Her phone rang as she reached her desk. Instead of it being any of the return calls she’d hoped for, it was Marti.
“Are you okay?”
From the tone of those first words, Kendra knew Marti had reverted to “aunt” mode instead of “equal” mode.
“I’m fine.”
“You seemed upset when you left the co-op.”
She’d thought she’d seen Marti watching from the side door, but she hadn’t made eye contact because she hadn’t wanted to talk then. She didn’t particularly want to talk now, either.
“Just frazzled. It’s a busy day.”
“Kendra, Fran told me about her plan to have Matthew spend time alone with Daniel. She says Daniel’s made great strides, and I must say, in fairness, he’s quite good with the children.”
Of course. Taumaturgio was always a favorite with kids.
“Fine. Let Fran arrange for him to take care of some of those kids alone.”
“If it’s good for Matthew–”
“It’s not. It would be the worst thing for Matthew. He’d get used to having a father around, and when Daniel takes off it’ll be all the harder for him. And I’ll be left trying to patch up his heartache.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the expression that it’s better to love and lose than never to love at all.” Marti didn’t quite pull off her attempted teasing tone.
“Yes, I’ve heard it, and I’ve always thought it incredibly stupid.”
Marti said with no attempt at humor, “Oh, I don’t know. You came through it okay.”
“Me?” It had hurt plenty when she’d discovered Paulo Ayudor. didn’t exist. Not that she’d really loved him. “It’s Matthew we’re talking about, not me. A child, and–”
“I know. A child who could get a lot out of spending time alone with his–or her–father. And even if that father can no longer be in the child’s life for some reason, that time alone together remains special. Just like your time alone with your father was special.”
“I don’t remember my father, much less spending time alone with him.”
“Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. So apparently it wasn’t as special as you and Fran think time alone for Matthew and Daniel would be–and I was four when my father left.”
“I’m sorry you don’t remember that time with your father, because you loved it so much as a little girl, but the fact you don’t remember it argues that having Matthew and Daniel spend time alone together can’t do any harm.”
Kendra exhaled through her teeth. She wasn’t going to leave her son’s heart to something as paltry as logic. She knew Daniel would break his heart.
“I don’t care what Fran says, or you say or anyone else says. I am not going to leave Matthew solely in Daniel’s care. Not a week from Saturday night, not ever.”
“I didn’t–”
“Marti, I have to go. It’s busy today.”
“Okay, but I don’t want you to think–”
“Bye, Marti.”
She hung up, determined to concentrate completely on rewriting the news release into the required brief, leaving no attention to spare for anything else.
It took longer than it should have. She’d put the final touches on it and was storing the item into the editor’s computer basket when the computer system burped over a power surge. When she called the item back up to check, it contained one line.
She had to start all over.
What else could go wrong today?
*
Kendra hadn’t seen him angry before–not as Tompkins, not as Paulo and not as Daniel Benton Delligatti.
She had only a fraction of a second’s doubt of his emotional state when she looked up from her computer at the Banner shortly after noon and saw him striding toward her.
Matthew.
That had been her first heart-in-her-mouth fear when she glimpsed Daniel, whose morning shift at the co-op should have ended shortly before. But as soon as she saw his face, she knew anger drove him, not worry or fear.
His face was grim, his posture tense, his mouth narrow, the glint that frequently lurked in his eyes nowhere in sight.
Even as her muscles prepared to bring her out of the chair, to meet him half way, to ask him what was wrong, the whisper of memory echoed in her head.
What’s wrong? Tell me what I did wrong? Please, just tell me–I’ll do better. Please, don’t leave. Please . . . .
But her mother’s pleas never worked. The men always left, one way or the other. And her mother always fell apart.
She left her young daughter to deal with the practicalities. Until, after a period that seemed to grow a little longer with each incident, Wendy Susland Jenner pulled together the pieces of herself that remained and went searching for the next man who would leave.
Kendra turned only her head toward Daniel as he came to a halt beside the desk.
“We have to talk, Kendra.”
“I’m working. It will have to wait. Tomorrow afternoon–”
“Now. Outside.”
“I can’t leave in the middle of work, Daniel. And I don’t appreciate this Neanderthal act. If you’ve got something to say to me, say it here or wait until tomorrow afternoon.”
“This isn’t the place–”
“Then wait–”
“I’m not waiting, dammit.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his vehemence drew stares from Margo, taking classified ads, and the delivery guy who had stopped in for his check. “Why the hell does it say father unknown on Matthew’s birth certificate?”
An odd prickling in her cheeks and throat might have been the blood draining from her face, but cold calm followed. Without a word, she rose and headed to the small back room employees used for breaks. She had no doubts about Daniel following.
Grateful to find the room empty, she closed the door and faced him.
“How do you know what’s on Matthew’s birth certificate?”
“I saw the copy at the co-op, the one in Fran’s files.”
“She shouldn’t have shown you that. Even if she thinks–”
His flat words cut across hers. “She didn’t show it to me.”
“Ah, yes,” she said with some bite, “I forgot your skills.”
“Right,” he sneered, “when in doubt I revert to the thieving, scheming street kid the Delligattis picked up out of the gutter.”
“That wasn’t–” But she saw it wouldn’t matter to him right now that she’d meant his government training and experiences at subterfuge as Taumaturgio, not his childhood.
She sat in the chair nearest the door, while he remained standing, so tense he seemed coiled.
“What would you have suggested I put on the birth certificate when Matthew was born? Paulo Ayudor? That would have been a lie, since I knew by then he didn’t exist. Father unknown was the absolute truth.”
Before he pivoted away, she glimpsed a raw pain she’d never seen on his face. Even when he’d spoken of his terrible childhood, the pain had been hidden behind a veneer of self-mockery, of practiced phrases lightly delivered. Maybe he hadn’t had time to learn to hide this pain.
The rigidity drained from his stance as his shoulders slumped as if under a new weight. And his voice sounded heavy.
“All right. I deserve that. But now I want to make it right. I called the state offices, and there’s some form we can get from the state–an affidavit of paternity. We both sign it and then they change the birth certificate.”
After a moment he must have recognized the particular quality of her silence, because he looked over his shoulder. Then he slowly turned.
“Kendra–?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? I’m his father–you can’t deny that.”
“I don’t intend to deny it. And I don’t intend to keep you two apart as long as you’re interested in acting as his father. But . . .”
A ripple seemed to pass over his tight face at her words, but his voice remained
even. “But what?”
“I won’t keep you apart, but I won’t stop protecting Matthew, either.”
“Protecting him? Protecting him from me?”
“Yes, from you. Don’t sound so amazed. You’re the one who can hurt him more than anyone else in the world. You show up, win his heart, make him learn to say Daddy, and then you fly off and never come back! How do you think he’ll feel then?”
“Then? You’re assuming that’s what will happen.”
“Look at your life, Daniel, and tell me you can promise it won’t happen.”
“You know I can’t. No one–”
“We’re not talking about anyone else. We’re talking about you. Your job–with the government.” She put sarcastic quotes around the word. “A job you can’t even talk about.”
“Kendra, I can swear to you right here and now that I would do my best to make every flight as safe as humanly possible while still doing my job, because that’s exactly how I’ve always flown.”
“That won’t be any consolation to Matthew when he has to grow up without a father after you’ve gotten him to love you. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect Matthew.”
He studied her. “Are you so sure this is all about Matthew?”
“Of course it’s about Matthew.”
“Or is it about you?” he continued.
“Wha–? It has nothing to do with me.”
He didn’t appear to hear her. “Is this about you not wanting to turn into your mother, the way you said on Santa Estella? You were hard enough on her, but I’m beginning to wonder. Hell, I wonder if it’s even about me, and the chance I might not come back some day.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Or is it really about your father never coming back to you? Maybe you need to make peace with him for getting killed–and with your mother–before you can make peace with me being Matthew’s father or with yourself.”
Goaded, she fought back. “And what about you, Daniel? I don’t see you having such a fine relationship with your family. Have you even told your parents–your adoptive parents–that you have a son?”
“Not yet. Because–”
“Because you haven’t let them love you, much less let yourself love them. For all your fine talk about family, you know nothing about accepting love, Daniel. You hold yourself back.”
“I don’t want them to know about their grandson,” he went on relentlessly, “unless I can also tell them they can see him and get to know him. And after this, I’ve got to wonder how much your fine promises that you’ll never come between Matthew and me are worth.”
She sat straight in the chair, her hands pressed together in her lap. “If you don’t trust me, then maybe none of this will work.”
“Trust? You’re lecturing me about trust, when you’ve put every word I’ve said from Day One to every test known to man? I’m not saying to take my words as gospel, but–dammit!”
He broke off with a string of muttered curses, pivoting away.
For the first time, something slipped past her determination to not be fooled by a man who might not be telling the truth. For the first time, she considered how her wary distrust might feel to a man who was telling the truth.
But before she could do more than glimpse that possibility, he faced her again.
“Dammit, Kendra, you’re such an expert about growing up with your father gone. But, I’ll tell you something–I know what it’s like not knowing who your father was. Matthew deserves better than that. He needs better than father unknown. I can’t give him much. I can’t guarantee nothing will ever happen to me–or to you, Or anyone else in his life. But by God, I can give him the knowledge–the certainty–of who his father is.”
She looked away. “It’s more complicated than you’re making it.”
“Complicated? The state’s sending me the forms. It’s only complicated if I contest paternity–which I’m not. Or you took state aid–which you don’t. The woman said fill out the form, send it back in and sixty days later the birth certificate is amended. That doesn’t sound complicated to me.”
“It’s an important document–a legal document–that Matthew will have his whole life.” Defiantly, she added, “I’d have to consult a lawyer before I fill out any forms.”
He went still. “I thought we weren’t going to do that, Kendra. Bring in lawyers and such. You said you wouldn’t come between me and Matthew, wouldn’t keep me from seeing him. And you said I should trust you on that.”
“I won’t keep you from seeing him, but this is so permanent.”
The planes of his face shifted to something cold and expressionless. But not entirely unreadable.
“You thought I came here on a lark? That I’d see Matthew a few times, then disappear? Is that what you hope, Kendra? Because if so, you better get over it. I’m here to stay in our son’s life. Permanent? You’re damned right it’s permanent. That’s exactly how it’s going to be.”
He strode to the door and jerked it open, but his voice was deadly calm.
“You want to get a lawyer? Fine. I’ll get one, too. Hell, I’ll get a hundred if I have to. Because I’m his father, dammit. I’m his father. He has to know that. He has to be able to hold the proof of that in his hand!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Three days later, Kendra called “Come in” to a perfunctory knock on her back door, and braced herself.
She’d seen the strange car pull up beside the pickup Luke had parked in her drive while he worked on the fence. She’d suspected, but she hadn’t known for certain until he got out of the car, that the driver was Daniel.
She hadn’t seen him or talked to him since their confrontation at the newspaper office, and now her heart gave a jolt at the sight of him, wearing old jeans, work boots and a flannel shirt.
“Hello, Daniel,” she made herself say in a coolly neutral tone.
He stopped just inside the door.
“Kendra.”
“Matthew’s asleep.”
“I figured he would be. I have some things to tell you.”
“I’m working, as you can see.” She tipped her head toward the table, where she’d spread Marti’s research for the supplement’s article about old Fort Big Horn. “Nap time is one of my few uninterrupted times–usually uninterrupted,” she amended pointedly.
“This won’t take long. These are for you.”
He pulled a sheaf of papers from the back pocket of his jeans and planted them on the counter near her hand. They were slightly curved, molded by his body.
She started to reach for them, then halted. Molded by his body–and warmed by it as well? She dropped her hand to her side.
When she didn’t take the papers, he picked up the top one.
“I turned in my rental and bought a car. This is a copy of the certificate that a car seat has been properly installed.”
He dropped that to the counter, starting a new pile beside the original one.
“I’ve left the motel and rented a place out on Kaycee Road. I moved in this morning. This is the address and my phone number.”
That paper joined the first one.
He’d bought a car? Rented a place to live?
“But you’re leaving in a few months.”
“Actually, I’m leaving tomorrow morning, but only for a few days. And this–” He shifted another sheet from the original pile to the new one. “–is a number where I can be reached at all times while I’m gone.”
“I mean your leave of absence–to buy a car and move when your leave will be over, and then you’ll go back to your job and your old life and–”
“The rental company wouldn’t let me put the child seat in and I got tired of the motel.” He tapped the third sheet again. “If I’m not there, leave a phone number and I’ll be back to you in less than five minutes.”
“But–”
“This is a college savings account I opened in Matthew’s name, with you and me as guardians.” Another paper
joined the pile.
Because she was touched despite herself, her words came out stiff. “I have a college fund for Matthew.”
“Enough to cover four years? Any school he wants?”
“No, of course not. Not yet. He’s only two–”
“Then more won’t hurt. These are copies of my government benefits, with Matthew now named as beneficiary.” He flipped several more sheets from the old pile to the new pile. “And I took out this life insurance policy with him as beneficiary, too.”
“Daniel–” Her throat closed up without warning around the words she’d intended.
“Don’t worry. I’m still not planning on doing anything reckless, but like I told you, anything can happen. If it does, call Robert Delligatti Junior, he’ll get you through any and all red tape you encounter. My parents’ address and phone number is here, too.”
He didn’t say it, but she suspected he meant this as another kind of insurance–insurance that his parents would be involved in Matthew’s life as grandparents. Someday.
With him or without him.
The hollowed out space in her gut at that thought echoed with the knowledge that she didn’t like the implications of that.
“And these–” He slapped the final papers onto the new pile. “–are the forms for amending Matthew’s birth certificate.”
She stiffened her spine and narrowed her eyes, ignoring all her earlier reactions.
“I told you–”
“And I told you,” he interrupted, leaning forward, so his palm pressed down on the papers on the counter. “I’ll give you some time, Kendra. But not much more of it. If I have to, I’ll go to court to get my name on that birth certificate. I won’t sue you over custody. And I won’t push you to explain it to Matthew or tell other people, but my name is going to be on my son’s birth certificate.”
He was gone before she could form a response.
*
“Need some help?”
Luke Chandler looked up from the contraption he seemed to be using to stretch the strands of barbed wire that reached from one wooden fence post to the next.
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