A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family: A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family

“I’ve been telling her that the necklace was Sarah’s to give, not Robert’s.” Luke jumped in again, his voice as clear as her mother’s via their high-tech cellular phone. “From the look on Emily’s face, I don’t think she and Belle agree with Sam about staying away from Adam, either.”

“I’m sure Belle wouldn’t,” Sue said, and then added, “Take the necklace with you back to Florida. Don’t leave it in the lockbox at the bank here.”

For all she knew Sam had a key to the lockbox. “Do you have it now?” she asked, as it occurred to her that it might already be too late.

“We do,” Luke said. “We got it yesterday afternoon.”

The appointment with Stan that they’d asked her to join them for. She’d been accepting delivery of William.

She’d had Michael for two days. He’d settled in nicely. But then, he’d been in another foster home since his birth. He was used to commotion.

William, at three days old, was still just acclimating to the world.

“You have to see it, Sue, honey,” Jenny piped up.

Carrie stuck a finger in Sue’s mouth. Sue kissed the little tip. And had a mental flash of a man’s face—staring with longing at his niece. Why couldn’t she just forget the man? “I’ve seen it, Ma.” She forced herself to clear her mind of the man who’d been haunting her. “Every time Grandma wore it.”

“It would help to look at it again, hon,” Luke said. “Help you accept that your grandma is gone.”

“I don’t need help.” Unless they could find a way to get Grandma back to her.

“Sue, love…” Jenny started.

“We’ll bring it when we come for dinner,” Luke finished for her.

Smiling at the baby in her arms, finding solace in the innocent stare she received back, Sue said, “Just bring yourselves. You’ve got a newborn to bathe, Ma.”

Babies. If life stayed about the stream of infants in and out of her life, she could control it. Mostly.

“I sure wish you’d put in for vacation,” Luke said. “Come back to Florida with us for a few weeks. A change of scenery would do you good. This next little while is going to be really hard for you in particular, sweetie. From the day you were born, Grandma was the one person who seemed to be able to reach you—”

“Okay, you guys, really, I’m fine. Can’t we just enjoy our last night together?”

Her parents’ return flight to Florida left first thing in the morning.

And they were as desperate to take care of her as she was to be left alone.

IT WAS SATURDAY, with still no word regarding an emergency hearing to put a stay on whatever adoption procedures were pending for Carrie. Tempted to take a hike to the judge’s chambers to find out if the guy had even seen the paperwork yet, or signed it, or was going to sign it, Rick got control of himself enough to decide against that particular maneuver. The court-house was closed on Saturdays, anyway. It didn’t help that judges’ chambers were off hallways behind locked doors. Unauthorized people were not allowed back there.

How did a guy take care of a situation when he had no idea what was going on? Rick was going quietly crazy.

Which was why, after another basketball game with a couple of strangers hanging out at the court at the park down the street, followed by a jog and a quick run of the vacuum, he dialed the number he’d been told was reconnected. Again.

It actually connected this time.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Ricky?” The voice was needy as always. And filled with hope. As though he was her answer. He’d spent his youth trying to be that answer. She wasn’t getting the rest of his life, too. “Is that really you?”

“Yes. It’s me. I missed you at Christy’s funeral,” he said, hearing the sarcasm in his voice even as he told himself to cool it. “Nice of you to show.”

“You were there, Ricky? I—I talked to everyone…at the church. How could I have missed you?”

Rick studied the neat rows patterned into his newly vacuumed carpet.

“I was at the cemetery. For the burial.” He’d driven to the wrong community church. He’d assumed his sister would be buried in the neighborhood where he’d grown up. Where his mother still lived. Instead, it was at a church across from the funeral home.

“I was there, too…”

“Not to watch your daughter lowered into the ground, you weren’t.” His words were biting. Filled with things she had no way of knowing about. Things that, in part, had nothing to do with her.

“No…we left. They said we had to. They lower the casket after the family leaves.” Her voice broke and Rick tried not to feel a thing. He should be a master at it by now, at least where she was concerned.

“Nice to know I had a sister, Nancy.” Nancy. What kid called his mother by her first name?

He’d been about eight when he’d first asked the question.

You‘re my friend, aren ‘tyou, Ricky? His mother’s eyes had been slits in her face as she’d tried to focus on him.

Yeah. She’d seemed to need a friend. Though he wondered what being a friend to an adult actually entailed.

You see then, all my friends call me Nancy. She’d smiled. And he’d smiled back. And that was what Rick remembered most about that little interlude.

He’d lost a mother that day. But, hey, he’d gained a friend, right?

“I wanted to tell you, Ricky. I wanted Christy to know you. I really did, but…”

The proverbial “but.” His archenemy.

“But what?” He asked now, telling himself to be kind. Somehow. For himself, if not for her. He wasn’t a mean man. And didn’t want to become one.

“I was afraid…”

“Afraid I’d take her from you?”

Her silence was his answer. Both then and now. She wasn’t going to tell him he had a niece, either. Some things didn’t change.

“I know about Carrie, Nancy.” He wasn’t going to spare her, but managed to soften his tone, at least. “I need to know what your plans are.”

“Oh, Ricky, I was going to tell you. As soon as it’s all official.”

As soon as he couldn’t do anything to stop her?

“I’m going to get her, Ricky. My baby’s little girl—” Her voice broke again.

Rick waited. The woman was grieving over her daughter, for chrissake. No one should have to bear that kind of senseless pain.

“I’ve worked so hard. Ever since we found out a baby was coming.” Nancy listed the steps she’d taken. A list he could have recited for her. “Christy’s going to be watching me. And I’m going to make her proud, Ricky. And maybe you, too?”