—both teens. Lyn has spent her adult life as a teacher, then a full-time mom, now a writer.

  When she married Steve over twenty years ago, she “married” the north woods of Wisconsin, too. Recently she and her husband bought a fixer-upper cabin on a lake there. Lyn spends most of each summer sitting by that lake, writing. As she writes, her Siamese cat, Shadow, likes to curl up on Lyn’s lap to keep her company. By the way, Lyn’s last name is pronounced “Coty.”

  Never Alone

  Lyn Cote

  It is not good for man to live alone.

  —Genesis 2:18

  For my friend Angie

  Prologue

  The icy January wind roared around the gray mausoleum, assaulting the group of mourners huddled several yards away, at the double graveside. Jane felt as though the piercing wind whistled right through her. Her heart had been shattered—just as Dena’s and John’s bodies had been shattered by a car out of control on an icy street. Only baby Angie, strapped in her car seat, had survived.

  The forest green canvas canopy flapped wildly overhead. Glacial winds moaned and buffeted Jane. She shivered while tears streamed down her face.

  Cash stood ramrod straight beside her at his only sister’s grave. Tears blurred her sidelong view of his face, but his chin, his whole face, looked like it had been carved from stone. A sob shuddered through her. How could Cash hold in his grief? He’d adored Dena.

  Standing at the head of the graves, the pastor, wrapped in a heavy black overcoat, gave her a sympathetic look. He went on, “We know John and Dena’s faith was deep. We know they have claimed the promise—‘To be absent in the body is to be present with the Lord.’”

  But I want Dena here with me! She was my best friend. We’ve spent our whole lives together! She felt a touch on her sleeve as Cash handed her his handkerchief. She wept harder. She had her family. Now Cash had only Angie.

  She silently endured the graveside parting to its end. The pastor said the final prayer, then walked to Cash and offered his hand. “Please accept my sincerest sympathy. Losing both of them so young is a terrible loss.”

  Cash shook hands. “Thank you for handling the service.”

  “I only wish I could do more. Grieving is a long process. If you need someone to talk to—”

  “I’ll handle it myself.”

  Knowing how much Cash hated any show of sympathy, she nodded to the minister, then slipped her hands into the crook of Cash’s elbow and pulled him back a step. “Cash, Grandmother wants you to come home with us.”

  He looked down at her. “That’s kind of her. But I have things to take care of.”

  Folding up the side of her collar against the wind, she knew she should insist, but her own sorrow robbed her of the strength to argue. If only they had the closeness she’d always longed for, they could comfort each other. She imagined turning to Cash, opening the front of his coat and burying her face into his starched white shirt. In wordless sympathy, he would bend and kiss her hair. She shook her head. This won’t help.

  “When are you going to pick up Angie?” she asked. The worrying wind swirled around her legs and flared her skirt.

  “Tomorrow. After I see Tom about the will.”

  “Would you like me to come over and help you—”

  “No.”

  She shivered again. She’d known he would say no, but she’d had to offer. For Dena’s sake, for her own sake. “You’ll call if you need help?”

  He nodded, but she knew he would never call. When had he ever called her? All those years she had dreamed he would notice what she felt for him…

  He turned away from her to accept another mourner’s condolences. She wanted to stay beside him, but she forced herself to walk away. Icy snow suddenly flew from the gray felt sky. Each particle stung her wet, wind-chafed cheeks like a pinprick. She joined her grief-stricken parents and grandmother, who were still standing beside the graveside.

  As she followed her family into their large sedan, Tom Dawson, another old friend, stepped close. He’d pulled up the collar of his steel gray overcoat. With his face framed by these two flaps, he bent forward to keep his words more private. “Jane, I need you to stop by my law office tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Why? Tom, I—”

  “It has to do with Dena’s estate.”

  The bleak sky, vicious cold and her ragged sorrow twisted together and wrapped around her like a wet, raw rope—dragging her down. She couldn’t bear much more. “Cash can take care of all that.”

  “Wills are never as simple as one anticipates, Jane. You have to be there.”

  Chapter One

  “This is going to be a shock for both of you.”

  His lawyer’s unexpected words jerked Cash’s thoughts from his deadening grief. More than the words themselves, it was the way Tom said them—painstakingly—like a man connecting a detonator wire to a bomb.

  What could be more of a shock than losing my only sister? Numb with sorrow, Cash glanced toward Jane, who sat beside him. Petite, dressed in a somber brown, she was looking down at her hands folded in her lap. Her chin-length red hair fell forward, concealing her face from him. “Red” and his baby sister had been best friends from the cradle. Images of Dena and Jane together as children had haunted him all morning. An impulse to smooth Red’s hair behind her ear where it usually lay, touched him, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t a child anymore.

  “I hope you’ll take this calmly,” Tom went on.

  Tensing, Cash sat up straighter. Jane, looking delicate and vulnerable, gripped the arms of her wide leather chair. Silence welled up in the room. The mantel clock ticked a stolid counterpoint to the uncertainty, which expanded moment by moment.

  “What is it?” Cash rasped at last.

  Tom breathed in deeply. “Dena and her husband didn’t leave guardianship of Angie to you, Cash.”

 
Cash lunged to his feet “I’m Dena’s only remaining blood relative. Her daughter has to come to me. She’s all I have left!”

  Tom hesitated, then looked up into Cash’s eyes. “That would be true if Dena and her husband hadn’t specified guardianship of their daughter.”

  A spear of betrayal plunged through Cash’s heart. Dena, I helped raise you. How could you give Angie to someone else? Cash took the will from Tom’s hands, but couldn’t focus on the print.

  “Who?” Cash demanded, “Who was appointed?”

  Tom averted his gaze. “Dena and her husband gave Jane full custody.”

  Jane gasped.

  Cash struggled to mask his anguish. After losing Dena in a senseless auto accident, assuming the care of his little Angie had been his only consolation. He wanted to roar with pain and outrage.

  Tom read the awful words aloud, “If we should die before our daughter, Angela Jane Johnson, is of age, we name Jane Lucinda Everett as her guardian and give her full physical custody.”

  “Dena left Angie to me?” Jane echoed in disbelief.

  “You didn’t know about this?” Cash picked up the document and waved it toward her.

  She shook her head, tears slipping down her pale cheeks. “If I’d known, I would have insisted on taking her home with me after the accident. Not leave her in foster care for three days.”

  Cash watched her cry, despair surging through him. With great effort, he tightened his resolve. Control brought decision. He faced Jane. “You’ll have to sign Angie over to me.”

  “What?” Jane stared at him. “We’re talking about a baby, not a two-party check.”

  Cash tossed the document on the mahogany desk. “Jane, you don’t want Angie. You’re a career woman. You’ve never shown any interest in marriage and children.”

  She turned his. words back on him. “What about you? You’re a career man. You’ve never shown any interest in marriage and children, either. Does that mean you don’t want Angie?”

  Cash clenched his jaw. “Angie belongs to me.”

  “Angie doesn’t belong to anyone.”

  “I’m ten years older than Dena and you. I’m better able to provide for Angie. I’ve already hired a nanny.”

  Jane leaned forward. “Obviously Dena wanted a mother for her baby, not a nanny.”

  He ignored her. “She’s a highly experienced nanny. I have nothing against you as a person, but you’ve never taken care of an infant.”

  “That’s not true. I stayed with Dena the first two weeks after she had Angie—”

  “And that’s the extent of your experience. Except for your visit home at Christmas, you’ve been in northern Wisconsin—”

  “That’s where I live—”

  “I’ve visited Angie, at least once a week since her birth,” he said. “Angie won’t even know you.”

  “She’s only five months old.”

  “Her age is unimportant. I don’t know what my sister was thinking—”

  “She was thinking she wanted me to have Angie, not you.” Jane halted and colored as if with shame. “I’m sorry.”

  Cash looked past her. Her apology meant nothing. Anger and betrayal still churned inside him. To maintain control, he focused on the rows of legal books on well-spaced shelves lining the wall. The deep shades of burgundy, black, coffee brown, and forest green dragged his mind back to Dena’s funeral. They were the colors of funeral-home carpet, casket lining, coffin finish and graveside greenery. His grief threatened to crush him. No escape.

  He turned back to Tom. “This is legal? Jane really has been given full custody of my niece?”

  “Yes. I’m sure you and Jane can come to some visitation arrangement—”

  “I live in Chicago, remember? Jane lives three hundred miles northwest. I’ll be a seven-hour drive away.”

  Tom looked at him steadily. “I am aware of the distance, and so were Dena and John.”

  Cash jutted his chin forward. “If Jane won’t cede custody to me, I’ll fight for it.”

  “A court challenge?” Tom questioned.

  Jane stood up, knocking her purse to the floor. “You can’t mean that.”

  Cash crossed his arms over his chest. “You leave me no other choice.”

  “Hold it there, both of you,” Tom ordered. “Sit down.”

  Cash said, “Angie belongs with me. I—”

  “Sit down.” Tom’s tone left no room for argument.

  Jane took her seat. Cash didn’t want to stop until he’d convinced them Angie must be with him. But after struggling with himself briefly, his respect for Tom made him follow suit.

  “We’ve all been friends since we were kids. Otherwise, I’d let you two fight this out in court. But Dena was my friend, too. I feel obligated to protect her little girl.”

  “Protect her child?” Cash asked. “You’re not making sense.”

  “Yes, I am. Just listen. Later today the Department of Children and Family Services will turn Angie over to Jane—”

  “No!”

  Tom continued, “Cash, stop interrupting. This is too crucial to ignore. They’ll turn Angie over to Jane as the specified guardian—unless you contest it. If you contest Jane’s guardianship, they’ll likely keep Angie.”

  “Oh, no,” Jane breathed.

  “Keep Angie? I don’t understand what you’re saying.” Cash’s disgruntled gaze pierced Tom.

  Tom looked at Cash grimly. “There have been a lot of spectacular custody battles lately. Social workers have gotten gun-shy. If this looks like it could become a case of contested custody, the state of Illinois might decide it’s in Angie’s best interest to keep her in foster care—until the custody battle is settled by the court. Do you know how long these battles can last?”

  “Years,” Jane murmured.

  “That’s right. Years,” Tom said, giving Cash a pointed look.

  “It would be awful,” Jane said.

  “Worse than awful,” Tom continued. “Angie might stay with the same family, or she could be shifted to a dozen different foster homes—”

  Cash sat stonelike.

  “She could be hurt emotionally.” Jane pressed her fingertips to her temples.

  “She could be scarred for life,” Tom reiterated. “Is that what you want for Dena’s child, Cash?”

  “No,” Jane almost moaned it.

  Tom stared at Cash. “And I warn you, the DCFS already realized that a blood relative has been passed over. I got a call from them, asking me if I thought this would run smoothly.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Cash said.

  Jane echoed his words softly.

  “The child welfare system comes with endless possibilities for delay and frustration,” Tom said. “I can’t let you take any chances with that little baby girl.”

  Cash stood up and began pacing. Dena, how could you keep Angie from me? I love her as much as I loved you. Did you doubt that? He asked Tom sharply, “Did Dena tell you why she named Jane guardian?”

  “No, when I asked her and her husband, they refused to tell me.”

  “They must have had a reason,” Jane said, her voice showing her own uncertainty. She searched Tom’s face, then Cash’s.

  “There is none.” Cash’s mouth tightened into a stubborn line.

  Jane sat up straighter. “No one chooses a guardian for their baby daughter without a reason.”

  Cash ignored her. “What if Jane just turns Angie over to me?”

  Tom steepled his fingers. “I don’t know—”

  “I wouldn’t,” Jane said quietly.

  “What?” Still standing, Cash leaned forward over his chair, rested both palms on its arm and pinned her with his intense gaze.

  “An Everett never contests a will. My family would be very upset—”

  “You wouldn’t be contesting a will,” Cash interrupted. “You’d be doing the right thing.”

  Jane cleared her throat. “Dena adored you, Cash. Giving me Angie goes against what both of us expect
ed. That means Dena must have had a powerful motive. I don’t know what it is yet, but I won’t violate Dena’s will.”

  “Dena couldn’t have wanted this to happen,” Cash countered. “Her husband and I never quite hit it off. He must have—”

  “No.” Tom cut him off. “Dena made it clear that wasn’t the motivation. The only thing that has occurred to me is the fact Jane would have family to back her up, whereas you, Cash, are alone.”

  Cash slumped into his chair. Alone. The word hung over his head. He muttered, “I’m capable of providing good care for my only niece.”

  “That’s not the question here,” Tom said. “Frankly I’ve allowed you two to stray from the main point. It comes down to this. Do you want Angie in Jane’s care while you two settle this? Or do you want your niece in the tender care of the state of Illinois?”

  Cash looked up. “Those are my only choices?” His voice broke on the final word.

  “For now…yes,” Tom replied.

  “What if I let Jane take Angie now, but later I decide to contest it in court? What happens in that case?”

  “Then Angie might have a good chance to be left in Jane’s care while the case is settled,” Tom replied.

  Cash gave his words a twist of sarcasm. “You mean it’s a case of the lesser of two evils?”

  “You can put it that way if you wish.” Tom leaned forward, folded his hands on his desk and stared at Cash.

  Cash glanced at Jane, but the sympathy in her steady eyes made him look back to Tom. “So what do you want me to do?”

  Tom took a deep breath. “I want you to go with Jane to pick up Angie.”

  “I have to go? Why?” Cash didn’t think he could bear watching someone else claim Angie. The walls of the room pressed closer than they had at the beginning of the meeting.

  “I don’t want any delay. If you show up with Jane to pick up Angie and appear to favor it, there shouldn’t be a hitch.”