On Mother's Day (Great Expectations #1) Page 2

  Cassie stood suddenly and Juliet jerked away from her and away from Fiona. She was free! With a burst of strength, the bird turned and half flew toward Romeo. As Fiona watched, the swans swam away from the shore, their bodies rubbing and their necks intertwined.

  “Look at this stupid junk,” Cassie fumed, waving the plastic ringed strip in the air as she went back to the shore. “People who throw this stuff in the lake ought to be hung by their necks with it.”

  Fiona walked slowly back, glancing over her shoulder at the swans. Their joy at being together again touched her, made her eyes tear. Love was worth any price.

  “Come on,” she said, as she climbed out of the water and took Samantha’s hand. “We’ll go back to camp around past the nurse’s office. We can say we went there with you.”

  How they’d explain the fact that the three of them were soaking wet, she didn’t know. But for once, she wasn’t trying to think up explanations just in case they were needed. The three of them walked along the shore, and were just about to start up through the trees when an old woman came toward them.

  “I saw what you did,” she said to them.

  Fiona grabbed Cassie’s and Samantha’s hands and pulled them close. She’d known they would get caught; she wasn’t any better at being a criminal than she was at kickball. The woman looked too old to be a counselor, but she was probably going to tell on them.

  Fiona took a step forward although her heart had climbed into her throat. Mommy had told her to take care of Cassie and Sam and she would. “It was my fault,” she said. “I’m the oldest and I should have known better.”

  “Boy, Fi-”

  But the old woman’s laughter cut Cassie’s words off. “The gods will smile on you,” the old woman said. “You fought so love might live. Someday, the spirits will return to fight for your love.”

  As Fiona stared at her, the woman turned and disappeared among the tall weeds. Spirits fighting for her love? That sounded about as likely as making a home run in kickball.

  Chapter One

  “I’ll pick you up in a half hour,” Samantha said. “We’ll go to the drugstore, then the bakery. After that we’ll go back to your place and—”

  “And everyone’ll jump out at me and yell, ‘Surprise!’” Fiona closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, mashing the phone up against her ear. “I really don’t want to do this,” she said. “I hate these birthday parties.”

  Fiona could feel her sister’s hurt feelings vibrating over the phone lines. “Look,” she said wearily. “It’s not like it’s a surprise. Why can’t we do it tomorrow night? I’m beat. Fourth-graders are exhausting the day before spring break.”

  “Come on, Fiona. Be a good sport. Today’s your birthday and you know Dad. With Mom gone, he already thinks he’s the only one who cares about the family traditions.”

  Fiona never ceased to be amazed at how easy the words “Mom” and “Dad” rolled off her sister’s tongue. The Scotts had adopted the three of them almost twenty years ago. They were wonderful people and Fiona loved them dearly, but at ten it had been a little hard to put aside memories of her biological parents.

  It probably had been easier on Samantha; she’d only been six when they’d come to live with the Scotts. Although she’d always been more adaptable than either Fiona or Cassie. Maybe that came with being the baby of the family. Fiona and Cassie had always taken care of her and that hadn’t changed once they’d been adopted. In fact, Sam had just gained three more siblings to care for her; Fiona and Cassie had gained extra sparring partners.

  “You don’t have to go shopping if you don’t want to,” Sam said. “But you’re getting out of your apartment so it can be fixed up for your party. I don’t care if I have to tie you up and drag you around like a sack of potatoes.”

  “Oh, all right,” Fiona replied. “It’s not like I have anything else in my life.” She straightened up from the wall, wondering if she had time for a shower.

  “Sounds like you’re deep into the big three-O blues.”

  “My kids have more exciting lives than I have,” Fiona grumbled.

  “Yeah,” Sam said. “I hear those fourth-graders can be pretty wild.”

  “More than I’ve ever been. Or ever will be.” Except for that one night eleven years ago.

  “I agree with the been part,” Sam said. “But that doesn’t mean you have stay that way the rest of your life.”

  But she’d learned her lesson. “Oh, Sam. I wear sensible shoes. And I like them.”

  “Will you cheer up if I promise you two pieces of cake?” Sam said.

  Fiona gave in to Sam’s pleading with a laugh. “Sure.”

  Sam had always been the one who wanted everybody to be happy. Cassie was the one you called on if you needed some muscle. And what was she? Fiona asked herself.

  The one who watched to see that the rules were all fol lowed. The boring one. The unexciting one. The one with no life. Her students truly did have more exciting lives.

  Fiona sighed. It had been her choice, after all. “We were cleaning up the classroom this afternoon and I found this questionnaire that the girls had worked up. They were voting on who was the sexiest boy in the class.”

  “And who won?”

  Fiona couldn’t help laughing. “For heaven’s sake, Sam, why should you care? We’re talking about fourth-grade boys.”

  “Hey, they have older brothers, cousins, uncles, whatever.”

  Fiona just sighed again.

  “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy, Fiona,” Sam said. “One never knows where her prince will come from.”

  Before Fiona could reply, her front-door buzzer sounded.

  “Like through your front door,” Sam said.

  “Yeah, right,” Fiona replied. “That’s about as likely to be my prince as me—”

  “Making a home run in kickball,” Sam finished for her. “We know. We’ve all heard it a million times.”

  The buzzer sounded again, this time more impatiently. “Well, it’s true,” Fiona said. “That’s either going to be the paperboy or Mr. Kaminsky from upstairs. Both nice people, but neither a prince.”

  “Fiona, you gotta believe.”

  The buzzer grew even more impatient, sounding almost continuously. “Mr. Kaminsky,” Fiona decreed. “No one else expects me to be there immediately.”

  “Well, I’ll let you go. See you in a half hour. Remember not to have dinner,” Sam said.

  The dial tone joined the buzzing of Fiona’s doorbell. Shaking her head, she hung up and hurried to the door. “I’m coming,” she shouted as she unlocked the door. “Hold your horses.”

  She was all set to give Mr. Kaminsky a scolding, but instead of looking into her short, squat neighbor’s faded blue eyes, Fiona found herself looking at gray dolphins leaping about on a red tie. Her eyes crept up until they were looking into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, eyes with merry little lights dancing in their shadows.

  “I don’t have any horses,” he said. “But I’d be glad to hold you.”

  Fiona felt the warmth crawl up her neck and into her cheeks and ears. Men didn’t look at her the way this man was looking. She wasn’t the chubby little girl she used to be, but no one would mistake her for a skinny little waiflike model, either..

  “What is it you wish?” she asked, summoning up her best no-nonsense teacher’s tone.

  “Fiona Scott?”

  She just stared at him. There was no reason to give a stranger information.

  “I’m Alex Rhinehart.” He flashed an official-looking ID that said he was a private detective from Chicago. “We need to talk. May I come in, please?”

  “We can talk out here,” Fiona replied, implying that any funny business on his part and she’d bring down a passel of neighbors on his head. She watched as he took a moment to check the area around him.

  “It’s about your daughter,” he said quietly.

  In the blink of an eye the warmth in Fiona’s face was replaced by a painful cold in her hea
rt. Her daughter! For a moment, Fiona thought she was going to faint. There was no air to breathe, or strength in her body to pull it in. But then she steadied herself against the doorframe and looked into the private detective’s eyes. They were no longer laughing.

  “What do you want?” she whispered.

  He looked around again, at the still-empty entryway and porch. “I’d really rather talk inside.”

  “I was told the records would be sealed forever.”

  “Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “The courts use old-fashioned wax seals. You know the kind. They break real easy.”

  Fiona continued staring at him. It had been a baby girl. The result of that one night of excitement eleven years ago. Fiona had given her up to a better life and then had buried the secret deep in her heart.

  “I don’t think this is anything to joke about.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Scott.” He looked around again. “But I’d really prefer to discuss my business inside. Please.”

  Moving as if in a dream, Fiona stepped back from the door. The detective came in, closed the door softly behind him and walked straight into her living room. He sat down in the recliner by the front window. Forcing her leaden feet to move, she followed him.

  “What do you want?” Fiona suddenly felt so frightened. Was this some sort of blackmail attempt? It took every bit of strength she could muster to speak. “Why are you here?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said. “Why don’t you sit down?”

  “I don’t have long. I… I have things to do.”

  “Sit down, please.” His face was stern; his voice was firm.

  And she had no strength to resist. Fiona sat down.

  “Ten years ago on July 16, in Los Angeles, you gave birth to a daughter at County-USC, correct?”

  The day came back to surround her. The pain of labor was nothing compared to the pain of holding that tiny life in her arms, knowing that she’d never see her again.

  “Miss Scott?”

  Fiona nodded, unable to say anything.

  “Well, your birth child needs your help.”

  Fiona could feel her heart stop. “Oh, God.” She could barely push out the words. “What’s wrong?”

  “She has leukernia,” the detective replied.

  The whole world froze in horror. “Oh, no.” It had to be some sick joke, this whole thing.

  “Her parents commissioned me to find you. They’re hoping that you could be a donor.”

  But Fiona barely heard him. “Leukemia?” She shook her head. “But I was so careful. I didn’t smoke or drink or even take aspirin.”

  “No one’s blaming you,” Alex said. “I don’t think the doctors have any idea what caused it. Right now, they’re just looking for a donor.”

  Fiona looked up at him, his words starting to make some sort of sense. “They think I might be one?”

  “Siblings are the first choice.”

  He looked around the living room, obviously looking for signs of other children, but Fiona knew all he saw was the sterile decor. He must think she was some boring, stuffy old maid. Her two cats were both sleeping in the bedroom and out of sight, but they’d only add to the image. As would the quilted pillows on the sofa, even though she’d researched the patterns and made them herself. She doubted he’d care that she’d refinished that desk herself or that she’d read all the books on the shelves around the television.

  His eyes came back to hers. “I take it that you and the child’s father had no other children.”

  She shook her head. “No.” That would have been hard since she’d only seen the jerk once after becoming pregnant. He’d denied knowing her then, denied having met her at that frat party and denied being the one to coax her to stay when she’d been about to flee back to her dorm.

  Alex nodded. “From what the doctors told me, the matching process is complex and a sibling with the same parents would have the best chance of being a good match, but any blood relative is a possibility.”

  “I see. Well, of course, I’m willing. What do I do?”

  “Submit to a blood test. If you don’t match, the parents would like to test other relatives of yours, and the child’s father.”

  Fiona’s senses froze slightly. She couldn’t care less about disrupting the father’s life, although she wasn’t at all sure she could give this detective enough information to find him. She’d been a stupid, lonely college freshman who’d drunk too many California Sunshines. All she’d wanted to hear was how special she was, not his last name or hometown or even his major.

  Telling her family would be the real agony. Years ago, she’d wanted to spare them the hurt and disappointment, so she hadn’t told them about the child. But she would break her silence, and in a second, if need be.

  “So where do we go from here?” she asked.

  “Chicago.”

  Fiona blinked at him. “Right now?” She wasn’t good at impromptu, improvisational kinds of things. She liked to plan things out, then follow the plan. Especially when it came to something new.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. No, not at all.” Fiona stood. She’d need to have someone come in to care for the cats, and take in her mail. “I guess I should pack a few things.”

  “Oh, Miss Scott.”

  Fiona paused and turned to face him, noticing that a shadow had filled his eyes.

  “It’s the parents’ wish that this be treated as if you were an anonymous donor.”

  She stared at him as sudden pain jabbed at her heart. Then she looked away. What the heck? Anonymous mother, anonymous donor. She did anonymous real good. It was one of her better features.

  After a quick nod, she turned toward her bedroom, but before she’d taken a step, her front-door buzzer sounded. Now who—?

  Samantha.

  “Oh, Lordy. I forgot.” Fiona turned toward Alex. “My family’s throwing a surprise party for my birthday. Here. In about an hour.”

  Alex watched as Fiona opened the door and a short, bubbly woman bounced inside. The family resemblance to Fiona was strong but the younger woman lacked the quiet maturity that made Fiona seem so easy to be around. And she wouldn’t have made nearly as comfortable a handful.

  Alex pushed the thought away sharply. Where had those thoughts come from? Fiona was just somebody his client wanted found. He’d made some calls, pulled some strings and told this kid’s story to a file clerk at the hospital. It had worked; he’d found Fiona. End of story.

  “Uh, Sam—” Fiona was talking to the young woman.

  But the woman spotted Alex and her face lit up. “Well, hello there,” she said. “You’re not the sexiest boy in fourth grade, are you?”

  “Huh?” It was not his most clever response, but it wasn’t a question he’d been asked before.

  “I mean, you’d have my vote, but you do look a little big.”

  “Mr. Rhinehart.” Fiona took the young woman’s arm firmly. “This is my sister Samantha. Sam, this is Alex Rhinehart.”

  “Hello, again,” Sam said, shaking his hand firmly. Her eyes kept dancing back and forth between himself and Fiona and it was obvious she was dying of curiosity.

  “Mr. Rhinehart is from Chicago,” Fiona said.

  “Oh, how nice.”

  “He’s…ah…” Fiona looked at him and Alex reached into his pocket for his ID. “He’s with a hospital in Chicago,” she quickly finished.

  Alex paused, his hand still in his pocket.

  “I thought I told you.” Fiona was concentrating on Samantha and seemed to be avoiding Alex’s eyes. “Months ago I signed up as a volunteer bone-marrow donor. And I might be a match for a young child in Chicago.” She glanced quickly at Alex, then looked away again. “And that’s why Mr. Rhinehart is here.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, Fiona,” Sam said.

  Alex let his hand slip out of his pocket. Okay. So Fiona had never told her sister about that little baby in L.A. Oh, well. It was her choice. No big deal. Sympathy tweaked his heart momen
tarily at the flicker of fear in her eyes, and that concerned him more than her obvious hedging. He never got involved. Never.

  “Does this change our plans?” Sam asked her sister. “Is the party still on?”

  Fiona looked over at Alex. He shrugged; he could come back later. “A few hours more won’t matter. They wouldn’t run the tests tonight anyway.”

  “Great,” Sam said as she moved over to Alex’s side. “Drive Fiona around the block for a while, will you?”

  He stopped. This wasn’t what he had planned. He looked quizzically at Fiona.

  “It’s so they can set up for my surprise party,” she explained.

  “How can it be a surprise if you know about it?”

  “It’s a family thing,” Sam replied, as she pushed them out the door.

  The next thing Alex knew, he and Fiona were standing outside the door of her small apartment building. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do or say. He couldn’t exactly leave her on the doorstep, but he was definitely not into birthday parties.

  “My car’s the green Ford down the block,” he said as he led her down to it.

  She frowned at him as he unlocked the door. “This is a Mercury. Don’t you know what kind of car you own?”

  “Actually, this isn’t my car,” he said. “I’ve got a friend who owns a used-car lot and when I need a car, I just rent one from him.”

  “Isn’t that inconvenient?”

  “Not really.” He opened her door. She got in, reaching over to unlock his door. “You don’t need a car in the city. There’re a lot of stores within walking distance of my apartment and I can take a cab or a bus most other places. So it saves me the trouble of parking and insurance.”

  “But you never know what you’re going to get,” she told him.

  “No, I get just what I need. It’s a hell of a lot better than picking one kind of car and thinking it’s going to be exactly what I need for the next five years.”

  He started up the motor. A car was unloading just as they pulled away from the curb, its occupants waving wildly to Fiona. She waved back, but halfheartedly at best. She didn’t appear to be too enthused about this party business. Maybe it was just the news about her kid, or maybe she just wasn’t crazy about parties.