The Baby Battle (4 page)

“No, sir.”

“Your Honor,” Olivia said, instantly on her feet, “I most strongly object. The circumstances surrounding—”

“Ms. Marshall,” the judge said with several slams of his gavel, “you will contain yourself and kindly remember this is not a criminal case. As such, should you again interrupt these proceedings, I will have you fined. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” She sat. Tag didn’t miss her bottom lip’s tremble. Damn, but she was a cool customer. What did it take for the woman to let loose with her emotions? He couldn’t imagine a time when she’d have more at stake.

“Mr. O’Malley,” the judge said, “on behalf of the court, I apologize. Please continue.”

“Um, sure,” Tag said, regrettably having lost all his momentum. “I, ah, guess to sum it up, what I most want you to know is that I want to do right by this child. I want this baby to know his daddy. I don’t just want to see him on weekends, but be an integral part of his life. I want to help him learn to read and hit a ball. I want us to go out catching tadpoles and make mud pies. With everything in me, sir, I want this baby boy. And…that’s pretty much it.”

“Thank you,” the judge said, rising. “Now I’m going to grab a quick cup of joe and review my notes. Bailiff, let’s reconvene in an hour.”

One measly hour.

That was all it was going to take for the man to decide the rest of Tag’s life. As if he hadn’t been scared crapless before, that news just about did him in.

O
NCE THE JUDGE WAS
safely out of the courtroom, Olivia dropped her forehead to the table and groaned. “What am I doing here? What was I thinking? Objecting in the midst of a custody trial?”

“It’s okay,” her attorney and friend, Ella Marks, soothed. Lightly rubbing Olivia’s back, she said, “Everything will work out fine.”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said, rising, being careful not to look to the other side of the room where Tag O’Malley no doubt sat wearing a smug grin. “My gut feeling is that I didn’t come off as maternal enough.”

“You might’ve been warmer,” Ella agreed, “but I’m
sure your professional demeanor was appreciated. Your response was exactly what the judge asked for.”

Pulse racing, mouth dry, Olivia had never needed her child more. Tag O’Malley’s story had been touching. Surely the judge had thought the same. As much as she despised the man, her heart went out to him for the loss of his wife. She was all too familiar with what it felt like to have a broken heart, and would never wish the same on anyone.

She understood that he wanted to see his son, but the simple fact of the matter was that up until a week ago Tag hadn’t even known Flynn existed. Olivia had started planning for her son a full year before he’d even been conceived. Weighing years against a week, she was sorry for the man, she really was, but she stood to lose far more than he did.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ella said, tugging Olivia by her upper arm. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“I think a martini might be more effective,” Olivia mumbled, grabbing her black leather purse.

Ella laughed. “Maybe so, but until you are once again granted sole custody of your adorable baby boy, I’m thinking we may need to hold off on the partying.”

In the courthouse lobby, throngs of people had gathered for a criminal case being held in the building’s largest courtroom. The next town over, Clayburgh, had been the scene of a major drug bust. Judging by the milling crowd, that trial must also be in recess.

“Let’s go to Morgan’s,” Ella suggested. “I could really go for a double-shot mochachino.”

“Whatever,” Olivia said. “I don’t think my stomach could hold a thing.”

Outside, the day was blustery and gray, making Olivia wish she’d grabbed her coat. If only she knew what the judge was thinking. Usually she was fairly adept at reading judicial expressions, but Marsbury was one tough cookie. From a technical standpoint she’d done fine. But had that been enough? Was this a case that required more than mere legal finesse? Like opening herself up in a public way—something she’d never done before.

Arms crossed to ward off the cold, she ducked her chin, wishing she’d just stayed in the courthouse.

The wind tortured still-bare tree limbs. The few spring bulbs that had dared bloom now looked pitiful and defeated, accurately reflecting her mood.

By the time Ella had gotten her coffee and they’d made the three-block return trek to the courthouse, Olivia was ready to crawl out of her skin. Making matters worse, criminal court must have been back in session, as the lobby was clear except for Tag O’Malley and his attorney.

When Tag glanced in her direction, she sharply looked away.

Usually it wasn’t in Olivia’s nature to back down from a challenge, but the closer the time came for the judge to reach a verdict, the more exhausted she’d become. The gravity of her current situation hit her in aching waves.
A week ago she hadn’t had a care in the world. Now, in less than ten minutes, she might lose her son.

“Let’s head in,” Ella said, her hand on Olivia’s back, urging her forward.

Olivia nodded.

While waiting for the judge, Olivia wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. It didn’t matter that she’d calmly waited for hundreds of verdicts over the course of her career. This time was obviously different.

“All rise,” the bailiff said. “Court is now in session.”

After the judge entered and took his seat, everyone else present sat, as well.

“Know CPR?” Olivia asked her friend.

“Relax,” Ella said, patting her hand. “You’ll be fine.”

“Ms. Marshall, Mr. O’Malley, I want you both to know that I sincerely feel for you. This is not an enviable situation. That said, I had largely decided in favor of the mother. After all, she has thus far borne the brunt of Baby Flynn’s care. However, no offense, Ms. Marshall, but your statement felt more like a technical manual than a heartfelt plea for a mother to keep her child. Mr. O’Malley, your story was the exact opposite. While Ms. Marshall practically has a PhD in child rearing, she lacks heart. You, sir, are short on practical know-how, yet your abundance of warmth more than makes up for Ms Marshall’s rather cold attitude.” Sighing and tidying the papers on the bench, he said, “Weighing all
of these facts leads me to only one conclusion. The two of you will share custody. Ideally, you will jointly work out a mutually beneficial visitation schedule. If, however, that cannot be managed, I will appoint a social worker to devise a schedule for you. Let’s hope the two of you can behave in an adult and loving manner, keeping the best interests of your son foremost in mind. Case closed. Court is adjourned.” With a final slam of his gavel, the judge left room, taking with him Olivia’s hope for a happy ending.

“I’m sorry,” Ella said. “We gave it our best.”

Sorry didn’t come close to making up for the fact that Olivia had essentially just lost her child.

A look in Tag’s direction showed him to be all smiles, shaking hands with his attorney and then punching numbers into his cell.

What she felt for the man was indescribable. On the one hand she wished she’d never met him. On the other, more rational side, she realized that a good part of him was in her son. The son she loved more than anything. So where did that leave her?

In a bind. Because no matter what the judge said, no way was she turning over her baby boy.

While Olivia gathered her briefcase and documents, in her peripheral vision she saw Tag edging her way.

“No hard feelings?” he said, extending his hand. “Looks like we’re in this together now.”

Keeping her hands tightly balled at her sides, she forced a deep breath.

“I thought, if you don’t mind, I’d come over tonight? I’m anxious to get to know our son.”

“I’m sure,” she said. “But tonight isn’t possible.”

“Tomorrow, then?”

“I’d have to check my schedule.”

Eyes narrowing, Tag said, “Is this how you’re going to play it? Because if so, we can waltz right into those judge’s chambers and get this settled now. All along I’ve tried being civil, but if you’d like, I’ll make damned sure you never see your son again.”

“T-that won’t be necessary,” Olivia said. Tag’s threat had sparked a plan. “I’m sorry.” She forced a smile. “Please forgive my rudeness. I’m just a little shell-shocked by the verdict.”

“I understand,” he said.

“Good. Then, please, by all means, Flynn and I would love to welcome you into our home. Would seven work for you?”

“How about six?” Tag countered. “I can’t wait to get hold of my little man.”

“By all means, then,” she said with another smile. “Six it is.”

After a brief, chatty goodbye Tag finally left.

Ella noted, “That was awfully civilized of you. I figured you’d put him through at least three appeals before letting him get his hands on Flynn.”

Olivia shrugged, flashing a smile she hoped conveyed acceptance of her fate.

“You’re a good sport,” Ella said. “The guy seems
all right. Who knows, maybe this won’t turn out so badly.”

That’s right
, Olivia promised herself,
because by the time six o’clock rolls around, Flynn and I will safely be miles away.

“Mrs. Troyer?” Blessedly home, her front door shut and locked behind her, Olivia chucked her keys, mail and purse on the entry-hall table. Knowing there wasn’t a second to lose, she stormed toward the media room, where the elderly part-time sitter could usually be found. Most days, Flynn attended day care at the Montessori school, but times when he was sick, or school was closed, Mrs. Troyer helped. On this day, nothing had been wrong with Flynn—Olivia just hadn’t wanted him leaving his home.

The sitter was addicted to the afternoon soaps, and enjoyed nothing more than watching them on Olivia’s big-screen TV whenever Flynn was down for a nap.

Olivia kicked off her heels, marched down the hall and peeked into the nursery to see her baby boy contentedly snoozing. From the living room a heated TV argument gave the only clue needed as to the sitter’s location.

“Mrs. Troyer?” Olivia called more forcefully than she ordinarily would have.

Hands on her chest, the older woman jumped before muting her show. “Heavens, girl, I didn’t expect you home for hours.”

“Sorry.” Forcing a bright tone, Olivia said, “Lucky for Flynn and I, court was over earlier than I expected.”

“I take it that means you were awarded full custody?”

“Absolutely,” Olivia said, “which means we’ll be doing some celebrating, so I won’t need you for at least a week or two.”

Hefting her considerable frame from her recliner, Mrs. Troyer asked, “You’re going out of town?”

“Nope.” Big smile. “Just taking time off. Spending extra time with the baby.”

“Good for you. Meaning you’re probably wanting me out of your hair.”

“Nothing like that,” Olivia said, heading for her purse. “But I would like to write you a check for the time you would’ve spent with us.”

Mrs. Troyer followed her. “That’s not necessary.”

“Neither is that Coach purse I know you’ve been eyeing at Dillard’s, but this amount should cover your purse and a matching wallet.” After writing her signature on the check, Olivia handed it over with a flourish.

The sitter gasped. Her hand was back over her chest. “This is too much.”

Giving the older woman a hug, trying not to cry, Olivia said, “You take wonderful care of Flynn. You’re a part of the family. So quit complaining and do something
outrageously nice for yourself, okay?” When the older woman frowned, Olivia added, “Please.”

“All right,” Mrs. Troyer said, “but I’m not happy about it.”

“You will be with that new bag hanging from your shoulder.”

The older woman laughed. “You’re probably right, but seeing how I’m old enough to be your mother, it’s my duty to tell you to be careful with your money.”

“I will,” Olivia said, ushering her friend to the front door. She wished she could let her in on her plan, but knew it was for the best if she didn’t. “I love you,” she said with one more sentimental hug. “You really do mean the world to Flynn and me.”

“Gracious, girl, you act like you’re never going to see me again. We’re only talking a few days, aren’t we?”

“Sure,” Olivia said, avoiding eye contact with the woman while trying to get her out the door. Time was ticking on her six-o’clock deadline. “I’ll call you just as soon as I head back to work.”

Ten more precious minutes ticked by before finally Olivia was on her own. After a quick check on her son to find him still sleeping, she ran to her room.

Taking her largest suitcase from the closet, she tossed it onto the bed, then scooped clothes from her dresser, not caring if any of them matched. After tossing in toiletries and her best jewelry, which, worst-case scenario, if it came down to it she wouldn’t hesitate to sell, she zipped the bag closed and wheeled it to the garage, cramming
it into the trunk of her silver Mercedes sedan alongside Flynn’s stroller.

Next she took the empty laundry basket from the laundry room and piled it high with baby food. Into a large plastic tub she’d been saving for reorganizing the hall closet went Flynn’s bath seat and toys and all the diapers she had on hand. Last, she took another suitcase from her room and tiptoed into the nursery. Into the case she tossed everything from warm winter clothes to summer gear and even a tiny bathing suit that had been a baby shower gift. At this point Olivia had no idea how long she’d be gone, or even where she was going. All she knew was that no one was taking her son.

Her entire adult life had been dedicated to studying and following the law. But today her faith in the system had been shaken to its core. Everything she thought she believed in had been flipped upside down, until now all that remained was the voice screaming inside her to run.

F
OUR HOURS LATER
the tires of Olivia’s car crunched on the gravel drive of an Ozark mountain resort she’d once stayed at for a business retreat. The trip organizer had received a lot of flak from the legal team. The place was a far cry from the usual five-star establishments most of the firm’s attorneys were used to, but Olivia had fallen for the log cabins’ rustic charm and the way the dense deciduous forest glowed with late-afternoon sun. Even though the branches were now bare, in her mind’s eye
she remembered how lovely the area had been in the colorful fall of her last visit.

“Okay, cutie, time to wake up.” Though Olivia knew it would be a long night with Flynn having slept so much during the afternoon, she’d been glad for the peaceful ride. The only stops she’d made had been at her bank for cash, and at a gas station.

The resort was deep in the hills halfway between Branson, Missouri, and Eureka Springs. For the first time in days her shoulders didn’t feel knotted. This far from home, she was safe. Flynn couldn’t be taken from her if Tag couldn’t find him.

Outside the car she stretched, dragging in deep, calming breaths of the chilly mountain air. Night was swiftly falling and though it was still early, a few hardy crickets were chirping.

Opening the back door, she unbuckled the safety latch on Flynn’s car seat, then scooped him into her arms. He snuggled against her, rooting his face into the curve of her neck. Heart melting, she swallowed the knot in her throat. She wasn’t going to give in to tears. Not now, when her escape plan had been perfectly executed.

At first she’d just climbed into her car and driven. She hadn’t a clue where she’d been headed other than as far from Tag O’Malley as possible. Around Harrison, she’d remembered this place and called for a reservation.

She held Flynn with one arm while she reached over the front seat for her purse. Car door closed, she walked twenty feet to mount the single step to the oversize cabin
serving as a restaurant, registration desk, game room, conference center and Laundromat.

Crossing a front porch lined with potted pansies and willow sapling rockers, she pulled open the building’s front door.

When a bell jingled, Flynn roused, sleepily tracking the sound’s source.

“Like that?” Olivia cooed.

On her tiptoes she just managed to reach high enough to give the bell a second jangle. Her reward was a drowsy grin.

“Little fellow’s got a sweet smile.” The resort’s proprietor, Eleanor Holden, stepped out from the small office that was behind a pine reception counter. The surface glowed with a decades-old patina. Matching antler lamps with leather shades lit either end. In between were pamphlets on canoeing trips and country music shows. Cave and historic home tours. Casting off welcoming aromas were a bowl of red and green apples and a vanilla-scented candle. “I’m assuming you’re Olivia?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olivia said, placing her purse on the floor so that she could shake the woman’s outstretched hand.

“The husband and I are flattered that you thought well enough of us to drop by for a repeat stay.”

“You have a relaxing place,” Olivia said, admiring the high-beamed pine ceiling. “Something about it just makes me feel good.”
Safe
.

“We aim to please,” the salt-and-pepper-haired woman
said with a wink. She wore jeans and a red sweater that brought out the merry blue in her eyes. “So, per your needs, I’ve got you in Cabin Five. It’s our most private, features a full kitchen, living room and a master bedroom large enough for a hot tub and a portable crib.”

“Sounds perfect,” Olivia said with her first genuine smile of the day.

“How long will you be staying?”

“Let’s start with a week.” Hopefully, that would be enough time for her to figure out her next move. She had a cousin in California. Maybe she could relocate somewhere near Shaun and her family? “But would it be a problem if I wanted to extend my stay?”

“Not this time of year. Give it another couple months, though, and I’d have to give you the boot.”

“Fair enough.” Olivia signed all the necessary paperwork and reached for her credit card to swipe, but then realized how traceable that would be and instead handed over cash.

“We require a credit card for damages.”

Thinking fast, Olivia said, “I’m, um, really trying to break the credit card habit. Would you mind if I just gave you extra cash?”

Chewing on that for a moment, Eleanor said, “It’s not our usual way, but I s’pose that’d be fine.”

Whew. A few minutes more and the check-in process was complete.

Armed with meal times and an entertainment schedule, Olivia set off for her new home. “You’re going to
like it here,” she said to her baby boy. “The food isn’t gourmet, but it’s simple and filling and makes Mommy happy.”

Flynn yawned, making Olivia laugh.

Their cabin had a small front porch with the same type of willow seating found at the main lodge. There were also cheerful pots of pansies—pink and purple. Easing the key into the lock, Olivia had a tough time working the mechanism, but it finally gave and the heavy wood door creaked open. The sun was nearly down, making the interior dark.

She flicked the light switch by the door, illuminating a shabby chic, rustic space with a vaulted pine ceiling, soaring native stone fireplace and log-framed furniture softened with cozy burgundy and cream calico cushions. Wood floors were warmed by colorful rag rugs. On the walls were framed oil paintings of landscapes and fishing scenes. Mounted on the back of the cabin’s front door was a list of antiquated resort rules that included friendly reminders such as fish were not to be cleaned indoors and unmarried couples were not to be in the same cabin without a chaperone past dark.

A smile playing about her lips, holding Flynn extra close, Olivia mused that the likelihood of her having a man in her cabin was about the same as her changing careers to become an astronaut.

Flynn whimpered.

“Bet you’re hungry, huh?” Her breasts ached—usually a telltale sign her son was ready for dinner.

She tossed her purse to the butcher block counter, then took a seat in a rocker nestled alongside the stone fireplace. Unbuttoning her blouse, she opened her nursing bra’s flap, cradling Flynn against her, helping him latch on. The release of milk acted as a balm, relaxing her, reassuring her that by running she’d done the right thing. By the time she’d switched Flynn to her other breast and he’d eaten his fill, her eyelids were heavy.

It had been a long drive. For the moment the two of them were safe. But what next? Was she really prepared to abandon her home, career and essentially her whole life?

Yes.

Bottom line, Flynn belonged to her. And as long as she had breath in her body, no stranger claiming to be his father or a random judge would take him away.

A knock sounded on the cabin door.

Assuming it was Eleanor with extra towels, Olivia fastened the flap on her bra and quickly buttoned her blouse.

“Wake up, hon,” she said, tweaking the tip of Flynn’s nose. “We have company.”

She chuckled at his sleepy expression. Setting him in the portable crib that their innkeeper had thoughtfully already made up in the bedroom, she went to greet their guest.

“Coming!” she called when her visitor knocked again. It took a few seconds to zigzag her way around a coffee table and side chairs.

Finally she reached the door and tugged it open.

“Surprise,” Tag O’Malley said, a stony look on his face.

“H-
HOW
—” As Tag had hoped, he’d caught his son’s mother off guard. Her hands were trembling over her mouth and her gaze darted wildly. Searching for a fresh route of escape? “Y-you have to leave. I—”

“Save it,” he said, brushing past her. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, let alone any more of Olivia’s games. “Where’s our son?”

“He’s mine,” she said, close on his heels. “Please, just go. How did you even find us? What are you? Some kind of deranged stalker?”

There he was. His son. Asleep in his crib. Ignoring the infant’s mother, Tag froze, taking but a moment to drink in the sight of him. He was so perfect. Tiny. Sweeter than anything Tag had ever seen, with the exception of Maria’s wedding-day smile. On autopilot, he knelt, scooping the baby into his arms.

A tremor shuddered through him. Raw emotion, stinging and hot, welled his eyes. Cradling his son to his chest, Tag felt his knees turn to rubber, sending him for safety’s sake to sit on the foot of the bed. Sensory overload had him cupping his cheek to the boy’s downy hair. In great, greedy gulps, Tag dragged in his son’s scent. Baby lotion and shampoo and powder. Flynn’s tiny velvety jumper smelled fresh and clean. Gently inserting his pinkie finger into the baby’s clenched fist, Tag
wondered at the minuscule perfection. If only Maria could have been here to experience the same joy.

“You’re amazing…” Tag whispered, his throat too tight to continue.

“How did you find me?” Olivia asked, hovering in front of him, her fingers splayed in the hair at her temples.

“Didn’t take a genius to assume you’d run. I followed.”

She nodded. “I hadn’t planned for that contingency.”

“Obviously.” Nuzzling his son’s head, he said, “You do know what the judge will think of this stunt?”

“I know, and yet…” A sharp laugh escaped her. “I’d do it again. You have no idea how much I love this child. I can’t—won’t—share him.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Her hard eyes softened as she looked at him, truly looked. “You really do love him, don’t you?”