The expression on his face was grave. "For now, that appears to be it."
"You don't look happy," she said slowly.
"I'm not. Fact is, I'm afraid for you, Haven."
She didn't want to believe it. The words stuck in her throat, and she had to force them out. "So what you're saying is, the Zieglars could win."
"I'm saying that I honestly don't know which way this will go."
This wasn't real, Haven thought. Any minute now she'd awake in her bed to find she'd been having a nightmare. How could this be happening? How could those two miserable excuses for human beings take little things, things that, separately, didn't mean much, and weave them together to form a fabric of carelessness and incompetence? Even Haven, with what little she knew of the law, could understand how things might appear to someone who didn't know any better. Someone who didn't know her. Or the Zieglars.
A snippet of an almost forgotten conversation ran through her mind, a conversation with Melinda, one of the few arguments they'd had during those long, last, terrible days. Haven had been trying to understand why her friend was leaving almost half her estate to her aunt and uncle, instead of to her daughter.
"I'm doing it for Anna," Melinda had said. "If they get enough money, they'll leave her alone."
"It's the money," Haven mused out loud. "They must have gone through what Melinda left them. That's why they've waited so long to petition for Anna."
"I think you're right," Syd replied. "I've heard through the grapevine that Douglas has made a few bad investments lately. They're not broke, but they could be doing a lot better."
"Can't you tell the judge this? Surely it proves the only reason they want Anna is for her money."
"All it proves, Haven, is that Douglas Zieglar made a few bad investments. We have to stick to concrete, provable facts, not innuendo and hearsay. The sad truth is that, at face value, things don't look good for you. The Zieglars have a witness, hospital records and a CYS report to back up their allegations. The hearing will take place in civil court. It will be presided over by a judge, and there will be no jury. Proof beyond a reasonable doubt is not the standard. If there is any question in the judge's mind as to your fitness, he'll give Anna to the Zieglars."
"So now they want the other half of Melinda's estate," she said dully.
"That would be my take on the situation."
"And we can't prove it."
"No, we can't."
Haven thought for a minute. "What about Anna's father?" she said slowly.
"What about him?" Syd asked. "Far as I know, Melinda would never say who he was."
"What if, until just recently, he didn't know he was a father? What if he showed up and petitioned the court for custody? What if he had DNA tests to back up his claim?"
Syd shrugged. "In all likelihood, there'd be no case. He'd probably be given custody of his daughter. That way, you'd definitely lose, Haven. At least with the Zieglars, you have a chance."
Haven couldn't breathe. It felt as though the walls of the room were closing in on her. She needed to get away from here, to have some time alone to think and sort things through. Taking a deep breath, she carefully set the coffee cup on a brass coaster and rose unsteadily to her feet.
"Where are you going?" Syd asked.
"Out. I need some fresh air. Call you later."
* * *
An hour later, after a long walk, Haven was no closer to a decision when she returned to the center to find Douglas and Pamela Zieglar waiting in her office. Swearing beneath her breath, she closed the door behind her and mentally prepared herself for the coming confrontation.
"Pamela, Douglas," she said, resisting the urge to utter a primal scream. "It's been a long time."
It made her skin crawl to look at them. On the surface, they were an attractive couple, having aged well, like a fine wine. Appearances, however—especially in the Zieglars' case—could be more than deceiving.
Both were dressed conservatively, Douglas in a coal gray suit, Pamela in a pale-pink A-line dress. A set of matched pearls decorated her ears and throat. While everything about the pair bespoke money and breeding, inside their chests, Haven knew, beat two identical hearts of stone.
"We're here to save you a lot of trouble," Douglas said.
Since the only altruism he ever practiced was a well-publicized donation to charity every year or so, Haven had her doubts.
"Oh?" She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and raised her eyebrows. "That's kind of you."
"You're aware, aren't you," Douglas said, "that we've filed a petition for guardianship of Melinda's daughter?"
Not for anything would she let them see that she was even remotely concerned about the case. Maintaining careful eye contact, she said, "Yes, I'm aware of that."
"Good. I thought it would interest you to know, also, that the judge in this matter went to Yale with Melinda's father. He and I golf at the same club."
"Meaning?"
"Whose side do you think he'll be on in this matter?"
Haven's blood did a slow boil, but she held the lid on her temper. She didn't want to give them any more ammunition than they already had.
"Are you telling me you bribed a judge, Douglas?" she said lightly. "You could go to jail for that, you realize."
Douglas's smile was about as genuine as a crocodile's. "Of course I didn't bribe him. There really is no need. What I'm telling you is that you can save yourself a lot of time and trouble by conceding the case right now. Like does tend to like, you know."
"That may be true," Haven retorted with a smile that belied her inner turmoil, "but it didn't stop Melinda from being friends with me. Or from granting me guardianship of her daughter."
The tightening of his mouth was the only indication Douglas gave that her words had hit their mark. "Melinda was a confused young woman," he said dismissively. "She never got over the death of her parents."
"I won't just hand Anna over to you," Haven said.
Douglas shrugged, as if it were no skin off his nose. "I just wanted to spare you a lot of trouble."
"Would you look at this place?" Pamela said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Our poor little girl spends most of her life here. Can you imagine it, Doug?"
Pamela had never laid eyes on her "poor little girl" in Anna's almost three years of life. The hypocrisy made the bile rise in Haven's throat.
Suddenly, it was all too much. She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted the Zieglars out of her office, and she wanted them out yesterday.
"I appreciate you stopping by to tell me this," she said stiffly, "but if you don't mind, I have work to do. Please feel free to contact my attorney, if there's anything else."
"Well, really," Pamela said, affronted.
"Mark my words, Haven," Douglas warned, taking his wife by the elbow and shepherding her to the door. "You can't win. The child belongs with us. No judge in the world would choose you over us. You know it, and we do, too."
When they were gone, all the strength drained out of Haven's body, and she started to shake. She slumped into her chair and laid her head on her hands, feeling more exhausted and helpless than she ever had in her life. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and go to sleep, and forget that her world lay in ruins around her feet. What was she going to do?
Slowly, by sheer effort of will, she lifted her head and stared at the picture of the laughing child on her desk. There was no decision to make, really. Douglas and Pamela Zieglar had already made it for her. She had to do what was in Anna's best interest. And it would break her heart.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, events set into motion, Haven peered through a small oval window and watched while Anna finger-painted. Her round little face was intent as she smeared a wedge of blue across her paper. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth, the way it always did when she was deep in concentration.
Haven's heart contracted, and she fought back hot tears. Dear heaven, did she have the strength to do this? A qu
ick review of her alternatives, and she knew she had no other choice. For a moment longer she watched the little girl who owned her heart, the child she would gladly die for. Then, squaring her shoulders in resolution, she turned away.
A far different emotion from what she'd experienced at the sight of the Zieglars filled her when she walked into her office and saw Brady standing there. He looked so big and solid that she wanted to run into his arms, to feel them close around her and to hear him murmur that everything would be okay. With an effort, she walked slowly to her desk and took a seat.
"Thanks for coming so quickly."
He sat down across from her and examined her closely. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," he said.
Haven knew she looked awful. Her hair was an untamed riot of curls around her face. Except for her sunburn, her skin was pale, her eyes sunken and haunted. Though she'd taken the time to dress for work, she hadn't bothered with makeup. She just hadn't been up to it.
There was, she decided, no delicate way to prepare Brady for what had to be done. "You're going to have to petition the court for custody of Anna," she said baldly.
He didn't speak for a long moment. "You want me to file for custody of Anna?"
"Yes."
"You're asking me to remove her from your custody?"
She swallowed hard. "Yes."
"Why?"
The words spilled out. She told him all about Douglas and Pamela Zieglar and the shameful way they'd neglected Melinda all her life. She told him about the petition for custody and what Syd Spear had said about the natural father stepping forward.
"So you see," she said, shamelessly appealing to his overblown sense of honor, "you have to do this. You have a duty to Anna. You can't let those people get their greedy hands on her."
"I thought I was supposed to be the one with the greedy hands," he murmured.
"Let's just say recent events have altered my opinion on that issue."
"You could win this case, you know. What then?"
She shook her head. "I can't take the chance. I don't want Anna to spend so much as thirty seconds with those people."
His smile was wry. "So, what you're saying is, I'm the lesser of two evils."
"I'm saying you have no choice." She drew a deep breath. "I've got it all figured out. You need to show the court that you can support Anna. so I'm going to give you a job. Temporarily, you're going to be our new maintenance man."
"How can you afford to do that?" he asked. "You're barely making ends meet as it is."
"How do you know that?" She held up a hand. "I know, I know. The private investigator. Don't worry about me coming up with the money. I'll manage somehow. Of course, you're going to have to find a real job as soon as possible. I'll only be able to afford to pay you for a short time. But it should be enough to convince the judge that you're gainfully employed."
"I don't want your money, Haven."
"This is no time for false pride," she told him. "You have to take it, whether you want it or not. You need to have a job."
"I'm rich. I don't need your money. Or Anna's."
Haven did a double take. "What?"
"I said I'm rich."
"You're rich?"
He nodded. "Stinking."
"I don't believe it."
"Ever heard of Charles Ross?"
"The financial wizard? Who hasn't?"
"He was my adoptive father. I'm his only heir."
Her mouth dropped open. "You're Charles Ross's son?"
"That's right."
"But you don't look rich," she blurted.
He seemed amused. "What does rich look like?"
She knew she should be grateful that he was as rich as Anna—richer probably. She knew she should be deliriously happy that he really was here out of a sense of duty to his daughter, and not for her money. If the DNA tests proved his paternity, no court in the land would refuse him custody. She knew all this, yet all she could focus on was one small fact. Yesterday, he'd asked her to start over, but he hadn't felt the need to tell her the truth about himself.
"You lied to me," she accused.
"How did I do that?"
"You told me you were unemployed."
"I am unemployed."
"But you let me think you had no source of income."
He shrugged. "I had my reasons."
What was she doing? Haven asked herself. Why was she arguing with the man when Anna's future was on the line?
"Will you do it, Brady?" she pleaded. "When the DNA tests come in, will you file a petition for custody of your daughter?"
He was silent for so long she knew he was going to refuse. Her shoulders sagged. She'd been so certain that her appeal to his duty and honor would work. But why should he do this? Though he'd admitted feeling a tie to his daughter, he was only here out of a sense of obligation. An obligation he could carry out regardless of who had physical custody of Anna. By his own admission, he didn't believe in love. She wondered if it was in him to love anyone.
"There is another solution," he offered.
For the life of her she couldn't figure out what it could be. "What's that?" she asked impatiently.
"You could marry me."
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
Haven felt as if she'd been plucked up by unseen fingers and dropped into the middle of a Salvadore Dali painting. Everything seemed surreal: her fingers, her toes, her face, the very air she breathed. Even her office furniture seemed to blur around the edges, until she grew halfway convinced that her desk was about to pour onto her lap, like water from a bucket. She had to blink several times before the room came fully into focus.
When it did, she found Brady watching her. He had such a disconcerting way of emptying all emotion from his face, of making his eyes so flat and empty that, for the life of her, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. That he was a complete mystery to her was becoming more of an annoyance than an intrigue. At least he was consistent, she thought.
Despite her anguish over her decision, her fear for Anna, her annoyance that Brady Ross was so impossibly remote and unreadable, her heart beat faster just looking at him. He was so big, so solid, so … damnably good-looking.
And if her ears hadn't been playing tricks on her, he'd just asked her to marry him.
She forced a laugh that was shaky at best. "Want to hear something crazy? It just goes to show how much stress I've been under lately, but I could swear I heard you say we could get married. Isn't that ridiculous?"
"I don't think it sounds ridiculous at all," Brady replied. "Given what you've just told me, it sounds downright necessary."
For the briefest of seconds Haven allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of what it would be like to be Brady Ross's wife, in the fullest sense of the word. What it would be like to wake up beside him every morning, to feel his possession at night. Desire roared through her veins like a flash fire, obliterating all rational thought and making her weak at the knees.
"You're kidding," she said, her voice deep and husky.
His gaze didn't waver. "I don't kid, Haven. From where I'm sitting, it looks like the only sensible solution."
There was nothing sensible about the graphic images racing through her brain. "Well, from where I'm sitting," she retorted, after clearing her throat and forcing her thoughts back into line, "it looks like the only disastrous solution."
"Why? I'm offering you what you so desperately want. A chance to be with Anna."
"But marriage…" Words failed her.
"What I'm suggesting, Haven, is a temporary measure. A marriage in name only until my paternity is confirmed."
She knew it couldn't be as easy as he made it sound. A person didn't climb in and out of marriage as easily as she did an automobile. The breakup of any marriage, even one as temporary as the one Brady proposed, was never without consequence.
"But marriage…" she repeated.
"Eve
r hear of Murphy's Law?"
She gave him a patient look. "If something can go wrong, it will. I've been living it all week. I'm beginning to think Murphy was an optimist."
"Then you, more than anyone else, should know exactly how wrong things can still go. What happens if they get backed up at the lab, and they can't get to my test before your court date? What happens if someone makes a mistake and the lab loses my sample? Any delay could be costly, both emotionally and financially. Why not settle everything now by getting married? Plus, you could go into court against the Zieglars as a married woman. They couldn't use your single status against you."
The appeal of his proposal, as far as Anna was concerned, was undeniable. It was the appeal of the man that was giving Haven second, and even third, thoughts. But what good were second and third thoughts when he was offering her the one thing she'd thought she'd lost? She couldn't think of herself right now. She had to think of Anna. She had to do what was best for the precious child Melinda had entrusted to her care.
Lack of sleep, coupled with her constant state of worry, finally took its toll. Haven suddenly felt so weary she could barely hold up her head. Leaning forward, she planted her elbows on her desk and her face in her palms.
"This is impossible," she muttered, shaking her head from side to side.
"You are over twenty-one?" Brady asked.
"Yes."
"You're not legally bound to anyone else?"
Slowly, she looked up. "You know I'm not."
He spread his hands. "Then it's not impossible. Legally, nothing is standing in the way of our getting married. All we need is a license and a judge. It's really very easy. It's also the right thing to do."
Haven stared at him in mounting frustration. What a baffling, infuriatingly enigmatic man!
"Do you always do what's right?" she challenged, ignoring the fact she'd asked him to do just that when she'd begged him to claim Anna publicly as his daughter.
"I try."
"No matter how hard it is?"
"Doing what's right is rarely easy, but it's always right." He sounded just like a teacher. Or a parent. "I'll bet you were an Eagle Scout by thirteen," she said.
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