Jean Gordon - A Mom For His Daughter

“Not until I talk with a lawyer. Don’t call me. I’ll call you.” His phone clicked off.

That hardly could have gone worse. She leaned on the counter. So much for the fantasy she’d concocted on the drive home after Marc had dismissed her at the birthing center. A fantasy of her becoming part of the Delacroix family, of Stella staying over at her apartment, them exploring things together as she and Mairi had. A fantasy of Marc welcoming her help with Stella so he could put in more time on his restaurant launch.

Fiona slapped the countertop. But Stella was family. The only family she had, and she was going to fight to be in her life. It’s what she did, what she’d always done—fight to keep her family together.

* * *

Marc met Claire on her doorstep when she got home from work. He’d hated to drop Stella on his mom again, despite her insisting it was fine, but he needed to talk with someone away from little ears. And who got him better than his twin?

She eyed the bag from the Chinese restaurant around the corner from her apartment in Ticonderoga. “Happy Star? This must be serious.”

“More than you could guess.” Marc rose from his seat on the steps and followed his sister upstairs and into the kitchen.

“Get the food out, and I’ll get us drinks.” Claire opened the refrigerator. “I have lemonade, root beer and milk, or I can brew you a cup of coffee.”

“Root beer’s good.” He took the plastic cartons out of the bag and placed them on the table. “How well do you know Fiona Bryce?”

Claire raised an eyebrow suggestively as she placed the drinks on the table.

“Not like that.” Although the slight trip of his heart contradicted the force of his response.

“Just as a coworker. She seems nice, good at her job. We had lunch together the other day.” Claire hesitated. “From something she let slip about moving a lot, I got the feeling she may have had a rough childhood. But she seems like someone I could be friends with.”

He pressed his lips together. “Would you say she’s honest?”

Claire opened her food container and studied the contents. “As far as I know. Why?”

Marc took a slug of his drink. His throat was suddenly parched. “She says she’s Stella’s aunt.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh and then some.”

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

For whatever reason, even without proof, he did. “Possibly. If you’ve noticed, her hair is exactly like Stella’s and she says she has information and documents and photos of her sister as a child that look like they could be of Stella.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m talking to you, to help me decide. I called the lawyer who handled the adoption. She assured me that I’m rock solid on it.”

“You think Fiona wants to challenge it?”

“I don’t know. She said she only wants to be part of Stella’s life as her aunt.” And he’d believed her. Or wanted to believe her, anyway.

“Could she be after money?”

He hadn’t thought of that. He laughed. “If so, she’ll have an uphill battle with that. Everything I own is sunk into the restaurant partnership and a job that’s dependent on what’s currently an empty shell of a building.” The sarcastic humor drained from him. “She wants to get together to talk.”

“Just the two of you? Is that wise?”

He bristled at his twin challenging him. “I’d rather start off keeping it private and civil, not drag Stella through some kind of legal battle.”

Shades of his mother and no less irritating, Claire patted his hand. “I understand. I meant you and Fiona could get together with a mediator.”

He stabbed a broccoli stalk. “Are you suggesting Renee? I know she’s a qualified counselor, but I’m not comfortable with our baby sister mediating my life.”

She slapped the hand she’d been patting. “Not Renee. I was thinking Connor.”

“Fiona might not agree. I haven’t seen her at Sunday services.” He would have remembered.

“That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t agree.”

“I guess. She may prefer someone else, like her pastor, if she belongs to another church.”

“You said Fiona wants to be part of the family, so play the family angle. Connor is Stella’s uncle, but by marriage, so he’s one level removed.”

“You might have something there. I’ll call the lawyer again and run that by her, see what she thinks about Christian mediation before anything legal. And speaking of family, keep this between the two of us for now. If and when anyone else needs to know, I’ll tell them.”

“Okay, mum’s the word.” Claire ran her thumb and forefinger across her lips.

Marc pushed away his food container. Supper had lost what little flavor it had had. He pulled out his cell phone. “It’s not six yet. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go into the other room and see if I can catch the lawyer before she leaves. I’ll let you know later what I decide.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be praying for you and Stella.”

“I appreciate it,” he said, powering up his phone to see Stella’s baby face smiling at him from the screen. He didn’t want to admit it, but he could see Fiona in her. He was going to need all the prayers he could get.

Chapter Three

Lost in her thoughts, Fiona almost missed the turn into the Hazardtown Community Church parking lot. Meeting with Pastor Connor seemed like a good idea. Marc had contacted her all businesslike on Monday with a couple items his partners wanted to include in the contract between the research farm and the restaurant partnership. Then he’d tackled the elephant in the room with an invitation to talk with him and Pastor Connor tonight about her claim that Stella was her niece.

Stepping from her car, she kicked a muddy chunk of snow out of her path. She knew in her heart that the little girl was her niece. And she had no intention of contesting Stella’s adoption. After her failure with Mairi, she didn’t want the responsibility of Stella, only to be part of her extended family.

Fiona walked into the church, the door closing behind her with a soft thud. The pastor’s office was almost directly in front of her, as Marc had told her on the phone. Or she assumed it was the pastor’s office. The door was open, but she didn’t see anyone, only a desk with a computer and some bookshelves.

She stood in the doorway bumping her knee against her briefcase. It was nearly six thirty, the time they’d set. She knew she was in the right place. Marc had given her the choice of meeting at the pastor’s office here or at his home. When he’d mentioned that the pastor was his brother-in-law, she’d hesitated before deciding they’d be on more equal grounds at the church. Fiona smoothed the wrinkles from the skirt of her green linen dress.

Or maybe not. From what she’d seen, Marc and his family were active in the church. While Fiona considered herself a believer, she hadn’t attended any church regularly since she’d worked in Guam, and then it was more because most of her neighbors and the people she worked with attended services than any real compulsion to be part of a church community.

“Here’s the video of him and Natalie.”

A male voice sounded from behind an almost closed door at the back of the room. A door that at first glance had appeared to lead to a closet. But it had a sign: Pastor’s Office.

“I’ve got one of Stella on the rug in the church hallway this morning after preschool, showing me how she learned to do a somersault.”

Marc. Fiona crossed the outer office toward the men’s chuckles, hungry to see the video of Stella. She stopped herself from barging in and knocked on the door instead.

“Come in,” Pastor Connor said.