Still the One (6 page)

“I didn’t want my baby growing up like I did. I wanted her to have a real home. A minister at a local church referred me to
a place in Wichita where I could live and take classes, and they said they’d make sure my baby was adopted by good parents.”
She stared out the passenger window. “Putting her up for adoption was the hardest thing I ever did, but I thought…” Her voice
broke. “I really thought it was for the best.”

A tear dribbled from the corner of her eye. His throat grew tight as she wiped it away. “From everything I’ve heard, Gracie
had a great home. She adored her parents.”

“They died last year?”

“Actually, sixteen months ago. In a car accident.”

“Oh, the poor girl.”

“Yeah. Her aunt said it really hit her hard.”

“Well, of course it would!”

“After Gracie moved to Pittsburgh to live with her aunt, she really went off the rails. She started cutting class and sneaking
out at night and drinking and just generally acting out.”

Katie turned her eyes to him. “You met the aunt?”

Zack nodded. “She flew out to Dallas. She’d had the police looking everywhere for Gracie.

“What’s she like? The aunt, I mean.”

“She means well, but she’s pretty clueless about how to deal with a teenager.”

“Gracie called her a nazi.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but she does seem to subscribe to the rule-with-an-iron-hand philosophy, which didn’t go over too
well with Gracie.” Zack watched the oak leaf slide down the windshield, pushed by a rivulet of water. “When Gracie ended up
pregnant, well, the aunt just didn’t know how to deal.”

“Poor kid.”

“Poor aunt.” He gave a rueful smile. “Gracie’s a handful.” He stared back out at the rain. “Gracie had a scheme all worked
out. She wanted me to get custody of her, have her declared an emancipated minor, and give her a big wad of cash.”

“She’s too young to be on her own.”

“She’s too young to be a mother. She’s just seventeen.” Which was the same age Katie had been when she’d had Gracie. The realization
made him swallow.

“She sounded pretty adamant about not wanting to give up her baby.”

“Yeah. But she’s going to need some help caring for it.” Zack turned to her. “She’s going to need a mother.”

The rain softened. So did Katie’s eyes. “The baby, or Gracie?”

“Both.”

She worried her bottom lip. “She didn’t sound like she wanted anything to do with me.”

“We can change that.”

“We?”

“Yeah. The aunt will give us joint custody of Gracie.”

Katie stared at him. “I can’t believe you made all these arrangements without even talking to me.”

“It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have over the phone. And I couldn’t leave Gracie by herself while I came down here to
talk to you.”
Besides, I had to see you.
He squelched the words before they came out of his mouth. When he’d set out on this course of action, he’d promised himself
that he wouldn’t say anything or do anything that could be misinterpreted. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her again.
“It just seemed more expedient.”

“You must have been awfully sure of my answer if you bought a house before you even got here.”

“I was pretty sure the girl who wrote that letter wouldn’t turn away her own daughter.”

Katie dropped her gaze, but not before her eyes verified that he was right. “So how do you envision this working?”

“I’ll temporarily work out of Chartreuse. My job involves some travel, but I’ll try to schedule things for your convenience.
She’ll live half the time with you, the other half with me.”

“How long do you see this arrrangement lasting?”

“Until she has the baby and turns eighteen.”

“And afterward?”

He lifted his shoulders. “We’ll see how things go and what she wants to do. Hopefully you two will have bonded by then, and
you can figure out where you want to take things from there.”

“Why are you doing this?”

The question made him freeze. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you never wanted any attachments or strings or commitment. You could have just sent Gracie back home with her aunt.”

I had to give you a chance to get to know your daughter.
But Zack couldn’t tell Katie that. If he did, she’d think there was more to him than met the eye. She’d think he was sensitive
and caring, and she’d probably end up getting hurt all over again.

“No, I couldn’t. You’ve met Gracie. She’s like a force of nature.”

“But you never wanted children. Or any kind of commitment, for that matter.”

“I believe in doing the honorable thing.” Actually, he believed in being the exact opposite of his own father, who had been
a liar and a cheater and who’d never shown the slightest interest in him as a child. “How about you? Are you in?”

“Of course I’m in! You already knew it would never be a question.”

He did. But it was good to hear it, all the same.

She stared out at the rain. “I hope Gracie will warm up to me.”

Zack studied Katie’s profile, taking in her small straight nose and the freckles dusted over it, and felt an old tenderness
waft through him. He steeled himself against it. Getting close to her would just end badly, like before. She was a vine-covered-cottage,
white-picket-fence kind of girl, and he didn’t believe in happily-ever-afters. From what he’d seen, the phrase “I love you”
was just a manipulative tool, a way to get someone to do something for you. Love was nothing more than a gussied-up word for
lust. It didn’t last. Attraction faded and degenerated into insecurities and bickering. Romance happened, fell apart, and
dissolved.

Love was like heaven—if it really existed, it wasn’t for people like him. He didn’t even believe in it. But Katie did, and
he hoped she could find it with Gracie.

“Of course she will,” he told her.

After all, who could help but warm up to Katie?

The balding man at the front of the bookstore peered over the wire-rimmed reading glasses low on his nose when Gracie stepped
inside. “Can I help you find anything?”

“No. I just want to look around.”

Gracie made her way down the narrow aisle of bookshelves, her stomach churning, her thoughts spinning about the woman she’d
just left in the café. So that was her birth mom—her B.M. Appropriate initials, Gracie thought dourly, considering the shitty
way Katie had discarded her.

That letter made it sound like Katie had loved her and cared about her, but Gracie didn’t believe it. Katie had probably written
it to relieve her own conscience. Well, Gracie wasn’t buying it. She’d spent a lifetime wondering why her B.M. had given her
up, and one tearjerker of an I’m-so-noble, I’m-giving-you-away-for-your-own-good letter wasn’t going to make everything all
right. She’d spent too many years thinking she was somehow secretly flawed, that something about her just wasn’t good enough.

Her mom—her real mom—had told her that being adopted meant she was special—that she was chosen and wanted and prayed for and
loved more than other kids. Gracie had never really bought that bull, either. It was just a bunch of empty words meant to
make her feel less pathetic. What she really believed, deep down, was that she was unlovable. Why else would her birth mother
give her away?

The rejection had always gnawed at her. Whenever Gracie asked her parents why her bio mom hadn’t kept her, her real mom’s
mouth would get all pinched and tight, and she’d say something like, “I don’t know. There’s certainly no way under heaven
that
I
could ever give you away. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my daughter, and that other woman was just a vessel.”

Gracie had spent an awful lot of time thinking about her vessel—wondering what she looked like, what she did, if she had any
other kids. After her real parents had died, though, her curiosity had made her feel ashamed. Wondering about her birth parents—especially
her B.M.—seemed like a betrayal or something.

Well, one thing was for certain: She wasn’t going to get all close and friendly with Katie. How could she cozy up to someone
who’d basically said, “I don’t want you in my life”? She intended to treat her with the contempt she deserved.

Meeting her had been weird—beyond weird. Gracie had been unprepared for how much they looked alike. Looking at Katie had kinda
been like looking at an older version of herself. They had the same widow’s peak and small chin, the same tipped-up nose,
the same wide mouth.

The thought made her lips press together hard. Yeah, well, she couldn’t help it if she looked like her B.M., but she damn
sure wasn’t going to be anything like her otherwise. Gracie would never make the choices Katie had made. She’d never willingly
live in a podunk town, she’d never have a lame-ass career like running a beauty salon, and, most important, she’d never give
away a baby like old clothes to the Salvation Army. Gracie was more like her real mother—the mother who had chosen her and
wanted her and loved her and cared for her.

Tears stung the insides of her eyelids as the image of her mother’s face, round and smiling, filled her mind. Her father’s
face floated into the picture beside her, his dark eyes twinkling like they used to when he teased her. Why hadn’t she told
Mom and Dad how much they meant to her when she’d had the chance? That was the thing about death—there were no more second
chances. It was final, permanent, forever. Whatever she’d said or hadn’t said, done or hadn’t done, that was the way things
were from now on.

Come to think of it, that was how life pretty much worked, too. No taking things back once they were done. Like having this
baby.

Gracie blinked back her tears and realized the man behind the bookstore counter was watching her. She drew her purse protectively
over her stomach and ducked down another aisle. Ever since she’d started showing, people stared at her. Some of them got all
prune-faced, as if they had a right to judge her. Some acted as if her big belly were public property and reached out to touch
it. Just about everyone seemed to think it entitled them to ask personal questions like,
When is the baby due?
and
How old are you?

Her purse did a pretty good job of hiding things. She didn’t have much stuff in it—just some orange Tic Tacs, a black eyeliner
pencil, a tube of ChapStick, and a grand total of about ten dollars, tops, counting the change. The value of the bag was purely
sentimental.

Her mother—her
real
mother—had macraméd the bag for her.

Gracie felt the old familiar lump rise in her throat, the lump that had lurked there in varying sizes ever since she’d been
called to the principal’s office, where a police officer, her mom’s best friend, and the school counselor had dropped the
bomb.

The lump was getting big now, big enough to clog her throat, big and hot and coated with guilt.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” the man called out.

She swallowed down the lump so she could speak. “Do you have any comic books?”

“No, but we have some of those graphic novels. They’re all the way in the back on the right, at the end of the aisle.”

Gracie headed that direction and found a selection of books with manga covers. She picked up one showing a big-eyed girl in
a short skirt kicking serious ass with high-heeled, thigh-high boots. She’d just started reading it when the front door creaked
open. Gracie peered around the corner and saw Katie and Zack walk in. Her stomach tightened, and she ducked back where she
could watch them without being seen herself.

The older man beamed at Katie, gave her a warm hug, and kissed her cheek. “Hi there, sweetie! Great to see you.”

Katie hugged him back. “You, too, Dave.”

A moment of silence beat between them as the man looked at Zack, apparently expecting an introduction. “Dave, this is Zack
Ferguson. Zack, this is my father-in-law, Dave Charmaine.”

Father-in-law? Oh, this must be the dad of that dude she’d married—the Marine who’d died in Iraq. She’d read about it on Google.
Gracie watched Zack and the older man shake hands, while Katie stood awkwardly beside them. Silence circled in the air like
a buzzard.

“Are you okay, Katie?” Dave asked. “You look kind of pale.”

“I’m—I’m fine. It’s just… well, actually, Dave, I’ve just had some startling news.”

“Oh?”

She bobbed her head. “It would probably be better if you and I sat down and talked about it in private later.”

Gracie’s lips pressed together.
Yeah, right. Break the bad news to him easy.
What was it about her very existence that made people need to sit down and reach for the smelling salts, like something out
of a bad Jane Austen movie? Apparently Dave didn’t know what kind of a coldhearted bitch his son had married.

“Well… okay.” The old man looked at Zack curiously, as if he was trying to size up the situation, then turned back to Katie.
“Brad is taking a coffee break. When he comes back, maybe you and I can go for a walk.”

Momzilla looked like she was about to puke. “Sure.”