Legacy and Love

by Paula Mowery

  “Sean, you still there?”

  “Yeah, man. You kinda surprised me with this one.”

  “Well, what do you say?”

  “Tom, I don’t know. I’m not sure I could do a spiritual-type column justice.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Look, I’m actually getting ready to take a trip to Italy. Try my hand at travel writing.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Well…if you change your mind, you know how to find me.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  As Sean ended the call, he eased into a nearby chair. He rubbed his hands down his face. An offer from Tom for an ongoing column was big, but he couldn’t continue to write about things he didn’t believe in. He shook his head. He hadn’t expected something like this to come of the article about Hope and her prayer shawls.

  Sean had a plan for his Italy trip. All he had to do now was secure his airline ticket and book the accommodations he found on the Internet.

  His phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, he didn’t recognize the name, but decided to answer anyway.

  “Sean Holland?”

  “Mr. Holland, my name is Andee Collins. I’m a lawyer handling the last will and testament of Ms. Tiffany Williams.”

  Sean scanned his memory. A picture of the beautiful blonde flashed across his mind. But, wait, last will and testament?

  “Did you say will? Has Tiffany…?”

  “Yes, sir. Ms. Williams was killed in a car accident. Could you come to my office? I need to inform you of some provisions regarding you.”

  Why would Tiffany name him in her will? The two of them had dated only about six months. That had been five, maybe six years ago.

  “I was just about to do some errands. Could I stop by now? Are you available?”

  “That will be just fine.”

  After giving Sean directions to her office, the lawyer hung up. Sean was glad she could see him now, or his curiosity might have eaten him alive. He parked in front of the simple brick building and entered the small lobby area. A white-haired woman looked up from the papers on her desk and raised her eyebrows. “May I help you?”

  “I’m Sean Holland. I’m here to see Mrs. Collins.”

  “She’s expecting you.” The woman stood. “This way.”

  Sean followed her to the end of a small hallway, which opened into a conference room. The brunette behind the table stood and extended her hand.

  “Mr. Holland, I’m Mrs. Collins. Please have a seat.”

  As Sean sat he felt a little like he was at the principal’s office. His stomach turned queasy. Mrs. Collins opened a folder and began to read.

  “I, Tiffany Williams, being of sound body and mind do appoint Sean Holland as legal guardian over our daughter, Grace Williams, upon my death. He will assume immediate custody.”

  The sick feeling in Sean’s stomach increased, and a dizzying fog settled around him. With an emphatic shake of his head, he struggled to clear his thoughts. Mrs. Collins eyed him, obviously awaiting a reply.

  Words formed but were jumbled. A daughter. Custody. Mistake.

  “There must be some mistake,” Sean finally forced out.

  “I take it from your reaction that you were unaware of this guardianship?”

  “Unaware of a daughter.” His voice squeaked at a high pitch.

  The lawyer’s eyes widened. “I see. But, this has all been spelled out specifically and legally.” She shuffled through the folder. “The child’s grandmother is on her way here with Grace.”

  “Why doesn’t her grandmother keep her? I mean, I don’t even know the kid.” Sean struggled to breath.

  “The guardianship is designated as you, Mr. Holland.”

  A commotion in the lobby caught the lawyer’s attention.

  “Will you excuse me?”

  Sean nodded. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

  “Mr. Holland?”

  Sean jumped at the address. He stood. “Yes?’ He moved to the conference room threshold. A small, white-haired woman sat on a powered wheelchair. She was forced to remain in the hallway for there was not enough space for her to enter the room.

  The woman narrowed her eyes and gazed at Sean. “You are Sean Holland?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His mouth went dry.

  “I’m Mrs. Williams.”

  Silence ensued. A little hand grasped the side of the woman’s chair and a blonde head peeked from behind. The child’s gray-blue eyes met Sean’s. He stifled a gasp. No need for any tests. Grace looked just like him.

  Mrs. Williams glanced over her shoulder. “Come here, child.” Her voice was gruff. “This is Grace. Her things are in the lobby.”

  Grace’s little body trembled. Sean’s heart cinched. This mess wasn’t her fault, and she was obviously petrified. Sean knelt on one knee. “Hey, Grace, how old are you?”

  She held up one pudgy hand.

  “Five?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  Her grandmother flicked her controls, twirling the wheeled chair around. She disappeared down the hallway without a word. The little girl’s chin quivered.

  Mrs. Collin’s voice echoed in the background. “Mrs. Williams is the only known relative. A widow with disabilities.”

  Was it possible that Sean was actually the better choice for Grace? The only problem with that scenario was he had no idea how to take care of a child.

  “Her mother wrote you a note.” The lawyer thrust an envelope into Sean’s hand. Her expression let him know the meeting was over.

  As he eased toward the door, Grace reached her hand his way. He took it and allowed her to lead him to the lobby. She plopped on the floor and opened a pink suitcase, pulling out a worn teddy bear.

  Sean sank into a nearby chair and pulled out the letter. He scanned it silently.

  Dear Sean,

  If you are reading this, then something has happened to me, leaving Grace alone.

  The only other alternative is my mother, but she is really not able to care for Grace. I started to call or write to tell you about our daughter so many times, but I just couldn’t, since we didn’t part on very good terms. As you might have noticed, she looks so much like you. She is so precious, and I only want what’s best for her. Please care for her despite your feelings for me.

  Tiffany Williams

  Sean folded the letter and stuck it back into the envelope.

  “Mr. Holland, I need to give you some more information about monies set aside for Grace,” Mrs. Collins said.

  Sean glanced at Grace, who was still clutching the worn brown teddy bear under her chin. He extended his hand toward her. She eyed it a moment and then placed her little hand in his. They followed the lawyer back to the conference room. After another half hour of legal mumbo-jumbo, he loaded Grace and her two small bags into his car. The challenge was attaching the booster-type car seat into the car’s back seat. He finally had Grace strapped in. Now what?

  “Are you hungry?” He looked at her in his rearview mirror and her little head bobbed up and down.

  Where did five year olds eat? He re-gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

  “Can we have chicken nuggets?” Grace’s small high-pitched voice broke into his thoughts.

  “You mean like from McDonalds?”

  He watched as her head bobbed again. That was probably a good idea. He could grab the fast food and head home. He wasn’t quite ready to run into someone he knew and be required to explain about Grace. What would he say? This situation was surreal. He pulled through the drive through and ordered their meals. He retrieved the food and headed to his condo.

  “Mommy doesn’t usually let me have soda. But, sometimes for special ’casions.”

  Sean hadn’t thought about that. “It’ll be okay. It’s just a small drink.”

  “Okay.”

  Arriving at his building, he had to make two trips to get the food and suitcases inside. He opened Grace’s m
eal and placed it on his dining table. She struggled into the chair, needing a boost. When she sat down, her eyes were level with the table’s edge. That wasn’t going to work.

  “Tell ya what. How about we go into the living room and use the coffee table?”

  Grace shrugged. He lifted her from the chair and set her on the floor. He grabbed her food and headed for the lower table. He swiped several magazines to the side.

  “Now, try that.”

  “Mommy doesn’t let me eat in the living room, ’cause I might spill.”

  “It’s okay. Your drink has a lid.”

  That seemed to satisfy her, because she dove into the chicken nuggets and fries as if she hadn’t eaten for a week.

  How would he explain this to his parents? What was he going to do with her while he worked? Work. Thank goodness he hadn’t purchased any tickets for his trip to Italy. How could this be happening right now? There had to be something he could do. He couldn’t raise this child. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Maybe Tiffany’s mother wouldn’t be all that bad. But, if Tiffany had actually chosen him over her mother, then there had to be some issues there. He ran his fingers through his hair.

  Movement caught his eye. Grace stood fidgeting.

  “I need to go potty.”

  “Okay.”

  “I can go all by myself.”

  Relief rushed over him. He sprinted to the bathroom door, ushering her in. He returned to his seat in the living room. The toilet flushed, and Grace sauntered into the room, struggling with her pants. She stopped and huffed.

  “I can’t get these things snapped.”

  “Oh, here, let me try.”

  Sean fumbled with the fastener until he finally heard the snap close.

  “Thank you.” She flashed a grin.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Grace crossed her arms across her chest. “My Grammy said that you’re my daddy.” Her little gray-blue eyes stared into Sean’s.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, yes, it would seem your Grammy was right.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hope read the article again. Sean was truly a gifted writer. She still couldn’t believe the subject of the story was her, and this magazine was read all across the country. Several of the nurses and doctors at the hospital today had commented on the article. She had debated all day about calling Sean to thank him and compliment his writing. But, would that be disastrous? No, she was just being courteous and showing her gratitude. She punched Sean’s number and her stomach fluttered at the first ring.

  “Hope, how are you?”

  “I’m doing really well and you?”

  “Good too.”

  “I just had to call…” A commotion stopped Hope.

  “I’m sorry. Could you hold on a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  Sean’s muffled voice came across the phone. She cupped her forehead. He wasn’t alone. How embarrassing. Stay in control. She had called for a reason.

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to thank you for the article. It was nicely done.”

  “I’m so glad you’re pleased. Listen, I hate to go so quickly, but I’m a little tied up.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure.”

  Hope slouched in her glider rocker. Why had she called? Now she felt foolish. Sean obviously had company of the female persuasion. Why was she so shocked? It had been a couple of months. She picked up her latest crochet shawl project. Just forget about him.

  * * *

  Sean hated to cut Hope off with such haste, but he was trying to get Grace settled into the guest room. He had considered contacting Hope over the last few months but had never brought himself to do it, and he wasn’t ready to admit this new development to Hope either. She would truly think he was a heathen now.

  Grace’s eyes drooped, and she rubbed them with her fists.

  “Here, I’ll help you onto the bed.” He deposited her right in the middle. “It’s a little high.”

  Her mouth opened in a huge yawn. “I need my jammies.”

  “Where are they?”

  She pointed. “Pink bag.”

  Sean knelt and unzipped the small suitcase. He glanced back at Grace. “What do they look like?”

  “Purple with a princess on it.”

  He moved folded garments until he spotted something purple. When he pulled the pajamas out, something else came out. His breath caught in his throat. A soft blue shawl. It had to be one of Hope’s. But, how…? He stood. “Grace, what is this?”

  Grace’s face lit with a sleepy grin. “That’s a prayer shawl.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “From the nurse at the hospital when I had my tonsils out.”

  Grace struggled with getting her shirt over her head. Sean set the shawl aside and helped as best as he could. By the time she cuddled her bear and laid her head on the pillow, she was asleep. Her face was angelic with the bedside lamp’s glow radiating from her cheeks.

  He tiptoed back to the living room and plopped onto the couch with a sigh.

  What a day! There was a lot to work out. And, how ironic to discover one of Hope’s prayer shawls. His eyelids were suddenly heavy. He would just stretch out here for a few minutes.

  He jolted awake. Wailing sobs came from the guest room. He jumped to his feet, and his head swam momentarily. Finally steady, he sprinted down the short hall.

  Grace sat cross-legged, rocking back and forth. Sean could now make out her words. She was calling out for her mommy. Each sob pricked his heart. His chest tightened. He slid onto the bed next to her and slipped an arm around her little shoulders. She leaned into him and scooted closer. Her body shook, and many sobs came out in hiccups. He had to calm her. Sean pulled her onto his lap, and she laid her head on his chest. Her arms wrapped around his sides. He returned the embrace and rubbed her back.

  Her crying calmed, and then her shoulders slumped. She was finally back to sleep. He tried to move her from his lap and lay her again on the pillow, but she startled awake. Sean pulled her close again. Her breathing evened out. Finally, he just eased back, letting her settle onto his chest.

  Sean woke to find Grace on her knees at his side, staring at him.

  “Are you awake?” Her question was voiced with a whining tone.

  He rubbed a hand down his face. “I think so.”

  She propped her elbows on his ribs and leaned her chin on her fists. “Are you hungry?”

  Sean stifled a laugh. “Yep, I believe I am. What do you like to eat for breakfast?”

  “Well, I think I want peanut butter toast. Do you like that? I can show you how to make it.” Her eyes widened.

  “Okay.” He sat up.

  Grace shimmied off the bed. “Come on.” She extended her hand, palm up and flipped her fingers back-and-forth in a “follow me” gesture.

  Sean chuckled and followed her to the kitchen. This kid could certainly be irresistibly cute.

  How could he raise a child? Where would Grace fit into his life? Then again, where could Grace go? He had always been independent, never tied down, able to go and to do whatever he wanted when the whim hit him. He needed help.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hope trudged through her apartment door after working a longer shift than expected. She flopped onto the couch, putting her tired feet up. A muffled buzz sounded from her purse. Her phone. Could it wait? She hesitated. No, she should check it. She dashed to the table and fished out the still buzzing cell. She stared at the screen. Sean Holland.

  “Sean? Hey, this is Hope.”

  Screams almost covered Sean’s reply. “I need help. Can you please come to my condo?”

  What was going on? By the desperate tone in his voice, something was really wrong. And, that screaming and wailing in the background sounded like a child.

  “Sure. What do…?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here. I’m really in over my head.”

  “Okay. I’ll change and be r
ight over”.

  “Thank you.”

  As she knocked on Sean’s door fifteen minutes later, cries still echoed from inside. As the door opened, Sean uttered a thank goodness and grabbed her hand, pulling her inside. His eyes were bloodshot, and his overall appearance could only be described as disheveled. Not at all the Sean Holland she had come to know. He closed the door behind her, and it was then she spotted the source of the crying.

  A small girl sat on the couch rocking a stuffed bear with one of Hope’s prayer shawls draped around her shoulders. Tears streamed down the little girl’s cheeks, and her sobs came out as hiccups. Hope glanced at Sean, unable to speak. He ushered her closer to the child.

  “This is Grace Williams. My daughter.” He leaned close to her ear. “I didn’t know about her until I was contacted by a lawyer. Her mother was killed in an accident. Her will named me as guardian.”

  Hope’s heart wrenched. She gestured toward Grace. “The shawl?”

  “It was in her suitcase. It’s one of yours, isn’t it?” His eyes widened.

  She nodded. Focusing on the child, she eased near and knelt in front of her. “Grace?”

  The girl’s eyes gazed into Hope’s. Her face was covered with dark pink blotches, and her eyes were red rimmed. Tears had made her eyelashes clump. Suddenly recognition dawned in Hope’s mind.

  She glanced at Sean. “I remember. Several months ago around January, Grace had her tonsils out.

  “And tubes in my ears,” Grace added, sitting up a bit straighter.

  Hope turned back toward her. “That’s right, sweetie.”

  Grace studied Hope’s face for a moment, and then her eyes bulged, and her mouth fell open. “You took care of me and gave my mommy this shawl.” She stroked the fringe.

  “Yes.”

  Grace launched herself into Hope’s arms and nearly landed them both on the coffee table. Hope righted them, wrapped her arms around the child, and returned the tight embrace.

  Hope locked her eyes on Sean, who plopped down on the couch and sighed. “I knew if anyone could help, it would be you.”

  Grace went limp in Hope’s arms, and her breathing evened. “I think she has exhausted herself from crying.”