Only Mine (16 page)

Finn checked in with the office and explained they were only going to be on the ground about an hour. Dakota had already called on the flight from Europe. Hannah and her escort were probably clearing customs right now.

They took the shuttle from the chartered airport over to the LAX international terminal. Finn had the diaper bag over one shoulder and held on to her hand. She clung to him, aware she probably looked pathetic, but not caring.

The main floor of the terminal was crowded with waiting families. People from dozens of countries spoke different languages. She wasn't sure how they were supposed to find a woman they'd never met, carrying a baby she'd never seen in person.

“I wish they'd sent me her picture as well as Hannah's,” she said. “That would have made this easier.”

“Dakota Hendrix?”

Dakota turned and saw a small nun with gray hair holding a crying baby. The little girl was the same one in the picture, she realized. Her face was flushed and
she was much smaller than Dakota had expected. Even so, everything inside her went still, as if each cell in her body knew this was one of those extraordinary moments out of time.

“I'm Dakota,” she whispered.

“I'm Sister Mary and this is your little girl.”

Instinctively, Dakota held out her arms and took the child. Hannah didn't struggle. Instead her slight weight settled into Dakota's arms, and she gazed up at Dakota with dark brown eyes.

Hannah wore a pink jumper with a T-shirt underneath. Both were wrinkled and had a few stains on them. Not surprising, given how long she'd been traveling. Her dark hair was cut in an unflattering bowl style, but she was still beautiful.

Her full cheeks were deep red, and her mouth moved as if she were gathering her energy to cry. Even through her clothes, she felt warm.

Finn led them to a relatively quiet corner of the terminal. As people bustled around them, Sister Mary checked Dakota's identification. They both signed paperwork, and then it was done.

“Someone from the agency will call you in a couple of days, to set up an appointment,” Sister Mary said. “Have you named her?”

“Hannah.”

“A beautiful name,” the nun said. “She's had a difficult journey. She has a low-grade fever and you'll want to get her ears looked at. I think she has an ear infection.”
The other woman sighed as she passed over some baby Tylenol. “This is all we have. Money is so limited. There are so many children and so few resources. The doctor cleared her for the trip but that was more so she could come here. She's due for another dose in an hour.”

Hannah's eyes had closed. Dakota stared at her, torn between the beauty of her daughter and the fear that she might be sick.

“Is she small for her age?”

“Not compared with some of the other children. I've brought a supply of her formula, a few diapers and her clothes.” The nun glanced at her watch. “I'm sorry but I have a flight to catch.”

“Yes, of course,” Dakota said. “Please feel free to go. I'll get Hannah into a doctor as soon as possible.”

“You have all the numbers for the agency,” Sister Mary told her, handing Finn a small suitcase. “Call anytime, day or night.”

“Thank you.”

Finn stood and shook hands with her. When the nun had left, he turned to Dakota. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said softly. “Did you hear what she said? Hannah might be sick.” The baby's eyes were closed. Her breathing was regular, but her skin was so red. It burned Dakota's fingers when she stroked her cheek. “I need to get her to a doctor.”

“Do you want to do that here or do you want to go home?”

“Let's get her home.” Dakota checked her watch. She
already had an appointment with the pediatrician late that afternoon. Better to take care of things there.

They went back the way they'd come. Fortunately, the shuttle driver had waited for them. It only took Finn a few minutes to check the plane and then get clearance. Less than an hour after they'd landed, they were airborne again.

This time, she sat behind the passenger seat with Hannah strapped into a car seat next to her. Dakota watched her anxiously, counting every breath.

“You doing okay?” Finn asked.

“I'm trying not to freak.”

“She'll be okay.”

“I hope so.” She kept her gaze on her daughter. “She's so small.” Too small. “I know she comes from a very poor part of the world, that the orphanage doesn't have much money or many resources. I knew there could be problems. They warned me about that.”

When she'd first applied, there had been several live interviews where she'd seen videos of the different orphanages the agency worked with. She'd also spoken with other parents. They'd told her about children who were small for their age, but quickly caught up. They'd glossed over any initial difficulties.

Now, as Dakota felt her daughter's fiery cheek, her own eyes burned.

“I don't want anything to happen to her.”

“You're taking her to a doctor. It's only a few hours.”

She nodded because it was impossible to speak. Her
new daughter might be desperately ill, and she didn't have any way to make her better. Not medicine or even the experience to know how to make a poultice.

“Do you know what a poultice is?” she asked Finn.

“No. Why?”

“I thought it might help.”

“Dakota, you have to relax. Wait until there's a reason to get upset, okay? You're going to need your energy to keep up with Hannah once she's crawling around.”

“I hope you're right,” she said, her voice oddly thick. It was only then, she realized she was crying.

She dropped her head into her hands and gave in to the tears. A couple of seconds later, Hannah woke up and started crying, too. The baby rubbed at her ears, as if they hurt her.

“It's okay,” Dakota said quickly. “It's all right, sweetie. I have some medicine right here.”

She dug out the Tylenol and measured the dose. The plane was amazingly steady, for which she was grateful.

“You're saving my life,” she told Finn. “I couldn't have done this on my own. I don't know how to thank you.”

“Just hang on.”

She nodded, then offered Hannah the baby spoon. The little girl turned her head.

“Come on, sweetie. Take the yummy medicine. It will make you feel better.”

After offering it a couple more times, Dakota lightly touched the girl's nose, then stroked her cheek. Hannah
parted her lips, Dakota slipped the medicine inside, and the girl swallowed.

But whatever bothered her was too much for an over-the-counter remedy. Or the child was tired, or maybe scared. After all, she was surrounded by strangers. Whatever the reason, she cried louder and harder, her whole body shaking with her sobs. Dakota tried rocking the car seat and rubbing her tummy. She sang to her. Nothing helped.

Through the rest of the flight and the car ride to the pediatrician, Hannah screamed. The sound wrenched at Dakota's heart and made her feel nauseous. She didn't know what to do and knew that her ignorance could put an innocent child at risk. What had the agency been thinking—giving her a child?

Finally they pulled up in front of the pediatrician's office. She got Hannah out of her car seat, wrapped her in a blanket and carried the still-screaming infant into the waiting room, Finn close behind her.

Dakota, crying as well, could barely speak her name. The receptionist took one look at the two of them and motioned to the door on her left.

“Vivian will show you right into a room.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Dakota looked at Finn. “I don't know how to thank you,” she said over the baby's crying. “You don't have to wait. I'll call my mom and she'll come get me.”

Finn brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Go. I'll
wait. I'm not going to leave you now. I have to see how this all ends.”

“You're a good man. Seriously. I'll talk to someone about getting you a plaque.”

One corner of his mouth curved up. “Nothing too big. You know I'm all about it being tasteful.”

Despite everything, she managed a smile, then turned and followed the nurse into the examination room.

“T
HE KEY TO GOOD PARENTING
is to keep breathing,” Dr. Silverman told Dakota. “Seriously, if you pass out, you're no good to anyone.” The pediatrician, a petite blonde in her late thirties, smiled.

Dakota wanted to shriek at her. Did the doctor think this was funny? Nothing about this was funny. It was horrifying and potentially life threatening, but not funny.

As soon as Dr. Silverman had walked into the examining room, Hannah had stopped crying. She'd submitted to the detailed exam with barely a sound and now lay in Dakota's arms, her hot body limp.

“She's exhausted,” the doctor said. “That trip wouldn't be easy on anyone. I'm sure she's scared and confused. Her life hasn't been easy. Adding to that are the other problems.”

Dakota braced herself for the worst. “The fever?”

The doctor nodded. “She has an infection in both ears and she has her first tooth coming in. She's way too small for her age, which isn't surprising given her circumstances. I don't love the formula they've been using, either.”

She looked at the can of powder Dakota had given her. It was the same one Sister Mary had left with Hannah's things.

“All right,” the doctor continued. “We're going to start her on a course of antibiotics. I don't like to use them for ear infections, but under the circumstances, she needs the jump to get better.”

Dr. Silverman explained how to administer the medicine and told her what to expect with the combination of fever, first tooth and potential digestive upsets. They went over how to slowly transition Hannah to a more easily digested formula, and she offered suggestions on how much to feed her and how often.

“Normally at six months she'd be starting on solid foods, but I want you to hold off on that for at least three weeks. Let's get her healthy and her weight up a little. Then you can begin the process.” Dr. Silverman explained how to make sure Hannah didn't get dehydrated.

“Do you have someone to help you?” the doctor asked. “The first few days will be the most difficult.”

“My mom,” Dakota said, trying to absorb all the information. “I have sisters and friends.” Not to mention all the women in town who would step in.

“Good.” The doctor pulled a business card out of her white coat pocket. “I'm on call this weekend. If you need me, the answering service will be able to get in touch with me.”

Dakota took the card and sighed. “Thank you. Is there
any way I could convince you to move in with me for the next couple of years?”

Dr. Silverman laughed. “I think my husband would object, but I'll ask him.”

“I really appreciate all of this.”

The doctor touched the top of Hannah's head. “From what I can tell, she's basically healthy. Once we get her ears cleared up and her baby teeth in, your life will calm down. Try to stay relaxed and sleep when you can. Oh, and keep breathing.”

They discussed when Dakota should bring her new daughter in for a follow-up visit, what circumstances would require a phone call to the doctor and what to look for that could be dangerous.

“I think you're going to be fine,” the doctor told her. “Both of you.”

Dakota nodded. “I understand and I appreciate all the information.” Now if only she could figure out a way to keep it straight in her head.

She carried Hannah back into the waiting room. Finn stood when he saw her and closed the distance between them.

“What did she say?” he asked.

“Hopefully not more than I can remember.” Dakota walked to the receptionist and made her follow-up appointment.

As she and Finn walked to his car, she told him about the visit and what the doctor had said. “I have to get a prescription filled,” she said. “And change her formula,
but I'm supposed to do that over time. Otherwise she could get really sick. Right now tummy trouble is the last thing she needs.”

Getting overwhelmed seemed easy enough, she thought. Talk about going from zero to sixty without a whole lot of warning. Everyone was encouraging her, telling her she could do it, but at the end of the day, she was going to be the one left with the baby.

“I'll take you home,” Finn told her. “Then I'll go get the prescription filled. One less thing for you to do.”

Dakota finished strapping Hannah into her car seat, then closed the back door and straightened. “You've already done so much for me. I don't know how to thank you.”

“I'll send you a list.”

The drive back to Dakota's place didn't take very long. She kept looking over her shoulder, checking on Hannah. Exhaustion seemed to have set in, and the baby was sleeping.

She told herself that once Hannah started on the medication, everything would be better. At least that was her hope. There were—

“Somebody's having a party,” Finn said as he pulled into her driveway.

She followed his gaze and saw there were at least a dozen cars parked on the street. She recognized a few of them and had a feeling she knew the owners of the others.

Warmth and relief chased away a good portion of
the fear. She really wasn't alone. How could she have forgotten that?

“It's not a party,” she told him, then got out of the car. “Not in the way you're thinking.”

He faced her across the roof of the vehicle. “Then what is it?”

“Come see.”

She collected Hannah from her car seat. The baby barely stirred. Finn grabbed the diaper bag and followed her into the house.

She'd seen all the cars, but was still surprised by the number of people in her living room and kitchen. Her mother was there along with her sisters. Mayor Marsha and Charity, a very pregnant Pia. Liz and the feuding hairdressing sisters, Julia and Bella. Gladys and Alice, and Jenel from the jewelry store. There were women everywhere.

“There she is,” Denise said, hurrying toward them. “Are you all right? How was the trip? How's your sweet little girl?”

Dakota handed her daughter over to her mother. But that was all she could do. Anything else was impossible. Her throat was too tight, her heart too full.

From where she stood, she could see stacks of presents. The packages were yellow and pink and white, topped with ribbons and bows. There was a high chair in the dining room and stacks of diapers on the chairs. She could see two steaming crockpots on the counter
in her kitchen, a large basket of fruit and a bouquet of balloons.

As Denise rocked her new granddaughter in her arms, Nevada and Montana led Dakota into the spare room. Her small computer desk had been pushed to the far wall. Once-white walls had been painted the softest of pinks. New curtains hung at the windows. A thick rug covered the hardwood floor.

A crib sat in the center of the room. The linens were a cheerful yellow and white background with ballerina rabbits. A mobile of bunnies and ducks spun lazily overhead. There was a changing table and a dresser. The closet doors were open and tiny clothes hung on white hangers.

“It's some special paint,” Nevada said. “There aren't any fumes, so it's safe for the baby. Everything else is organic or nontoxic.”

Dakota didn't know what to say, so it was good that her sisters simply hugged her. She'd seen the town in action before, had been a part of it several times, but she'd never been on the receiving end of Fool's Gold love. The sense of connection and belonging nearly overwhelmed her.

“I didn't expect any of this,” Dakota whispered, fighting her happy tears.

“Then our work here is done,” Nevada teased.

Finn walked into the baby's room. “You people know how to throw a party,” he said. “I'm going to get
the prescription filled. I'll be back as soon as they're finished.”

She nodded, rather than speak. From her perspective, she'd already spent much of the day crying. If she tried to thank him, she would only resume the waterworks. The man deserved a break.

Dakota allowed her sisters to lead her back to the living room. Her mother still held Hannah, and the baby seemed more relaxed in experienced arms. Several of the women jumped up to make room for her on the sofa. Dakota collapsed onto the cushions. A plate was put in her hands and a glass of something that looked like Diet Coke was placed on the coffee table in front of her.

“Now start at the beginning and tell us everything,” her mother said. “Is Hannah all right? Finn mentioned he had to go out for medicine.”

“She's going to be all right,” Dakota said poking her fork at the pasta salad on her plate. “It might take a little while for us to get there, but Hannah is going to be just fine.”

 

A
URELIA STOOD
on the sidewalk in the warmth of the early evening. Some people were just plain gifted. As she watched, Sasha and Lani stood in the park, fighting. They weren't just having an argument, they were yelling and waving their arms. At one point, Sasha grabbed Lani by her upper arms, hauled her close and kissed her.

Lani resisted at first. She twisted away, then raised her hand as if she were going to slap Sasha. He held her in
place and kissed her again. This time, she surrendered. Her body went limp against his, and her hands drew him closer. From several feet away, it looked as though the young lovers had averted a crisis.

Aurelia knew better. She knew the fight was staged, a little scene for the cameras. “You have to admit they're really good,” she told Stephen. “Whether or not they make it to the end of the show, they obviously have what it takes to be successful actors.”

Stephen rested his hands on her shoulders. She wasn't sure why, and thinking about the possible reasons made her head hurt. He was a good guy. He was smart and fun to be with and really caring. Being with him was easy, even though it didn't show on camera. Every time she and Stephen were filmed together, the situation became awkward.

She couldn't say what was wrong. Her nature was to accept all the blame, but if that were true, then their time on camera should only be half bad. Instead it was, as Geoff had said the previous morning, truly awful.

“Hello, Aurelia.”

Aurelia turned at the sound of her name and saw her mother walking toward her. Between work and the show, there hadn't been much time to visit. She'd called regularly, although her mother explained that was hardly the same and not nearly enough.

“Your mother, I presume,” Stephen whispered in her ear.

Before she could agree, he stepped past her and
introduced himself. They shook hands. While keeping her mother's hand in his, Stephen thanked her for insisting Aurelia go on the show.

“Your daughter speaks of you frequently,” he continued. “I can see how much she cares about you.

“No, she doesn't.” Her mother sniffed, then withdrew her hand and glared at them both. “If she really cared about me, she would stop by to see me more.”

“She's busy with her job and the show.”

Aurelia stepped between them. She could see where the conversation was going, and while she appreciated Stephen looking out for her, she knew it was time for her to stand up for herself.

“Stephen, could you give us a minute?”

He nodded and moved back.

She led her mother over to a bench. But before she could speak, her mother jumped in.

“I can't believe how young he is. I'd hoped they were exaggerating, but now I've seen him in person. Obviously, they weren't. It's humiliating. Do you know what my friends are saying? The people at work? Don't you care about me at all?” Her mother sighed and shook her head. “You've always been selfish, Aurelia. And while we're on the subject, where's my check for this month?”

Aurelia stared at the woman who had raised her. It had always been just the two of them, and for so long, that had been enough. She had been brought up to believe that family was everything and that taking care of her
mother was her responsibility. She'd told herself that her mother's bitterness could be excused, if not explained. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't exactly sure why her mother was so angry all the time.

Stephen didn't appreciate Finn's interference and saw it as nothing more than irritation. She knew better. Finn had put his life on hold because he was worried about his brothers. He wanted nothing for himself. Everything he did was for them. It had never been that way with her mother.

In Aurelia's family, her mother came first. Her mother was the important one. Somehow Aurelia had allowed herself to be manipulated. Part of the blame lay with her mother, but part of it lay with her. She was nearly thirty years old. It was time for her to change the rules.

“Mom, I really appreciate you encouraging me to go on the show. You were right—I haven't been doing anything to move on to the next stage of my life. I want to get married and have children. Instead, I hide myself at work and I spent all my free time with you.”

“Not recently,” her mother snapped.

“I'm sorry you feel that I haven't been paying enough attention to you. The time on the show has allowed me to get a little perspective. I'm your daughter, and I will always love you, but I need to have my own life.”

“I see,” her mother said icily. “Let me guess. I no longer matter.”

“You matter very much. I don't want it to be an either/or. I think I can have a life, and you and I can still be
close.” Aurelia sucked in a breath. Now came the hard part. There was a knot in her stomach, a ball of fear and guilt.

“You have a really good job,” she said slowly. “The house is paid for, as is your car.” She should know. She paid off both loans herself. “Obviously, if there's an emergency, I want to help. But otherwise, you need to be responsible for your own bills.”

Her mother sprang to her feet and glared at her. “Aurelia, this is not how you were raised. I'm the only mother you'll ever have. When I'm dead and gone, your selfishness will haunt you forever.”