On Sunday morning, Fern was dishing scrambled eggs onto Mercedes’s plate when the farmhouse doorbell rang.
Her whole body tensed. Was he back?
Friday had been a rough day, with her own emotions so raw and Mercedes upset about how she’d kicked Carlo out. Yesterday, she’d managed to cocoon with Mercedes all day, reading stories, watching movies and playing in the snowy yard. Through it all, she’d tried to convey all the love and caring she felt for the little girl, sick at heart that their time together might come to an end soon.
She just hadn’t wanted to face the world, not with her own humiliation about Carlo’s betrayal so raw, and her fears about losing Mercedes so intense. But now Mercedes scooted out of her chair and ran to the door, clearly joyous about company.
“Wait, don’t open it without Mama,” she called, setting the egg pan down on the stove and hurrying after Mercedes. For all she knew, Carlo could have come to sweep the child away, legally or not.
He wouldn’t do that, said a voice inside her. The voice that knew Carlo as an honorable, even heroic man.
You don’t know him as well as you thought you did, said a rival voice. He might.
But when she opened the door, slender, silver-haired Lou Ann Miller stood there with a napkin-covered basket in hand. “Hello! I tried to call but couldn’t get through.”
“Spotty reception,” Fern apologized. No need to mention she’d turned her phone off.
“Anyway, I made way too many of these rolls, and I wanted to share them with you and Mercedes. You like cinnamon rolls, honey?”
Mercedes squealed. “Mommy used to cook them. She let me pop the can and it made a bang!”
Lou Ann chuckled. “These are made the old-fashioned way, but they’ll be almost as good as the canned ones. May I come in a minute, Fern?”
At that, Fern realized then that she was keeping a seventysomething woman on the porch in the cold. “Of course! We were just sitting down to breakfast. Would...would you like to join us?”
“Now, that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Lou Ann said. She handed her big puffy coat to Mercedes. “You find a place to put that, dear. Maybe right over there on the banister. No need to hang it up.”
As she led the well-dressed woman toward the kitchen, Fern resigned herself to a lecture, probably an effort to get her to attend church. After all, it was Sunday morning, and only nine o’clock. There was plenty of time to get there for the ten-thirty service.
Normally, she would go. She’d been extra meticulous about churchgoing since she had Mercedes to care for, a young soul to raise up right. Today, though, she felt hopeless about that and unable to face the friendly, curious, small-town congregation.
“What a good breakfast you cook for that child,” Lou Ann said as they approached the table, and the older woman’s approval warmed her. She was glad she’d fixed a big pan of eggs, plenty to share.
She finished dishing them up, took the plastic wrap off the fruit she’d cut up earlier and whisked away the loaf of raisin bread, replacing it with Lou Ann’s rolls. They all sat down, and Mercedes reached her hands out trustingly. “Can we sing my prayer, Mama Fern?”
“Of course.” But Fern’s own voice broke a little as Mercedes belted out the preschool blessing, backed by Lou Ann’s deep alto. How long until she lost custody of Mercedes?
“You know the prayer!” Mercedes said to Lou Ann as she grabbed for a cinnamon roll.
Lou Ann helped her to serve herself. “Of course. I learned it from Xavier, right here in this kitchen.”
So they chatted about Xavier and Angelica and Troy, how Lou Ann had helped Troy around the house when he’d broken his leg, how she’d watched them become a family. “There’s something about this place,” Lou Ann said, looking around the cheerful kitchen. “It just seems to lend itself to people coming together.”
Fern kept her eyes on her plate. It hadn’t worked in her case, though for a brief, unrealistic moment, she’d thought it had.
“Mr. Carlo stayed here with us during the blizzard,” Mercedes announced. “And I asked if I could get him for a daddy, like Xavier got Mr. Troy, but...” She shook her head, her face worried. “Him and Mama Fern had a fight.”
“Mercedes!” Fern looked quickly at Lou Ann, expecting harshness and judgment.
But the older woman just nodded and helped herself to more fruit without looking at Fern. “Sometimes that happens.”
“Uh-huh.” Mercedes seemed to take Lou Ann’s calm reaction as evidence that nothing was wrong.
Fern got a tiny flash of the same feeling herself. Maybe this was just a fight. Maybe there was still a chance.
Mercedes lifted her hands in a comical, palms-up gesture. “Whatever.”
Both women laughed, Fern blushing a little, and Lou Ann patted Mercedes’s shoulder. “As far as having a daddy goes, any man would feel blessed to have you for his little girl.”
The child’s expression faltered. “I’m probably not gonna get one. Can I go watch TV?” Without waiting for an answer, she darted from the table and into the TV room.
“Mercedes!” Fern started to stand up.
Lou Ann touched her hand. “Let her go. You have to choose your battles with little ones, and I must have upset her with my comment. I’m sorry.”
Fern sighed. “She’s sensitive about her lack of a father, and I think her mom told her some negative things before she turned her life around.”
“That’s tough. Plus, she’s recently lost her mother. And she may not feel quite secure with you. It’s only been a few months, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, and the adoption isn’t finalized.” Fern felt an uncharacteristic urge to pour her heart out to Lou Ann, but she stopped herself. “There’s a lot of uncertainty. A lot to worry about.”
“I’m sure.” Lou Ann stood up and started carrying dishes to the counter before Fern could stop her. “You sit. I know this kitchen better than you do, and a single mom doesn’t get many breaks.”
The unexpected kindness warmed Fern, giving her a safe, cared-for feeling she wasn’t used to. “But you’re a guest.”
“My offer comes with a price. I want you and Mercedes to come to church with me.”
Of course. That was why she’d come. Fern had guessed as much. “Did Chief Kenny put you up to this?”
“Kenny told me you could use a visit,” Lou Ann admitted. “It was my idea to do it Sunday morning. You could ride in to church with me.”
“And be trapped into staying for the social hour, too?” Fern blurted out the words before she thought and then clapped her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry! It’s a generous offer and I really appreciate it. I’m just...having some trouble right now, and I don’t think I can face everyone.”
“Then, drive yourself and sit in the back. You need the message,” Lou Ann said bluntly. “And so does that little girl.”
Mercedes came in then, carrying the puppy, with Brownie trailing close behind. Fern opened her mouth to scold Mercedes for picking up the puppy without an adult present, but she clamped her mouth shut. Choose your battles, Lou Ann had said, and she was right.
“Well, isn’t that a little cutie!” Lou Ann bent over to pat the puppy’s head.
Brownie let out a low growl.
“Brownie, it’s okay.” Fern moved to comfort the mama dog and make sure she didn’t lunge at Lou Ann. “She was separated from her pup for a while, and she’s protective.”
“That’s how mothers are,” the older woman said comfortably before turning back to load dishes into the dishwasher.
Feeling a sudden rush of sympathy for Brownie, Fern knelt beside the big dog and wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her ears. Mercedes set the puppy down beside Brownie and they all laughed as its legs splayed out on the slippery floor. For the first time since Carlo had dropped his bombshell, the pressure in Fern’s chest eased a little.
Lou Ann was kind. And she was also right. Both Fern and Mercedes needed to get out, and they needed a good dose of spiritual comfort. “I think we’ll take your advice and go to church,” she said to Lou Ann. “I’ll drive so you don’t have to come back out here, but thanks for the push. We needed it.”
That was how Fern and Mercedes ended up sliding into the back row of the little white clapboard church a minute after the service started. Just hearing the praise music made Fern let out her tight-held breath in a sigh.
There was a force in the universe bigger than she was. There was a God who cared, not just about her, but about Mercedes. Which meant she could rest a little, could put at least some of the weight of the child’s future into the Lord’s capable hands.
Mercedes ran happily up to the front during the children’s sermon and then went off to children’s church. Fern breathed slowly in and out and watched the sunlight turn the stained-glass windows into jewels. The scripture passages and the sermon washed over her, providing a sense of comfort, a hint of peace...at least until the pastor started talking forgiveness and reconciliation.
Hearing it in the abstract made excellent sense.
Thinking about actually doing it, especially where Carlo was concerned... That was another matter.
Oh, there was a part of her that wanted to forgive him. To tell him what he’d done was fine, to try to recapture that sweet, sweet hope that somehow her solitary life could expand into something bigger, that love could heal her lonely heart.
But that was wishful thinking.
After church she edged toward the door, hoping to slip down the back stairs to the children’s wing, pick up Mercedes and escape. But everyone, it seemed, knew she and Mercedes had been stranded out at the dog rescue, and the kind expressions of concern trapped her.
And then she heard Mercedes’s voice coming from the front of the sanctuary. “Mama Fern, Mama Fern! Look who found me!”
Carlo.
Heads turned at the sound of the happy, excited, little-girl voice, and everyone smiled and cooed at the sight of the handsome man carrying the adorable child.
Fern’s own heart hitched, then pounded hard. Carlo was amazing. Glorious. Protective. A hero.
Yeah, and how many of the friendly, admiring congregation were noticing what Chief Kenny had noticed, the strong familial resemblance between Carlo and Mercedes? What was Carlo thinking?
Fern marched over, took Mercedes from Carlo’s arms and set the child down. “You do not have the right to pick her up from Sunday school,” she whispered hotly.
Mercedes stuck her finger in her mouth, looking worried, and Fern’s stomach lurched. She squatted down to comfort her, but just then Mercedes caught sight of one of her Sunday-school friends opening a sparkly pink purse a couple of pews down. “Can I go play with Addison?” she begged.
Addison was a godsend. “Sure,” she said, standing up. As soon as Mercedes was out of earshot, she turned on Carlo, ignoring the way her heart raced just at his nearness. “Picking her up from Sunday school was totally out of line.”
“I’m sorry. I was down there helping move some props for the puppet show and she saw me. The teacher let her come with me after I explained our connection.”
Her eyebrows lifted practically into her hairline. “You explained your connection?”
“The blizzard,” he said patiently. “Give me a little credit, Fern.”
She couldn’t match his calm tone, so she settled for keeping her voice low. “Chief Kenny recognized your relationship the moment he saw you with Mercedes. What makes you think everyone else in the church won’t?”
“Would that be such a disaster? Everyone will know soon.”
Fern looked over at Mercedes, now engaged in a game of pretend with Addison’s plastic ponies. The church was emptying out. Fern leaned back against the side of a pew, frowning up at Carlo. “Yes, it would be a disaster! What if Mercedes finds out?”
He drew in a breath and let it out in a sigh. “I’d like to talk to you about how to tell her. I tried texting and calling, but I couldn’t get through.”
Yeah. That. “I did turn my phone off,” she admitted.
“Hiding?”
“Would you blame me?”
He leaned toward her a little, and his hand lifted as if to touch her hair.
She sucked in a breath, shook her head.
His hand dropped. “Hiding is understandable. But, Fern, I want you to know I made an appointment with the social worker for Monday. It would be nice if you could be there. Maybe that’s a way for us to talk calmly about this.”
Fern felt as if the world was closing in on her way too quickly. She bit her lip and looked away.
“We can’t delay on this,” Carlo said. “Like it or not, it’s a small, gossipy town. News travels fast. I’d like to figure out how to tell Mercedes, as well as how to proceed from here. Daisy agreed.”
“You told Daisy?”
His brow wrinkled. “Of course I told her. She’s the social worker. As soon as I got Kath’s letter, I mailed her a copy and let her know I wanted to take care of Mercedes. When I talked to her yesterday, she was supportive.”
Fern lifted her eyes to the church rafters, trying to breathe calmly. Daisy was supportive.
Fern was going to lose Mercedes.
“Oh, Fern!” A woman Fern had met a few times at the elementary school, whose pretty Asian features contrasted with her church-unconventional leather jacket and jeans, came up behind them. “Good, you’re here. I wanted to suggest that you come ice-skating with the church group. It’s a singles event, but kids are welcome, so you could bring Mercedes.” She paused and then looked up at Carlo. “Hey...Carlo? You’re Angelica’s brother, right?”
“That’s right,” he said. “Susan. I remember you from my sister’s wedding. Good to see you.”
“You should come, too, if you’re going to be in town,” Susan said, and Fern felt a burn of jealousy so intense she had to put her hands behind her back to hide their clenching. Who did this woman think she was, horning in on Fern’s man?
And where had that ridiculous thought come from?
“Think about it. Info’s on the church website.” Susan gave Fern another smile and then headed off toward another group of people talking.
Fern had to deal with this and she had to work with him and she had to quit acting as if she were the center of the universe. For Mercedes’s sake, they had to work together. “All right,” she said. “I’ll come to meet with you and Daisy. But I warn you, I’m going to fight to keep custody of her with everything I have.”
“Of course. You’re a considerable adversary, and I do respect that.” He turned abruptly and walked away.
A considerable adversary? Fern thought about the term and wondered. Was that what she wanted to be?
* * *
On Monday morning, Carlo arrived at Daisy Hinton’s office half an hour early, hoping to catch the social worker before the official appointment and plead his case. He figured the deck was stacked against him, but he had to try everything he could to get at least some chance to be a father to Mercedes.
He entered the front door of the quaint brick building and passed a small, glassed-in playroom where a man sat cross-legged on the floor, playing trucks with a toddler.
Carlo clenched his jaw. That would be his fate if he didn’t get Daisy on his side. Supervised visits in a little room.
He wanted so much more.
He wanted what they’d had during the storm. A cozy family life. But he’d ruined that possibility by his own stupid actions.
He reached Daisy’s office. The door was open, so he tapped on the door frame as he looked in.
The short, well-rounded young woman with reddish curls tumbling down her back and rings on every finger bore a slight resemblance to the girl he’d seen around Rescue River growing up, not that his ragtag family had run in the same circles as the wealthy Hintons. She’d been at Angelica’s wedding, but then she’d been friendly and smiling. Today her expression was all business as she turned away from her computer. “Yes? Oh, hey. You must be Carlo.” She frowned. “I thought our appointment was at ten.”
“You’re right. I came early, hoping to chat for a minute.”
She gave one last longing look at the screen, cast a glance at the folders on her desk and then nodded reluctantly. Clearly, she was a busy woman.
Carlo waved a hand. “Go ahead, finish what you were doing. I’m sorry to intrude. Do you want me to wait outside?”
“No. Just give me a minute.”
While she tapped on her keyboard, Carlo looked around the office, trying to get a bead on the woman who had control of his future and his happiness. A fountain bubbled in the corner, and paintings of large, bright flowers covered the walls. The couch and chairs and coffee table looked like somebody’s living room—an artist’s, maybe—and the subtle scent of vanilla added to the hominess. A big basket held a variety of children’s toys. For Mercedes’s sake, he was glad that if she’d had to spend time in a social worker’s office, it was a cozy one.
“Okay, that’s that.” Daisy turned her chair to face him, and despite her colorful appearance, her level gaze told him she was the no-nonsense type.
He decided that total honesty was his best policy. “I think I really messed up by meeting Mercedes before I was supposed to. We got to know each other and got friendly, but she has no idea I’m her father.”
“So you mentioned on the phone.” Daisy fumbled through the stacks of file folders on her desk, finally coming up with one that, he figured, must be Mercedes’s. “She’s four, right?” She scanned the file with practiced eyes. “Four, going on five. So she’s young enough not to do a lot of logical questioning. We might be okay, if you and Fern handle the telling with sensitivity.”
“I screwed up with Fern, too, by not telling her the truth as soon as I suspected Mercedes might be my child. She’s not happy with me now.”
“Oh, really?” Daisy studied him, her gaze cool. “It definitely would have made more sense to build from a foundation of honesty. Why didn’t you tell her?”
He stared at her wooden desk. “Aside from the fact that I was half-delirious with dengue fever... I didn’t know her at all. And I’m not a real trusting guy.”
He suspected that would be the end of his credibility with Daisy, but he’d prayed about it and he was committed to being truthful now. He could only hope that would lead him back to the right path.
To his surprise, she sounded sympathetic. “I understand that. I’m friends with your sister after all, so I know how you guys grew up. But if you’re not trusting, then why are you being up-front with me now?”
“Well...” Should he tell her he’d prayed about it?
“Is it to try to get me on your side before Fern comes in?”
“No!” He paused. Tell the truth. “Well, maybe a little. I just know Fern’s dead set against me, and I really want the chance to parent Mercedes. To do a better job with her than my dad did with me and Angelica.”
That admission seemed to soften Daisy. She nodded slowly. “I had a chance to verify the unusual circumstances between you and Mercedes’s mom.”
“Yeah?”
Daisy tapped her pen on the desk, looking out the window at the town’s main street, and then seemed to reach a decision. “When she spoke to me, she’d told me Mercedes’s dad didn’t want any involvement. But that letter she sent you, the one you mailed to me, clarified that she was the one who’d hidden Mercedes’s existence from you.”
Carlo’s heart jumped with hope. “So you don’t hold me responsible for neglect?”
“No. And more important, the court won’t, either, since we’ll have her letter on record.”
“Do I have a chance to get custody of Mercedes?” Even as he said it, an uncomfortable, guilty feeling rose in him.
The reason was Fern. Fern, and the important attachment she’d built with Mercedes. Fern, whose determination and beauty and strength had captivated him. He had opened his mouth to say so when Daisy raised a hand. “I’d like to hold off on discussing anything more until every participant of the meeting is here, for the sake of fairness.”
“I wondered when that was going to occur to someone.” The voice—Fern’s voice—came from directly outside the office door.
Carlo jerked back to see Fern, hands on hips, jaw set.
“Fern! Come on in.” A crease appeared between Daisy’s eyebrows. “Did you hear what we were talking about?”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m upset you started the meeting without me.” She cast a frown at Carlo.
She had a point, and guilt chomped at his gut.
Fern sat down in the chair Daisy was waving toward, her back straight, shoulders squared. “I think we should talk about what’s best for Mercedes.”
“Exactly,” Daisy said. “Fern, I assume you now know that Carlo is very likely to be Mercedes’s father. He’s willing to take a paternity test—” She glanced over at Carlo. “Right?”
“Ready anytime.”
“So we’ll need to get Mercedes in for samples.”
“Blood samples?” Fern squeaked.
“No. A simple cheek swab. We can have a tester come here.”
Fern gave a short nod, but Carlo, watching her closely, saw her hands clench into fists, balling the material of her plain dark skirt.
He reached out to touch her arm, wanting to reassure her, but she jerked away. Daisy put her chin on her clasped hands, watching the two of them, obviously assessing.
Carlo felt that things were spinning out of control. “Look, I don’t want to break the attachment Mercedes has with Fern. At the same time, as her father, I want to raise her.”
“Looks as if you want two incompatible things,” Fern said. Her voice was absolutely cool, absolutely level. Her hands clenched and unclenched on her skirt.
“Let’s don’t rush into anything until we have the results of the paternity test,” Daisy advised. “I see that the two of you have some issues. We might need to go to court, but I’d like to work it out here if we could. Court battles are expensive and hard on kids.”
Fern’s face went pale. “I don’t want to put Mercedes through that.”
“Nor do I.” Carlo leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Seems to me that we adults need to make sure we keep talking and try to figure it out. We all want what’s best for Mercedes.”
“I hope so,” Fern murmured. Her voice was low, but it cut Carlo that she seemed to suspect he wasn’t putting Mercedes first.
“It’s always better for a child to have contact with her biological parents, as long as they’re not abusive,” Daisy said.
“I suppose,” Fern said guardedly, and Carlo frowned, suddenly wondering about Fern’s background. What had her family of origin been like? She’d mentioned something about foster care. If her own background was rough, that would be a factor in how she approached this situation. Just as his own background, having a mom and dad who couldn’t parent well, had affected him.
“If the test comes back positive, which seems likely,” Daisy said, “the first order of business will be to tell Mercedes about it. It’s a small town and from what I understand, someone has already recognized some physical similarities.”
“That’s right,” Carlo said. “It’s urgent that we tell her rather than having someone ask Mercedes an awkward question. Can we talk about how to do that?”
Fern stared at him, and Carlo, knowing her as well as he’d come to, saw the moment when the walls went up inside her. She stood, knocking her leg against the coffee table and wincing, clenching her fists. “Look,” she said, “it’s obvious what’s going to happen. You’re her dad, and you’re going to get custody of her. Excuse me if I need...a moment...to deal with that.”
She spun away and ran from the room.
Carlo and Daisy stood at the same moment. “I’ll go after her,” Carlo said. “Please. Let me handle this.” Though he had no idea how to make things right, his aching heart told him he had to try.