Man of His Word

Kimberly snuggled deeper into the cushions of the swing—and tighter against Daniel—as she slipped off her shoes and tucked one foot under her. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he noticed the petite perfection of that foot, with the pale pink polish on the toes. Inwardly, he shook himself.

This woman would be gone by tomorrow. What they had here was some sort of fake chemistry, some tenuous bond because of their link to Marissa. It wasn’t real. And even if it was...

Kimberly yawned. In a drowsy, distracted way, she said, “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, that Marissa is just four years younger than her birth mother when she gave birth to her?”

Daniel’s body stiffened. It was as if a page to a fire had sounded, her words zapping through him and setting every nerve on high alert. How to answer that? Was this Kimberly’s sneaky way of worming more information out of him?

“What do you know about her birth mother?” Daniel asked in way of a reply.

“Well...not much,” Kimberly said. “I have a copy of the police report. And when DFCS gave me custody of Marissa, they provided me with their own incident report. Maybe the social worker shouldn’t have, I don’t know, but it gave me the bare outlines of the events. Although...I didn’t know Marissa was actually born at the fire station until you told me.”

Again, Daniel was taken back to that day, to that one peaceful, amazing moment when, amid the chaos, he’d held the baby snugly against his chest, astonished that any mother could willingly let anything that perfect go.

Miriam’s pleas came back to him... She’s not safe, Daniel! She’s not safe! He’ll kill her! I know it!

He had turned out to be the baby’s grandfather—Uriel Hostetler. And though Daniel had at first thought Miriam was overly dramatic, the minute he’d spied Hostetler in the hospital’s waiting room, he had to admit he’d never known anyone to have eyes as cold as the tall, hulking man in broadcloth and suspenders. With a flowing head of golden hair and a full beard to match, he’d resembled nothing so much as a lion on the prowl for a hapless gazelle.

Standing in that waiting room, Hostetler had lorded over the entourage that had accompanied him—over Miriam’s own parents, who seemed henpecked and browbeaten and in no way capable of offering the support and protection Miriam so badly needed.

Hostetler had turned out to be the baby’s grandfather, and the leader—some might say tyrant—over the small Amish community that had relocated here.

Daniel had known lots of people of the Amish and Mennonite faith—good, honest folks who worked hard and showed compassion and mercy in their everyday lives.

Uriel Hostetler? He didn’t deserve to be named in the same class of people.

Kimberly’s next question, not to mention the gentle squeeze to his fingers, brought Daniel back to his present dilemma.

“So? Are you ready to tell me?” she asked. Her eyes were huge and seemingly bottomless, filled with hope and pleading as she gazed up at him. “About Marissa’s birth mother? It’s not idle curiosity, I promise. And you of all people—I mean, you understand how it is to have a child in the family with health issues. I have to know. I have to help Marissa.”

A wrenching pain tore through Daniel’s very soul. It would be so easy to say the two words Kimberly desperately wanted—needed—to hear. They were on the tip of his tongue, a nanosecond, a very exhalation away from being uttered.

Miriam’s face floated through his memory, eyes that had pleaded as much as Kimberly’s. She’d trusted him with the most important secret of her life and her baby’s, and had come to that fire station in need of sanctuary.

“Kimberly...I can’t. Legally. Ethically. I can’t. I am so sorry.”

Her pleading eyes turned stony. She leaped up from the swing as though the seat cushions had suddenly ignited beneath her.

“Ethically? You have the nerve to talk to me about ethics? When my daughter’s health—her life—is at stake?”

He rose and tried to take her hands in his, but she shook him off. “Kimberly, you have to see things from my position. There’s a reason that we have safe-haven laws. It’s to protect the babies. Without a safe haven to turn to, Marissa might not have even been alive if—”

“And she might not stay alive if you don’t help me! Don’t you get that, Daniel? What if someone held back information on, I don’t know...a fire, and how bad it was. Maybe it was started with hazardous materials that could kill your—”

He cut her off midsentence. “I get it. I get why you need to know. But can’t you get why I can’t tell you? Just for two seconds, see it from where I’m standing. I’m bound, Kimberly. Legally. The State of Georgia says I can’t.”

Why did he even try to make her to understand? To approve, even? She was never going to.

Sure enough, Kimberly shook her head in disgust and grimaced. “I think I’d like for you to take us back to our hotel now. No. I know I would.”

With that, she strode across the creaking porch boards and slipped in the house without so much as a backward glance.

CHAPTER EIGHT

KIMBERLY RUBBED HER eyes and started over with the pocket calculator. A few keystrokes later and the grim truth emerged. The red-alert figure the calculator had coughed up had not been a mistake. Her checking account really was running on fumes.

Medical bills. And now this trip, which had taken longer and required more money than she’d bargained for. The gas, the rooms, even in a no-frills interstate landing spot, the fast-food meals...

Kimberly allowed herself the luxury of remembering the meal at Daniel’s the night before. Not only had it been free, but it had also been delicious: grilled pork chops done to a turn, homemade baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad and homemade strawberry shortcake. Most of it had come from the family’s farm—she would have paid a fortune for the same meal done at a farm-to-table restaurant in Atlanta.

More than that...it had been the way it was served. Kimberly’s main memory of baked beans was cold out of a can for dinner, liberated with a manual can opener while her mother was out working—or partying. Sometimes it had been hard to tell the difference, really.

“What’s the point of going blind studying? Have fun while you still can, honey bunch,” her mom would tell her, trying to pry her loose from her work. “None of those books will do you good when you get out in the real world. Life’s a grind and then you die.”

How crazy was it that Kimberly had envied the friends who had parents who went nuts over a B on a report card? Or who actually came home and cooked dinner? And when Marissa had dropped into her life like the miracle she was, Kimberly had been determined that the little girl would know stability and routine and dinner on the table every night.

The Monroes, though... She hadn’t known families like that actually existed. They’d laughed and teased and joked...and she could see hints of deeper emotions, too. The care they took with Taylor, the way they looked over each of those kids. And Ma... Oh, Ma, how she ruled over the whole brood with such a gentle but firm spirit.

To have a family like that. To belong.

Because honestly, Kimberly had never felt like she belonged to anybody except for Marissa, and lately, what with all the emotional upheaval, sometimes Marissa didn’t seem to want to belong to her.

Last night had been a beautiful reprieve. She hadn’t even realized how much she had been starved for the rowdy good humor of a large family. But, and now she glanced back down at the LED numbers on her calculator, she couldn’t afford to linger too much longer.

A day longer, maybe two, was really all she could afford. Back in Atlanta, she had bills to pay, and school would be starting soon enough—the first week of August. If she wanted to save money and time enough to make the trek out to Indiana to have Marissa seen by the world-renowned specialist on PAI-1, Kimberly couldn’t waste seventy dollars a night on a hotel room in a town with no real answers.

If only Daniel would tell me what he knows...

She closed the checkbook and pulled out her list of people to talk to. She would start with the police officer listed on the incident report.

Galvanized by the hard look at her finances and priorities, Kimberly called out to a sleeping Marissa, “Hey, sleepyhead! Time to get up, okay? We need to start seeing some folks.”

Kimberly rooted around in her bag. Yes, there it was, the folder with the incident report and the scant information she had about Marissa’s birth. And the responding officer, Timothy Clarke. With any luck, Officer Clarke would still be working for the police department, and maybe he could help her—or at least point in the direction of someone who could.

Which was more than Daniel was willing to do.

Be fair. He’s an honorable man. He doesn’t want to break the law.

But if the spirit of the law had been to protect children, then surely, to help Marissa, bending it would be okay.

“Fifteen more minutes. Please, Mom, please.” Marissa burrowed deeper into the covers. “I. Am. So. Tired.”

“Yeah, well, you played hard yesterday. And we stayed out too late.”

The memory of Daniel beside her on that swing, his hand in hers, the night air soft and velvety around them, suddenly swamped Kimberly. To shake off the unsettling feeling, she needed to get moving. And to get moving, she had to get Marissa vertical. With her free hand, she yanked at the thin coverlet.

With reflexes like a cat, Marissa yanked back. “Mo-om. Lemme stay here, please? I’ll lock the door. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll just sleep. For a month. Or maybe two.”

“No, I am not about to leave you here by yourself in a strange hotel room in a strange city.”

Marissa opened one eye. “Well, okay. Let me go hang out with Taylor. That was fun yesterday. She’s cool.”

Kimberly dropped to the bed, confused. “Marissa, this isn’t a fun-and-games vacation. This is... I thought you wanted to be with me when I talked to these people.”

“Well, of course, I want to know. But I... Can’t you go and tell me about it? You know, later? And I wouldn’t have to, er, actually, be there?”

This last phrase, she uttered in a small voice. Her knuckles were white against the coverlet. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes, but Kimberly could see that she wasn’t really sleepy anymore.

No. She was...apprehensive. Yesterday had been tough for Marissa, maybe tougher than even Kimberly had realized. Was she putting her daughter through too much too soon?

If she’d had anybody to leave Marissa with back home, Kimberly would have made this trip alone. But she really didn’t. Most of Marissa’s friends were off at camp or on vacation, and the ones who weren’t... Well, their parents weren’t Kimberly’s pick of the litter. Her own mother? That certainly hadn’t been a possibility.

And Marissa had been okay with the plan, even a little excited. Still...

“I’m sorry, honey. We barely know the Monroes. I can’t invite us out there—”

Marissa rolled her eyes. “They’re practically family, Mom. I mean, Daniel found me. And Taylor wanted me to spend the night last night, or at least come out today.”

“Look, it’s great that you bonded with Taylor—you and she have a lot in common, what with her own health issues—”

“Mom! Not everything is about medical stuff. I like Taylor because she’s funny and cool and they’ve got a pool, which is way more fun than having to follow you around all day while you do your Nancy Drew thing. Me and Taylor, we’re not like a pair of old ladies, trading doctor stories.”

“The answer is no. You know my rule. The mom has to call me. It can’t be something—”

“Kids cook up.” Marissa finished Kimberly’s standard speech on the subject. “Oh, all right, you win! Again!” Then with ill grace she slung herself out of the bed and slammed the bathroom door.

Kimberly sighed and rubbed her temples. Already she could foresee that the day would be a tough one. She knew, from long experience, that Marissa would stew for at least an hour, but then eventually, if she left her alone, her fair-to-partly-cloudy child would come around.

This is for her, Kimberly told herself. It’s not as if I have any other options. And I certainly won’t trouble Daniel Monroe again!

* * *

THE POLICE STATION was smaller than Kimberly had expected, its cramped reception area bare and sterile looking and awash in fluorescent light. At the front desk, glass separated her from a police officer with a phone jammed to his ear and a harassed expression on his face. It seemed that each moment one phone call ended, another button would light up, and the officer would shrug apologetically and take yet another call.

There was nowhere to sit, so Marissa passed the time by leaning against the wall and playing a game on her phone that beeped and pinged. Kimberly tried to rehearse what she’d say if she got the chance to talk to Officer Clarke.

Finally the man on the other side of the glass plunked down the phone and smiled. “Can I help you?” he asked.

Kimberly took a huge breath and started in on her story.

“Wait, wait, you mean Lieutenant Clarke? He oversees our detective division. He’s out on a case now, but I can call him.”

“Yes, that would be great!” Kimberly told him.

“If you were by yourself, I could let you back there to wait for him...but, uh, policy says we can’t allow minors,” the officer told her. He gazed pointedly past Kimberly’s shoulder at Marissa.

Marissa murmured in a singsong voice, “Told you I should have spent the day at Taylor’s.”

Kimberly managed a smile. “Thank you, sir. It won’t be too long, will it? We don’t mind waiting here? Do we, Marissa?”

The officer nodded. “I’ll call now, and then I’ll let you know.”

The wait stretched out. Kimberly shifted from foot to foot, wondering why on earth the police department didn’t spring for chairs in the waiting room.

As she pulled out her cell phone to check the time, it buzzed in her hand. She didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was the local one.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Is this Kimberly? Marissa’s mom?”

“Yes, and this is...?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! This is Ma, honey. Colleen Monroe. We were wondering if Marissa could spend the day with us. She’d mentioned to Taylor that you two would be in town for a few more days.”

“Hmm.” Kimberly shot a look toward Marissa. She had an expression of patient endurance on her face. The earlier sullenness was gone. She seemed engrossed in her game, not even bothering to eavesdrop. “That’s very thoughtful of you—”

“I don’t want to interfere with your time together. I mean, it is your vacation.”

“No, ma’am, it’s not exactly a vacation. It’s—” What had Daniel told his family? Anything? Nothing?

“Then, if it’s business, why not bring her on out? She’s welcome to hang out with us at our pool. Daniel’s sisters are both out of town today, and I’ve got the babies here, but it’s just them, and Taylor’s going stir-crazy not having anyone her own age.”

“I would, but I’m waiting on someone that I hope to meet with, and I can’t leave at the moment.”

“Not a problem. Daniel said he and one of his firefighters needed to pick up some vegetables out here on the farm for the station’s kitchen. If it’s okay with you, I’ll tell him to swing by your hotel and bring Marissa.”

“Er—” At the mention of Daniel’s name, Kimberly’s skin prickled. “We’re not at the hotel. The person I need to meet works at the police station, a Lieutenant Clarke.”

“Timmy? My goodness. Timmy and Daniel go way back—they were in high school together. And they won’t let young people in the back of the station, so it’s just as well that I send Daniel by to pick her up.”

“Oh, that sounds like too much of a bother—”

“No trouble at all. He’ll see you in a jiff.”

And with that, Ma rang off.

Kimberly tossed the phone back in her purse. She must have made some sort of noise because Marissa surfaced from her game.

“What is it, Mom? Something wrong?”

“No, it’s... Ma has invited you out to swim.”

“Cool beans! So I can go?”

“I guess. Don’t let it become a habit, okay? We don’t want to wear out our welcome. Daniel and someone else are supposed to come by and—”

The connecting door to the back of the station swung open. A tall red-haired man with an overwhelming amount of freckles and dressed in khakis and a knit golf shirt smiled at them. “I’m Lieutenant Tim Clarke. I understand you’re waiting on me?”

“Yes! I’m Kimberly—”

The man waved a freckled arm. “Yep. Daniel’s filled me in.”

“Daniel?” Kimberly stared past the lanky redhead to the man behind him.

Lt. Clarke slapped Daniel on the shoulder. “Yep. He said I should help you if I could. Hey, why don’t the two of us grab a cup of coffee at the diner across the street?”

Daniel and the lieutenant came out to join them in the reception area, the door locking shut behind them. Daniel smiled warmly at Marissa, but was it a little forced when he turned to Kimberly?

“Marissa, I’ve got orders from Ma to ferry you out to the farm. Ready to roll? Bobbi’s waiting for us in the truck. You remember her, right?”

And with nothing more than a casual wave goodbye to Kimberly, Marissa trooped out the open door that Daniel held for her.

He must have sensed Kimberly’s momentary panic, because he stopped, gave her a nod and said, “She couldn’t be in better hands. Ma raised six of us to be tax-paying productive citizens, and all in one piece. She’s got this. But you can call anytime—me or Ma—if you’re worried.”

Kimberly drew in a calming breath and reminded herself not to be a complete mess when it came to Marissa. “Thanks, I appreciate you taking her out there and, er, giving Lieutenant Clarke here my bona fides. As for Marissa—” Kimberly even managed a joke “—relax, Daniel. That’s the breeze outside you feel, not my rotor wash.”

He chuckled. “I like that. Gotta go grab these veggies if I’m going to con some of my firefighters to help me cook them and actually eat them.”

With that, he was gone, and suddenly the space reverted back to its bare sterility.

She shook herself to get rid of the empty feeling that washed over her. Well, she wasn’t here for Daniel. She was here on a mission. She was here for Marissa. She turned to the detective. “How about that cup of coffee, Lieutenant?” she asked.

CHAPTER NINE

ON THE WAY across the street, the first thing the detective did was release Kimberly from using his title and last name. “Ma practically raised me, so any friend of Daniel’s is welcome to dispense with the formalities.”

They walked into the diner, and Tim hustled her back to a booth at the end. The waitress immediately brought two cups and a hot carafe of coffee.

“Morning, Tim... Ma’am, Tim here likes his coffee fully leaded and black as night, that okay with you? Or do you want something else?”

“That’s fine,” Kimberly said. “The sugar’s here on the table. Can I have some cream, though?”

“Coming right up.” The waitress glanced Tim’s way. “Same as usual, even though it’s a tad early for lunch?”

“Yep. Eat when you can, that’s my motto. Oh, my usual is the steak, mashed potatoes and gravy with a side of green beans and extra mushrooms. You want that? Or...what else, Vera? Y’all still got breakfast?”

“Actually...” Kimberly remembered that grim encounter with her checkbook balance this morning. She couldn’t afford two breakfasts in one day. “The coffee will be fine.”

A moment later, Vera brought a pitcher of cream to go with the sugar packets Kimberly had waiting by her cup. Tim had begun quaffing down his coffee, seemingly immune to its scalding temperature.

“Daniel said Marissa had some health issues, and you were trying to get the birth mom’s identity?” Tim asked, setting his mug down. “You know I can’t give you that information. State law and all.”

“Right.” Kimberly didn’t look up from stirring her coffee. She wanted to frame her words exactly right. “But what can you tell me? Anything? Can you...can you tell me if anybody was with her? If she told you about any health problems?”

Tim frowned, a line forming on his freckled forehead. “Let’s see...she was by herself. I was the first officer on the scene. I got there as they were loading her into the ambulance. Man, that was a scene! You know she nearly died, right?”

Kimberly’s heart skipped a beat. “No. How?”

“Some sort of hemorrhage. They didn’t catch it at first, but they couldn’t stop the bleeding. I know I closed out my case after my boss told me to count it as a safe-haven surrender and the birth mother was flown out to Macon—that’s the nearest trauma center.”

Kimberly placed her coffee mug down on the laminate to hide the way her fingers trembled. Finally, a clue about Marissa’s family medical history. Hemorrhaging during childbirth could have been caused by PAI-1 deficiency, or any number of possibilities. “But she survived?”

Tim blinked. He sagged back into the booth. “That’s—that’s something I don’t know. I guess I assumed she did. I mean, I know she made it to Macon. But honestly, I couldn’t tell you. She had no charges pending against her once my superiors told me to count it as a safe-haven surrender.” He grinned and ducked his head. “We, um, were more interested in how the baby was doing, to be truthful. Man, it’s amazing how that baby’s all grown-up now.”

Kimberly fought back conflicting emotions: fear that her assumption all this time that Marissa’s birth mother was still alive and could give them the answers they needed was wrong; the familiar frustration that finding her wasn’t as easy as a quick check of the records; and a surge of appreciation that, even before she’d come into Marissa’s life, her daughter had people looking out for her.

Someone, somewhere, knows something. And if I can’t talk to the birth mom, I could track down her parents or the birth father or even his parents.

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