Mad About You (28 page)

Humiliation bloomed and spread to the ends of her tingling fingers as she carefully extracted her hand from his. She struggled to keep her voice even as she gripped the cloth so hard, water dripped onto her shirt. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Bailey—if our son had not been found, I would have had no reason, and no desire, to see you again." He shrank back from her a few inches, and she felt a bite of satisfaction, a dimension of control returning. "I love my child enough to make the best of this situation, but don't try to turn this into something it's not."

Bailey shrugged. "Okay, I didn't mean to—"

"Yes, you did mean to," she cut in, then held up her hand to bring the subject to a halt. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I called an attorney this morning, Bailey, and we've got a lot to discuss before we land, so let's just get through this, okay?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Sure."

Another flight attendant stopped to take their drink order and Virginia gratefully accepted a glass of ginger ale. She longed for the mild sedative her mother had offered her earlier. Her stomach pitched and rolled with a myriad of emotions she tried to pin down. In only a few hours she'd be face-to-face with her son... her
son.
She worried her bottom lip and dug her fingernails into her palm.

"What things?" he asked, jarring her out of her racing thoughts.

"What?"

He pushed his hair back from his forehead, looking frustrated. "What things do we have to discuss?"

"Oh." She straightened in her seat. "Well... the custody arrangement."

His brow furrowed. "What's to discuss? We'll both have custody—he can stay with me on the weekends."

"Stay with you? You mean on your couch in an apartment above a bar?"

He flushed angrily. "We'll stay at Rita's so he can get to know his cousin."

Virginia had two panicky visions—her son alone with her in a stifling town home, and her son with Bailey's rowdy family on a farm; it didn't take a child psychologist to guess where the boy would prefer to spend time. "I work during the week, I'd like to spend weekends with him too."

"Can't you cut back on your hours?"

Anger flamed through her, but she fought to keep her voice calm. "I arranged for a month of leave, which should take me up to the start of school, but after that I'll be back to working at least forty-five hours a week. Raising a child is expensive, Bailey."

"I'll help," he declared hotly.

She averted her eyes so he couldn't read her doubts. Ever the good-intentioned, Bailey's fault lay in his follow-through. His idea of savings used to be buying old cars, hoping they'd appreciate in value. He'd let her down before in a big way—she wasn't about to sacrifice a portion of her income on the basis of a verbal promise. "I'm not cutting my hours. He can stay with you at Rita's every other weekend."

"Wait a minute!"
P
assengers around them turned to stare.
He
leaned toward her and lowered his voice, his eyes still flashing. "Four or five days a month isn't enough. He's my son too, and I want to get to know him just as much as you do."

"Well," she said coolly, "we seem to be at an impasse."

His eyes narrowed, then his face relaxed as if a solution had occurred to him. "Not necessarily."

She angled her head toward him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"In the beginning we can both spend time with
him...
we can all do things together."

Virginia frowned, wary.

"It's only fair to Bailey, Jr.," he asserted, "that he get to know both of us. We both want to spend time with him, and we can't split him down the middle." He flashed her a charming smile. "You can't convince me you've grown
that
tough, Ginny."

Her stomach contracted at his reminder that he used to know her well, that he used to know her intimately. "What about holidays and school vacations?"

He shrugged. "We'll work it out when the time comes."

"I think we need to get this down on paper," she insisted.

"Ginny, for God's sake, you make this sound like some kind of business deal. You used to be easygoing and spontaneous—now you want every detail planned out. What's happened to you?"

His words stung, but she wasn't about to let him know. "What happened to me? I grew up, Bailey, which is something you might think about doing someday. Living life shooting from the hip is amusing for a man in his twenties, but not very flattering for a man in his thirties."

As she watched raw emotion play across his handsome face, Virginia almost felt sorry for her ex-husband. But she knew him, and knew that he had to be forced to face the truth. It was too late for them, but he needed to extend himself beyond his hedonistic lifestyle for their son.

Bailey dropped his eyes and swished a stirrer in the whiskey sour he cradled in one hand. "I guess I deserve that," he said, his voice resigned. Then he set his drink down and twisted in his seat to face her. "But, Ginny, you have to believe me when I say I'm going to settle down and be a good father to Bailey, Jr. I want to be there for him." He gave her a sad smile. "I want to be there for you too, but I understand how you feel about me."

Her stomach pivoted again, but this time it had nothing to do with the altitude or her anxiety over meeting her son.

"Could you put up with me being around long enough to allow our son to adjust?"

Warning bells screamed in Virginia's head. Spending time with Bailey sounded too much like playing house. He might charm her into letting her guard down long enough for him to get his hooks into her heart again.

"Only," she said in a threatening tone, "if you give me your word we can be adult about this and keep things on a strictly platonic level."

He laid a hand over his heart. "I give you my word."

But Virginia's chest tightened in dreaded premonition. When had Bailey Kallihan
ever
lived up to his word?

* * *

As soon as he stepped into the gate area, Bailey spotted a small but conspicuous group of police officers and other official-looking people. Detective Lance took the lead, first introducing himself to a fellow officer, then presenting Virginia, Bailey, and her parents.

A kindly gentleman in a maroon jacket clasped Ginny's hand warmly, his eyes shining. "I'm Kendall Maybry, from the children's services bureau. It's a real
pleasure, Mrs. Kallihan," he said. The title sent a tiny shock wave through Bailey, and he was remotely pleased that Ginny didn't correct the error.

After a few minutes of awkward pleasantries, Bailey asked, "Mr. Maybry, where is our son?" He knew he was probably breaking protocol, but he wasn't sure if protocol existed for such a situation.

"He's been living at a children's shelter since the death of his mo—" The man broke off, embarrassed, and offered Ginny an apologetic smile. "I mean, since the death of the woman who... took care of him. This is Ms. Andrews—she's been counseling Chad through this ordeal."

"Chad?" he and Ginny asked in unison.

"The boy goes by the name Chad Green," Ms. Andrews said, shaking their hands in turn.

The news hit Bailey like a knee to his stomach. Of course the woman who'd kidnapped him hadn't known the child's real name, and wouldn't have used it if she had. The one link he had with his son had been stripped away.

"Are you the one who told him about us, Ms. Andrews?" Ginny asked, gripping her purse tighter and tighter. Bailey's heart constricted at her pinched, expectant expression.

"Yes."

"What was his reaction?"

Ms. Andrews hesitated only a few seconds, but long enough for dread to wash over
Bailey. "Well...
as you can imagine, it was quite a shock for him, but we can talk about it on the way to the shelter. Shall we?" She swept her arm toward an exit, and the group moved forward as a unit.

Minutes later Bailey helped Ginny climb into a minivan with Mr. Maybry, Ms. Andrews, and Ginny's parents. He settled into the space beside Ginny, experiencing a twinge of pleasure at the sensation of her leg pressed against the length of his. Seeking diversion from the sudden rush, he blurted out, "Tell us what's going on with our son. Is he okay?"

The counselor turned in her seat to face them. "Physically, he's fine, just an ordinary, healthy eight-year-old."

Bailey felt a small amount of relief.

"But," the woman continued, "he's understandably upset about leaving the area he grew up in to live with parents who are strangers to him."

"The woman who"—Ginny swallowed audibly—"who took our son—Detective Lance told me she didn't mistreat him. Is that true?"

The woman smiled encouragingly. "As far as we know, yes. Neighbors say that Lois Green was a person who sometimes acted a little strange, but was very protective where Chad was concerned."

Bailey bit the end of his tongue. It wasn't fair to Ginny that another woman had been allowed to be protective of their child. But considering all the alternatives their son could have been exposed to, it wasn't the worst scenario by far.

"There was no father figure in the home, and I gather from my sessions with Chad that he grew up quickly, and assumed the role of caretaker when Lois became ill."

"How did she die?" Bailey asked.

"Cancer," Ms. Andrews replied.

"Was she—" Ginny hesitated, and he saw her clench her hand into a fist. "Was she a decent sort of person?"

The counselor nodded. "Lois Green held a secretarial position and rented a small apartment. It wasn't in the best part of town, but she made certain Chad went to school, and you'll be glad to know he's a good student."

"What grade?" It sounded like a stupid question, but Bailey had no time for pretenses.

"Fourth. I understand you have no other children, Mr. and Mrs. Kallihan?"

Bailey squirmed, and Ginny's cheeks flushed dark pink before she said, "Actually, Ms. Andrews, we're no longer married. I go by the name of Catron."

Mild surprise registered on the woman's face. "Oh? Which family will Chad be living with?"

Bailey coughed. "Neither one of us have a family."

"We're both single," Ginny clarified, "and Ch-Chad will be living with me."

"I see," Ms. Andrews said slowly. "Well, for Chad's sake, I'm sorry you're not living together, but I guess this is the next most desirable situation, if you're both agreeable to the living arrangements." She glanced at Bailey.

"We've reached a compromise." He met Ginny's gaze, and felt a stab of determination to breach the wall she'd erected.

The counselor nodded, then explained they were forty minutes away from the home where they would meet Chad after they signed the necessary papers.

He felt Ginny stir beside him before she asked, "What does he look like?" He glanced at her, but had to look away when he saw the tears gathered in her eyes.

Ms. Andrews smiled. "He's a fine-looking boy. I'm sure you will be very pleased."

The forty minutes crept by. No one spoke, as if conceding that words could not prepare them for what lay ahead. Bailey alternately concentrated on the traffic outside and the tightening and loosening of Ginny's iron grip on her purse. Unable to help himself, he reached over to close his hand over her white-knuckled one, but he didn't look at her for fear she'd pull away. She didn't, and he welcomed her warm skin against his to calm his own jumping nerves.

At last they pulled into the shelter's crowded parking lot. Bailey squinted at the gathering of people and equipment just outside the entrance. "What's going on?"

Mr. Maybry banged his fist on the steering wheel and Ms. Andrews shook her head angrily. "Reporters," she said. "Someone must have leaked the story to the press."

He heard and felt Ginny's sharp inhale, and felt a surge of protectiveness. "Damn. Is there a back entrance?"

"Too late," Mr. Maybry said as the crowd turned and ran toward their van, microphones held high and cameras rolling.

Detective Lance and another police officer were on their feet before the van rolled to a stop. "Follow us," he instructed.

Bailey clasped Ginny's hand and held on, even when she started to pull away. "Stay close to me," he murmured. The din of the crowd exploded around them when the van door opened. A dozen microphones were thrust into their faces and camera flashes blinded them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kallihan, what are your feelings as you prepare to meet your son for the first time in eight years?"

"Do you know anything about him?"

"What if he doesn't want to live with you?"

"Will you give us a statement before you leave?"

The police officers cleared a path, with Mr. Maybry and Ms. Andrews offering protection from behind. Bailey focused on the home's entrance, his strength growing each time Ginny leaned into him. Finally they reached the steps, the sounds and voices receding behind them as they ascended to safety.

The door closed behind them. Bailey looked around, forcing his eyes to adjust to the dimness, expecting to see his son in any corner of the room. His heart pounded in anticipation.

"I'm terribly sorry about that," Ms. Andrews said. "I guess it was bound to capture the media's attention. It's quite a fantastic story—we've never heard of a reunion like this one."

Bailey had already dismissed the commotion. "Where's my son?"

Mr. Maybry stepped forward. "If you could give us just a few more minutes to sign the necessary paperwork to release Chad into your custody—"

"Show me the papers," he demanded.

At a signal from Mr. Maybry, a secretary scurried out of the room, then returned with a handful of documents.

"Now, Mr. and Mrs.—I mean, Mr. Kallihan and Ms. Catron, if you will—"

Bailey snatched the pen. "Where do I sign?"

The man abandoned whatever rules he'd been prepared to defend, and simply pointed to a blank line on each paper, where Bailey hastily scrawled his name, then handed the pen to Ginny. She hesitated only a second or two before following suit. Bailey suspected it was the first time she'd signed anything with such abandon since their divorce papers.