Man of His Word

She stared down at the list she was trying to make and attempted to focus on it.

People who might know something:

EMTs who responded

Police who responded

Emergency room staff

Newspaper reporter

Former fire chief

The person who took the picture of Daniel and Marissa

Daniel. He knew something. He was hiding some key piece of information.

The laughter blared out again. Marissa slurped loudly from the fast-food drink she still had from lunch and completely demolished whatever little focus Kimberly had managed to muster.

Kimberly whipped her head around, ready to snap at her daughter to turn the television down and throw the cup away already when she took in Marissa’s expression as the girl seemed to gaze at some point in the distance.

Marissa was stretched out, belly flat on the turned-back duvet, her chin propped on one hand and the empty cup in her other. Her eyes were wistful. Sad. She wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the TV.

Kimberly pushed her chair back from the unsteady laminate table and crossed the room to switch off the television. Marissa didn’t even complain.

When she sat down beside her, Marissa jumped slightly. “Oh, sorry!” she mumbled. “I was thinking.”

“I can see that. What’s on your mind?”

“I just... Well, I just thought I’d know by now. You know. Why.”

The whole search for a family medical history had been a Pandora’s box, as far as Kimberly could see it. She’d waited as long as she could, fought the insurance company on appeal after appeal. But when that didn’t pan out, she knew she had to try to find another way to get that diagnosis.

Finding that diagnosis meant finding the girl who had given up Marissa. The prospect had filled Marissa with all sorts of conflicting emotions that Kimberly wished she could spare her daughter.

She squeezed Marissa’s arm gently. “I know, honey. I thought so, too.”

“We’re never gonna find her, are we?” Marissa flopped over and stared up at the ceiling. “And the doctors are just gonna keep poking me and doing test after test after test and you’re never gonna know what’s wrong with me. And...I’m never gonna know why.”

Kimberly’s throat closed up. She could barely breathe, much less swallow past the lump that had formed there.

Be the parent. Be the grown-up.

“Chin up,” she told Marissa in what she hoped was a brighter voice than she felt. “We’re not out of hope yet. I’m making a list of everybody who might know something.”

Marissa giggled, her nose wrinkling and her eyes crinkling up. “You and your lists.”

“Don’t poke fun. They work.”

“So let’s get started, then. Go bang on some doors. Anything is better than being holed up in this dump.” Marissa exploded off the bed and started a search for her shoes. A loud dull thunk resounded from the bed’s wooden toe-kick. “Ow! I stubbed my toe!”

“What? Is it—” Kimberly forced herself to stay calm. “Are you hurt?” She tried to ask this casually, as if she was a normal mom with a normal kid.

“Yes, I’m hurt! It hurts really bad—” Marissa hopped on one leg back to the bed, where she examined her toe. Kimberly could see no sign of injury.

The bruise would come later. And it would tell the story.

“Relax, Mom. It’s okay. Nobody ever died from a stubbed toe, it just hurts. Normal kid hurt, okay? No need to get all worked up. Why do they put that under there anyway?”

“To make it easier to clean up—if it’s blocked off, nobody can put anything under the bed,” Kimberly told her. She rose. “I don’t know if we can find anyone—”

“You mean, like a body? That would be creepy, wouldn’t it? Finding a body under the bed?” She shuddered dramatically.

Kimberly succumbed to the temptation of a heavenward gaze and shook her head. “I think they had in mind something more like dust bunnies or an absentminded eleven-year-old’s flip-flops. Like I was saying, it’s almost five o’clock, so I’m not sure what we can get accomplished today. Are you ready for some dinner somewhere?”

“I so can’t believe I’m asking this.” Marissa shook her head in doleful disbelief. “And if you put this on Facebook, I will deny it to my dying day. But can we go somewhere that’s not fast food? I miss real food. I miss you making me eat my vegetables. Can we go somewhere with some broccoli or something so that I can eat it and gag, and then enjoy a hamburger again?”

Marissa’s crooked little grin warmed Kimberly.

“Sure. Open that drawer there and hand me the phone book—”

But her request was interrupted by a knock on the door. They exchanged glances. Marissa held up her hands and in playful mock seriousness pronounced, “I didn’t do nothin’.”

Kimberly stepped to the door and stared through the peephole.

Daniel.

With shaking fingers, she unbolted the security lock and swung the door wide to allow the fire chief entry. “Daniel! I—I honestly wasn’t expecting you. Uh, come in!”

He didn’t budge from the threshold. Instead, he rested one hand on the doorjamb and shuffled a work-boot-clad foot before he said, “Actually...I just came by to— Uh, I was wondering. Would you two care for some supper?”

Kimberly was gobsmacked by the invitation. Was this his way of gearing up to tell them who Marissa’s birth mother was? Her thoughts were so weighed down with a blur of questions and pulsating hope that she couldn’t even give him an answer.

“Is it fast food?” Marissa blurted into the silence.

Regret etched his features. His rangy frame began turning away, as if they’d said no. “Uh, no. I wasn’t thinking of something quick. Sorry, I guess I didn’t consider what a kid might like to eat. I’ll leave you two to your—”

“I’m in!” Marissa bounced off the bed, the total antithesis of the pensive child she’d been a few minutes before. “Mom? You need your purse?”

CHAPTER SIX

FOR THE FIRST few minutes in the truck, silence reigned. Yes, Daniel had switched off the radio as it blared a staticky sports talk show when they’d driven out of the parking lot, but after that, he didn’t offer much in the way of small talk.

The way he drove, his strong hands lightly gripping the steering wheel at precisely ten o’clock and two o’clock, his eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, the speedometer never straying above the posted speed limit, didn’t encourage Kimberly to attempt any conversation.

Marissa, she noted wryly, didn’t break the silence, either, despite her enthusiastic acceptance of Daniel’s invitation. Something about wheels turning on a vehicle signaled her to slap her earbuds in and listen to whatever was on her iPod. And as soon as she had slid into the crew cab seat of Daniel’s pristine truck, she’d done just that.

So Kimberly occupied herself with absorbing the sights. The town was small by Atlanta standards, but it was busy. The four-lane they were on, while not exactly choked with traffic, still held a good number of impatient five-o’clock drivers.

She watched as they passed by a host of fast-food joints and several casual dining choices—a steak house, a buffet-style restaurant, a Mexican place, something that looked like a mom-and-pop Italian pizzeria. Strip malls gave way to the downtown, its buildings showing signs of a recent facelift and heavy on planters filled with bright annuals, stores with colorful awnings and sidewalks with strips of deep redbrick.

When Daniel passed up the two downtown restaurants shoehorned among jewelry stores, boutiques and a bakery, something niggled in the back of her mind.

That something went to full-alert status as he made a turn onto a familiar-looking highway heading out of town.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

It took him a minute to respond, almost as if he didn’t register what she’d asked at first. “Oh! Didn’t I say? Sorry. Out to the farm. Is that okay? We’re having supper out there, and I thought...since it was Marissa...”

A peek over her shoulder netted Kimberly a quick averted glance from Marissa, but not before she had seen a flash of telltale curiosity. So. Marissa had been listening in on the conversation despite the earbuds.

Kimberly swiveled a bit in her seat to face Daniel. “Your mom won’t mind? We don’t want to intrude—”

He took a hand off the steering wheel, waved it to dismiss her concern. “No, Ma was all for it. And so was everybody else.”

“Everybody else?” Exactly what was she walking into? Kimberly didn’t mind standing up in front of thirty students to hammer the intricacies of English grammar into their heads, but she’d never been great at social gatherings.

She’d been a shy child who’d grown into a shy teenager, much to the disappointment of her social extrovert of a mother. Between working an unending series of low-paying jobs as a waitress or bartender and blowing off steam with her current group of party-hardy friends, her mother had pretty much left Kimberly to her own devices.

Daniel seemed to thaw a bit. His eyes, that amazing sky blue, crinkled at the corners, his mouth curved up and his whole demeanor lightened. “I gotta warn you, it’s a brood of us. Ma had six of us, three boys and three girls, and so the house is always rocking. I hope you don’t mind kids, because there’s probably a half dozen around all the time.”

“Yours?” Was he married? She realized she was disappointed—and that she’d already checked out his ringless third finger without even being aware she had.

“Oh, no. My sisters’ kids—let’s see, there’s Taylor and Sean and the twins, and Cassandra, and—”

He kept reeling off names, and every additional one made her palms grow even damper. This sounded more like a family reunion than supper—and it turned her stomach into the headquarters for a butterfly convention.

Those butterflies were in mad midflutter when Daniel turned onto the bumpy driveway to the farmhouse. As he drove past the chickens, she shook off her anxiety to blurt out, “Why do you use a whole pasture for a single flock of chickens?”

“Well, it fertilizes the pasture. And then our cows eat the grass, and they fertilize it some more, and then we rotate out our crops. We try to do everything pretty much organic here—better for the land. My dad...my dad was a big believer in being a good steward to the land. It’s how he would have wanted us to continue.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and his face became closed off. Kimberly wasn’t exactly sure what to say—it was obvious from Daniel’s tone and use of the past tense that the one person who wouldn’t be here was his father.

They had that in common, then...although Daniel’s father probably wasn’t a ne’er-do-well who spent more time in jail than on the streets like her dad, who had finally died in a prison knife fight. No, Kimberly decided as she slid out of the truck onto the carefully tended lawn—Daniel’s family seemed to be a different kettle of fish altogether.

They had parked around back, and Kimberly could see that the lawn around the back deck and tall white privacy fence was filled with cars and trucks—had to be nearly a dozen. Children scampered around the deck in swimsuits and shorts. A loud screech followed a sudden splash of water.

“Sean Robert Anderson! You are dead! D-E-A-D, do you hear me?” a woman yelled. “Because now that I’m good and wet, there’s no reason for me not to jump in and drown you, now, is there?”

A smaller splash signaled someone had gone in after the unfortunate soon-to-be-deceased Sean Robert.

“Wait, no— Aunt Cara, it was an accident. I swear— No, not the tickles, not—”

Laughter spilled out over the fence with its carefully tended rosebushes—not just from the boy and his aunt, but other people, too. For a moment, Kimberly was frozen in place by a potent mix of feeling wistful and bashful.

Daniel had gone on ahead, but must have sensed that she was no longer beside him. He turned, grinned and crooked his finger. “C’mon. I promise. They’re loud, but they don’t bite.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the way he’d beckoned her to come. Silly. But for a moment, she wished that he was more than just a polite guy with a secret or two to hide.

A screen door squawked open at the back of the house, off the deck. “Daniel? Did she and the girl come?”

It was Daniel’s mother, wearing an apron, her face flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Around her still more kids spilled out.

“I wanna see the baby! Can I see her?” a towheaded boy of about six asked.

Another, an older sister by the resemblance, rolled her eyes. “Logan, it’s not a baby. She’s my age. Uncle Daniel found her when she was a baby.”

Logan looked disappointed, then confused. “So why didn’t he keep her?”

By now, Daniel’s mother had cut the distance to Kimberly and Marissa in half. Kimberly’s feet started moving to the woman of their own volition—she found it impossible to resist her warm, welcoming smile and the twinkle in her eyes.

“It’s good to see you again!” his mother said in way of greeting, as if they were long-lost family members, not perfect strangers. “Thank you so much for coming out to eat with us—it’s not fancy, now, just plain fixin’s. And be sure to call me Ma, everybody does. If you call me anything else, I might not answer.”

“Thank you.” Kimberly’s tongue couldn’t wrap itself around any other words, but it didn’t matter, because in all the noise and laughter, Colleen Monroe didn’t seem to notice. She just put one arm around Kimberly shoulders, and the other around Marissa’s, and guided them to the deck.

“Hey, there,” Logan’s big sister said to Marissa. “I’m Taylor. You bring a swimsuit? No? Well, we look about the same size, and I’ve got a spare. What do you have on that iPod? Want to see my playlists?”

And with that, Marissa would have been gone without so much as a backward glance if Ma hadn’t hollered after her, “Marissa, honey, you have any food allergies?”

Taylor rolled her eyes again. “Ma! Just because I have food allergies doesn’t mean you have to—”

“I will always ask, young lady. And besides, I saw the medical ID bracelet on Marissa’s wrist. I want my food to be safe for everybody.”

But there was no sting in those words—in either of their responses. It wasn’t the vicious power struggle that Kimberly remembered between her and her mother, and she’d never really known her grandparents.

Marissa shook her head. “No. No food allergies.”

“Great! Y’all go on, have a good time.” Ma turned again to Kimberly. “Don’t mind me asking Marissa instead of you, but around here, we’re trying to get Taylor to be the one in charge of her food allergies—peanuts and corn, of all things.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Personal responsibility about your health is a really big thing for me,” Kimberly said as she followed Ma into the kitchen.

If outside was noisy, in the kitchen it was pure bedlam. Every counter was full of in-progress meal prep, with two women working alongside still more kids. They greeted her with distracted but warm hellos and introductions, and then someone pressed a bunch of carrots and a peeler in her hands. Before she knew it, Kimberly had forgotten to be shy and had fallen right into working beside them.

And she loved it. Here, she felt respect and family love radiate out and wash over her. The teasing, the joshing, the inside jokes—things she swore normally would have made her feel more alien instead made her feel as though she could fade securely into the background and absorb it all just by osmosis.

As she was finishing up the carrots and turning to ask if they should be sliced, diced or shredded, she felt a tug on her pants. She looked down to see the towheaded boy staring up at her.

“You’re pretty,” he said. “Are you gonna be Uncle Daniel’s girlfriend? Because his last one wasn’t nearly so pretty as you.”

“Uh, Logan, I, uh—”

“Nope, I’m Landon, can’t you tell? I’m bigger than Logan. ’Cause I was first, so that means I’m oldest. So are you? Uncle Daniel’s girlfriend?”

Thoroughly flummoxed by how identical the boy was to his brother and by his question, which had been issued in a rare moment of quiet in the kitchen, Kimberly stared around for help. DeeDee, the little boy’s mom, had stepped out to check on the meat on the grill. The other women could barely smother their amusement. To her chagrin, she saw Daniel himself had come in. He leaned against the doorjamb, an amused smile playing on his lips as he waited for her answer.

She stuttered it out. “No, no, I’m not, Landon. Your uncle is just a... Well, he’s a...”

What was Daniel to her? She locked eyes with him, feeling a strange buzz of connection. Already he was more than the stranger she’d met that morning. He’d been the man who’d saved her daughter, and didn’t that mean he was more to them than some random Joe Blow?

Daniel took pity on her. “I hope she and Marissa will be my friends, Landon. Wouldn’t that be good? To have a new friend?”

“She’d be better as a girlfriend. Mama said you needed a girlfriend, and so I figured maybe you were gonna mind her, you know, like you say I need to mind Mama?”

Just then, Landon’s mother stepped back inside with a platter full of grilled pork chops, her face beet-red. “Landon Anderson! If you’re going to ‘mind’ me, then maybe you should do a better job listening when I tell you to lay off the personal questions!”

“It wasn’t personal, Mama! It wasn’t about the bathroom or how much she weighs or—”

“Come on, bud.” Daniel held out his arms. “I think it’s time we hightailed it out of here—what do you say about a ride on my shoulders? Let’s go find out what your uncle Rob and uncle Andrew are up to, huh, buddy?”

“Daniel! You’re encouraging him!” DeeDee protested. “How will he ever learn what’s appropriate if all of y’all keep laughing it up about how cute he is when he gets too personal?”

“I’ll have a serious heart-to-heart with him, Scout’s honor. We’ll do the whole boundaries deal.” By that time, Daniel had swung the kid up on his shoulders and the kitchen rang with Landon’s giggles of delight.

Something about the sight melted Kimberly’s heart. Maybe it was because she’d never had anyone do that for Marissa. Maybe any handsome guy with any cute kid would have made any single mom’s insides quiver.

Or maybe it was the way he held her gaze just a tenth of a second longer and added in an offhand manner, “I’ll keep an eye out for Marissa, too.”

Whatever it was, Kimberly had to remind herself that the only reason they were here, in the midst of everything she couldn’t give Marissa, was that Daniel, handsome or not, was holding out about Marissa’s birth mom.

And that didn’t square with the man strolling out the back door, a little boy securely on his shoulders.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE LAST DISH was washed, the grill cleaned, the scraps fed to Rufus and even Landon and Logan were splayed out on the floor asleep in the living room. Daniel looked around for Kimberly, sure she’d want to head home.

Maegan caught his gaze and whispered over the sleeping baby in her arms, “I think she went to check on Taylor and Marissa.”

Daniel couldn’t help but reach out to stroke baby Sophie’s plump cheek. Just as his fingers drew closer, Maegan swatted him away. “Don’t even think about it. It took me a half hour to get my niece asleep, and if you wake her up, she can be your niece again.”

“She is my niece.”

“Funny, ha-ha, you always seem to forget that when she’s cranky and crying, big brother.” But there was no real reproach in Maegan’s voice, just her usual teasing.

“I guess I’d better see if Kimberly is ready to go. I got sidetracked with the dynamic duo...” He trailed off and pivoted toward the back of the house.

“Hey, Daniel...I really like her,” Maegan called after him in a hoarse whisper.

“Sophie?” he asked.

“No, you big lug. Kimberly. And Marissa. I’m glad you brought them out here.”

Daniel nodded, but he wasn’t convinced that it had been his smartest move. He’d viewed it as a consolation prize, a way to give them something when he couldn’t break the promise he’d made so many years ago. Now he worried that it would be harder than ever to keep that promise.

He found Kimberly standing stock-still in front of a bedroom door, the door slightly ajar. Tweenage-girl voices came filtering through it. When Kimberly spotted him, she blushed but held up a finger to her lips.

“—and I thought I had it bad,” Marissa was saying. “You mean you never get to eat a Big Mac?”

“Nope. High fructose corn syrup in the ketchup and the bun. But I get to drink the coffee, so whenever I go with friends, I get me a coffee and sip on it.”

“Wow! You get coffee? My mom would never let me drink coffee. It’s always, ‘Marissa, remember your bleeding disorder,’ or ‘Be careful, Marissa,’ or...I dunno. She doesn’t mean to be a pain, but man, is she ever a helicopter mom. That could be her motto, you know? I am Helicopter Mom. Feel my rotor wash.”

“But you’ve got that cool medical ID bracelet... Wow! I’ve got to get my mom to order one like that. Where’d you say you got it? Mine’s all clunky, like something a fifty-year-old man would wear with pants up to his armpits and a sweater vest,” Taylor declared.

That, along with the rotor-wash comment, was the last straw for Daniel. He felt a mix of laughter and shame at eavesdropping pulse through him, and he tugged Kimberly by the arm and headed down the hall and out the door to the side porch.

“Do you do that a lot?” he asked. “Listen in at keyholes?”

“No. And I got my just desserts, let me tell you. Feel my rotor wash?” She laughed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You know, the two of us are smack-dab in the middle of middle-aged, if those girls think fifty is ancient.” Daniel sank down into the swing and let out a belly laugh.

Kimberly collapsed beside him, closer than she’d been all night. He could feel the silky strands of her hair brush against his arm, smell the scent of strawberries clinging to her as she chuckled along with him.

She lolled her head back on the swing and stared up at the porch ceiling. Her laughter petered out into a rueful sigh.

“I only want to keep her safe, you know? Safe and healthy. But...if I make sure she survives to be a grown-up, will her love for me survive, too?” Kimberly’s words vibrated with a regret and uncertainty that pulled at Daniel. With a team under his command, and the memory of the awful fire that had claimed his father and critically injured several other firefighters, he understood Kimberly’s dilemma perfectly.

He didn’t even realize that he’d clasped her hand in his until he felt her twine her fingers more tightly into his grip. But he couldn’t pull away. Her hand in his fit too neatly, too right.

“It’s a tough job. I’m sort of in the same boat, what with keeping my guys fit and healthy and safe. They don’t see the need for the exercise program I’ve insisted on, or the regular home-cooked meals. You know the number one killer of firefighters in the line of duty? Heart attacks. Not burns, not smoke inhalation, not heat stroke. Heart attacks. Every time I see a fast-food sack in one of my guys’ hands, I can almost picture him keeling over in the middle of a structure fire.”

“But they respect you. I could tell that. Today. They listened to you, they didn’t argue.” Something in the way Kimberly said it made Daniel sure that she didn’t enjoy the same rapport with Marissa. “So how do you keep them safe and not make them hate you?”

“Ultimately it’s easier with guys who need a paycheck,” Daniel admitted. “With kids... Honestly? I don’t know. When I was Taylor and Marissa’s age, I thought I was ten feet tall and bulletproof, too. Still, even with kids... I mean, she’s almost twelve, right? So you can ease up. She knows, Kimberly. She gets it, even if you don’t think so. I see that in Taylor. She may carp and complain, but when someone offers her something to eat, she’s the first one to say, ‘No label? No, thank you.’”