Always Dakota (21 page)

Dennis stood at her side, his arm about her waist. He, too, appeared impressed with the work that had been done in Sarah’s absence.

The doorbell above the shop chimed and Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see Calla. Her daughter looked upset and near panic.

“Jennifer,” Calla cried, “does anyone know where my mother—” She stopped talking when she saw Sarah.

“I’m here,” Sarah said and stretched out her arm to her daughter.

Calla hesitantly advanced toward her. “I stopped at the house after school and you weren’t there. I…I didn’t know what to think.”

“I’m fine,” Sarah told her, struggling to hold back tears. This was the first sign she’d seen of Calla’s love in a very long while. “I should’ve let you know I had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

“I’d better get back to work,” Dennis said, and squeezed her hand, aware of Calla’s feelings toward him. Whenever possible, he tried to give her plenty of breathing space.

“You’ll get a ride home?” he asked. “Lie down for a couple of hours?”

Sarah assured him she would, although at the moment she felt like celebrating, not resting.

“I…I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Calla said, sounding self-conscious. She backed away from her mother as though she’d suddenly remembered their estrangement.

“You didn’t. How about one of Hassie’s sodas?” Sarah asked, and then for incentive, she added, “Just you and me. I’ll tell you what the doctor had to say.”

Calla shrugged as if to imply that she didn’t have anything better to do.

“Great.” Sarah smiled at Jennifer, then walked over to Hassie’s with her daughter.

Unfortunately Hassie was gone for the afternoon, but Leta Betts put together a darn good soda herself. She served them, then hurried to help a customer who seemed bewildered by the different kinds of film on display.

More like longtime friends than mother and daughter, Sarah and Calla sat on the padded stools and sipped their sodas and chatted. “The baby’s going to be all right?” Calla asked.

“So far, so good.”

Calla’s lips formed a smile. “What’s it like being pregnant?” she asked.

“Actually, it’s pretty incredible.”

“Do you really feel the baby kick?”

“All the time.”

Calla’s questions revealed thought and sensitivity. Apparently she’d done quite a bit of thinking about this baby. That pleased Sarah. In the last months, Calla had revealed no indication of jealousy or sibling resentment.

Then, in a carefully casual voice, Calla said, “Dad phoned the other day.”

Involuntarily, Sarah tensed. If Willie had gotten hold of Calla it could be for only one reason. He wanted something. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what it was, either. He was after Calla’s hard-earned paycheck.

“Do I dare ask why he called?”

“He said he needs money. A loan.”

“You didn’t give it to him, did you?” It wasn’t any of Sarah’s business, but she’d blurted out the question before she could think better of it.

“Mother, please,” Calla returned, rolling her eyes. She held on to the straw with one hand and the glass with the other. “Do I look like I was born yesterday?”

So Willie didn’t get a dime. “Good for you.”

Calla didn’t say anything for a couple of moments, then glanced in Sarah’s direction, her eyes sober. “It wasn’t easy, you know?”

Sarah did know. Calla was Willie’s daughter and any daughter sought her father’s approval, even if that father was as inadequate as Willie. Refusing him money must have been difficult.

“He asked me to get it from you,” she added. “He seems to think you’d give it to me if I asked.”

Willie was right; if Calla had asked for money, Sarah might well have forked over her own cash without asking a lot of questions. She would have seen it as a way to build a bridge in their relationship, a way she could prove her love.

Calla was staring at her, waiting. Then Sarah understood. Her daughter was asking. Despite everything Willie had done to her, Calla wanted to help him.

“I won’t give you money for your father,” she said flatly.

Calla looked away.

Feeling she had to explain, Sarah said, “It’s as hard for me to turn you down as it was for you to say no to your father. I understand what you must have felt when he pressured you, because that’s how I feel right now.”

Calla looked back and surprise flickered in her eyes.

“I love you, Calla. You’re my daughter and the fact that you’ve decided to live apart from me hurts. It hurts really badly. I’d do just about anything to regain your affection.”

That seemed to require some digesting on Calla’s part. “You won’t give my father money?”

“No.”

Calla’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re married to Dennis.”

“I did marry Dennis, but my decision has nothing to do with him.” She paused, trying to make sense of Calla’s reactions. “I wasn’t choosing Dennis over you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

By now Calla’s eyes had turned cold. “Think what you like, Mother, but that’s exactly what you did.” She slipped off the stool and stalked outside, as though she couldn’t get away fast enough.

Buffalo Bob felt good. Better than good. He felt terrific. He’d taken the biggest gamble of his life by contacting the California authorities about Axel. Even bigger than buying into that poker game when he won 3 OF A KIND from Dave Ertz. He’d made an honest go of the business in a town that was practically dead. Now, as March progressed, he had real hopes that the courts would choose him and Merrily as Axel’s adoptive parents.

Merrily rushed into the kitchen. “Pastor Dawson is here.”

Bob nodded and carried a tray laden with an assortment of baked delicacies into the restaurant. His cast had been removed several weeks before but his arm was still weak, and several people rushed to take it from him. Everyone he’d contacted upon his return had shown up. Bob figured this meeting was the best way to thank the community for all the help and support he and Merrily had received.

The low buzz of chatter died down when he walked out of the kitchen. He set the tray on the counter, alongside the large urn of coffee.

“Help yourselves, and once everyone’s served, Merrily and I will tell you about our trip.”

“I’m not shy,” Hassie announced as she reached for a plate.

“Me, neither,” Joshua McKenna said and followed suit.

Soon Lindsay and Gage Sinclair, along with Maddy, had helped themselves to the pastries and cookies. Bob noticed that it was difficult for Merrily to keep her eyes off the two infants. His wife hungered for their son, but Bob didn’t think it would take much longer for Axel to come home.

“First of all,” Bob said after everyone was seated again, “Merrily and I want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for the way you’ve stood by us and supported us.”

Merrily’s arm was around his waist. “It meant more to us than you’ll ever know to have your letters of recommendation there before the judge. We know he was impressed.”

“He said he was,” Bob told them and noticed the quick exchange of smiles. He grinned at Pastor Dawson, who’d originally come up with the idea. “The money the church collected was a huge help, too.”

“California is expensive,” Merrily said. “Compared to North Dakota, anyway.”

“What else happened?” Pastor Dawson asked.

Merrily cleared her throat and when she spoke, the muscles in her face tightened. “I—I had to stand before the judge because of what I did.”

Even with the plea bargain in place, Merrily had been terrified. The federal kidnapping charge was a serious crime. It was only the testimony she’d provided in the plea agreement regarding Axel’s natural father that had saved her from jail.

“Did you see Axel?” Leta Betts asked.

“No,” Merrily replied, and that one word revealed a world of pain and regret.

Bob put his arm protectively around his wife’s shoulders. This had been the hardest part of the entire ordeal. Merrily had assumed she’d have some time with Axel. Bob had, too, but it didn’t come to pass.

“We talked to the social worker and it was felt that a visit from us now would do him more harm than good,” he explained.

“He’s…doing better, we understood.” Merrily forced a brave smile.

Bob loved her all the more for trying to conceal her bitter disappointment. He saw several heads nod in agreement and noted the pained looks their friends shared with him and Merrily.

“We were able to get a couple of pictures of him, though,” his wife added excitedly. She went from table to table, showing off the latest snapshots of Axel. “I couldn’t believe how much he’s grown.”

“You’re being considered for adoption?” The question came from Gage Sinclair.

“Yes, oh, yes.” Again it was Merrily who responded.

“We were interviewed individually,” Bob said.

“And then together,” Merrily told him.

“Are they doing a home study?” Maddy asked.

“Apparently so.” Bob explained that the last thing he’d heard from Linda Beck, the social worker assigned to Axel’s case, was that she’d be getting in touch with them soon about a home study.

Grinning, Maddy flashed them a thumbs-up.

“If she wants to interview character witnesses, give her my name,” Pastor Dawson said.

Bob felt his wife’s arm tighten about him. “You’d do that for us?”

“Of course.”

Each person in the room made the same offer. Bob was deeply moved by these actions of genuine friendship. Never would he have guessed that he’d meet such good people in this down-on-its-luck town. Everyone here was as much family as he’d ever hoped to find.

“Bob and I are grateful, but the battle hasn’t been won yet,” Merrily went on to say.

“We’ll do everything we can to help,” Hassie called out.

Their friends lingered for another hour, asking questions and making suggestions. Before they left, each one in turn hugged him and Merrily.

Before she went home, Maddy said that with the state willing to do a home study, it was advisable to make their living quarters as attractive as possible. An apartment above a bar probably wouldn’t be considered the best environment for a toddler. Maddy hadn’t come right out and said that, but Bob had gotten the message.

Axel’s old bedroom could use a fresh coat of paint. Merrily had thought of a dozen ways to add homey touches about the place, too. Funny, he’d never given the matter much thought, but Maddy was right. Their living quarters could definitely use a bit of sprucing up. Nothing extravagant. They couldn’t afford that.

The attorneys’ fees, plus the trip out west, had set Bob back plenty. The fact that they’d been forced to close down the business while they were away didn’t help, either.

“Notice any changes?” Merrily asked when he walked into their bedroom later that night.

Bob looked around, not sure what was different. “You’d better tell me,” he suggested tiredly.

“I removed the painting.”

Bob’s gaze flew to the wall. He loved the painting that depicted a saloon in the old west, with men crowded around the bar, their shot glasses raised in a silent toast. The bartender reminded Bob of himself, only his belly wasn’t as big and his hair was longer. Above the bar was a painting of a naked woman posed to reveal the most seductive parts of the female anatomy.

“You moved my picture?” he cried, unable to disguise his outrage.

“We can’t have the social worker walking into the bedroom and seeing a picture of a naked woman.”

“It’s more than a painting of a naked woman,” he argued. Certain things were worth fighting for, and that picture was one. “What’s that?” he asked with disgust, pointing to the still life of some fruit bowl she’d replaced it with.

“Fruit.”

“I know that. It’s insipid. Stupid.”

“You like that naked woman?”

“Damn straight I do.”

Merrily arched her brows, then slowly released the sash holding her silk robe together. “I was hoping you’d find a
real
naked woman more enticing than a painting.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Bob said. He wouldn’t be that easily dissuaded. He wanted his picture back. Okay, okay, he’d move it for the home study, but not until absolutely necessary.

“I’ll rehang it after the interview if you insist.” Merrily shrugged her shoulders and the robe pooled at her bare feet. He’d been with Merrily for years now, and there were damn few secrets when it came to his wife’s naked body. Nevertheless, Bob found himself as eager to make love to her as he had the very first time.

“You’d put it back later?” he asked, surprised at how weak his voice sounded.

“I would.”

“Then I can’t see any harm.” As he spoke he threw off his own clothes with an urgency that left him trembling. “Come to your Buffalo Man,” he coaxed.

His wife didn’t need any further encouragement.

S
arah didn’t take one minute of her newfound freedom for granted, limited though it was. Wanting to protect her pregnancy and at the same time have some semblance of a life, she paced herself carfully. Mornings were spent at Buffalo Valley Quilts.

Orders for her quilts continued to pour in and the thrill never waned. People loved her simple designs and the fact that each quilt was individually constructed, each unique in its own way. At noon she returned to the house for what she called quiet time. Dennis assumed she napped, and sometimes she did, but mostly she worried about her relationship with Calla and wondered what she could do to repair the damage.

In the afternoons she prepared dinner and if she was feeling up to it, she took a short walk or went to visit friends. The last week of March, Sarah stopped by Joanie’s video store. It had only been open a few months and was an unqualified success. Sarah had gone there two or three times in the past weeks, but catching Joanie during a quiet moment was rare.

Sure enough, Joanie was busy ringing up a sale when Sarah stepped in. She liked the way the videos were displayed; Brandon had built the cases himself. In the back of the store was an area set up for crafts. Needlepoint kits hung from a peg board on the wall and there was a bulletin board filled with demonstration greeting cards created with rubber stamps. Joanie had bins of yarn and pattern books, with a completed sweater hanging up on display. Even while making the most of her space, she’d managed to create a homey and comfortable atmosphere. A couple of big, overstuffed chairs marked the entrance to the crafts section, issuing a silent invitation to sit down and relax.

“Hi, Sarah,” Joanie called out when she’d finished with her customer. “It’s great to see you.”

“You, too,” she called back. “I’m admiring your store.”

Joanie walked toward her. “The crafts are where my heart is. Brandon and I both felt the videos were where we’d make the most profit, but I’ve always loved crafts. Can I help you find anything?”

“No, thanks. Actually I was hoping we could chat for a few minutes.”

“Sure.” Joanie glanced at the front of the store, where two people were choosing videos.

“Whenever it’s most convenient for you,” Sarah suggested, knowing that if she were to attempt the conversation now, they’d be constantly interrupted.

“Would you like me to drop by your house on my way home?” Joanie asked. “Calla comes in about four. I could be there shortly after that.”

“Perfect.”

By the time Joanie arrived, Sarah had made tea and baked currant-filled scones. “Oh, this is lovely,” Joanie said, joining her in the living room.

Knowing she was taking Joanie away from her family, Sarah came directly to the point. “To begin with, I wanted to thank you for sending me videos while I was laid up. I can’t tell you what a difference they made.”

Joanie brushed aside her gratitude. “It was no problem, and truthfully, the idea was Calla’s.”

Sarah had suspected as much, and her spirits soared at Joanie’s confirmation. Despite her overtures, her relationship with Calla remained fragile and tentative. Anytime she saw progress, something would happen to upset Calla. Almost every conversation seemed to end with her angry. Regretfully, Sarah realized that nothing she could say now would undo the past. All she could do was swallow her irritation and hope that Calla would look beyond her failings as a mother. Sarah wanted her daughter to know that no one would ever love her as much as she did. Calla could trust her, talk to her, come to her. Anytime. Anyplace. Unfortunately, with a girl as moody as Calla, that kind of trust didn’t come easily.

“Calla’s a good kid,” Joanie said.

Sarah nodded. “What I really wanted to talk to you about is a day-care center,” she said, diverting the conversation from the uncomfortable subject of her daughter.

“Really? Rachel Quantrill mentioned starting one, too.”

“Did she?” This was welcome news to Sarah.

“There’s definitely a need. I’m driving over to Bellmont every day to drop Jason off with a friend who has a toddler herself. Brandon picks him up in the afternoons, but it’s inconvenient all the way around.”

Sarah had her own concerns. She had to find more employees, and she couldn’t do that unless there was someplace women felt comfortable leaving their children. With orders coming in at such a steady pace, her quilt company was having trouble meeting the demand. But it wasn’t only her business she was thinking of. Within a matter of months, she’d need someplace she could leave her own baby and feel confident that he or she would receive the best possible care.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to Rachel,” Joanie said. “Perhaps we both can.”

“That’d be great.”

Joanie reached for her scone and broke it in half. “I realize you invited me over to discuss day care, but you’re worried about Calla, too, aren’t you?”

Sarah’s distress must be more obvious than she’d realized. A lump thickened her throat and she nodded; it was the only reply she could manage.

“I meant what I said about her,” Joanie murmured.

“She
is
a good kid, but we just don’t seem to get along,” Sarah whispered, then averted her gaze, embarrassed and dismayed that everything had gone so wrong between her and Calla. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried.” She weighed the advisability of baring her soul to someone she viewed more as acquaintance than friend. But keeping everything to herself, the way she had in the past, hadn’t worked, either.

“Calla feels I chose Dennis over her. You see…” Sarah hesitated. “I wasn’t legally divorced when I first got involved with him and…” She stopped rather than allow her emotion to take control. After a moment to compose herself, she continued. “I know you and Brandon were separated for a while and I’m so pleased you worked out your problems, but—”

“But,” Joanie finished for her, “a reconciliation isn’t always possible. I know that better than anyone. I loved Brandon and he loved me. We had a lot of years and three children invested in this relationship. Neither one of us wanted a divorce, but we simply couldn’t continue the way we were.”

“You see,” Sarah whispered, fearing her voice was about to crack, “I loved Willie, too—or the man I thought he was. I was young and stupid, and in the beginning I put up with a lot more than I should have. I guess I was hoping he’d…change…. It seems ridiculous now, but deep down I prayed he’d realize how much he loved Calla and me. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. When it became obvious that I didn’t have any choice but to leave, I moved home. I should have gone ahead with the divorce then, but I put it off. There were complications with money that made it easy to delay.”

“Dennis didn’t know?”

Admitting she’d lied to him was a painful thing. “I didn’t tell anyone, not even my father. I let everyone assume I was divorced. A few years later—once I started seeing Dennis—I desperately wanted out of the marriage, but by then I was trapped in the lie.” She reached for her tea, humiliated to be confessing her sins.

“Is this why Calla’s so upset with you?” Joanie asked softly.

Sarah shrugged. “Partly. Willie never bothered to keep in touch with her, and because she wanted a father who loved her and cared about her, she built him up in her mind. He became the perfect father—a complete fantasy. Later, when she discovered we
weren’t
divorced, she felt I’d purposely withheld her father from her.”

“That was why she moved in with him?”

Sarah nodded, putting down her cup. “There was more to her decision to run away. She was furious with me for…being involved with Dennis while still legally married to her father.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over that. We all make mistakes. It’s part of life, part of the maturing process. Trust me, I’ve made plenty of mistakes with my own children.”

“I’m sure you can understand why Calla believes I chose Dennis over her.” It didn’t help that they’d announced their engagement without talking to Calla first. Neither of them had intended to slight her, but they’d suffered the consequences ever since.

“None of us are perfect parents,” Joanie reassured her. “We try, but we’re only human.”

“I wish I could get her to look at things differently….”

“Calla’s still young. And she’s got some issues to resolve. Teenagers don’t have much perspective, anyway, but toss in divorce and what she assumes is betrayal, and you end up with the kind of confusion Calla’s feeling.”

Sarah didn’t know how to react to Calla’s contradictory emotions. Her daughter’s coming to her, asking for money to give Willie, had hit her hard. Even knowing the kind of man he was, Calla had wanted to rescue him and planned to use Sarah to do it. She was afraid that Calla had given Willie her own meager paycheck. If she had, Sarah would prefer not to know about it. She just couldn’t handle that right now.

“Is…is she dating Joe Lammermann?” Sarah hated to ask, but Calla hadn’t been exactly forthcoming about the on-again off-again relationship.

“She hasn’t seen much of him since the Sweetheart Dance. In fact, I’m fairly confident she’s interested in Kevin Betts.”

“Kevin?”

“I can’t say for sure, but last month she told me they were writing.”

“When did that start?”

“Not long ago. I do know the letters have been coming fast and furious lately.”

So Calla was corresponding with Kevin. Sarah experienced a sadness that was difficult to define. Having always liked Kevin, she was pleased, but at the same time, she wished Calla had mentioned this to her. She couldn’t help wondering when she would. If she ever did.

The Doctors’ Clinic had told Matt he should have the results of the blood test within a week. He’d figured they’d either phone him or mail him, but it was almost two weeks now and he hadn’t heard. From anyone.

No news was good news, or so he’d always been told, but as the days progressed, his thinking took a decided turn toward reality. No news was no news.

When he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, he invented an excuse about needing something from the hardware store and drove into town. The receptionist at the clinic glanced up as he approached the desk. His heart pounded with dread.

He gave his name, then said, “I’d like to talk to Dr. Kaplan.”

The middle-aged woman ran her finger down the appointment schedule. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see your name. What time was your appointment?”

“I don’t have an appointment,” he said with controlled impatience. “All I need is a few minutes of his time.”

“But…”

“I don’t mean to cause a ruckus, but I
will
talk to Dr. Kaplan.”

The woman heaved a deep sigh, and Matt knew she’d gotten his message. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” He remained standing at the desk.

A minute later, the receptionist returned. “Please take a seat. He’ll be with you as soon as possible.”

Kaplan’s ASAP turned out to be ninety minutes. Twice Matt was ready to walk straight through the door and corner the physician, but he managed to curb his irritation. He’d waited this long; a few more minutes wasn’t going to matter. What surprised him was the number of people coming in and out of the clinic—including several he recognized. Apparently the place was doing a good business.

“Dr. Kaplan will see you now,” the receptionist announced.

Matt stared at her and his legs refused to budge. After waiting more than two weeks and ninety minutes, he’d expected to race inside when the opportunity presented itself.

“Mr. Eilers?”

“Yes…thank you.” He stood and followed her inside as she led him past the cubicles to the physician’s private office.

He was pacing when the harried doctor walked in. “I understand you have a problem,” he snapped.

“I was told,” Matt said, his own voice raised, “that I’d get the results of my blood test a week ago. I’ve heard nothing. As you might well understand, I’m anxious to know the verdict.”

“You haven’t received notification?” He flipped open the chart.

“Not a word.”

“Ah.” Dr. Kaplan glanced up. “The results were sent to the court. They’ll send you notification soon. It’s our policy—”

“Tell me.” Matt wasn’t willing to wait until he was contacted by an attorney. He needed to know if he’d fathered Sheryl’s baby. He’d come this far and wouldn’t retreat now.

“Mr. Eilers—”

“Either you tell me or—”

“All right, all right.”

The physician must have recognized that Matt was frustrated, stressed out and damn near sick with worry.

Sitting down at his desk, Dr. Kaplan pushed up his glasses and read through the report.

“Well?” Matt demanded in a growl.

“The test is positive. You’re the child’s father.”

It was as though Matt had suddenly been tackled from behind. His legs simply went out from under him and he slumped into a chair. If there hadn’t been a cushioned seat to catch him, he would have fallen to the floor. “There isn’t any chance of a mistake?”

“None.”

The shock was almost immediately replaced with a numbness that quickly spread to his extremities. He’d always thought that if and when he ever learned he was going to be a father it would be a joyous moment. Instead, he felt a sense of impending doom. His life as he knew it was about to change drastically—and not for the better.