Lee McClain - His Secret Child

Fern looked at the man who’d invaded her safe haven. Even playing with an innocent little child in front of the fire, he looked every inch a mercenary: thick stubble, bulging biceps, shadowy, watchful eyes. “Yes,” she said, swallowing. “Yes, he is.”

* * *

Carlo sat on the floor building a block tower with the child he was almost certain was his daughter. He studied her small hands, her messy curls, her sweet, round cheeks.

His daughter’s foster mother was talking to someone named Lou Ann on the phone. Probably Lou Ann Miller, who had to be getting old these days. He remembered stealing pumpkins from her front porch with a big gang of his friends. She’d chased after them and called all of their parents.

All the other boys had gotten punished. Not him, though. His parents had thought it was funny.

As he’d grown up, he’d realized that their neglect wasn’t a good thing, especially when he’d seen how it affected his younger sister. When he’d had to take up their slack. He’d judged his folks pretty harshly.

But they’d been there at least some of the time. Unlike him, for his own daughter. How had it never occurred to him that Kath could have gotten pregnant during their brief reconciliation?

He wanted to clasp Mercedes tight and make up for the previous four years of her life. He wished he could rewind time and see her first smile, her first step.

But no. He left his wife pregnant and alone, and even though she’d kicked him out without telling him the truth about the baby she carried, had pressured him into signing the divorce papers, he should have tried harder. A lot harder.

Kath’s letter, which had apparently languished for a couple of months before reaching him, had just about broken his heart. She’d found the Lord, and moved to Rescue River because she’d liked the way he’d described it and wanted to raise their daughter there.

Apparently, she’d even thought there was a chance they could remarry and raise Mercedes together. Sometime later, after he’d sown his wild oats and come back home to the States.

But it had turned out they didn’t have the time for that. Kath had found out she was dying, and that was when she’d written to him, telling him about Mercedes and urging him to come home and take care of his daughter. She’d kept his identity secret from her social worker in case he wasn’t able to come home—warped Kath logic if he’d ever heard of it. So until the social worker received the copy of Kath’s letter he’d mailed and verified the information, even she wouldn’t know there was an interested, responsible father in the picture.

Which was how Mercedes had ended up with Fern, apparently.

Carlo ran his hand through his hair and almost groaned aloud. He shouldn’t have given up on their marriage so readily, but the truth was, he’d realized there was no more love or connection between them. Kath had been deep into a partying lifestyle she hadn’t wanted to change. Reuniting would have been such an uphill battle that he hadn’t minded when she’d kicked him out after just a week.

He was no good at relationships, never had been. But he hated that he’d left her to struggle alone. And even more, he hated that he’d left this innocent child to be raised by an unstable mother.

So now he was going to try to fix what had gone wrong. Maybe he’d failed as a husband. He’d failed at getting Kath into rehab. Failed as a father, so far.

But now that he knew about her existence, he was determined not to fail Mercedes. No, sir, never again. Though he was horrible at intimate relationships, he got along okay with kids. Even had a gift for working with them, according to his friends in the missionary field. Ironic that he, the guy who scared off most women and a lot of men, seemed to connect effortlessly with kids.

When Fern got off the phone, he stuffed down his feelings and made his face and voice bland. The first step in getting his daughter back was to find out what had been going on in her life. “Everything okay?”

Fern nodded, biting her lip. That was a habit of hers, he noticed. And it was really distracting, because she had full, pretty lips.

“Who was that?”

She gave him a look that said he’d overstepped his boundaries.

“Miss Lou Ann, from church,” Mercedes said. “She gave me a toothbrush. Want to see?”

“Sure,” Carlo said, and watched the child run toward the stairs, his heart squeezing in his chest.

“Lou Ann Miller gives all the children toothbrushes. Musical ones. She doesn’t believe in candy.”

“That figures. I remember her.”

Fern cocked her head to one side. “She remembers you, too.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He studied Fern and risked a question. “How’d you end up taking care of Mercedes anyway?”

She hesitated.

Easy, easy. “No need to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m just curious.”

Fern perched on the hearth and started stacking blocks absently. “It’s okay. I need to get used to talking about it. But it’s a sad story.”

Carlo’s stomach twisted with shame. He was, at least in part, responsible for the sadness.

“She’s my friend Kath’s little girl. Kath wasn’t in town that long, but she made a huge difference in my life. We got...super close. And then she died.” Fern’s voice cracked just as Mercedes came trotting back down the stairs, musical toothbrush in hand.

“Look, mister! It makes a song!” She shook it vigorously and then looked up and touched Fern’s face. “Why you sad, Mama Fern?”

“Just thinking about your mama.”

“Oh.” Mercedes nodded. “Bye!” she said suddenly, and ran across the room to a pink case full of dolls and doll clothes.

Fern chuckled. “Kids. When they don’t want to talk about something, you know it.”

Carlo had to know. “What...what did she say about Mercedes’s dad? Was he ever in the picture?”

“She didn’t talk much about him. Said he had issues. But what kind of guy would leave a terminally ill woman to cope with their little daughter alone?”

That was the question.

He had a lot to make up for, and it started with helping his daughter right now, stranded in the storm.

Given how fiercely protective Fern seemed, he didn’t think he could explain his role in the situation without arousing her ire and getting kicked out. And then how would the pair cope, given that the snow was starting up again?

No, better to wait out the storm without revealing his identity. Once it was over, he could see about paternity tests and get advice from a lawyer about how to proceed.

Meanwhile, he could help out a vulnerable child and foster mom. Maybe start to absolve himself of some of his misdeeds. Get to know little Mercedes.

Redeem himself. If that was even possible.

Chapter Four

For Carlo the late-morning trip out to the kennels was completely different from the night before.

It was daylight, and snowing hard.

And he was carrying Mercedes.

Just the feel of those little arms curled trustingly around his neck as he fought his way through thigh-high snowdrifts made his heart swell. He wasn’t worthy, he didn’t deserve it, but God had given him this moment, a blessing to cherish.

“You doing okay, sweets?” came Fern’s voice from behind him.

Was she calling him sweets?

“I’m fine, Mama Fern,” Mercedes piped up, and Carlo realized his mistake. Oh, well, it had felt nice for that one second. He shook his head and kept moving steadily toward the barns.

As soon as they got inside, Mercedes struggled to get down and ran to see the dogs. Carlo sank down on the bench beside the door, panting. Mercedes was tiny, but carrying her while breaking a trail had just about done him in.