Sun-Kissed Baby. Patricia Hagan
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you thought about the possibility that Scotty’s daddy might try to take him away from you once he finds out he’s his?”
Carlee hadn’t, but was quick to remind her that Alicia signed a paper giving Scotty to her.
Bonnie shook her head. “That doesn’t mean a hill of beans. Not if he can prove he’s the father. Besides, are you the court-appointed guardian, or are you just going on the paper she signed?”
Carlee hated to admit all she had was Alicia’s note.
“Well, maybe you should consider asking him to take him, anyway. You obviously can’t afford to raise him yourself, or you wouldn’t be trying to track the man down.”
Fiercely, Carlee fired back, “He told Alicia to have an abortion, remember? I would never give Scotty to him.”
Bonnie sighed and leaned against the car. “Look, I know none of this is my business, but I just like to try and keep young girls like you from making big mistakes. You try to keep Scotty on your own with the financial problems you’ve got, and sooner or later Child Welfare will take him away from you and stick him in a foster home. Wouldn’t he be better off with his natural father if his father wants him and can take care of him?”
“If he didn’t want him before he was born, he won’t want him now.”
“That’s not necessarily true. When a man is cheating on his wife and he finds out his girlfriend is pregnant, sometimes his first reaction is to tell her to get an abortion. He thinks it will solve all his problems. Things are different now. The baby is here, its mother is dead, and any decent man would want to take over and raise him.”
Carlee slammed her palms against the steering wheel. “If he were a decent man, he never would have walked out on her. He’d have stood by her. So what makes you think I want somebody like that raising a baby I couldn’t love more if I’d given birth to him myself?”
“Because you want the best for him.”
“And who says his father is the best?”
Bonnie shrugged. “Not me. I’m just trying to make you realize that whether you like it or not, Nick Starke might want Scotty, and if he does, you’ll have a hard time stopping him. But on the other hand, you might be doing the best thing for Scotty. After all, Nick didn’t seem like a lowlife. Sure, he breezed in, swept Alicia off her feet, then walked. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t make a good father. Think about it. And if you decide you don’t want to take a chance on giving Scotty up, then leave it alone. Don’t go looking for trouble.”
Carlee spent another restless night. Bonnie had given her a lot to think about. And even though she hated to admit it, as much as it would hurt to give him up, the reality was that Scotty belonged with his father if he was fit to have him. And that was where the problems began. If Nick Starke wasn’t fit, she didn’t want him to know Scotty was his, because she didn’t want to fight him for custody. And if he was a member of the Starke Groves family, he’d have the money to hire lawyers to take him from her. As it was, she couldn’t even afford to pay one to go through the necessary legal procedure of having her officially named Scotty’s guardian.
So she was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
The bills were mounting. She had no money coming in, and even if she went out and found a job, she would not get paid right away. And the apartment manager had let her know in no uncertain terms that if the rent wasn’t paid within ten days, he would start the process to evict her.
Close to dawn, she decided to track down Nick Starke. If he were still married, he might not want his wife to know he had fathered a baby by another woman and be willing to quietly pay support and stay out of Scotty’s life. On the other hand, if she checked him out and ultimately came to the conclusion he was a scoundrel, then she would not tell him about Scotty. Times might be tough, but she would manage somehow.
That morning, as soon as she got Scotty fed and bathed, she called information in Snow Hill and asked if there was a listing for Nick Starke. When told there wasn’t, she asked for the number of Starke Groves.
A woman cheerily answered. Carlee took a deep breath and asked, “Does Nick Starke work there?”
“Indeed he does. He’s the owner.”
“The…the owner…,” Carlee whispered in stunned echo. She’d thought he might be a family member, but not the actual owner.
“Would you care to leave a message? He’s not here right now.”
Now that she had found him, Carlee wanted to quickly learn as much as possible. “Can you tell me how to get in touch with Mrs. Starke?”
The receptionist paused, then crisply replied, “There is no Mrs. Starke.”
So much for him quietly paying child support. Now to plan B, which was finding out what kind of person he was.
“I’m Elaine Streeter,” the woman on the other end of the line said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
When Carlee hesitated, not knowing what to say at that point, Elaine continued, “If you will leave your name and number, I’ll have Mr. Starke call you back. But I should tell you that if this is about a job, he doesn’t do the hiring. You’ll have to see the grove manager, Mike Thurston. But he’s not in right now, either, and he doesn’t hire over the phone. You’ll have to come in and fill out an application.”
Carlee was surprised. “You mean you’re hiring now? But the season doesn’t start for months.” Then she cried, “Valencias! You’re harvesting Valencias.” They were a late-season variety of oranges that matured from March to June, and she had often wished Ben Burns had grown them so Jupiter Groves would have stayed open longer.
“Well, isn’t that why you’re calling?” Elaine Streeter sounded as though she was becoming annoyed. “If not, then what—”
“Yes, yes, of course I am.” It was the answer to a prayer. Working at Starke Groves would give her the opportunity she needed to find out everything she wanted to know about Nick Starke before letting him know Scotty was his.
“Good. Because we’re desperate. The regular migrant workers don’t show up this time of year. They’ve already gone to California, where they’ve got steady work till fall. We’re short of women on the packing lines, but the pickers get paid more, if you think you’re up to that.”
“Of course I am.” It sounded wonderful, but there was Scotty to be considered. “I have a baby that’s a little over a year old. What kind of facilities do you have for child care?”
Elaine sounded pleased to tell her that they probably had the best of any grove in the state. “The Starke family has always taken care of their workers, whether year-round or migrant. We have a wonderful day-care center and one of the caretakers is even an LPN—licensed practical nurse. You won’t have to worry about your baby at all. Just come on in today.”
“It will be tomorrow morning. I have to pack.”
Nick Starke stared at the stack of mail on his desk. He hated being inside doing paperwork, preferring to be in the groves. He enjoyed the whole process of growing fruit, from standing on a ladder and handpicking to watching the oranges roll along the assembly line for grading and stacking in boxes. He was a grower through and through and could not imagine any other kind of life.
Elaine peered through the open door to say she was going to lunch. “I’m going to Newt’s place on the river. The word’s out he’s got fresh alligator tail. Want me to bring you a basket?”
“Do I ever.” He loved the delicacy, which tasted like fried chicken but was sweeter, more succulent, and not nearly as greasy.
“Oh, by the way—some woman called this morning, and when she found out you weren’t here wanted to know how she could get in touch with Mrs. Starke. I told her there was no Mrs. Starke.”
He