Tell Me a Story (13 page)

❧

John Williams's music blared out the finale as Princess Leah, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker and their assorted furry and metallic companions accepted the accolades of the rebel forces. Flynn stared at the screen over Becky's shoulder, wishing that George Lucas could arrange for real life to work out as neatly as it did in the movies. He picked up the remote control and shut the television off as the credits began to roll.

"I love Star Wars. When I grow up, I want to be like Han Solo and fly through space. Wouldn't you like to do that, Mr. Flynn?"

She turned to look at him, her face still lit up with the magic of the film, and Flynn had to swallow hard. He dreaded being the one to snuff that light.

"Becky, I need to talk to you."

She stared at him and then her eyes dropped away. Her face closed up, reminding him of the way she'd looked when he'd first found her.

"It's about that lady from the welfare."

"Sort of."

"Are you gonna send me away?"

"No. Of course I'm not going to send you away." He reached out to pick her up, setting her on his lap, feeling the rigidity of her small body, as if she were afraid that if she relaxed, someone would hurt her. "Didn't I promise that I wouldn't send you away?"

"People don't always keep their promises." It was said in such an adult, resigned way that Flynn could only stare at her downcast face. He looked at Ann, seeing the tears swimming in her eyes.

"Becky, I'm not going to send you away but I've got some bad news about your mother." She said nothing, only continued to stare at her hands and Flynn went on, feeling as if he were stumbling hopelessly but not knowing what else to do. "Your mother is dead, honey."

The words sounded so bald, but he didn't know how else to say it. In the quiet that followed his words, the video tape hit the end of its travel and began to rewind, the quiet hiss sounding unnaturally loud. "You mean dead, like when Charly the cat died?" "I... yes, like when Charly the cat died." She lifted her head, looking at him out of clear gray eyes. "She won't be coming to get me?" "She won't be coming to get you." He waited for the tears. She dropped her head again, her small fingers picking at a spot of lint on her corduroy pants. "Can I stay here?"

"You can stay here for as long as you'd like." Later, there'd be a time to try and explain about foster homes and adoption. Now, what she needed was some security.

"Can I watch
Jedi
again?"

Flynn stared at her and then looked at Ann. She shrugged, clearly at a loss. "Sure you can, sweetheart. Do you want us to watch it with you?"

"If you want." She slid off his lap and picked up the remote control, pushing the button to turn on the screen and then starting the tape over again.

"Ann and I will be in the kitchen, if you need us."

"Okay."

Once in the other room and safely out of earshot, Flynn turned to look at Ann. "What's wrong with her? Do you think we should call a doctor or something?"

"I am a doctor."

"Of course." He thrust his fingers through his hair, ruffling it into wild disarray. "Why didn't she cry or something?"

"She's just a child, Flynn. Death is still a bit abstract to her. It may take a little while for her to realize that her mother is really never coming back."

"I suppose." He raked through his hair again. "I keep thinking there's something I could do to make this easier for her, something I should say."

"You've done the best you can. Now all you can do is be there for her when she needs you."

❧

Flynn had no idea what time it was when he came out of a light sleep, aware that something was wrong. He hadn't been asleep long. He was surprised that he'd fallen asleep at all. After tucking Becky in and telling her the obligatory story, he and Ann had shared a glass of wine and then she'd gone back to her apartment, leaving instructions to call her if he needed her.

Looking in on Becky, he'd experienced a feeling of total unreality. She slept so peacefully, as if this night were no different than any other. Was death really such an abstract concept to a child that she didn't realize what it was going to mean in her life?

But then who was he to question her reaction? Death had been an abstract to him until that night three years ago, when the police had called to tell him that Mark was dead and ask him to identify the body. Staring at his brother's face, forever wiped of emotion, death had ceased to be abstract and had become very real. If it had taken him three decades to understand the reality of death, why should he expect Becky to understand it in less than one?

The sound that had awakened him came again and he slid out of bed, slipping on a black silk robe as he left his bedroom and padded down the dim hallway. Pushing open Becky's door, the sound was clearer, easily identifiable. She was crying.

He crossed the room, easing himself onto the edge of her bed and gathering her'shaking body into his arms. Her arms came up to circle his neck and she buried her face in the thin silk over his shoulder.

"It's all right, honey. It's all right."

"Mama. I want Mama." The words were muffled by sobs but Flynn felt them like tiny knives in his heart. "Mama."

"I know you do, sweetheart. I know you do. Cry it all out, honey. I've got you safe."

He had no idea how long she cried. He held her, rocking her, brushing the tangled hair back from her face, murmuring soothingly and wishing that there was something he could do to take her hurt away.

She cried herself to sleep and, even in sleep, her breath came in shaken little sobs. Flynn lifted his long legs onto the bed, easing her into a more comfortable position across his lap and settled his back against the headboard.

He studied her face in the light from the hallway. Her lower lip still quivered with each breath. Her lashes made spiky little patterns against her pale cheeks. She looked like exactly what she was—a frightened little girl whose world had been turned upside down.

Looking at her, he was struck by how right it felt to have her small body cuddled so trustingly against him. His arms tightened and he brushed a kiss against her hot forehead.

He'd never given a whole lot of thought to the matter of fatherhood. If he'd thought about it at all, he figured that being a husband would come first and children would be a much later consideration. But then he'd gotten drunk and stumbled into an alley and come up with a whole new perspective on life.

He didn't want to give up Becky. He didn't want to lose her small presence in his life. He wanted to keep her with him and watch her grow up. And, it wasn't just Becky that he wanted in his life. He wanted a woman to share it with.

He leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion creep over him. It had been one hell of a day.

❧

"Mr. Flynn, what does being dead mean?"

Flynn dropped the spoon into the pancake batter and then reached in to fish it out, stalling for time. Becky had been unusually quiet this morning but, other than that, nothing seemed to have changed. Of the two of them, he wondered if he wasn't having a harder time coping with her mother's death than she was. And then a question like that came out of the blue.

He set the spoon in the sink and turned the heat off under the griddle. Wiping his hands on a towel as he moved over to the table, he sat down opposite the little girl. How was he supposed to answer a question like that?

"Well, when someone dies, they go out of our lives forever and we don't see them anymore."

Her eyes met his solemnly and he wondered if he'd explained it clearly enough. Should he tell her that her mother was in heaven or would that confuse her more than ever?

"You mean like when Yoda dies in
Return of the Jedi
?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so."

"Will Mama come back and visit me like Yoda visited Luke?"

"I...well..." He thrust his fingers through his hair, wondering how to explain that Yoda was make-believe and that make-believe and real life didn't always work out the same. He moved around the table to the chair next to hers, lifting her onto his lap.

"You won't see your mom like Luke can see Yoda. At least you won't see her standing in front of you and talking to you. But when you think about her and remember her, you'll see her in your mind and that will be sort of like having her there again."

Becky leaned her head against his shoulder, her fingers twisting a button on his shirt. "But, she won't really be there, will she?"

Flynn swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. "No, honey, she won't really be there. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't still love you." He brushed the hair back from her forehead, wishing it were easier to read her thoughts. "You know, it's okay to cry. You can even get mad because we all get mad when someone we love leaves us behind even when we know it wasn't their fault."

He didn't know if he'd said the right things. He felt woefully inadequate for explaining death and how to deal with it. He'd offered her the simplest of comforts. Surely there was something more to say.

He waited a long time to see if Becky would say anything else, ask any more questions, but she seemed content with his clumsy explanation. When she slid off his lap, he didn't try to hold onto her. Perhaps everyone had to deal with death in their own way, no matter what their age.

Flynn went back to the counter and turned on the griddle again. The last thing in the world he felt like doing was eating breakfast and he wasn't sure if Becky had any interest in food, but it seemed like a reasonable thing to do. He stirred the batter and decided it was too thick. A little milk would help. Turning toward the refrigerator, he bumped into Becky who'd been standing right behind him.

"Sorry, urchin. Would you get the milk for me?"

She went and got the milk carton and handed it to him. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he splashed milk into the batter and stirred it. Instead of going back to the table, she stood right next to him, watching every move he made.

Without comment, he hooked his foot around a stool and pulled it over to the counter, lifting her up onto it so that she could watch what he was doing.

"Hungry?"

She nodded, watching him flick water onto the griddle to test it. The droplets danced on the cast iron and disappeared instantly. Flynn reached for the bowl and ladle.

"Mama used to make me teddy bear pancakes for breakfast."

It was the first words she'd spoken in several minutes. Flynn hesitated with the ladle in midair. It hadn't been a request but still___

"Teddy bear pancakes?"

She nodded solemnly. "They taste better than regular pancakes."

"Teddy bear pancakes." His tone was flat and resigned. He studied the batter and the griddle, seeking some inspiration. Why hadn't his mother ever made teddy bear pancakes? She should have known that it would be an important skill in his life.

It took numerous failures and most of the batter but, with Becky's coaching and Flynn's imagination, they eventually turned out a credible facsimile of a teddy bear in pancake form. Flynn eyed his masterpiece with great pride as he settled it on the plate in front of his small judge and watched her devour a half hour's work in a few bites.

It was worth the burned knuckles and wasted batter to hear Becky giggle over his clumsy efforts. He dried his hands, watching as she consumed the teddy bear pancake, carefully cutting off first one ear and then the other and working her way down to the legs. Clearly, there was an established pattern to eating a teddy bear.

He stroked his hand over her head and she glanced up, smiling through a mouthful of dough. There was a shadow in the back of her eyes but for now, her world was safe, as long as Flynn was within reach.

Flynn only hoped he could keep it that way.

"
D
r. Perry to emergency please. Dr. Perry to emergency." The tinny voice echoed over the PA. Ann scribbled her signature on the bottom of a chart and handed it back to the nurse before hurrying down the hall to the elevator.

This had possibly been the worst week of her life. Just when her personal life was demanding more emotional energy than she had to give, her professional life was seeing a surge of unwanted business.

The elevator was empty for once, and she allowed herself the luxury of leaning against one wall and closing her eyes. If she was honest, it wasn't so much that she was any busier than usual. It was just that her heart wasn't really in it these days. A part of her wondered if it ever had been.

She pushed the thought away but it refused to be ignored. It wasn't that her work wasn't important, and it could be very rewarding. It was just that.. .just what?

Just that she had the feeling that she was living her father's dreams and ambitions instead of her own. He'd been the one to direct her toward medical school and she'd done just what he wanted, pushing aside her own desires to please him. Now she was beginning to wonder just how much she'd given up in an effort to make him love her.

She straightened as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Now was not the time to try and analyze her entire life—past, present and future. She'd think about it later.

The next chance she had to sit down and think of anything wasn't until late that afternoon. Seated in the staff lounge, a cup of lukewarm coffee in her hand, Ann leaned her head back on the worn sofa and shut her eyes, closing out the buzz of conversation coming from two doctors across the room.

She was so tired. Not physically tired but mentally tired. Tired of thinking, tired of trying to decide what was right, tired of worrying about what her father wanted. She wanted to get up and walk out of the hospital and never come back. She wanted to go home to Flynn and Becky and shut the door and not come out for a month.

Home to Flynn and Becky? Was that how she was beginning to think of it? Dangerous thinking. What were they doing right now? Had they gone to the park, or maybe Becky was watching a movie on the VCR and Flynn was doing more of his endless research on the subject of schooling. The new school year had started two weeks ago, but Ms. Davis had agreed that it might be best for Becky to stay home. It was a difficult time for her. Unspoken was the thought that, when they placed her in a foster home, she probably wouldn't be in the same school district that she was now, anyway. Flynn refused to talk about foster homes.

Flynn. Another subject she'd been avoiding examining. She wasn't sure just what her feelings were, and she was afraid that if she looked too closely she might not like what she found.

They'd made love. It wasn't something that she could ignore or forget. Once in a while, she would look up and catch Flynn watching her and she knew that he hadn't forgotten, either. Just the memory of that night was enough to make her knees feel quivery. What would have happened between them if Becky's needs hadn't taken precedence?

The alarm on her watch pinged discreetly and she sat up, downing the last of her coffee and forcing her mind back to her job. Soon, she was going to have to have a long talk with herself. There were a lot of things she needed to think about. Like the direction her life was going; did she want to spend the rest of her life in medicine; and what would it be like to fall in love with Flynn McCallister?

The next afternoon, she was no closer to answering any of her own questions, but the questions themselves had been pushed aside by more pressing matters. Sitting on Flynn's sofa, she watched him pace back and forth across the living room, his strides full of coiled energy.

"What time is it?"

"It's five minutes later than it was the last time you asked. Flynn, she isn't even due for another five minutes."

"I know. But she might get here early."

"So you're wearing a path in the carpet for her?"

He stopped abruptly, staring down at his feet as if he'd only just realized what he was doing. The smile he gave Ann was rueful. He came and sat down in a chair beside the sofa.

"I'm a little uptight."

"No kidding."

"It's just that Ms. Davis didn't give me any idea of why she wanted to see us."

"Maybe she just wants to check and make sure Becky is all right."

He shook his head. "She was here three days ago."

"Did she say anything then that might give you a clue?"

"Just that they were still looking for Becky's father." He frowned. "I don't know why they're going to all this effort to find him. What kind of a jerk abandons his kid?"

Ann shrugged. "Maybe there's extenuating circumstances."

"Ha!" Before he could expand on his opinion of extenuating circumstances, there was a knock on the door. Their eyes met, each wanting some reassurance that neither of them could give. Flynn grinned and lifted his thumb in a cocky gesture of reassurance, but he didn't feel in the least bit secure.

As he walked to the door, he felt as nervous as if he were walking down the gray corridors leading toward death row. He'd told Joe to send Ms. Davis up when she arrived. Now, he wished he hadn't. If Joe had called first, it would have given him a minute to prepare for whatever she might have to say. None of his feelings showed in his face as he opened the door.

"Come in, Ms. Davis. It looks like you beat the rain here."

She smiled as he took her light jacket and hung it in the coat closet. "Early in the season for rain but it does look like we may get a storm before nightfall."

Flynn followed her into the living room, wishing that he could read something from her face.

"Dr. Perry, I'm glad you could be here. I hope it hasn't put too much of a crimp in your schedule at the hospital."

"Not at all." Ann smiled at the older woman and she wondered if Flynn felt as nervous as she did.

"Would you like some coffee?" He had to force himself to make the polite offer when what he really wanted to do was demand why she was here.

"No, thank you. I'm sure you're both anxious to know the reason for this visit." She sat down, arranging her skirt over her knees.

Flynn forced himself to sit down when every muscle in his body demanded action. "Actually, we were wondering. Was there a problem with your visit Monday?"

"No problem at all, Mr. McCallister. Personally, I've seldom seen any two people more suited to taking care of a child. You've done wonders with Becky."

Flynn smiled, feeling as if his face might crack with the effort that went into the gesture. "Becky is a terrific kid."

"All kids are wonderful. Where is Becky?"

"My mother has her for the afternoon."

"Good." Ms. Davis smoothed her skirts. "I'm afraid I have some good and some bad news."

Flynn smiled slightly. "I've always had a healthy distrust of conversations that start out on that note."

"I'm afraid it won't be possible for you to adopt Becky, Mr. McCallister."

Flynn kept the faint smile pinned in place, aware of Ann's head jerking toward him. He should have told her what he had in mind. But there was no time to explain it to her now. "I didn't expect a decision so quickly. I can't believe that my reputation is so bad that it would earn me an immediate rejection as parental material."

"It really has nothing to do with your reputation, Mr. McCallister."

He leaned forward, his eyes pinning her to her chair with their intensity. "What if I were to get married? Would that help at all?"

His eyes shifted to Ann. She stared at him, feeling her own eyes widen with shock as she realized what he was thinking. If they were married, it might make it possible for them to adopt Becky. She sat back against the cushions, unable to drag her eyes away, unable to believe what she was thinking.

He was suggesting that they marry for Becky's sake. It was a ridiculous idea. Gothic. After all, people didn't marry just for the sake of a child that didn't belong to either one of them.

It was amazing that he could even consider such a thing. It was amazing that she wasn't leaping up and denying any such implication. But what was most surprising was that it hurt to think that he'd be willing to marry her for Becky's sake.

She wanted him to want her for herself.

The thought was so stunning that Ann jerked her eyes away from his, afraid that he might read it in her expression. She stared down at her linked hands, unwilling to even consider the implications of the thought.

"Your bachelorhood really doesn't make any difference, Mr. McCallister. Adoption simply isn't possible. Becky's father has been located and he wants his child."

The words fell into a pool of silence, as if each were a small stone, sending out ripples as they hit the water.

"Her father?" Flynn's voice was dazed. He'd never seriously thought that they'd find the man. "Her father wants her now? Where was he for the last three years? You can't just be a parent when the mood strikes you and then drop it! What's going to happen the next time he decides he doesn't want to be a father? Is Becky going to be sleeping in alleys again? I thought you people were supposed to be concerned that Becky get a good home. And now you're just going to hand her over to some flake who couldn't be bothered with her for the last three years." By the time he finished speaking, he was on his feet, glaring down at the social worker.

Ann wondered how Ms. Davis could look so calm. Flynn was a more than slightly intimidating figure. The clouds had thickened, leaving the apartment lit with a thin gray light. In his anger, Flynn looked enormous, as if the force of his emotions had given him added size. Electricity seemed to crackle around him. Ann was thankful that his rage wasn't directed at her. Ms. Davis was apparently made of sterner stuff.

"I understand your concern, Mr. McCallister. And your disappointment. I know that you wanted to adopt Becky yourself and I can tell you that I would have given you my recommendation if Mr. Traherne hadn't turned up."

"Who's Mr. Traherne?"

"Becky's father."

"Traherne? Becky's last name is Sinclair. If this Traherne couldn't even be bothered to marry Becky's mother, how can he lay any legal claim on Becky?"

"They were married, Mr. McCallister. You see, three years ago Becky's mother left Mr. Traherne and took their child with her. Mr. Traherne has been looking for both of them since but, until our department started a search for Becky's father, he had been unable to locate his wife or his daughter. He did not abandon them."

Flynn sat down slowly, searching for some flaw in her words. "Why did she take Becky and run? She must have had a reason."

"According to Mr. Traherne, they had a misunderstanding. His wife disappeared before they could clear the misunderstanding up."

"She must have been afraid of him to run like that."

"Mr. Traherne's reputation is impeccable. He's a doctor, the Traherne family has been in Denver for over seventy-five years and they are all respected members of the community. We feel that it's in the best interests of the child if she can be with her natural father."

Ms. Davis glanced at her watch and reached for her briefcase. "I have another appointment in half an hour. I assume it's all right with you if Becky stays here until her father arrives. He should be here day after tomorrow."

Flynn roused himself at her words. His smile was strained but he stood up to show her to the door. "I want to thank you for the work you've done on Becky's behalf, Ms. Davis."

"It's my job, Mr. McCallister." Her fingers were warm and dry as they shook hands. "You've done wonders for that little girl. She's very lucky to have met you."

"Oh, I don't know. I feel like I'm the lucky one."

"You'll make a wonderful father when you have children of your own."

He smiled and shut the door behind her. Behind him, he could hear Ann neatening the stacks of children's books that were scattered over the coffee table. He stood in the dim hallway and looked at the wreckage of all his plans.

He was losing Becky. No more horrible coffee, no more trips to the park, no more bedtime stories. The thought brought a hollow ache to his gut. She'd wound her small fingers into his heart and it was going to hurt like hell to pull them loose.

With Becky gone, what was going to happen to his relationship with Ann? Becky was the catalyst that had brought them together. Most of their time had been spent with Becky in tow. They'd had so little time together. He didn't have to close his eyes to remember the one night they'd spent together. The feel of her in his arms, the scent of her on his pillow, those were things that were with him every minute.

When Becky left, would Ann still want to be with him or was he going to lose her, too?