A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family. Kathleen O'Brien
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niece.
Carrie’s temporary mother was a definite distraction, he’d give her that. The woman wore baby barf as easily as other women wore silk scarves. That alone impressed him.
“How is she dangerous?” Sue looked him straight in the eye.
“She’s intelligent, keeps herself attractive, and, most dangerous of all, she knows how to pretend that she cares.”
“I’m not getting the danger element.”
“She’s a fake, Ms. Bookman. A lie.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, call me Sue.”
He couldn’t be distracted. There was no place in his life for an attractive woman. Not now. And probably not ever again. Not a nice woman like Sue Bookman. She had to be nice to be approved for the responsibility of caring for needy babies.
“Aside from the fact that my mother doesn’t know the meaning of love, other than wanting it for herself, she’s dangerous because she doesn’t look, speak or act like what she is.”
“And what, exactly, is she?”
“A drug addict. Her parents died when she was a teenager, leaving her with nothing. She ran away from her foster home and got into drugs as a way to make money, at first. At least that’s how she tells it. She was a good front for the dealers on the streets. No one suspected her.”
He was saying more than he’d meant to. Sue Bookman was easy to talk to. “She had me when she was seventeen,” he continued. “I don’t think even she knows who my father is.”
Rick focused on his hostess, but was still aware every second of the baby lying on the floor with his blood in her veins, could see her out of the corner of his eye. Carrie was on her back. Staring at him.
“And there followed eighteen years of chaos,” Rick said. “When she was sober, my mother looked like a candidate for mother of the year. She was funny and attentive in public. She was in all the right places at the right times. Showed an interest in my days, in my little happenings.”
“You loved her.”
What kid didn’t love his mother?
“I learned very quickly not to believe in her,” he countered. “Because she never stayed sober long. I don’t know, maybe the memories were too strong for her to fight, to avoid or get away from. I’ve wasted too much of my life trying to justify why she did what she did.”
“People are complicated.”
Hannah hadn’t been.
“Life shouldn’t be that complicated. Not for kids. As soon as I’d get settled in a new school or apartment, or both, I’d come home to find someone from child protective services waiting for me, to take me to yet another foster home.”
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t want her pity. Or her compassion. Not for himself. Not unless it had to do with helping him get Carrie.
“I was lucky. Every single home I was placed in provided a loving environment, a chance to be a kid. Problem was, I didn’t get to stay in any of them. My mother wouldn’t give me up. And it didn’t seem to matter how many times she faltered, she still managed to convince the state that she would get better. And that I was better off with her—my real mother.”
“She’d get well, you’d go home and then she’d use again.”
“Right.”
“You think she did the same thing with Christy?”
“I know she did.”
“And you think she’ll do the same thing with Carrie.”
With his gaze steady, and implacable, he faced her. “Don’t you?”
“I’ve never met the woman. How could I possibly know…”
Sue’s hand had found Carrie’s foot, her fingers caressing the skin just above the baby’s ankle. The unconscious response of a mother?
“You’re a professional,” Rick said. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, but he knew that he needed her. Carrie needed her. “You hear the stories. And have to be familiar enough with the statistics to at least have an opinion.”
“But it’s not a professional one and…”
Carrie rolled, her downy curls flattening and springing back as she moved. And Sue Bookman caressed the baby’s cheek. Rubbed a hand over the top of her head.
“Do you want Carrie going to my mother?” Rick asked.
“Come on, pumpkin, it’s time for you to eat,” Sue said, pulling the baby into her arms as she stood.
“I still have five minutes.”
“Do you have more to say?”
Rick didn’t stand. He wasn’t ready to leave. This woman. This home. And he hadn’t done what he’d come to do. “Do you want her going to my mother?”
“I take good care of my children,” Sue said, standing there with his niece cuddled securely in her arms. “And when they leave here, I have to let them go. I don’t think beyond that. If I worried about the future of every baby I care for, if I analyzed the statistics on happy placements, I’d lose my sanity.”
“But you have input before they go. You can influence where they go.”
Spinning around, she crossed the room, rewinding the swing. Checking on the baby still asleep in the carrier. And then she turned back to look at him.
“Your time’s up.”
Rick stood. Pissing her off wasn’t going to help anything. “My mother told me today that scheduled visitations here will be a part of her adoption process.”
Sue Bookman didn’t say anything. Her expression didn’t change, not in any perceptible way. But Rick knew he had her full attention.
She was a mama bear protecting her cubs. The quintessential mother. The kind of woman he’d fall for.
“I wanted you to know who she really is so she doesn’t fool you, too,” he said quietly. And at her continued silence, he added, “You’ll be giving reports to the committee and they’ll listen to you—”
“Get out, Mr. Kraynick.”
He did.
Chapter Eight
SHE THOUGHT ABOUT Rick Kraynick all through dinner with her parents—in spite of repeated remon-strations to herself to get the man out of her system. Carrie’s Uncle Rick, with his compelling combination of determination and vulnerability, would have stolen her heart—back when she’d thought she would marry and have children. Rick Kraynick, with his dark hair and serious eyes, was making her tense.
But that wasn’t all of it. As she sat there with her mother, she thought about Rick implying that he wanted her to fudge her reports on his mother, if she was favorably impressed by the woman. He wanted her to lie. To keep Carrie’s grandmother permanently out of the girl’s life. Like Grandma and Grandpa had lied to her? To everyone? To keep Grandma Jo away from her? Away from Jenny?
And why? The woman had been a wonderful mother to Joe. And by the sounds of things, to Adam and Daniel, too. According to Joe.
Why couldn’t Adam have known his father, as well? Maybe if Uncle Adam had grown up with a male influence, he’d have been better equipped to step up and take responsibility when his wife’s death left him with a son to raise. And maybe, if Jenny hadn’t always felt like she was second best, not quite as much a part of the family as her brother, she’d have been less apt to smother her own daughter…
Why couldn’t Sam have been told that Jenny was his half sister? Or Jenny that Robert was her real father? What right did Sarah and