Custody for Two. Karen Rose SmithЧитать онлайн книгу.
much?”
“I do.”
“Talk about motives. I know the system is overcrowded. I know there’s constantly a need for placing kids. But neither Julia nor I had pleasant experiences. The families we were placed in weren’t motivated by compassion.”
“Julia told me the foster father in the family she was placed in drank. And when he did, he became loud and abusive.”
“That’s right,” Dylan confirmed. “I had to get her out of there.”
“What about the family you were placed with?”
He shook his head as if his experience hadn’t mattered. “I wasn’t there that long.”
“Two years can feel like forever when you’re not happy.”
Stopping again, he said, “You’re perceptive.”
“I have to be, in my work. I have to use my intuition as much as my training.”
When he stared down at her, he admitted, “The family I was with just wanted the money they received every month. I was good for chores and work around the house, but there was no real caring there.”
“I’m sorry,” Shaye said, meaning it.
“That’s long ago and I’ve forgotten about it. But I saw firsthand that altruism isn’t part of what most people are about.”
“You weren’t thinking about yourself when you made a life for you and Julia.”
“She was my sister.”
Shaye could tell that was the only explanation he intended to give.
They walked for a few minutes under Russian olive trees catching the snow. Aspen branches waved in the breeze.
“Do you think she had a premonition?” Dylan asked suddenly. “Do you think that’s why she chose a guardian before the baby was born?”
“I don’t know. I do know Julia wouldn’t take any chances with a child, that she would have secured the baby’s future no matter what she had to do.”
Stopping again, he took Shaye by the arm and looked deeply into her eyes. “You’re a single woman. You have a career. Do you want to be a mother to Timmy?”
This was the moment where she had to make everything she said matter. Aware of Dylan’s hand on her arm and the magnetic pull of his gaze, her curiosity about him was growing. She tamped it down.
“I want to be Timmy’s mother with all my heart and soul. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he grows up to be a man Julia would be proud of.”
Dylan’s jaw set as he studied her and analyzed her words. The white of his breath seemed to mingle with the puff of hers as a bond formed. It was a bond that she knew she didn’t want…yet couldn’t break.
With a slight nod, he broke eye contact and dropped his hand to his side. “Let’s go back.”
She knew there was no going back. And that truth scared her as much as her visceral reaction to Dylan Malloy.
“You need to go to your apartment and get some sleep,” Walter Ludlow warned Dylan later that night.
Dylan paced the lawyer’s home office. His friend was a widower now and lived in one of the brick row homes not far from the center of town.
“I’m going back to the hospital,” he said resolutely.
“You’re not going to do that baby any good if you run yourself into the ground.”
Dylan hadn’t even been back to his apartment yet, hadn’t been there for six months. His luggage, laptop and camera gear were still in the trunk of the rental car he’d secured at the airport so he could drive to the hospital in a hurry.
After his walk with Shaye, he’d spent an hour with her sitting by Timmy’s bed. She’d finally left to get something to eat and when she’d returned, he’d come to Walter’s.
“I’m used to sleeping on sofas or cots or on the ground. Camping out in a chair in a waiting room isn’t going to kill me. Timmy’s in crisis right now and every hour matters. I have to do this for Julia.”
“You have to take care of yourself for Julia. She’d want that.”
Dylan’s adrenaline was pumping full-speed. He stopped pacing and made himself sit on the edge of a leather chair in front of Walter’s desk. “I thought I knew my sister inside and out, but this will of hers— Maybe I should find a PI and have him run a report on Shaye Bartholomew.”
“Don’t waste your money,” Walter advised him. “I’ve known Shaye’s family all my life. Carson Bartholomew has never been the best father. He’s a cardiac surgeon, so you can imagine the hours he keeps. He never saw much of his kids before his wife died, let alone after.”
“How did Shaye’s mother die?”
“A brain aneurysm she never knew she had. She just fell asleep one night and didn’t wake up again. After that, Carson saw to the kids’ physical needs but not much else. Although he hired a housekeeper, Shaye did the mothering, the cooking, the shopping and anything else that needed to be done. That’s what made her become a social worker, and a damn good one. I’ve been involved in some of the cases she’s handled. So don’t think a PI’s report is going to give you any more than I can tell you. She’s a good woman, Dylan. She was a good friend to Julia, and I think your sister knew what she was doing.”
Dylan’s head jerked up as his eyes met Walter’s. “You don’t think I deserve custody?”
“This isn’t a matter of deserving, boy. Julia loved you. She wanted the best life for you. She knows your blood’s in your work. Why would she want to saddle you with a baby? On the other hand, if Timmy’s with Shaye, you can be involved in his life as much as you want to be when you’re here. I’m sure she wouldn’t turn you away. That’s not Shaye, and Julia knew it.”
“I feel as if I have a responsibility—”
Walter cut him off. “You fulfilled your responsibility when you took Julia in and cared for her. Don’t be a martyr.”
Walter had never pulled punches with him and now, for the first time all day, Dylan relaxed into the chair, realizing how tired he was. Looking down at his clothes, he imagined the sight he made, needing a shave and a haircut. More than that, he needed a shower and a couple of hours of sound sleep. Maybe he could catch a few winks at the hospital.
He wasn’t a martyr, but he did care.
Standing, he zippered his jacket. “I’m going to run by my apartment to make sure everything’s still in one piece and take a shower. But if you want me, I’ll be at the hospital.”
“You always were stubborn,” Walter muttered.
“I’ve had to be.” Crossing to the door of Walter’s den, Dylan said, “Thanks for everything you’ve done. I’ll keep you informed.”
When Dylan left his friend’s house, wind buffeted him as pictures of Julia played in his mind—how happy she’d been when she’d come to live with him, how she’d cooked for him, how she’d chewed the end of her pencil as she’d solved math problems. He hadn’t come home this Christmas. He’d planned his schedule to take a break when his nephew was born.
Dylan’s eyes burned. He was just too damned tired.
As he climbed into the rental vehicle, in spite of his worry over Timmy, he saw Shaye’s face as she’d lifted it to the snowflakes. Switching on the ignition, he blanked out the image, needing to keep on an even keel, needing to forget that when he’d touched Shaye Bartholomew, everything inside him had gone on alert.
She’s just another woman.
But then he thought about his sister’s fondness for