Child of Mine (12 page)

Still, it felt like quitting.

I can't,
she thought. Regardless of how ethically challenged Ernie's methods might be, and no matter how out of sorts she was with her crazy shift, Kelly could not throw in the towel.

She sighed and dropped the card in the trash under the sink, and when Felix was finished, she set him outside. Felix meowed his thanks, glanced up at her as if to say,
“
I'll be back tomorrow,”
and wandered down the steps.

Kelly returned to bed, sliding beneath the covers and adjusting her room-darkening mask. Melody's offer kept playing over in her mind.
“Please, just think about it?”

The next afternoon, Kelly went to the hospital, took the elevator to the third floor, and found Ernie's room at the end of the hallway. Passing the nurses' station, she peeked around the
corner, knocking softly, and found Penny, Ernie's red-haired wife, dozing in a recliner near the window. Penny opened her eyes and smiled, then glanced at the bed. “Hey, cranky pants, you have a visitor.”

Ernie looked much worse than she'd anticipated, with an IV in his arm and an oxygen tube in his nose. His hair looked shabby and he looked pale and thin—thinner than Kelly remembered.

She was stunned and tears sprang to her eyes. Kelly stepped closer to the bed and gave him a
what happened to you?
grin.

Ernie rolled his eyes. “They forced me to come here.”

“Well, wonderful.”

Ernie practically growled. “I
hate
hospitals. I
hate
doctors, and I hate the
smells
of this blasted place.”

Kelly caught Penny's eyes, and they shared a knowing smile. Sick or not, Ernie remained ornery and unruly.

She pulled up a chair and sat down, wanting to be a comfort somehow.

“Hey, what happened with that one kid?” Ernie muttered. “What was her name?”

“Nattie, but we're not going to talk shop. Okay? You need to get well.”

He sighed. “Now they're saying somethin's wrong with my plumbing.”

Penny whispered, “Bypass.”

Kelly felt sorry to hear it. “You better do what they say here, so you can get out. Okay?”

Ernie merely grunted.

They chatted for a few minutes, and Penny showed off recent photos of their four grandkids. Before leaving, Kelly kissed his forehead and Ernie sputtered, “At least something good comes of all this—I get kissed by a pretty girl.”

Kelly patted his chest like a dutiful daughter. She promised to visit later in the week and left Ernie in Penny's care.

Down the hall, she took the elevator and whispered a prayer
for poor Ernie. Recalling how decrepit he'd looked, she had to face the facts. Ernie wasn't going home anytime soon.

Pushing open the glass front doors, Kelly hurried to her car and got in. She sat there a moment, feeling helpless, and oddly enough, thinking of Melody's dad once more.

It's time,
she realized. She texted a message to Melody:
Is that offer still good?

Minutes later, Melody texted back:
I just now talked to
Dad. You can start Monday!

Kelly smiled away the butterflies in her stomach.

Thank You.

Back home, Kelly called her boss and gave her notice, thanking him for his years of generosity. Joe was happy for her. “They don't make 'em like you anymore,” he said softly. “If anything changes, or that job don't work out, you let me know, eh?”

Moved by his compliment, Kelly agreed and thanked him again.

On Sunday, Kelly would have the opportunity to attend church for the first time in months. In the meantime, she planned to continue searching the Internet and monitoring her website.
I'll pray more,
she thought.
Without falling asleep!

Most of those in her support group, the online group she rarely visited, didn't believe in prayer. Sure, the easy prayers:
Help me find my keys
, God . . . help me find a parking spot
,
help me sleep
tonight,
but not the difficult ones:
Heal my cancer, fix
our marriage, help me locate my lost baby daughter.

She went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Yes, her cheeks were still pale, her eyes dull, and she looked too thin.
But that'll change,
she realized,
once
I get on a regular schedule.

Eventually no one would say,
“Oh dear, are you eating enough? Would you
like a candy bar? You can't find Emily if
you don't keep up your strength.”

Pushing aside a hairbrush, Kelly braced her hands on the tile,
leaning closer. She studied her complexion in the mirror, mentally trying to filter out the lines around the eyes and mouth.

Am
I pretty? s
he asked, thinking of the Bernstein and Sondheim song “I Feel Pretty.” She decided optimistically,
I'll
look pretty with a few more pounds and a tad
more blush and mascara.

But pretty for whom, she couldn't imagine. Besides, the idea of dating made her queasy.
Pretty for me, then.

Back in the kitchen, Kelly pulled out a piece of paper and made a To-Do list. At the top she wrote,
Find a job
,
just for the fun of crossing it off. Next she wrote,
Eat more!

She thought of her favorite foods and made another list of what to buy at the grocery store. And suddenly, the thought of taking a breather was starting to take traction in her mind. She
needed
a rest, a short reprieve, a momentary pause to regain her health. She could pitch everything if it didn't feel right. She could get right back on the roller coaster if she missed it so much. Melody's dad would understand. Besides, she could always beg Joe for her third shift back.

It's just a breather,
she told herself again.

O
n Saturday morning, an hour or so before Laura was scheduled to arrive, Jack and Nattie took the truck to the local car wash, a five-stall do-it-yourself operation. The sky was clear, the sun bright, and the wind subtle.

Jack sprayed sudsy water on the tires while Nattie crouched on the opposite side, scrubbing each one with a sponge, her tongue sticking out in concentration. Wearing a red-striped shirt, her blue jeans rolled up past her ankles, Nattie thoroughly enjoyed washing Billy Bob, her name for Jack's blue truck, and she was fascinated with its eventual transformation from dusty and grimy to clean and shiny.

Soaked to the bone, Nattie stood up at last, putting her hands on her hips, appraising her progress. Jack wandered over to inspect and whistled affirmatively. “Better'n I could do.”

Nattie beamed. “We should add some bling,” she told him. “Lots of chrome, beads, and stuff. Maybe a pinstripe down the side with some glitter.”

“But isn't Billy Bob a
boy
?”

“Guys wear earrings, too,” Nattie protested. “I've seen 'em.”

“Not in my house, they don't. Well . . . my garage.”

Jack mussed her hair and Nattie ducked, giggling. When they finished rinsing and did the final wipe down with specialty towels, they headed home. Nattie leaned on the open window, soaking up the breeze while Jack fretted, unsure how to break the news that Karen Jones, Nattie's school counselor, was coming over for dinner.

The afternoon coffee date with Karen had gone surprisingly well. He'd met her near the front door of Starbucks. She was wearing a pretty white sundress, while he'd managed San-approved attire—jeans and a button-down shirt. Right away, Karen told him she'd snagged a table in the back.

They'd made small talk in the order line, and initially Jack felt awkward, considering this was his first date in ten years. But once they were settled at the table with a hot chai tea latte for Karen and an espresso for Jack, their conversation progressed smoothly.

Karen sliced her blueberry muffin down the middle and gave half to Jack. Buttering it, she took delicate bites and recited her academic history, how she'd chosen her college. She also casually mentioned having married during her second year, “We were too young to make such a hasty decision,” she added. “The marriage lasted scarcely a year.”

Holding his espresso like a prop, Jack shared his passion for flying and addressed his brother's fatal accident and Jack's subsequent guardianship of Nattie.

“I officially adopted her a year later,” he'd told her, and Karen seemed curious that he, not San, had ended up as the appointed parent.

“I'll tell you all about it over dinner at my house,” he said coyly, and Karen smiled suspiciously.

“It's a deal, but you have to dish. I'm a curious woman, and I won't be denied.”

“How about Saturday?” Jack suggested, wondering if Karen might think it a little short notice, but she seemed pleased.

She went on to ask if Nattie would be joining them for dinner. Jack demurred and Karen smiled agreeably enough but seemed a
tad disappointed. As it was, Nattie still had no clue of his plan to date anyone, let alone her school counselor.

Nothing like a little procrastination
to improve my chances
, he'd thought grimly.

Later that afternoon, Diane had presented Craig with his new set of wheels, and Jack got to witness firsthand a man on the verge of tears. It was a moving experience, not just for Craig, but for Jack, as well. He was going to miss that bike stored in his garage.

Following a supper of soup and sandwiches, he'd called Laura to give her a heads-up about his Saturday evening plans, and she'd agreed to prepare the evening meal. But no word was said about the other night, and she'd seemed eager to get off the phone.

Finally, that night, he'd sprung San's news about moving. Nattie seemed to take it better than expected, especially when he had suggested they might still see her favorite auntie every couple of weeks. San had said as much, but he figured after a period of time San would become too engrossed in her work and new friends. Left to her own devices, Jack and Nattie would be lucky to see San once a month. Hopefully, by then, Nattie would be more accustomed to her aunt's absence.

Of course, they could always visit San on her turf, and Jack floated that idea in the hope of building some excitement for San's move. Nattie had never been to the Big Apple, and Jack knew she'd love it. Madison Avenue, Broadway, and carriage rides through Central Park, for a start.

And today, as Nattie and Jack arrived home from the car wash, Jack spied Laura's old beater on the street. Charlie, his mechanic, had completed the repair work in record time.

In the house, Nattie yelped hello to Laura, who was humming in the laundry room, ironing Jack's work shirts.

Jack stood in the doorway for a moment, impressed by Laura's efficiency as she pushed the iron over the collar, the sleeves, pressing the button holes down the front, all in an even and continuous motion.

He knocked lightly on the doorjamb, hoping not to frighten her, but she jumped anyway. “Whew!” she exclaimed, patting her chest.

“Sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

Fanning her face with her hand, she smiled her relief.

“I've been thinking,” he said. “You haven't had a raise in years.”

Still holding the iron, her pretty face flushed, Laura broke into a curious grin. “Well, I have to say that's a
wunnerbaar
way to greet someone.”

“Then it's settled,” he said, thinking she might yet be inclined to continue their conversation from the other night.

Instead, she thanked him for fixing her car. “You have to let me pay you back.”

Jack refused. “Consider it part of your compensation package.”

Laura laughed. “You're spoiling me.”

They went silent for a moment as Jack paused, still curious if Laura would finish Wednesday's conversation, but she only gazed at him.

“I'm afraid I might have hurt your feelings,” Jack began, but Laura waved it off.

“Oh, mercy sakes, Jack. I understand.”

He felt silly but forged ahead anyway. “And I can't help wondering what you were going to tell me. . . .”

A flash of remembrance crossed Laura's features. “Oh yes . . . it was silly, really.” She set down the iron and clasped her hands. “That is . . .” She cleared her throat and pinched at her black apron, holding it, then letting it go. “You know how Nattie's been bugging me for years?” She inched back toward the dryer. “I just didn't want to . . . well, shock you. That is, one of these days, ya never know, I might just show up fancy, if only to give Nattie a fright.”

Jack was taken aback, not only by her nervous behavior, but because the notion of Laura Mast dressing like an Englisher was difficult to wrap his brain around. “Well, I'm sure Nattie would get a kick out of it,” he finally offered.

Laura wiped at her perspiring face, and Jack took a few steps backward, thumping up against the doorframe. It was a reasonably sized laundry room, with shelves above the washer and dryer, and tile covering the floor, but no window, and for some reason it suddenly seemed miniscule. By the look in her eyes, Laura surely felt it, as well.

She cleared her throat again. “Well, I haven't completely decided. I'm afraid if my cousin Pete saw me leave his
Haus
without my prayer veiling, he might just pop his suspenders, ya know.” She laughed, and Jack joined her, still finding the whole thing rather odd, considering how serious she had seemed after their talk.

Laura bit her lip, suddenly looking tentative. “I'd have to change into my fancy clothes here, ya know. And then dress Plain again before I leave for home.”

Jack nodded politely, as if he understood the ins and outs of an Amishwoman's being modern for a day.

Laura leaned forward, bumping the ironing board, and the iron swayed. Quickly, Jack moved to settle the board, and Laura grabbed for the iron. In the process she practically fell into his arms.

“That was close,” Jack whispered, gently assisting her as she recovered her balance.

“Jah,”
Laura said, exhaling nervously, brushing at her clothing.

“By the way,” she said, “have ya told Nattie yet? About tonight?”

He shook his head, sighing. There seemed to be a never-ending list of things to “break” to Nattie.

Laura offered a faint smile. “The sooner the better, Jack.”

Of course
.
He agreed, and after another uncomfortable moment, Laura shrugged, gesturing toward her ironing. He nodded, backing out of the small space, still mulling the implications of Laura's idea to dress modern—fancy, as she'd put it.

He was, however, convinced she had changed her mind about what she'd really wanted to tell him Wednesday night.
But
why?

Jack headed upstairs to change out of his damp clothes and into old jeans and a T-shirt. Next, he trudged back to the garage
and decided to organize his tools yet again, if only to unwind. The encounter in the laundry room had left him rattled.

After a while, Nattie joined him and sat on the top step, both palms under her chin, fingers on her cheeks. It was the classic bored-kid posture. Only for Nattie, it was her thinking pose. She mentioned her bike-blinging plans, declaring she wanted her ride to look as cool as Craig's new dirt bike.

“I should paint my bike pink,” Nattie announced. “What do you think?”

“Could be ambitious,” Jack counseled, positioning two of his best hammers on the pegboard.

She nodded, working her mouth. “Maybe just wax it instead?”

Jack reordered his crescent wrenches according to size and motioned for Nattie to help him hang the screwdrivers.

They worked together and finished the chore. “Perfect,” Nattie said and ran inside.

Having missed yet another opportunity to come clean with his dinner plans, Jack hurried inside to wash up. He found Nattie sitting at the kitchen counter watching Laura stand on tiptoes as she sorted through the cabinet for ingredients.

Laura turned to look at him and sighed. “I've misjudged, I daresay. I wasn't prepared for tonight. We need tomato sauce.”

“How 'bout the three of us go out for supper instead!” Nattie announced.

Laura closed the cabinet and gave Jack an eyeful, as if to say,
“How long are you
going to wait?”

“Write a short grocery list,” Jack suggested, tactfully ignoring Nattie's suggestion. Laura agreed, dictating a list of ingredients while Nattie put pen to paper with trademark fanfare.

Recruiting Nattie for grocery duty, Jack drove to the store, still deep in thought over the very important talk he needed to have with Nattie.

They made their way up and down the grocery aisles, following Laura's list and gathering enough to feed an Italian army.

“So we're having pah-sgettie tonight,” Nattie said, giggling and taking off with the cart up the aisle.

When Jack met her on the next aisle, he was encouraged by her jubilant mood. Wasn't now as good a time as any? Besides, they were in a public place; how bad could it be?

“By the way,” he said, “Miss Jones is coming for dinner tonight.”

Nattie stopped in her tracks. “Say what?”

Jack repeated it, and Nattie became unhinged, logically concluding that a dinner with the school counselor had something to do with
her.
While Jack assured her to the contrary, Nattie remained unconvinced. “Then why is she coming?”

“Because I want to get to know her better, honey.” He paused, feeling breathless. “Karen seems nice.”

Nattie made a face that looked like
“Are you kidding
?”

“Also, you'll be with Laura at the mall, having fun at the food court,” he told her, thinking it would enhance the deal.

“Hold on. I'm not having spaghetti with you guys?” Nattie's face darkened. “
I
should be at the mall with Miss Jones, and
you
should be having dinner with Laura.”

Before he could respond, Nattie stomped away, pushing the cart recklessly. Jack groaned, caught up with her, and together they finished their circuitous route around the store. When the list was complete, he noticed a dozen cans of soup in the cart.

He pointed to them. “Nattie—”

“The church pantry—remember?”

Oh yeah,
he thought, recalling last Sunday's announcements.

During the drive home, Nattie seemed overly fascinated with finding just the right station on the radio, turning the dial with exceptional focus.

“It's just a date,” he assured her.

Nattie snorted disapprovingly and folded her arms.

Wanting to finish the conversation and hoping to forestall a thunderstorm, Jack pulled into a nearby parking lot and stopped in front of a paint store. Sunlight glistened off the windshields
of the cars facing them in the next row. The place was hopping, typical for a Saturday.