Jean Gordon - A Mom For His Daughter

The introductions moved around the table to Fiona. She’d been right that the older woman and younger man were an in-law combination, and one of the other women was an aunt raising a niece whose parents had abandoned her.

“Fiona,” Noah prompted her.

“Hi, I’m Fiona Bryce, and I’m the aunt Marc mentioned.”

She glanced across the table and ignored the frown Marc shot her for sharing the detail he hadn’t. Why wouldn’t she tell the group? They needed to know why she was here. She hadn’t brought a child with her. Besides, this was a small town. The information would be out soon anyway, even if no one here leaked it. That’s the way it was.

“I was working out of the country. I returned briefly after I was notified of my sister’s death, but I didn’t know I had a niece until last week.” She lowered her gaze to the table to avoid any looks of sympathy in the other people’s eyes so she could get through her introduction. “Stella doesn’t know who I am—yet.” Fiona smiled around the table, ending with Marc. “That’s it.”

“Thanks, Fiona, everyone,” Noah said. “I’ll let Renee know she can bring the children back in.”

The woman next to Fiona nudged her elbow. “Noah had his coworker take the kids to one of the Sunday school rooms to play while we had our meeting.”

“I wondered where they were. The pastor said we’d be interacting with the kids.” She bit her lip. Interacting. That sounded stilted and impersonal.

“Fiona,” the woman sitting next to Marc said—the other aunt in the group. “Do you want to trade places since you’re with Marc?”

She wasn’t exactly with him. Fiona looked to Marc for direction, considering Stella would be returning to him when the kids came back. He’d assumed the reserved expression he’d had when she’d joined the group at the table, which irritated her. They were supposed to be working together for Stella.

“Yes,” she said, louder than she’d intended. “Thanks.”

She and the woman changed places, with Fiona positioning her chair as far from Marc as she could without looking like that was her intention, which it wasn’t entirely. She wanted space for Stella to climb on his lap, as well as a buffer between her and the guarded signals radiating from the stoic-looking man beside her.

The sound of high-pitched voices and little feet preceded the children’s appearance at the inner door to the hall. Noah led the children in, with a woman who looked so much like Claire and Marc that she had to be another sister or other relative following behind, holding Stella’s hand.

“My youngest sister, Renee.” Marc answered the question in her mind with a chin lift toward the door.

Fiona felt Renee’s gaze on her before she saw it. “She knows?”

“Yes. She works with Noah, and I told my parents the other night,” Marc said.

His face didn’t give her a clue as to how they’d reacted. She counted the family members who knew: Marc’s parents, his brother-in-law Pastor Connor and, Fiona assumed, Marc’s other sister Natalie, the pastor’s wife.

Renee walked the children to their parents and guardians, bringing Stella over to Marc last and approaching him from the side opposite Fiona. The little girl scrambled onto Marc’s lap and gave him a big hug. A wave of longing for her sister, for family, rolled over Fiona.

“No Luc today,” Stella said.

“Luc’s our sister Natalie’s little boy,” Marc said.

Fiona remembered. The toddler in the video Pastor Connor had showed her.

“He goes to preschool with Stella.” Renee had walked around behind Marc’s chair. “I’m Renee Maddox, Marc’s sister.”

“Fiona Bryce.” She met Renee’s blatant perusal and reached around her obvious baby bump to shake her hand.

Fiona dropped her hand to her lap as Renee left to join Noah at the head of the table. She was going to have to get Marc aside and talk with him about her meeting his family, preferably one or two at a time. That way, she could talk with each of them personally before they set themselves against her as a group.

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