Hell, for all Jonas knew, Amy and her husband could both be named as co-guardians along with him. Co didn't have to stop at two. It simply meant more than one.
He could explain his problem about his new book contract to Amy and her husband. They'd understand. And they would work with him, he was certain.
But then again, he could be entirely wrong. He leaned his elbow on top of the dusty file cabinet, a deep frown planting itself in his brow. It could be that Sara and Jeff didn't have Amy in mind as the guardian of their son. Jeff did have a sister.
Before the idea could even take shape in his mind, Jonas dismissed it. He thought back to Tony's christening day. Robin Hampstead had looked so ill at ease as she'd held the baby. Even now, Jonas found himself chuckling aloud at the memory despite his melancholy mood.
He easily recalled Robin's image: her flame-red hair had been short and curly, her cute little nose upturned, and those large brown eyes so quick to flash with insult. She was young, in her mid-twenties, he guessed. But her serious nature made her seem years older. She was a career woman through and through. The very kind he loved to poke fun at in his work. A smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of how easy it had been to rile her. She hadn't liked him. She'd made that plain enough. And she'd told him his opinion pieces were a waste of good paper. Yes, he thought, chuckling again, he'd had some good fun the day he'd spent with Robin Hampstead.
But his sister, Sara, had told him that Robin didn't have a single maternal bone in her body. Sara would never consider her sister-in-law good mother material for Tony. And Robin's total lack of any sense of humor actually made him shudder.
No, Jonas was certain that Sara would choose Amy over Robin any day of the week. Amy was the sensible choice. Hell, she was the only choice as far as he could see. He was sure that Sara and Jeff must have felt the same. Besides that, Amy was certain to be understanding where his work schedule was concerned. Things would work out just fine.
He heaved a great sigh. He was beginning to feel better about this whole situation.
Chapter One
Robin rushed up the steps of the small church, finger-combing her wayward curls as she went. Pausing at the entrance, she took a moment to steel herself and shake the droplets of spring rain from the shoulders of her coat before she eased open the heavy door and slipped inside. The tiny, windowless vestibule was cool and dark, and she found herself squinting and blinking until her eyes became adjusted to the light change. Her gaze was drawn to a small lamp that sat on a flat-topped podium, its low-wattage bulb throwing a ray of dim light on an elegant white register. She neatly signed her name and replaced the pen into its holder.
The sound of perfectly harmonized voices suddenly filled the air. Robin followed the beautiful singing into the interior of the church. She halted just inside the doorway, biting her lip against the emotion that swelled in her chest at the sight of the crowded room. These people were friends to Jeff and Sara. All these people loved and cared about her brother and his wife. All of them had come to remember.
Feeling trembly all of a sudden, Robin slid into an empty spot in the very back of the church. She scrambled around in her purse for a tissue, and when she couldn't find one, the woman next to her offered one along with a compassionate smile. Robin nodded her thanks.
She relaxed against the back of the pew, closed her eyes and let the music of the choir flow all around her and through her chaotic mind. She'd made it. She'd actually arrived in Brenville in time for the memorial service. And it was a small miracle that she had. Of course, now there was a seventy-two-dollar speeding ticket that had to be paid. But, despite that, she said a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn't missed the service.
~ ~ ~
Jonas watched Jeff's sister from his seat at the front of the church. The minister had suggested he sit in the very front pew, the usual place for family members, but Jonas couldn't abide the idea of spending the entire hour and half sitting there all alone and opted to position himself opposite the choir. He'd used the excuse that he needed to be within easy reach of the dais when it was his turn to speak. From this vantage point in front of the church he could witness the sadness and distress, the fidgeting and eye-dabbing, the general comings and goings of the attendees.
Robin's fiery red hair had caught his attention as soon as she'd stepped over the threshold of the sanctuary. She hadn't come up front to the family pew, but had instead slipped into an empty seat at the back.
The minister of the church stood to speak again, but Jonas only half heard the biblical reading. Robin looked tired, he observed. The dark circles under her deep-set eyes gave her a haunting expression. He'd only met the woman twice, and he'd never forget either encounter. But seeing her again brought to his mind the same observation that there was something lonely, something isolated about her solemn nature. He remembered how both times he'd met her there had been something about her that had kept her in his thoughts for days and weeks after the experience. He'd found himself puzzling over what it was that so intrigued him about her, until finally he'd become annoyed with himself for wasting time on the woman and put her out of his mind. Hell, he ultimately concluded, why throw away perfectly good brainpower on someone who didn't even like him?
Her eyelids slowly rose and her gaze held a mixture of something tragic and ethereal at the same time. He found the combination lovely, almost… seductive.
What is wrong with you, Winslow? The castigating question ricocheted in his head like a bullet. The woman is grieving! He knew he should look away, give her some privacy, but he continued to study her as she gazed up at the large stained-glass image above the altar.
He'd been told that she was on assignment in Hawaii and assured that she'd been contacted about the accident, but Jonas couldn't help worrying during the past forty-eight hours about whether or not she'd be able to fly across an ocean and then the country to arrive in time. Well, he was glad to see that attending her brother's memorial service meant a little more to her than her precious career.
Now, that's not fair, a quiet inner voice scolded. And he knew it was true. Robin Hampstead might be a career woman, but that didn't mean she wasn't a decent human being. She must have loved her brother just as much as he had loved his sister, Sara. His nerves were frayed, his emotions in turmoil over this loss, and that was the only excuse he had to explain his mean and petty assessment of Robin's late arrival.
When Jonas noticed that Reverend Walsh had gone silent, he turned away from his study of Robin and saw the minister motion him forward. Jonas felt his face flame with embarrassment. If he'd been paying attention instead of focusing his thoughts on Robin Hampstead, he'd have been prepared to speak rather than being taken off guard. He stood, checked the fastened button of his jacket and made his way to the podium.
~ ~ ~
The stained-glass window above the altar seemed to pulse with vibrant color. Robin had once written an article after visiting a centuries-old church in England that had been converted into a restaurant. In her research, she'd learned that stained-glass had a history of over a thousand years, and that metallic salts added during the manufacturing were what lent color to the glass. Gold, cobalt, viridian, scarlet. Losing herself in the beauty of it allowed her to forget the fiery grief burning in her chest, if only for a moment. Although this particular rendition was clearly abstract, various religious symbols popped out at the focused observer: a bare cross, a lamb, a pair of praying hands, a dove, an ichthus, a chalice…
Seeing Jonas Winslow cross the altar area, Robin almost groaned aloud. If he made some kind of wisecrack about Jeff and Sara, she'd just scream. Both times Robin had met Sara's brother, the man had infuriated her with his constant jeering and critical remarks. Nothing was safe from his black humor.
Robin remembered that Jonas had made asinine comments about Sara and Jeff's relationship at the wedding. Her job had been fodder for his jokes that same day. He'd even used Tony's christening, an event that should have been serious and sacred,
and he'd turned the day into material for his dark satire. That was also the day that Jonas had embarrassed her beyond rational thought.
"Today is a day of celebration..."
His voice broke into her dark musings, and she was so startled by his choice of words that her chin tipped upward and her eyes became glued to his face. She made a conscious effort to keep her mouth from dropping open. If this was his idea of a joke... She didn't finish the thought when she realized that she wasn't the only one surprised by his statement, for the room grew utterly quiet and still as everyone waited for him to continue.
"Sara and Jeff didn't want us to mourn their passing," he said. "They didn't want us, their family and friends, to gather together for a sad and somber affair. They didn't want a funeral."
Robin watched Jonas inhale deeply, and she could tell that it took a great deal of control and effort for him to pull the corners of his mouth into a tiny smile.
"My precious sister and her husband," he continued, "didn't want us to feel miserable or brokenhearted by their passing. Of course... we will." His voice quavered slightly as he added the aside. "But they wanted us…" He faltered, paused long enough to clear his throat, and when he began again, his words were stronger, as vibrant as the stained-glass above the altar behind him. "It was their wish that we celebrate today by recounting our memories of them."
Robin closed her eyes. His suggestion was a beautiful one, she had to admit. The idea of celebrating her brother and sister-in-law through memories was sweet. Excruciatingly so.
"Sara and Jeff loved each and every one of us," Jonas continued. "They knew we would all have a need to grieve for them. But it was important to them that we do it as joyously and... cheerfully as possible."
Sitting there in the back of the church, Robin let herself become wrapped in the warm, comforting cocoon of Jonas's tone. She'd forgotten how deep, how rich... how memorable his voice was. The acoustics in the high-ceilinged building amplified the melodic pitch and slight draw of his Southern accent. His words were inflected with an intense resonance that seemed to smooth across her mind, across her skin as if it were warm, liquid velvet.
"We've enjoyed some beautiful music sung by the choir," he said. "These songs were some of Jeff and Sara's very favorites." This time his smile was fond and didn't have to be forced. "I know that from now until the end of my life I will remember them both whenever I hear these melodies." He looked toward the front pews. "Several of Sara's friends have asked me if they can speak. They have some readings and poetry they would like to share. And some of Jeff's friends and co-workers would like to relate some of their thoughts, as well."
As soon as the first person stepped up to the dais to speak, the weird feeling began. Robin listened to the lyrical psalms, the beautiful poetry, but the thoughts and feelings these people expressed forced her to notice a strange emptiness inside her. She was surprised by the number of people who rose from the pews and went to the stand behind the microphone, and soon Robin realized that this wasn't part of the planned service. These men and women didn't want to wait until after the memorial service to express the love they felt for Jeff and Sara. These people wanted to be included in this most intimate memorial tribute.
One by one, friends of Sara and Jeff verbalized their fondest memories of the deceased couple. Some of these recollections were sad, many of them had everyone chuckling, some were ironic, but all of the stories were poignant. And with each remembrance, Robin found herself learning something new about her brother and his wife. With each small tale, Robin discovered how little she knew about Jeff and Sara.
Her chin trembled as the huge, desolate void inside her yawned wide. The church didn't seem big enough to hold her and the vast hollowness that quickly swallowed her up. Suddenly the room seemed as though it were closing in on her. She felt the need to flee. But at the same time, she was desperate to stay. As the affectionate, soul-stirring reminiscences flowed, Robin wanted so badly to pluck them from the air and clutch them to her, have them as her very own. But that was impossible.
She pressed her fingers against her lips, trying to hold back the lonely sobs that threatened to choke her. No, she couldn't have these memories. They belonged to other people…people who knew Jeff and Sara. Her mind whirled with sadness and confusion as yet another story about her brother was recounted, and the ever-widening chasm rived and splintered until she thought she'd fall into its black, bottomless depths.
Instinct screamed at her; if she couldn't snatch up some of these wonderful memories to fill this emptiness expanding inside her, then she needed to somehow avoid them. Hide from them. Run from them.
Her gaze darted around the room, and as she saw that there was actually a line of people now forming at the front of the church, she fought the urge to press her hands over her ears. Again, instinct urged her to flee. Gathering her purse, Robin surrendered to impulse and made her escape.
~ ~ ~
Later that same afternoon, Robin entered the building that housed the offices of the family court. Before she'd left Hawaii, she'd been informed by Lynn that there was to be a meeting with a court clerk. Robin had tried to call the lawyer who had sent her the letter and she'd tried to call Sara's parents, but the storm had knocked out all reception. Then she'd been overwhelmed with trying to get herself back to the mainland so she wouldn't miss the memorial service.
Robin had spent the last two hours sitting in a small coffeehouse frantically trying to ignore the vacant feeling inside her. She'd focused her thoughts on Tony, and she'd reaffirmed her conclusion that she was probably the worst person to raise the baby.
Yes, she could ask the magazine to give her a job where travel wasn't expected. But her job was the least of her reasons for feeling inadequate to be Tony's guardian. She knew nothing about children. Nothing. And even worse than that, Robin had come to understand the stark reality that she knew nothing about her nephew's parents. She wouldn't be able to tell the child anything about his mom and dad. Handing over full rights to Sara's parents was the best thing for her to do for her brother's son.
Pulling open the glass door, she went inside. Her heels clicked a steady, hollow rhythm on the tiled hallway floor that emphasized what was swirling in her gut. She spied a sign for the ladies' room and followed the arrow.
The air had that sweet, bubblegum smell of just-scrubbed public restrooms. She looked in the mirror over the sink and shook her head. The light spring rain had drenched her to the skin. Her usually bright red hair was darkened to auburn. Pulling a comb from her purse, she ran it through her curls, but they seemed to spring back with a life of their own and she gave up.
She looked gaunt, the shadows beneath her eyes a tell-tale sign of lack of sleep, and she reached up to try to pinch some color into her cheeks. She regretted not staying for the gathering after the memorial service to see Sara's parents and Tony. She hadn't seen the three of them at the ceremony, but she'd figured that they were sitting somewhere up front out of her view. But she'd see them in just a few minutes, and she hoped her pale-as-a-ghost complexion wouldn't frighten the baby.
The office was easy to find. She'd taken the stairs to the second floor, found the correct door and knocked.
"Come in," a muffled voice called.
Robin opened the door and smiled at the young woman who sat behind the gray metal desk.
"Hi." The woman's voice was as perky as her smile. She stood and offered her hand. "I'm Alice McCarthy. Call me Alice."
Robin introduced herself and then said, "I hope I'm in the right place."
"Oh, yes," Alice told her. "I was just looking over the file. You're a little early. Have a seat."
Robin perched herself on the very edge of the chair cushion. "I'm glad I'm early." She settled her purse on her lap. "I'm glad I have the chance to explain what I've planned to do about my nephew." She paused only an instant before continuing. "You see, I think it would be best if I were to sign over all rights to Sara's parents. I think they'll make excellent guardians f
or Tony."
The bewildered frown on Alice's face didn't even register with Robin, so intent was she on justifying her actions.
"You see," she repeated, clenching her hands on top of her purse, "I know so little about children. I travel ninety percent of the time. And my job takes me all over the world." She tried to swallow and realized how cottony her mouth felt. "I want you to understand that it's not that I don't love Tony, it's just that..." She felt wretched inside. "I've never had anyone depend on me before."
The truth was she'd never wanted anyone to depend on her. The very idea scared her witless.
Robin searched the face of the young court clerk and prayed for a little understanding. Several seconds ticked by and Robin wished Alice would say something, anything.
"Well," the young woman began slowly, "I'm a little confused about what you want to do."
Before anything more could be said the door to the office opened.
Alice stood and smiled at the man who entered the room. "You must be Mr. Winslow," she said. "I'm Alice McCarthy. Call me Alice."
Jonas's appearance took Robin completely off guard. What was he doing here? Surely he hadn't been named co-guardian too. But where were Sara's parents? And where was the baby? How could Jeff and Sara have chosen him to…
"Yes. I'm Jonas Winslow. I'm here about the guardianship of my nephew, Tony Hampstead."
Robin forced herself to raise her gaze to his face. The open door was angled so that it hid most of him, but she saw a tiny slice of his profile. It seemed that he wasn't yet aware of her presence, and Robin was relieved by that fact. She could use another moment to take a couple of deep breaths.
Accidental Family Page 2
