His Secret Child

by Lee Tobin McClain

  Fern was opening the gate herself when a large, male hand clapped down on her shoulder, sending what felt like tiny electrical shocks right to her heart. “There you are!”

  Carlo.

  Half inside the gate, she turned to face him. “What?”

  He produced her coat and wrapped it around her shivering shoulders. “You left this at Daisy’s office.” Then he leaned closer. “You’ve been crying.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Susan said from behind Fern, and then stepped between her and Carlo. “What did you do to her?”

  Carlo took a step back. “Hi, Susan. I’m afraid it’s private.”

  “No problem, but we don’t need any extra drama here at the school. Fern’s welcome, she has her clearances, but you need to stay outside the fence.”

  The unfamiliar feeling of having another woman protect her gave Fern a tiny boost. She couldn’t remember that last time that had happened. If ever. It helped that Susan showed no sign of romantic interest in Carlo.

  A muscle in Carlo’s jaw tightened. “Of course.” He took a couple more steps back.

  “Up to you,” Susan said to Fern. “Come with me when I take the kids inside in, let’s see...” She consulted her phone. “In three minutes. Or stay out with him. Either way, we need to close the gate. Mindy!” With the teacher’s eyes in the back of her head, Susan must have noticed that a new circle of kids was gathering around the little girl who’d been involved in the fight a minute ago. “Be right back. I hope.”

  Carlo studied Fern through the fence. “Come walk with me. We need to talk.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I...I just can’t.”

  “Look, I know this is hard and awful. It is for me, too.”

  Fern opened her mouth to snap at him, but the defeated look in his eyes tugged at her heart. For the first time, she tried to look at the whole situation from his point of view.

  He’d been rejected by his wife, not once, but twice. Then he’d gotten notice that she’d died and that he had a child, and he’d come rushing back to fulfill his duties, disregarding deathly illness to do so.

  He’d met his daughter unprepared, had spent time getting close to her and now couldn’t see her except under the care of a social worker.

  The pain and conflict of all of it showed in his haunted eyes.

  She lifted her hands, palms up. “I’m really sorry, Carlo. I just don’t see how one of us can win without the other one losing.” And she couldn’t sacrifice her stake in Mercy’s future, because she knew she was an important part of the child’s stability.

  She put a hand up to the tall chain-link fence at the same time he did. They pressed their hands together, staring at each other, neither of them smiling. Fern’s heart pounded out of control.

  Finally, he spoke. “We need to figure out how to tell Mercedes the truth. That takes priority. After that...” He paused a moment, as if considering how to say something difficult.

  “What?” Her voice came out as a feathery whisper she didn’t recognize. “What after that?”

  “After that,” he said, looking hard into her eyes, “Maybe we can figure out this thing between us.”

  Hope and panic rose in her. Hope—and surprise, really—that he thought there was a thing between them. But panic, too, because it was all happening way too fast. “I don’t feel as if I can figure anything out just now.”

  He pressed his hand against hers through the fence, curling large, blunt fingers though the chain links to clasp the tips of hers. “You’re cold.”

  She couldn’t look away. She’d been cold, too cold, for too long.

  “You should go inside.”

  “I should.” She licked suddenly dry lips.

  One eyebrow lifted, quizzical.

  How could she be feeling such wildly contradictory emotions toward this complicated, infuriating man?

  Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he nodded once. “I’ll be quick, then. After you left, Daisy told me option B. Which is having her tell Mercedes with the two of us, or just me, standing by.”

  “No!”

  “Right. To me, that’s not ideal. So let’s have dinner tomorrow night and we’ll talk it through, figure it out.”

  “Tomorrow?” She had no plans, but she needed time to pull herself together. Carlo’s intensity scared her, plain and simple. “I can’t find a sitter for Mercedes that fast.”

  “Then, Wednesday? We need to do this soon, Fern, before the cat gets out of the bag some other way.”

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. It was that she was desperate to see him. It was that his hand, gripping at hers, felt way too right for something that was totally wrong. “Okay, Wednesday,” she said, then pushed off the fence, turned away from his too-perceptive eyes and hurried toward the school.

  The sound of children yelling pulled her out of her own concerns. There was Mindy, the little girl who’d been fighting, struggling as Susan carried her inside. Other children were tugging at Susan’s leg, trying to tell their side of the story. Fern looked around—surely there was another adult out here?—but the only aide was kneeling down beside a child who’d apparently fallen off the swings.

  Fern quickened her step. “Hey,” she said to the most persistent of the kids who was tugging at Susan. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? And we’ll see if we can find some answers in books next time I come for library reading time, okay?”

  As she’d hoped, the offer of adult attention and a listening ear drew the clamoring kids away from Susan. She nodded sympathetically at the childhood tale of a push, the seizing of a ball and some name-calling, and promised to bring a book that told a similar story the next time. “Now, looks as if everyone’s lining up to go inside,” she said. “Show me how fast you can line up without talking.”

  As the kids lined up, Susan, still carrying the sobbing Mindy, cast her a grateful smile. “I need to take her to the nurse,” she told Fern. “Meet me in the teachers’ lounge.”

  Because she didn’t have anything else to do and no ideas about how to solve her problems, she did as Susan suggested. Every step through the school reminded her that she wouldn’t have a child here after all. Carlo was trying to get along with her, doing better than she was. That would make him look wonderful to Daisy, the social worker, whom Fern had undoubtedly alienated by abruptly running away from her office.

  She sank into a battered chair in the teachers’ lounge and looked around, trying to keep from crying. The lounge clearly saw heavy use. Job-safety notices and motivational posters filled the pale green walls, and stacks of education-related magazines spilled off a table beside a worn vinyl couch. The sink was full of coffee cups and the window shade was tilted askew.

  Fern grabbed a magazine and opened it, but tears kept leaking out of her eyes, blurring her vision. She grabbed a handful of tissues from the jumbo-size box on the desk, listening to the shouts of children and the remonstrating voices of adults, rising and falling as children headed to their classrooms.

  Susan charged through the door, all energy, and perched on the edge of a chair beside Fern. “Hey, you okay? I’m the only teacher with this planning time, so we should have the place to ourselves. Though no guarantees.”

  Fern wiped her eyes. “You probably have so much work to do.”

  “Nothing I don’t want to procrastinate about,” Susan said with a philosophical shrug. “Besides, I need to rest from carrying Mindy. She’s not a small kid.” She shook out her arms and rotated her shoulders, grimacing.

  A bell sounded and the noise of children’s voices faded. Class time again.

  Fern wasn’t quite ready to spill her secrets to a woman she didn’t know all that well. “Yeah, what happened out there on the playground? Looked as if some kids have a history.”

  Susan
nodded, “Yeah, you could say that. Mindy kind of has a double problem. You saw how she’s missing a hand, right? But much worse than that, she also lost her mom a couple of years ago. She’s one angry little girl, and she doesn’t turn it inward.”

  “She fights?”

  Susan nodded. “She isn’t usually the instigator, but let anyone make a remark about her hand or her mom and she slugs them. No impulse control.” Susan slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be running off at the mouth about a kid. Especially to a parent, or a future parent at least. Your daughter will be here next year, right?”

  “If I get to keep her,” Fern said. “It’s...a question.” Her throat closed on the last words and she stared down at her lap, trying to stop the tears.

  “Wow, really? I’m so sorry, that’s got to be hard.” She paused. “Speaking of Mercedes, she probably has some issues similar to Mindy’s. She just lost her mom as well, correct? And Dad’s nowhere in the picture in her case. At least Mindy has her father.”

  “Well...” Fern met Susan’s eyes. “Mercedes doesn’t know her dad. But he is back in the picture.”

  Susan’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Is Carlo Camden her dad?”

  Fern looked away. “I... Look, Susan, he may be, but she doesn’t know, so cone of silence, okay?”

  “Totally!” Susan stared at her. “Oh, my gosh. Does Angelica know Carlo has a child?”

  “If Carlo hasn’t told her yet, I’m sure he will soon.” She shook her head. “Even Carlo didn’t know about Mercedes until a few weeks ago. Or so he says.”

  “Wow.” Susan leaned back in her chair, staring at Fern. “So that’s why he showed up in town. Every red-blooded woman in Rescue River is aware of his presence, but I don’t think anyone has guessed that much.”

  Fern looked sharply at Susan, noticing anew how beautiful she was. And she was so much more outgoing and friendly than Fern. A lively woman who could hold her own with Carlo, much better than Fern could herself. “So everyone’s noticing Carlo?”

  Susan lifted her hands, palms out. “Not me. I’m an anomaly. I’m not looking to date anyone.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?” Susan would surely have her choice of men. Susan wouldn’t have any problem getting what Fern herself, face it, wasn’t ever going to have: a husband, a home, children.

  Susan laughed. “I’m totally undomestic and I’m too sarcastic and blunt. Men are terrified of me. They want kinder, gentler ladies. Like you, Fern.”

  Fern shook her head. “I’m hardly a hit with guys.”

  “Really?” Susan looked skeptical, then shrugged. “Well, then that makes two of us. God didn’t make everyone to be married. I’m finally getting comfortable with that notion, after a pretty unhappy experience being engaged.”

  Susan sounded vehement, and Fern looked at her in surprise, startled out of her own troubles. “Wow, I never would have guessed. Especially since you run the singles group at church. I thought you were, well, looking.”

  “Anything but,” Susan said, “but when you’re single, friends are even more important. Which is why you should come ice-skating. We strong single women have to stick together.”

  Fern’s tight muscles relaxed just a little. “Maybe I will.”

  “And listen,” Susan said. “Just because Carlo showed up doesn’t mean all hope is lost. I mean, didn’t Mercedes’s mom specifically want you for a guardian? That should carry some weight.”

  “Not much, from the look of things.” Misery washed over Fern again.

  Susan took her hand. “I’ll pray for you, okay? You and Mercedes.”

  “Thanks.” And as she got up to leave, she blinked wonderingly. She did feel the tiniest bit better after talking to Susan. And maybe, just maybe, she’d started to make a friend.

  * * *

  With a day to kill before he could see Fern and figure out how to tell Mercedes the truth, Carlo decided to stop at the Senior Towers on Tuesday morning. He’d promised Miss Minnie Falcon he’d come visit, but even more important, his grandfather lived there, and Carlo had avoided the man since arriving in town the week before. Okay, the blizzard was a decent excuse, but that had been over for several days and he still hadn’t connected with Gramps.

  They didn’t always get along. Carlo had been harsh to the old man in his teenage years, insisting that he drop everything to take care of Angelica when their parents had dropped the ball. In turn, Gramps had been loudly critical of his own teenage misbehavior. When they saw each other, which was rare, they tended to grapple and circle like a couple of pit bulls.

  Still, they were family.

  As Carlo walked into the Senior Towers, he was surprised to see that the front lobby had plenty of people in it, enjoying the sun that poured through the windows. The repurposed apartment building had to be close to a hundred years old, but it felt a lot more homelike than more modern senior communities. The entryway had gleaming woodwork and high, old-fashioned tin ceilings. There were real plants in every nook and cranny, a colorful fish tank and lace curtains at the windows.

  “There you are,” Miss Minnie called, and extricated herself from a cluster of women to hobble toward a pair of chairs. “I’ve just been talking to the ladies about how you spent the weekend with that librarian who visits here, Fern Easton.”

  Whoa! She still had that Sunday-school teacher’s voice that could silence a room. Time for damage control. “Yes,” he said, giving Miss Minnie a kiss on the cheek and sitting down beside her. “I did end up staying out at my sister’s place. When I got to town, I didn’t know Angelica was away.”

  “You hadn’t heard that she and that veterinarian husband went all the way to Europe to go to Disneyland?”

  “Nope. But the roads were closed and the people Troy and Angelica had hired to care for the dogs couldn’t get out there, so I was glad I could help Fern out.”

  “Mmm,” Miss Minnie said, “I’m sure Fern was glad, too.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Although she was reluctant to have a stranger stay, the house is big enough that she was able to offer me a downstairs couch to sleep on.” He wanted to be crystal clear that nothing untoward had gone on, knowing the likelihood that Miss Minnie would gossip. “Look,” he said, “I brought some pictures from the missionary field for you to have. Thought you’d like to share your influence as a Sunday-school teacher.”

  The murmur of voices rose around them as people returned to their conversations. Good.

  At the sight of the photos he’d brought, her eyes brightened with interest, and she asked a lot of questions about his missionary work. Carlo was just congratulating himself on how he’d turned the tables when Miss Minnie waved to a man who’d emerged from the small library adjacent to the lobby.

  “Bob, come meet another veteran,” Miss Minnie said. She turned to Carlo. “Bob Eakin was a glider man in World War Two.”

  Automatically, Carlo stood, greeting the leather-faced man and meeting his piercing blue eyes. “Thank you for your service.”

  “And you as well, young man.”

  “Carlo knows your favorite librarian,” Miss Minnie said to the older man.

  “You know our Fern?” The man looked him up and down and then gave a slow nod. “She’ll be here today, matter of fact. Comes every Tuesday.”

  Carlo’s heart thumped with a mixture of emotions. He wanted to see Fern, sure, but he also knew that she wouldn’t be expecting him here today. Better to wait and not see her. That way he wouldn’t nix his chances of getting on her good side tomorrow night. Someone like Fern didn’t appreciate surprises.

  “I thought Fern was on vacation,” Miss Minnie said. “She’s not been at the library, from what I heard.”

  “She’ll be here anyway.” Bob turned to Carlo and explained, “She stops in with new books. She knows we have a line of folks waiting to check
them out.”

  “Leads a book discussion group for us ladies, too,” Miss Minnie said.

  “That one is smart. Reads everything in sight. Even knows a little military history.” Bob nudged Carlo. “You could do worse. She took in that little gal when her friend passed on, no questions asked.”

  The last thing Carlo needed was a ninetysomething matchmaker trying to push him and Fern together. She would hate that.

  Which meant that Carlo needed to get on with visiting his grandfather and then get out of here. He said goodbye to Bob and Miss Minnie and, one short elevator ride later, was knocking on his grandfather’s door.

  “It’s about time you got here.” Gramps opened the door and then turned and headed back to his small living room.

  Carlo followed him. “How you doing, Gramps?”

  “I’ve been better. Heard you’ve been in town awhile. Glad you finally stopped by.”

  “I had some business to take care of, I’ve been sick and I got stranded in a blizzard. Is that enough excuses, or do you want more?”

  “I heard about all that,” Gramps said. “Ain’t nothing to do around here except gossip, especially since your sister took her trip.”

  Hearing the loneliness behind his grandfather’s words, Carlo felt his automatic defensiveness fade away. Gramps was feeling neglected and lacking his normal visits from Angelica, who’d always gotten along with the old man much better than Carlo had. “Sounds as if they’re having fun over there,” he said, keeping his tone mild.

  “I don’t see why anyone needs to go to Europe when we’ve got a perfectly good Disney World right here in the USA. Two, in fact.”

  Carlo chuckled. “There might be a few other appealing things about Paris.”

  “You’re not staying for lunch, are you?”

  Carlo hesitated.

  “Don’t bother if it’s too much trouble.”

  “It’s not trouble. It’s just that...” He decided to be honest. If you couldn’t tell the truth to family, who could you tell it to? “I’d like to stay, but I’m trying not to antagonize Fern. The librarian lady I met staying at Angelica’s place? Heard she’s coming to the Senior Towers today.”