Destiny by chance: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel (29 page)

The following morning, they prepared breakfast as usual for their guests.  And yet everyone seemed to be distracted, their smiles forced.  Bill and Sydney were supposed to report to the lab by noon.  As the time neared, Bill didn’t know if he could follow through.  He’d awoken that morning determined to fight the court order, but a last minute call to Dale was sobering.  They talked through his options, and together they agreed his choices were limited.  Then Bill reminded him he wanted to see Justine.  Her attorney hadn’t returned Dale’s call, but Dale promised to call Bill as soon as he did. Bill stressed that he wanted to see her
before
the paternity test results were released; his attorney stressed once more that he still didn’t think it was a good idea.

Although the court order specified they arrive by noon, Dale had instructed Bill to wait until just before five o’clock.  It was Friday, and from his experience, that alone would delay the test by three more days since the labs didn’t work on the weekend, which would buy Dale and his client extra time to determine how best to fight Justine.  At four fifty-nine, Bill, and his daughter walked into the lab.  Sydney repeatedly insisted that she didn’t remember any paperwork requiring lab work for school.  But in the end, she reluctantly gave in, on the condition that Destiny come with her and hold her hand throughout the process.  Destiny said she’d be honored to do so. 

Afterward, they went to Twisted Root again.  Though it was too cold for mini golf, they played anyway—a specific condition of Sydney’s agreement to give up her blood. Then they went home and spent the rest of the evening baking and decorating Christmas cookies to hand out when they caroled on the porch again that weekend.  Christmas was just days away, and yet, all of a sudden, there were so many other things distracting them from doing what he and Sydney had come to consider part of their family tradition. 

Bill wanted as much normal as possible for his daughter.  He looked at their tree.  They had decorated it together.  This year she had picked purple, again, since for the past four years that was
her
color.  So there were white and purple round glass ornaments, with a scattering of silver. There were ribbons and lights, and a beautiful angel adorning the top.  There were also a variety of ornaments that didn’t match anything, ones she had made over the years, and ones they had bought together that were dated, representing every year since Sydney was born.

There was so much more he wanted for his daughter, now and for her future.  He wanted her to go to college, to get married and have children.  In that order, of course.  He wanted to be a part of her story as long as he was alive.  There were dozens of presents under the tree, all for Sydney.  He still had one more thing to get, but now, he wasn’t sure.  If he could just see the results early, he would know what to do.  And what if they showed that he wasn’t…?  How could he tell her? 
What
would he tell her?

Bill had already begun to work the details out in his head.  He only needed a day to disappear.  He would clean out his bank accounts, all of them.  Charlie had enough contacts to get them all new identifications, and Bill would pay whatever it took.  He hadn’t changed his will since Sydney was born, so he had asked Dale to amend it that morning.  These were details no father wants to think about, but it was his responsibility to protect his daughter’s interests.  Bill dropped his head into his hands.  He couldn’t believe he even had to consider such things.  How could everything have fallen apart so fast? 

Bill stepped to the tree, his hand reaching for a small unique ornament.  It was one Sydney had made in kindergarten—a clear ornament with white confetti, a little fake sprig of a pine tree with a berry, and her picture inside.  He smiled fondly at the image.  She had a toothless, forced grin, her bangs hanging down to her eyebrows, her hair pulled back by some elastic twisty-thingy, as she used to call it.  He shook it slightly so that the fake snow settled perfectly around the picture.  He hung it back onto the tree and smiled sadly.  His daughter was the most precious thing in his life.  He couldn’t lose her.  He wouldn’t lose her.

And what about Destiny?  He wanted to ask her to marry him.  Now was he going to ask her just to disappear with him and his daughter?  How reasonable was that?  Bill rubbed his forehead.  And what happened if she said no?  He felt a headache coming on.  How could he leave her now?  He was madly in love with her. 

Bill looked at his watch.  Owen, Sheray, and the rest of the crew would be serving fish about now.  This made two weeks in a row he hadn’t gone to the senior center.  Because he was a creature of habit, somehow, not going, made his life feel out of kilter.  He missed the routine; the normalcy of going every Friday night and serving the Veterans and what it meant.

His phone rang suddenly, and he hurriedly pulled it from his pocket.  Dale’s personal cell phone number scrolled across the screen.  Bill listened while Dale talked.  Justine had agreed to meet.  They were supposed to meet in an hour at what he assumed was her hotel’s bar.  Dale reiterated that he didn’t think it was a good idea.  When Bill refused to take his advice, Dale suggested that he take someone else, just in case something went wrong.  When Dale finally hung up, Bill merely stared at the phone and sighed before sliding it back into his pocket.  He looked at his watch and walked back to the kitchen where Sydney and Destiny were finishing the last of the cookies.

“Hey, Daddy,” Sydney said, excitedly, flecks of blue, green, red and yellow icing on her face and in her hair.

“Hey, Sweetie,” he said, kissing the top of her head.  “Wow, those are some beautiful cookies.  You’re an excellent decorator.”

Sydney brushed back her hair with her gloved wrist, swiping another streak of yellow icing through her black hair.  “Actually, Destiny did that one.  These are mine,” she said, pointing to two dozen that weren’t as professionally iced.

“Those are the ones I was talking about, Sweetie!” he insisted.  He looked at Destiny.  “I’ve got to run an errand.” He reached over and stroked Sydney’s hair.  “I might be awhile.”  “Can you hold down the fort until I get back?” Bill forced a smile.

“Everything okay?”

“Of course,” he insisted, looking away, hoping she couldn’t read his eyes.

“I’ll bet Daddy’s going shopping.” Sydney smiled slyly, without looking up from the cookie she was decorating.

“You don’t think you have enough presents under the tree?”

“There can
never
be enough presents under the tree,” she beamed, brushing back her hair again.

Bill leaned over and kissed her on the head.  “I fear, my child, that I have done what I promised myself I would never do.”

“What’s that?”

“Spoil you rotten.”

“Oh, Daddy.  I’m not spoiled.”

“Of course not.” Bill rolled his eyes and smiled at Destiny.  He then motioned with his head for her to follow.  He kissed his daughter once on her cheek.  “Love you, Syd.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.”

“Be right back.” Destiny took off her apron and washed her hands, before walking him to the front door.

Bill slid on his coat.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he added.  “Look, if anything…” he began, then looked down, his fingers fumbling with the zipper.  “With everything going on, I left a list of phone numbers on the dresser.  Just in case.”

Destiny narrowed her brow.  “In case of what?”

Bill zipped his jacket.  “I don’t know.  Just in case.” He forced a reassuring smile.  “And I gave Dale and Uncle Charlie your number, in the event they can’t reach me.  I hope that’s alright.”

Destiny searched his face.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Bill was finding it harder to lie to her than he thought it would be.  He took her face into his hands and leaned in, kissing her gently.  “God, I love you.”

Destiny smiled.  “I love you, too.”

Bill dropped his forehead to hers.  “See you in a little bit.

“I’ll wait up,” she grinned, mischievously.

Bill kissed her once more before he walked out the front door.  Destiny watched him through the antique lace curtains, after which she returned to her kitchen duties.

“I think Daddy likes you,” Sydney remarked as she piped white icing onto a green Christmas tree.

“Do you?” Destiny asked, putting her apron back on.  “Well, I kind of like him, too.”  As she slid on her gloves, she asked, “Has he said anything to you?”

“No,” Sydney said, casually.  “But a girl can tell these things.”

“Really?” she asked, drawing out her response.  “So, how would you feel about that?  If he did… like me?”

“I’d tell him, ‘it’s about time!’” she beamed.

“Yeah.  About time.” She grinned to herself as she decorated the back of Sydney’s hand with yellow icing.

“Hey!” Sydney exclaimed, turning and piping icing onto the back of Destiny’s hand.

A small icing war began.  Ten minutes later, when an armistice agreement was declared, there was icing all over their faces, arms, and hands; not to mention the floor and the countertop.  All of a sudden, Destiny grabbed Sydney from behind and lifted her up, holding down her arms so that she couldn’t ice her anymore.

“I love you,” Destiny whispered into her ear.

Sydney turned in her arms.  “I love you, too,” she said excitedly, hugging her neck.  She slid from her arms and started decorating another cookie.  “Why don’t you have any pictures of your family in your room?”

Destiny froze, the question so random and so unexpected. 

“Don’t you miss them?” Sydney asked.  Her innocent eyes tried to hold Destiny’s, but she kept looking away.

Destiny felt her eyes welling with tears.  She swallowed hard, her heart racing.  “Yes,” she said weakly.  “I do miss them.”  She didn’t even feel the words leave her mouth, but she heard herself say them, and then the tears fell.  She turned as she wiped them away. 

“I miss my mom, and I haven’t even met her,” Sydney said. “I have her picture in my room, next to my bed, so that I’ll never forget her.” 

Destiny sniffed, wiped her cheeks and turned back to the young girl as she put her arms around her, watching her as she decorated another cookie.  “I’ve seen that picture, Sweetie.  Your mom is quite lovely.”

“Do you think she thinks about me?” Sydney asked, looking up at her.  “I mean do you think she misses me?”

Destiny smiled down at her.  “I know she does,” she said.  “I’ll bet she misses you every day, too,” she added, squeezing her harder, before kissing her on the forehead.  Sydney turned and hugged her again.  Suddenly Destiny felt Sydney’s hands on her head. 

“You just put icing on my hair, didn’t you?” she asked, reaching behind her head.  Blue icing colored her hand when she brought it forward.

Sydney shrugged and giggled.

Destiny pulled off her gloves backward over her hands, causing them to snap against her skin.  She grabbed Sydney and smeared yellow icing on her face.  What ensued was another playful icing fight that could only be remedied by a bubble bath and lots of shampoo.  Destiny tickled Sydney and swung her around in her arms, finding a perfect kinship that she had been missing for a very, very long time. 

Bill almost didn’t recognize her at first, in her sun hat and expensive Italian dress, looking so refined, so sophisticated, beautiful.  But she was always beautiful.  Somehow, as he looked closer, she still looked like she did ten years ago.  Bill often wondered how he’d feel if he ever saw her again, whether he’d be angry or hurt or maybe even if he would have other feelings toward her like he used to.  But he felt nothing.  No, that wasn’t true.  He felt sadness, grief for the time she’d missed with Sydney.  Sadness that Justine didn’t even know her daughter, and that her daughter didn’t know her.

Justine turned and smiled when she saw him, but it wasn’t a good-to-see-you smile.  It was more a smile of arrogance, with an air of nobility, as though she were looking down on him.  Bill sat on the bar stool beside her and turned to face the bartender.  He didn’t usually drink, but he felt today,
especially
now, he needed one.  The bartender poured him a shot of Weller, as he turned to his ex-wife. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink,” Justine said, sipping on her stinger.

Bill didn’t want to appear weak.  She always told him he was weak.  “I don’t.  Usually.”

“I was surprised when you asked to see me.”  Justine turned toward him and crossed her legs, her skirt sliding to the top of her well-toned thighs.  She put a slender cigarette between her lips and sat there, waiting for someone else to light it.  After only a moment, the bartender reached over and lit it for her.  She didn’t even acknowledge him as if he was expected to attend to her, so she didn’t owe him anything.  She blew the smoke away from Bill.  “She’s beautiful,” Justine remarked off-handedly, glancing at her nails.

“She is.” Bill toyed with his drink, as though waiting until the moment he would need it for courage.  “And she’s smart, one of the brightest in her class.”

“I was never really that good in school.” Justine sighed, then slowly sipped her drink.  “So, she couldn’t have gotten her smarts from me.”

“Why are you here, Justine?”

“I’m here to see my daughter.  To let her know how much I love her and miss her.  And to introduce her to her
real
father.”

Bill knocked back the drink and slid the glass toward the bartender.  “I’m her father,” Bill stated emphatically. 

Justine motioned to the bartender for another drink. “That’s yet to be determined,” she replied, facing away from him. 

“You left her, remember?  You walked away and never looked back.”

“You’re wounded, so this is you striking back.”

Bill shook his head.  “This isn’t about me.  It’s about Sydney. 
Our
daughter.”

“
My
daughter needs her mother.”

Bill shook his head as his fingers traced the rim of the shot glass.  “You’ve always been welcome here, Justine.”  Bill spoke as calmly as he could.  “So, why now?  Did you just wake up one morning and realize that you missed your daughter?  What is this?  I’d like to understand what’s going on here.”

Justine turned to him.  “What’s going on is that I knew deep in my heart that leaving all those years ago was the best thing for my daughter.  Our relationship was illusory, and it wasn’t the best thing for my child.  Or for me.”

“And yet you left her here.”

“Let’s go upstairs where we can talk.”  Justine slid off the chair, “Somewhere more private.”

Bill hesitated, then downed his second shot before standing.  It was probably best to relocate since he was beginning to get angry and didn’t want to cause a scene.  Justine didn’t wait for him to answer, she just sashayed with graceful elegance toward the elevator.  Bill tossed enough cash onto the counter to pay for both of their drinks and followed her.  He wasn’t surprised at all when she pressed the top floor button.  He’d heard she married money.  After Justine had left he never tried to find her, he didn’t go after her.  For a few years, her mother would call or come by, and casually mention how well Justine was doing.  She had married an Italian, and they lived in Venice.  But he never inquired further.  It was too painful to think she had moved on so easily, to think that she could walk away.  Not just from him, but especially her daughter.  And
never
look back.

When they arrived at her suite, Justine stepped off first, removing her sun hat and tossing it onto the cream sofa.  She fluffed her hair before turning and smiling at him.  “Be a dear and pour me a drink.”  Justine turned away, moving toward the expansive windows that overlooked the city. 

Bill glanced around the room until he spied what looked like a gold Faberge egg with an eagle on top, sitting on a golden tray on the wood and glass coffee table, two glasses beside it.  He pulled the gold-plated stopper and poured them each a drink.  He hesitated only for a moment before carrying it to her, holding it out for her to take.

She looked at him indifferently, but smiled as she reached for the glass, her hand deliberately touching his.  Tentatively, she took the glass from him and sipped from it.  “Have you ever had Imperial before?” she asked, holding up her glass.  “It’s one of the best vodkas on the market.  Twenty-five hundred a bottle.”  She looked back out the window.  “Only the best.”

“Justine, I—” he began.

“Don’t you think she deserves the best, Bill?” Justine licked her lips.

“She has the best.”

“Yes, but in Italy, she’ll have the best schools.”

“Her school
is
the best,” he reiterated.

“Do they teach her two languages?”

“She’s learning Spanish.”

Justine scoffed.  “You mean Mexican, the language of laborers.  True Castilian Spanish is a finer language.  But Italian, and Latin… those are languages that she can do something with.”

“You do realize that Central American Spanish originated from Spain,” he replied, annoyed.

Justine turned dismissively, moving away from him and waving him off with her hand as she moved gracefully to the sofa.  She sat, then patted the place beside her.  Bill sighed, as he walked to the couch facing her, on the other side of the table.  Her smile was sly, her eyes twinkling with mischief.  “I won’t bite, Bill.”

“Why are you doing this, Justine?” he asked, wringing his hands.  “After all this time?  Why now?”

“Why not?” she casually answered, as if it was her right.  “You make it sound like I have an agenda.”

“Don’t you?” he said, matter-of-factly.  “I knew you long enough to know that you didn’t do anything without having a plan in place.”

Justine stood and paced slowly, her red Christian Louboutin stilettos moving stealthily across the plush white carpet.  “Let me play devil’s advocate, here.  Any court here will never deny a mother’s plea to be with her daughter,” she said, her back to him as she looked out the window again.

“You abandoned her.”

“Mental duress,” she said dramatically.  “It happens all the time.  Mental anguish.”

Bill shook his head.  “Mental anguish?” he scoffed.  “Really?  You expect anyone to believe that?”

Justine turned.  “Not anyone, Bill.  Just the judge,” she replied coyly, her finger to her lip, while holding her glass.  She could see he was hurt and confused.  She walked to him and sat beside him, setting her glass on the table by his.  Delicately, she put her hand on his knee.  “Now, Bill, I know you want what’s best for Sydney.  You’ve had your time with her,” she said, nonchalantly.  “Now it’s my turn.”

Bill looked at her in shock.  “Your turn?  She’s not a puppy, Justine.”  He shook his head and stood up.  “You’re welcome to see her anytime you want.  You’ve always been welcome.” He looked defiantly into her eyes.  “But she’s staying with me.  She’s my daughter.”

“Is she?” Justine asked, standing next to him, her stilettos making her eye level with him.  “That’s yet to be determined,” she said, her eyes narrowing with a hateful stare.

“She’s mine.”

“Now, who’s acting like she’s a puppy,” she said smugly.  He began to turn, and she put her hand on his arm.  “Bill, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I
always
get my way.  All you’re going to do is bankrupt yourself trying to fight Uri and me, and we’ll still win.”

Bill turned and grabbed her by her forearms.  “Now let
me
tell
you
something.  I don’t care if it bankrupts me or if it kills me, if you think I’m just going to let her go without a fight, you’re very mistaken.  You may think you’ll win because you have money, but you’re not going to win this one.”

Suddenly, Justine had fear in her eyes.  “Ow!” she exclaimed, as the defiance returned.  “Let go of me this instant.”

Bill pushed her away as he released her so that she fell back onto the couch.  If only his voice could evoke every emotion inside of him, he would scream at her.  But he looked down at her and held her gaze.  “You’re not going to win!” Bill barked angrily.  He turned and left the suite.

Justine stewed for a moment, watching him get onto the elevator.  He stared at her determinedly, and she could only smile just as determinedly in return.  After he had left, she rubbed her arms where he held her.  Justine rose calmly and lit another cigarette as she walked back to the window.  “Stupid little piss-ant.  We’ll see who wins.”  She walked to the counter, took out her cell phone, and dialed with her smoking hand.  She tapped her shoe impatiently until he responded.  “What do you have from the courthouse?”  She waited for an answer, annoyed that he was giving her the long version. 

She sighed dramatically.  “Fine.  Stay on it.  I’m paying you for answers.  So find me some,” Justine snapped, and then punched the button to hang up the phone.  As she paced back and forth, the elevator dinged, and she set her phone down.  She stepped to the window and smiled to herself.  Justine closed her eyes and imagined Connie’s hands all over her, pleasuring her in ways no other man could.  She felt the tentative kisses on her neck, and then she suddenly stood upright.  She turned, stunned, but transforming her shock into a seductive smile as he stepped back.

“Uri!”