Child of Mine (21 page)

“Me too,” she said, still reeling from the way things had played out.
Why has telling the truth become so hard?

———

Kelly had long since left, but Jack was still thinking about the strange woman who'd represented herself as a saleswoman and then switched gears, inquiring about flight instruction.

Mick came in a few minutes later. “What was that all about?”

Jack shrugged. “Apparently she wants flight lessons.”

Mick seemed taken aback. “She didn't seem remotely interested in flying.”

Jack grabbed a pen, testing it for ink. “No matter. I doubt we'll ever see her again.” Jack wrote a quick note and began sorting the piles on top of his desk.

Mick hadn't budged. “Say, boss man?”

Jack lifted his eyes, noting the serious expression on his chief flying instructor's face.

“Just in case she comes back . . .”

“Yes?”

“She said she met you at her church.”

Jack tossed his papers together. That
was
strange. She hadn't mentioned a previous meeting.

“And,” Mick continued, obviously noting Jack's baffled reaction, “she already knew Nattie's name before she got here.”

“Her name?”

“Looking at that picture out there.” The CFI thumbed behind him. “I referred to your daughter as Natalie, but
she
referred to her as Nattie.”

Jack considered this, questioning whether Mick was simply mistaken, but Mick nodded again. “Seriously, I know what I said. And I know what
she
said.”

Jack shrugged, and then it came to him.
Of course.
“Now that you mention it, I think I know who she must be.”

“Care to enlighten me?” Mick asked, and Jack did so, after which Mick breathed a sigh of relief. “Whew. I worried for nothing.”

Never a dull moment,
Jack thought, smiling.

The front door chimed again, and Mick went out to deal with another customer while Jack removed his notebook from the drawer, the one he'd been doodling in ever since Laura's revelation and his unwelcome confrontation with San.

He'd begun by jotting notes, ripping them up sometimes, and starting over. Eventually, it became a short little speech, and only recently had it transformed into a kind of rambling love letter. Well, not really a love letter. More like a proposal of sorts. He still wasn't sure whether he would
say
it or let her read it.

We were growing
closer, but something happened to us. I wish we could
return to that. You belong with us, Laura. I'd
like us to consider a more permanent future.

Jack sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, and pondered tearing up the note and starting over again. Either way, it was time to fish or cut bait. He leaned back, taking a breather, and thought again of the woman who'd just left.
Kelly Maines.

Odd,
he thought, tossing his mechanical pencil on the desk. It was quitting time. He crammed a few papers into his top drawer and headed out of the office, eager to see his little girl and put Ms. Maines behind him.

Twenty minutes later, Kelly was driving home, baffled and chagrined with her own behavior. Jack's story had been the perfect opening. Nattie was the topic.

It was probably the most receptive she could have found him. He seemed like a reasonable man. But for some reason, she'd become tongue-tied.

And then there was that ridiculous faux pas in the waiting area.

“Nattie,”
she'd said to Mick.
As
in out loud.

What had possessed her to say the girl's nickname? Mick was a smart man—a marine, after all—and surely he'd told super-parent Jack all about it.

Of course he would,
she thought.
It
's a dangerous world we live in, and bad people
steal other people's kids.

She'd half expected the cops to come squealing down the road, sirens blazing, at any minute.
“There she is, officer. That's the
woman who knew my daughter's name.”

She smiled at her overwrought imagination, but she had no choice. If she wanted to check Nattie off her list, she
had
to go back, one way or another, either to extract Nattie's DNA on the sly, breaking her word to Chet, or by telling Jack the truth. Regardless, she had her work cut out for her.

Thirty minutes later, she got a call from Melody. “We still on for tonight?”

“And I'm bringing my appetite.”

Melody cheered. “So you'll meet us there?”

Kelly confirmed this and hung up, sighing with relief. For the first time, she'd be included in Melody's group for a rare Friday night occurrence of girls' night out, and she couldn't wait. Sure, she'd be the only single girl in the bunch, but who cared? She needed this.

Fun, healthy diversions were on her “get a life” to-do list, and a solid group of Christian women seemed the perfect way to start.

Smiling, she tried to focus on her anticipation for tonight, but her mind wandered back to Jack. They'd shared a rather interesting private moment in his office.

A
nice guy,
she thought.

But she'd seen nice guys turn nasty in a hurry. She'd married one. Besides, nice guy or not, she had a more important task than to worry about Jack's feelings.

I've got
to fix this,
she thought. Before she could move on to another prospect, she needed to first discover the truth about Natalie Livingston.
Bully-
thwarter extraordinaire.

J
ack left his car at home, then walked to the park, hoping to meet up with Laura and Nattie. He found them sitting on the bench, watching the action, a small group of kids unafraid of wet surfaces. It had rained last night, and the park was still damp. Nattie was refining her yo-yo skills, holding her mouth just right, and Laura was back to crocheting.

Laura spotted him first, shielding the sun with her hand, then waving. “We're taking a breather,” she told him when he sat down. She pointed to the umbrella beside her. “Nattie wanted me to bring it so it wouldn't rain again.”

Good plan.
Jack smiled.

Nattie smirked and popped up, tossing her yo-yo into Laura's bag. “That's enough sittin' still for me.”

Jack laughed, watching Nattie launch herself into the fray again, trying to remember if he'd ever had that much energy. Nattie's playground routine was reminiscent of how a bee flits from flower to flower. She'd practically sprint to the swings, and once she was high enough, she'd jump at exactly the correct moment, only to sprint back to the slide and begin again.

Moments later, she came prancing over, planting her hands on his knees. “Did you buy any pixie dust?”

It was a running joke between them—Nattie's desire to fly without wings. He grimaced as if he'd forgotten.

“Wanna teeter-totter with me instead?” Nattie asked. He readily agreed. It took them a moment to find the right leverage for a hundred-and-eighty-pound man to teeter with a sixty-pound nine-year-old, but they experimented until Jack was sitting halfway up on his side.

A few years and she
won't want to hang out with dear ol' Dad
,
he thought.
Strike while the iron is hot.

Afterward, the three of them walked home together, and Nattie came upon a perfectly innocent puddle, a remnant from yesterday's downpour. Before Jack could protest, she beat it into submission, sending spikes of muddy water into the air, splattering her legs and arms and spotting her face. She stood there, paralyzed, shocked by the results, her face frozen with an
oops
expression. “I imagined that differently.”

I should hope so,
Jack thought. He could also imagine what San might have said:
“Now that
you're nine, isn't it about time to put
on your big-girl pants?”—
an expression that annoyed Nattie to no end.

He was encouraged, however, by Nattie's shame. Normally, she was unconcerned with seeming childish; she was that confident.

Laura, apron splattered and shoes speckled, was obviously chagrined, but she forced a helpless
oh well
smile. Jack pulled Nattie into a hug. “I'm all muddy, Dad!” she said. But he kissed her mud-dotted hair anyway, wishing he could have pulled Laura into a group hug. “Now we're the three mudskateers.”

Nattie giggled, and they walked the remaining block to their house. Nattie scampered up the stairs while Laura tossed her apron into the washer and tried to wipe off her tennis shoes with a rag. “You look lost in thought.”

He shrugged.

Laura went to the sink, washing her hands, looking up to Nattie's room. “Nattie, shower time!”

Nattie shouted her answer, muffled behind her bedroom door.

Jack racked his brain, still thinking of the strange woman in his office. Would San have encouraged some potential date to traipse all the way to his shop, only to pose as a saleswoman? It would have been a perfect icebreaker.
“Hi, we met once,
and I know your sister. . . .”

Laura went upstairs to assist Nattie, just in case she had forgotten her physical state of being a child covered in mud.

Moments later, he could hear them in the bedroom, giggling, followed by Laura's instructive voice, “Hold still, sweetie, this won't hurt a bit.” Followed by “Ouch!” and a duet of laughter.

Jack sifted through the
Daily Record,
catching up on the local sports, enjoying the happy sound of Nattie singing at the top of her lungs from the bathroom upstairs while Laura busied herself filling a laundry basket with Nattie's dirty clothes. After a while he dialed San's number, and San answered, sounding less than thrilled to hear from him. “Have you called to apologize?”

Ignoring that, he started right in. “I think one of your potential blind dates showed up at my office.” He described the incident, wondering if she'd admit to it.

“Oh dear,” San said, more sarcastic than normal. “Can you blame me? I've been talkin' you up, dear brother, telling everyone how wonderful you are, lyin' through my pearly whites.”

Jack bit his tongue. He heard a loud squeal and looked up to see Nattie, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, shaking her drenched head over the banister, little droplets falling to the lower level. Laura clutched Nattie's bare shoulders, making sure she didn't shake herself right over the balcony.

“Just a sec,” Jack said to San, covering the receiver.

Humorously exasperated, Laura shook her head. “Getting this girl clean is a real job!”

Laura covered Nattie's head with a second towel, giving it a festive swirl. Nattie squealed again. “Hey, the lights went out!”

Jack got back on the phone. “Sorry—distracted.”

“If you're finished, I'm a little busy,” San said, her words clipped.

“Her name is Kelly,” Jack said.

San went silent for a moment. “I know a
lot
of Kellys,” she finally said, and before Jack could say
Maines,
San muttered good-bye and disconnected her end. Sighing, Jack hung up.
I should have apologized
.

When Nattie was among the dry, they ordered pizza and settled in for an hour of
Tangled
. While it was the first viewing for Laura, Jack had lost count of how many times he'd fallen asleep to this movie. He dozed a bit, then woke up to find Laura weeping softly at the ending, Nattie stroking her arm.

“Once you've seen
Tangled
,” Nattie whispered to Jack, “you're never the same again.”

Of course,
Jack thought. A story about a young woman who finds her true parents.

“Can I grow my hair long?”

“How long is long?”

Nattie pointed to the floor.

Oh boy.

In the days that followed, business at Higher Ground continued at an encouraging clip. In addition to the regular renters who came through, refining their skills and practicing crosswind landings, several folks walked in requesting instrument training. Along with a sudden slew of clients who were eager to earn ratings like Boy Scouts earn merit badges, the last half of summer was beginning to look very busy for Jack's team of flight instructors, most of whom were semiretired and enjoyed both the job and the extra money.

San texted him with the news that she was off to New York for some meetings.
Let me know
when you are ready to apologize
,
she signed off. Truly, he welcomed a break from his meddling sister and decided to wait for a face-to-face opportunity to clear the air. In the meantime, he polished his strange letter to Laura, working through phrases. But the more he worked on it, the less settled he felt.

Surprisingly, Kelly Maines, the mystery woman, showed up again on Wednesday while his ace-in-the-hole greeter, Mick, was still out on a flight.

Confined to his office, Jack was shuffling his paper work, wishing he could just burn the stuff, when the blue-eyed brunette strolled through the glass doors wearing dark jeans, a loose blue-and-white-checked blouse, and sunglasses.

Jack met her at the counter, and she removed her shades. His antennae were up for sure, but he was surprised at how glad he was to see her again.

Kelly smiled. “So. . . what does a lady have to do to punch a hole in the sky?”

Jack laughed, dismissing any frustration he might have had with her unwillingness to actually schedule his time.

“I figured you'd never heard that before,” she said, placing her hands on the counter as if she owned the joint, a glint of ironic humor in her expression.

“Sounds new, coming from you,” he said. “Are you here for that intro flight?”

She shrugged, looking around casually. “Actually . . . now that I'm here, I'm having second thoughts.” She gestured toward the runway. “I just saw a couple planes
barely
land.”

“We could eliminate the usual end to these intro flights.”

She frowned. “Parachuting out of the plane?”

“No, where I let
you
land the plane.”

“You're kidding,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “After an hour lesson?”

“Hour and a half.” Jack smiled. “The extra half an hour makes all the difference.”

He pulled out a questionnaire, plus some paper work required by their insurance, along with a pen. Kelly filled in the blanks, then reviewed the disclaimer. “It doesn't say anything about picking out a headstone, does it?”

Jack covered the bottom part of the document with his hand. “Not anymore.”

Smiling, Kelly continued to read intently, as if worried she might miss a word. He found himself studying her mannerisms, the way she placed the tip of her tongue between her lips as she concentrated, and the way she frowned slightly at the end of each line.

At one point, she looked up and caught him staring at her. “Sorry, but I like to read the details.”

“Feel free,” he said, launching into a basic summary of what the paper work intended to accomplish.

“So the upshot is if anything tragic happens, too bad. It's on me.”

Jack chuckled sheepishly. “Lawyer stuff. I couldn't get insurance if I didn't have the clients sign it.”

“So am I safe, Jack?” she asked, her blue eyes unwavering.

“With me, yes,” he replied.

“Alrighty, then,” she said, and quickly, as if afraid of changing her mind, she grabbed the pen, signed, and dated the forms. “Let's do it.”

Jack grabbed the document and placed it on his desk, but not without catching the address line.
Akron, Ohio
?
She'd driven nearly an hour to take flight lessons in Wooster? When there were dozens of flight options in her own city?

He swallowed his list of growing questions about Ms. Maines, and for the next ten minutes, he went through the basic drill, explaining the fundamentals of flight, the basic terminology, and the rudiments of staying safe. “Never approach the propeller,” he cautioned her.

“Count on it,” she muttered.

From beneath the counter, he rustled up a spare headset with a protruding microphone and handed it to her. She grimaced
affably at the accessory. “So much for that full hour in front of the mirror!”

Jack led her down the hallway to the doorway leading outside, where planes were lined up along the tarmac.

“Which one is ours?” she asked.

He pointed to the one on the end. “The Cessna 172.”

They spent fifteen minutes preflighting the plane, checking the fluid levels, and examining the flight surfaces. When he was finished, he helped her inside, holding her hand, and couldn't help but chuckle. “Just as you'd feared. We're getting into an oversized sardine can.”

Kelly laughed good-naturedly, and Jack climbed in on the other side, pulling the door firmly shut. He showed her how to fasten her seat belt, and for the second time, he saw a trace of fear flash across her face.

“Still good?”

She nodded. “It's different than I'd expected.”

“That's normal,” Jack replied, hoping she didn't feel uncomfortable with their close proximity.

Kelly moved slightly, her knees brushing against his. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Tight quarters,” he murmured.

Jack plugged in his own headphone jack and reached over her lap to install hers, his face inches from hers. Settling back, he glanced at her expression again for any signs of terror. So far, so good.