"If I didn't know any better, I could swear you'd never seen a sunset before," Haven said. She sounded amused.
"It feels like I'm seeing it for the first time." He turned to look at her in the gathering twilight. "We take so much for granted, you know. The ebb and flow of the tides. The air we breathe. The bloom on a rose." He nodded toward the horizon. "The setting of the sun."
"It is beautiful, isn't it?"
He kept his gaze centered on her. "One of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen."
Haven stared back for a minute before biting her lip and looking away. "So, when are you going to start looking for a job?"
Brady felt his lips twist. Served him right for trying to flirt with her after he'd done everything in his power to put her off. "It really bugs you that I'm unemployed, doesn't it?"
"Yes," she admitted, "it does."
"Why?"
"Chad's mother, for example. She's working herself into a state of exhaustion to provide a better life for her son. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth when I see an able-bodied person just wasting his life away."
"An able-bodied person like me," he said.
"Yes."
"Anna's rich, Haven. She doesn't need me to support her." The growing twilight could not hide the exasperation in her eyes.
"Children learn by example, Brady. What will your not working teach Anna? Just because she's rich, it doesn't mean she's entitled to slide through life."
"I agree."
She blinked. "You do?"
While he might choose not to speak of his past and the reasons for his currently unemployed status, he could reassure her on this issue anyway. "Yes, Haven, I do."
"Then why aren't you working?"
Brady stared out into the night. "I needed some time-off. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not on public assistance. And I don't plan on being idle for much longer. By the time Anna's old enough to ask what I do for a living, I'll have an answer for her."
"I'm glad to hear it."
They fell silent. The last rays of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. In the front yard, primroses unfurled their petals and fireflies flashed.
"I did okay?" he finally asked. "Tonight, with Anna?"
"You did fine, Brady. Matter of fact, you passed the first lesson with flying colors."
He shook his head. "You know, I didn't think it would be so…"
"Easy?" she prompted. "Fun?"
"Both, I suppose."
"When you look at something as a responsibility, it's kind of hard to imagine how it can also be fun."
"Touché," he said to the open challenge in her voice. "Okay, you've got me cornered. I don't just think of Anna as a responsibility. I tried to, but I knew she was more than that the minute I saw her. I hadn't realized there'd be such a … tie between us."
"I've often heard that's the way it can be between parent and child." He heard an odd note in her voice. Wistfulness. And if he wasn't mistaken, pain.
"That's why you were so concerned about me, wasn't it?" he guessed. "It wasn't so much that I'd appeared out of the blue, but that I kept insisting the bond didn't exist."
She nodded. "Anna needs a father who loves her, not one who's only with her out of a sense of duty."
He'd only truly allowed himself to love two people in his lifetime. One had been a father figure; the other was his best friend. Both times, the love had come slowly, grudgingly. Even now, though he felt a bond with the little girl, he wasn't sure he was capable of the outpouring of affection that she would need from him. But he had to try. To do less would be to sully Charles Ross's memory.
"I'm not sure I believe in love," he said. "But I'm here, Haven. And I'm not budging."
"It's a start," she conceded. "I suppose I should warn you that you've got a few lessons to go yet. A three-year-old is a lot easier to deal with than a sixteen-year-old. What are you going to do when Anna comes to you with questions about sex?"
The thought horrified him. "Put her in a convent till she's thirty."
She laughed. "Spoken like a true dad."
The remark pleased him. It also pleased him to sit in the dark with her, to feel the motion of the swing. It pleased him to look at her, to see the way her lips curled, full and inviting, enticing him. It pleased him a lot. Too much, in fact.
He put his feet down, and the swing ceased its motion. It was time to leave. Before he let the magic of the night—and the woman seated next to him—make him do something he'd regret.
Before he kissed her and changed things forever between them.
"Thank you for dinner." He stood up, and she followed suit. "And for the lesson."
"I'll walk you to your car," she said.
* * *
"Would the real Brady Ross please step forward?" Haven murmured as she watched his car disappear down the street. What a puzzle the man was. He wouldn't tell her where he'd been since Anna's conception or why he was so reluctant to work, but he'd willingly confided his doubts and fears about his abilities as a father. He was cynical about love, yet he could marvel at the setting of the sun. She wondered if she'd ever figure him out. It would probably be best for her peace of mind if she didn't even try.
She was about to go inside, when a battered car coughed and sputtered its way up her driveway and pulled to a halt. The door opened, and an elderly woman cautiously climbed out.
"May I help you?" Haven asked.
"I'm looking for Haven Adams."
"I'm Haven Adams." She had a sudden premonition of bad tidings. Yesterday, when Brady Ross had spoken the exact same words to her, the news he'd delivered had been less than welcome.
"I was asked to deliver this to you." The woman handed her a manila envelope, then turned to shuffle back to the car. "Have a good evening."
Haven waited until she was inside before opening the envelope and pulling out the sheet of paper it contained. As she read the typewritten words, she felt the blood drain from her face. Her knees threatened to give out on her, and she sank into the nearest chair.
"No!" she cried. "No. This can't be happening."
She read the paper again, convinced her eyes had been playing tricks on her. But they hadn't been. The words hadn't changed. Haven drew a long, shuddering breath.
A petition for guardianship had been filed, and a hearing would be held in six weeks. She was being sued. For custody of Anna.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
In quiet desperation, her heart heating in rhythm to the tapping of her foot, Haven waited while her lawyer scanned the sheaf of papers in his hands. Unable to sit still for more than a few seconds at a time, she shifted in her seat, her gaze roving the large corner office.
Sunlight streamed through a huge bank of windows, throwing shadows across a gray wool carpet. Mahogany paneling and bookcases covered the walls, along with several oil paintings and framed diplomas from the University of Pennsylvania and Harvard Law School. The aroma of good wood, old money and expensive cigars filled the room.
More impressive than the room itself, however, was the man seated behind a massive, gleaming mahogany desk. In his early fifties, Syd Spear was a bare inch under seven feet tall, bald, brawny and eagle eyed. He specialized in estate and family law, and was enormously successful. Haven had met him through Melinda, and he'd been advising her since her friend's death. This morning, she hoped he would advise her that her fears were groundless.
"Well?" she demanded, when she could stand the wait no longer.
With a sigh, Syd laid the papers down on his desk and massaged his right temple. "I haven't had time to review the entire petition in depth, but it appears that Douglas and Pamela Zieglar, Anna's great-aunt and uncle, have filed a petition seeking her guardianship."
"I know all that." Haven had no patience left for long, involved explanations. "Forget the legalese and cut to the chase, Syd. What am I up against?"
"In a minute." He pressed a button on his intercom and spoke into it before
leaning back in his chair. "First. I'm going to have my secretary bring you a cup of coffee. After you drink every drop, you're going to take several long, deep breaths. You're wound tighter than an overtuned guitar string, Haven. If we're going to accomplish anything this morning, you have to calm down."
Haven slumped in her chair. "I'm sorry, Syd. I know I'm wound up. I haven't been able to think of anything else since I was served that notice last night. I didn't sleep a wink. I guess I'm just a bundle of nerves."
"I can understand why."
She gazed at him, eyes pleading. "I can't lose Anna. Not to those people. You don't know what they're like."
"I have a fair idea. Remember, I was Melinda's lawyer, too. I know the only reason they took her in after her parents died was for her money. I know they never showed her one ounce of affection. Unfortunately, they are well-known and quite prominent in this community. Regardless of what you or I think of them, they have a sterling reputation."
Haven's fingers tightened around the purse on her lap. "That doesn't make them good people."
"No," Syd agreed, "it doesn't."
The office door opened, and a tall, slim, efficient-looking woman entered bearing a cup of coffee. She handed it to Haven, who murmured her thanks before taking a sip. The hot liquid went a long way toward restoring her equilibrium.
"Better?" Syd asked.
"Better," she replied with a nod. "So, tell me what this is all about."
"Not a word until you drain the cup and take three deep breaths."
Grudgingly, Haven complied. "All right," she said. "I'm calm, cool and collected. Now, what's this all about?"
"The Zieglars are charging that you're an unfit guardian."
Shock waves rippled through her body, and she nearly dropped the empty cup. "That's preposterous!"
She heard the note of panic in her voice and drew another deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. She needed to treat this matter the same way she would a crisis at the center. The minute she lost control, she lost the battle. And this was one battle she couldn't afford to lose.
"If anyone's unfit to he Anna's guardians," she said, her voice low and even, "it's them. I could tell you stories that would regrow the hair on your head. How can they get away with making such a ridiculous claim?"
"It's all laid out in black and white in the petition," Syd said.
"How about laying it out for me?"
He flipped through a couple of pages. "For starters, they claim that Anna's been in day care all her life."
"So are a lot of children of working mothers, and they aren't accused of being unfit. Anna happens to be in day care because I run a day care center. And I didn't open that until she was a year old. She's there so she can be near me."
"The point is," Syd said, "you're not Anna's mother. You're only her guardian, which changes all the rules."
The words hurt. Haven had wanted to adopt Anna, had begged Melinda to allow her to do so, but her friend had refused. Anna was the last of a long line of Dolans, and Melinda hadn't wanted that to end. Besides, in Melinda's eyes, granting Haven guardianship was the same as making her Anna's mother. Unfortunately, as Syd had so painfully pointed out, the eyes of the law viewed things differently. If Haven had been allowed to formally adopt Anna, in all likelihood she wouldn't be sitting where she was today, terrified of losing the one person who meant more to her than life itself.
"What are the center's working hours?" Syd asked.
"Eight a.m. to 6 p.m., Monday through Friday," she answered wearily.
"That's ten hours a day."
"Yes, it is. Bravo for you, you didn't even need to use a calculator to figure it out." She didn't bother to hide her hurt. "Why are you questioning me like this, Syd? Why are you trying to make me feel in the wrong here?"
"I'm just looking at this the way the Zieglars' lawyer will. Believe me, Haven, it's important. Remember, I'm on you side, even if it may not sound like it. May I continue?"
She gave a stiff little nod.
"I assume you and Anna are there all ten hours?"
"Yes."
"And how much of that time do you physically spend with her?"
Haven spread her arms in frustration. "I don't know. Every minute I can. I don't keep a record. I also spend every evening and weekend with her. Doesn't that count?"
"The Zieglars claim that they're able to give Anna their attention full-time."
Haven felt her lip curl. "You and I both know that if they get her, they'll ship her off to boarding school the minute she's old enough."
"We know it, but the judge doesn't."
"Then why don't we tell him?"
"Because," Syd said, his eyes full of regret. "it isn't a crime to send a child to boarding school."
"I'd be more than willing to testify how they neglected Melinda all those years. They never visited her, or let her come home for the holidays, or even so much as sent her a birthday card."
The lawyer shook his head. "Unfortunately, Melinda is not here to corroborate your story. Your testimony would be considered hearsay. It wouldn't be allowed. Plus, the Zieglars have one card to play that you don't."
"What card is that?"
"The blood card. They're related to Anna, and you're not. That's often a very persuasive argument in matters like these. Most likely, they'll claim that since they already raised their orphaned niece, they're more than qualified to raise her daughter."
Melinda had actually raised herself, but Haven didn't see any point in saying it out loud, since Syd already knew that. She wondered how he would react if she vented her anger and frustration by kicking his desk. Hard. She might have, too, except she was fairly certain the only thing that would get hurt in the process would be her foot.
"What about their age?" she asked. "They're old enough to be Anna's grandparents."
"A lot of grandparents are raising their grandchildren these days," Syd replied. "The key here is that they're family. In most cases, any family, regardless of age, is thought to be better than no family at all. I have to warn you that the judge on this case is well-known for his leanings in that direction."
It took a lot more than blood to make a group of people a family, Haven thought. Love, for one thing. Commitment to a common goal, for another. Why couldn't the court see that?
"What about Melinda's will?" she said. "She specifically stated that she wanted me to be Anna's guardian."
"They'll claim that because of her illness, Melinda wasn't able to truly see what would be in Anna's best interests. The judge might just buy it."
"What if I closed down the center? I could he with Anna full-time then."
"How long would your money last?" Syd retorted. "How would you support yourself once it was gone? I know you won't touch Anna's money. At least, you haven't so far."
Haven sighed. "What else?"
"The Zieglars claim that two weeks ago, while in your care, Anna fell and broke her wrist."
For a long minute, she stared at him, uncomprehending. "And this makes me incompetent? Children fall all the time, Syd. That's how they discover their world. Sometimes, when they fall, a bone breaks."
"They say they have a witness who can testify you waited six hours before taking Anna to a doctor."
"Mary," Haven said dully.
"Mary?"
"A former aide. I dismissed her when I found her stealing supplies from the center. She was on playground duty the day Anna fell."
"So you're saying Mary's nurturing a grudge against you, and for that reason she's willing to lie in court?"
Haven felt her heart sink even further. "No, she's telling the truth. Anna didn't receive medical attention until six hours after her fall."
"Why not?" There was no judgment in his voice.
"Anna has a high tolerance for pain, something we learned after this incident. There was no obvious break, and no bruising. She didn't complain of pain until six hours later. When she did, and I realized the wrist could be broken, I took her immedi
ately to the emergency room."
"You do know how this will play in court, don't you?" Syd said.
Haven nodded. She knew. She'd seen enough courtroom dramas on television to have a fair idea of how the scenario would play out. It wouldn't look good. It wouldn't look good at all.
"What else do they claim?" she asked.
"That a year ago you hired a convicted child molester to work at the center."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Mary again."
"Did you?"
She nodded. "I hired him to be the janitor. Before he started, as is policy with every new employee, I checked his references. I also checked to see if he had a criminal record. That's when I found out about his conviction. Other than his interview, he never set foot in the center. I was with him the entire time. He was never near any of the kids."
"That should be a point in your favor."
His tone of voice told her it might be the only one. Dread formed a hard ball in her chest, and she found it difficult to breathe. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely a whisper.
"Something tells me there's more."
"There is," Syd said. "The petition states that at 2 a.m. on February 10, Anna was found wandering around the neighborhood in just her nightgown and slippers by a neighbor, one June Samuelson, who called Children and Youth Services. A report was filed."
"And the subsequent investigation found nothing," Haven said quickly. "After I explained what happened, June apologized. We'd just moved into the house the day before, and she had no idea who we were. She was only doing what she thought was best for Anna. I don't blame her. Under similar circumstances, I probably would have done the same thing."
"Why was Anna walking around the neighborhood at two in the morning?" Syd asked.
A reluctant smile curved Haven's mouth. "The little imp climbed out the dog door. I'd read her a story before bed about a leprechaun and his pot of gold. There was a full moon that night, and she decided to go searching for her own leprechaun. Afterward, I replaced the door and we had a long talk. There will be no more nocturnal wanderings. Anything else?"
Major Dad Page 6
