Almost a Family

by Stephanie Bond

  He flushed angrily. “We’ll stay at Rita’s so he can get to know his cousin.”

  Virginia had two panicky visions���her son alone with her in a stifling town home, and her son with Bailey’s rowdy family on a farm; it didn’t take a child psychologist to guess where the boy would prefer to spend time. “I work during the week, I’d like to spend weekends with him too.”

  “Can’t you cut back on your hours?”

  Anger flamed through her, but she fought to keep her voice calm. “I arranged for a month of leave, which should take me up to the start of school, but after that I’ll be back to working at least forty-five hours a week. Raising a child is expensive, Bailey.”

  “I’ll help,” he declared hotly.

  She averted her eyes so he couldn’t read her doubts. Ever the good-intentioned, Bailey’s fault lay in his follow-through. His idea of savings used to be buying old cars, hoping they’d appreciate in value. He’d let her down before in a big way���she wasn’t about to sacrifice a portion of her income on the basis of a verbal promise. “I’m not cutting my hours. He can stay with you at Rita’s every other weekend.”

  “Wait a minute!” Passengers around them turned to stare. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice, his eyes still flashing. “Four or five days a month isn’t enough. He’s my son too, and I want to get to know him just as much as you do.”

  “Well,” she said coolly, “we seem to be at an impasse.”

  His eyes narrowed, then his face relaxed as if a solution had occurred to him. “Not necessarily.”

  She angled her head toward him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “In the beginning we can both spend time with him… we can all do things together.”

  Virginia frowned, wary.

  “It’s only fair to Bailey, Jr.,” he asserted, “that he get to know both of us. We both want to spend time with him, and we can’t split him down the middle.” He flashed her a charming smile. “You can’t convince me you’ve grown that tough, Ginny.”

  Her stomach contracted at his reminder that he used to know her well, that he used to know her intimately. “What about holidays and school vacations?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll work it out when the time comes.”

  “I think we need to get this down on paper,” she insisted.

  “Ginny, for God’s sake, you make this sound like some kind of business deal. You used to be easygoing and spontaneous���now you want every detail planned out. What’s happened to you?”

  His words stung, but she wasn’t about to let him know. “What happened to me? I grew up, Bailey, which is something you might think about doing someday. Living life shooting from the hip is amusing for a man in his twenties, but not very flattering for a man in his thirties.”

  As she watched raw emotion play across his handsome face, Virginia almost felt sorry for her ex-husband. But she knew him, and knew that he had to be forced to face the truth. It was too late for them, but he needed to extend himself beyond his hedonistic lifestyle for their son.

  Bailey dropped his eyes and swished a stirrer in the whiskey sour he cradled in one hand. “I guess I deserve that,” he said, his voice resigned. Then he set his drink down and twisted in his seat to face her. “But, Ginny, you have to believe me when I say I’m going to settle down and be a good father to Bailey, Jr. I want to be there for him.” He gave her a sad smile. “I want to be there for you too, but I understand how you feel about me.”

  Her stomach pivoted again, but this time it had nothing to do with the altitude or her anxiety over meeting her son.

  “Could you put up with me being around long enough to allow our son to adjust?”

  Warning bells screamed in Virginia’s head. Spending time with Bailey sounded too much like playing house. He might charm her into letting her guard down long enough for him to get his hooks into her heart again.

  “Only,” she said in a threatening tone, “if you give me your word we can be adult about this and keep things on a strictly platonic level.”

  He laid a hand over his heart. “I give you my word.”

  But Virginia’s chest tightened in dreaded premonition. When had Bailey Kallihan ever lived up to his word?

  *

  As soon as he stepped into the gate area, Bailey spotted a small but conspicuous group of police officers and other official-looking people. Detective Lance took the lead, first introducing himself to a fellow officer, then presenting Virginia, Bailey, and her parents.

  A kindly gentleman in a maroon jacket clasped Ginny’s hand warmly, his eyes shining. “I’m Kendall Maybry, from the children’s services bureau. It’s a real pleasure, Mrs. Kallihan,” he said. The title sent a tiny shock wave through Bailey, and he was remotely pleased that Ginny didn’t correct the error.

  After a few minutes of awkward pleasantries, Bailey asked, “Mr. Maybry, where is our son?” He knew he was probably breaking protocol, but he wasn’t sure if protocol existed for such a situation.

  “He’s been living at a children’s shelter since the death of his mo���” The man broke off, embarrassed, and offered Ginny an apologetic smile. “I mean, since the death of the woman who… took care of him. This is Ms. Andrews���she’s been counseling Chad through this ordeal.”

  “Chad?” he and Ginny asked in unison.

  “The boy goes by the name Chad Green,” Ms. Andrews said, shaking their hands in turn.

  The news hit Bailey like a knee to his stomach. Of course the woman who’d kidnapped him hadn’t known the child’s real name, and wouldn’t have used it if she had. The one link he had with his son had been stripped away.

  “Are you the one who told him about us, Ms. Andrews?” Ginny asked, gripping her purse tighter and tighter. Bailey’s heart constricted at her pinched, expectant expression.

  “Yes.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  Ms. Andrews hesitated only a few seconds, but long enough for dread to wash over Bailey. “Well… as you can imagine, it was quite a shock for him, but we can talk about it on the way to the shelter. Shall we?” She swept her arm toward an exit, and the group moved forward as a unit.

  Minutes later Bailey helped Ginny climb into a minivan with Mr. Maybry, Ms. Andrews, and Ginny’s parents. He settled into the space beside Ginny, experiencing a twinge of pleasure at the sensation of her leg pressed against the length of his. Seeking diversion from the sudden rush, he blurted out, “Tell us what’s going on with our son. Is he okay?”

  The counselor turned in her seat to face them. “Physically, he’s fine, just an ordinary, healthy eight-year-old.”

  Bailey felt a small amount of relief.

  “But,” the woman continued, “he’s understandably upset about leaving the area he grew up in to live with parents who are strangers to him.”

  “The woman who”���Ginny swallowed audibly���“who took our son���Detective Lance told me she didn’t mistreat him. Is that true?”

  The woman smiled encouragingly. “As far as we know, yes. Neighbors say that Lois Green was a person who sometimes acted a little strange, but was very protective where Chad was concerned.”

  Bailey bit the end of his tongue. It wasn’t fair to Ginny that another woman had been allowed to be protective of their child. But considering all the alternatives their son could have been exposed to, it wasn’t the worst scenario by far.

  “There was no father figure in the home, and I gather from my sessions with Chad that he grew up quickly, and assumed the role of caretaker when Lois became ill.”

  “How did she die?” Bailey asked.

  “Cancer,” Ms. Andrews replied.

  “Was she���” Ginny hesitated, and he saw her clench her hand into a fist. “Was she a decent sort of person?”

  The counselor nodded. “Lois Green held a secretarial position and rented a small apartment. It wasn’t in the best part of town, but she made certain Chad went to school, and you’ll be glad to know he�
�s a good student.”

  “What grade?” It sounded like a stupid question, but Bailey had no time for pretenses.

  “Fourth. I understand you have no other children, Mr. and Mrs. Kallihan?”

  Bailey squirmed, and Ginny’s cheeks flushed dark pink before she said, “Actually, Ms. Andrews, we’re no longer married. I go by the name of Catron.”

  Mild surprise registered on the woman’s face. “Oh? Which family will Chad be living with?”

  Bailey coughed. “Neither one of us have a family.”

  “We’re both single,” Ginny clarified, “and Ch-Chad will be living with me.”

  “I see,” Ms. Andrews said slowly. “Well, for Chad’s sake, I’m sorry you’re not living together, but I guess this is the next most desirable situation, if you’re both agreeable to the living arrangements.” She glanced at Bailey.

  “We’ve reached a compromise.” He met Ginny’s gaze, and felt a stab of determination to breach the wall she’d erected.

  The counselor nodded, then explained they were forty minutes away from the home where they would meet Chad after they signed the necessary papers.

  He felt Ginny stir beside him before she asked, “What does he look like?” He glanced at her, but had to look away when he saw the tears gathered in her eyes.

  Ms. Andrews smiled. “He’s a fine-looking boy. I’m sure you will be very pleased.”

  The forty minutes crept by. No one spoke, as if conceding that words could not prepare them for what lay ahead. Bailey alternately concentrated on the traffic outside and the tightening and loosening of Ginny’s iron grip on her purse. Unable to help himself, he reached over to close his hand over her white-knuckled one, but he didn’t look at her for fear she’d pull away. She didn’t, and he welcomed her warm skin against his to calm his own jumping nerves.

  At last they pulled into the shelter’s crowded parking lot. Bailey squinted at the gathering of people and equipment just outside the entrance. “What’s going on?”

  Mr. Maybry banged his fist on the steering wheel and Ms. Andrews shook her head angrily. “Reporters,” she said. “Someone must have leaked the story to the press.”

  He heard and felt Ginny’s sharp inhale, and felt a surge of protectiveness. “Damn. Is there a back entrance?”

  “Too late,” Mr. Maybry said as the crowd turned and ran toward their van, microphones held high and cameras rolling.

  Detective Lance and another police officer were on their feet before the van rolled to a stop. “Follow us,” he instructed.

  Bailey clasped Ginny’s hand and held on, even when she started to pull away. “Stay close to me,” he murmured. The din of the crowd exploded around them when the van door opened. A dozen microphones were thrust into their faces and camera flashes blinded them.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Kallihan, what are your feelings as you prepare to meet your son for the first time in eight years?”

  “Do you know anything about him?”

  “What if he doesn’t want to live with you?”

  “Will you give us a statement before you leave?”

  The police officers cleared a path, with Mr. Maybry and Ms. Andrews offering protection from behind. Bailey focused on the home’s entrance, his strength growing each time Ginny leaned into him. Finally they reached the steps, the sounds and voices receding behind them as they ascended to safety.

  The door closed behind them. Bailey looked around, forcing his eyes to adjust to the dimness, expecting to see his son in any corner of the room. His heart pounded in anticipation.

  “I’m terribly sorry about that,” Ms. Andrews said. “I guess it was bound to capture the media’s attention. It’s quite a fantastic story���we’ve never heard of a reunion like this one.”

  Bailey had already dismissed the commotion. “Where’s my son?”

  Mr. Maybry stepped forward. “If you could give us just a few more minutes to sign the necessary paperwork to release Chad into your custody���”

  “Show me the papers,” he demanded.

  At a signal from Mr. Maybry, a secretary scurried out of the room, then returned with a handful of documents.

  “Now, Mr. and Mrs.���I mean, Mr. Kallihan and Ms. Catron, if you will���”

  Bailey snatched the pen. “Where do I sign?”

  The man abandoned whatever rules he’d been prepared to defend, and simply pointed to a blank line on each paper, where Bailey hastily scrawled his name, then handed the pen to Ginny. She hesitated only a second or two before following suit. Bailey suspected it was the first time she’d signed anything with such abandon since their divorce papers.

  When she set down the pen, he said, “Now, Mr. Maybry, take us to our son.”

  “Right this way.”

  They were led down a carpeted hallway with numbered doors on either side. Ginny gripped his hand tightly. He caught her worried glance and gave her a wink and a comforting smile.

  The end of the hall opened into a recreation room, complete with game tables, bookshelves, and bean-bag chairs scattered in front of a TV. Bright fluorescent lights reached into the corners of the room, dimmed by blinds that had been pulled, Bailey realized, to keep out prying cameras. His eyes scanned the quiet room, alighting on a small figure sitting at a table against a far wall. At their entrance the woman sitting with the boy stood and moved away.

  Bailey’s eyes were riveted on the child as he turned to look their way. His heart threatened to explode as he took in the boy’s familiar features. Same dark, unruly hair, same deep widow’s peak and slight cowlick, same dense brows, same cobalt-blue eyes. It could have been himself at eight years old.

  He heard Ginny’s sharp intake of breath, felt her death grip on his hand. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  The boy stood up, his eyes guarded, his expression wary. He wore a baggy blue-and-white-striped T-shirt over denim shorts and high-top athletic shoes. As they walked closer, he dropped his gaze and flicked a paint chip from the surface of the table. When at last he looked at them, Bailey saw pain and fear in the boy’s wide, dark eyes. Blood pounded in his ears. My son… my son… my son.

  “Hello,” Bailey ventured, pleased that his voice worked at all.

  “Hey,” came the cautious reply.

  Ginny seemed speechless, unable to tear her eyes away from the boy. Bailey wasn’t sure what to say next, but his son had apparently been giving this moment a great deal of thought.

  “So you’re my real parents, huh?” He spoke with the low tone and casual grace of a street-smart kid.

  “Yes,” Ginny said, her voice wavering only slightly. “Bailey is your father, and I’m Virginia, your mmother.”

  The dark eyes scanned them both head to toe, and Bailey held his breath.

  “I can see you’re my old man,” Chad said to Bailey. “We got the same face.”

  Bailey nodded, confirming the obvious. He was going to have a heart attack if his pulse didn’t slow soon.

  Then Chad turned to Ginny, and tilted his head. “But you don’t look like any mother I’ve seen.”

  Bailey had to agree. She looked too young and too slim in a blue wrap dress and high heels. He watched as she smiled, her face lighting with wonder. “But I am,” she said gently. “I’m your mother.”

  His son considered Ginny’s words for a few seconds, then turned belligerent eyes her way. “What kind of mother lets her kid get stolen in a grocery store?”

  Chapter 4

  Bailey blinked. Ginny dropped his hand, her shoulders falling, her hand covering her open mouth. Anger bolted through his stomach as he looked back to his unruffled son. The boy even had a slight smile on his face. “What did you say?” Bailey demanded.

  Chad rolled his eyes. “I said what kind of mo���”

  “Never mind,” Bailey interrupted. “I heard you.” He turned to the small knot of people in the back of the room. “We’d like some privacy, please.”

  Ginny’s father puffed up and opened his mouth to respond, b
ut her mother quieted him and pulled him from the room along with the others. The door closed noiselessly. The only sound in the room was Ginny’s soft sniffling as she struggled to regain her composure.

  Bailey wanted to comfort her, but his immediate concern was the cocky cause of her tears.

  Chad stood with his arms loosely crossed, challenging Bailey with his eyes and his stance. He was apparently unmoved by tears, and unafraid of a reprisal.

  Even as Bailey’s mind raced for the appropriate reprimand, he cursed himself. What right did he have to chastise? The boy’s words to Ginny were almost identical to the words he’d said to her after the kidnapping. And Bailey had been old enough to know better, not a confused eight-year-old kid.

  Whether by design, Bailey wasn’t sure, but Chad had lashed out at the very person who would be the most devoted to him. Like father, like son. He rubbed at the ache forming in his temple, then leveled his gaze on Chad. “This is strange for all of us, but you had no cause to say that.”

  Chad shrugged, his eyes remaining passive. “It’s a free country, I can say whatever I want.”

  Bailey straightened, placing his hands on his hips. “Then I hope you want to say you’re sorry.”

  His son’s chin raised a notch. “And I suppose you’re going to make me, Daddy?”

  The taunt stung Bailey, and it took him a few seconds to recover. The boy was as belligerent as he’d been at that age. He took a deep, steadying breath to rein in his anger. “You can be a jerk to me if you need to blow some steam, son, but”���he took a few steps closer to Chad and assumed an authoritative stance of his own���“don’t take it out on your mother.”

  Chad’s eves narrowed. “My mother was Lois Green.”

  Bailey remained completely still. “Then consider yourself lucky. Some kids don’t have a mother at all, and you’ve had two.”

  The boy jerked his thumb toward Ginny. “I’m not calling her Mom, and I’m not calling you Dad.”

  His heart squeezed over yet another intangible loss.

  “That’s fine,” Ginny injected, her voice much stronger. “Virginia and Bailey will do for now.” She looked at Bailey, nodding encouragement.