“I have another brother?” Wide-eyed, Jenny looked to Adam. And then to Stan.
Sue wanted out. Too many people. Too many emotions. Too much pain.
“My younger brother, Daniel, yes,” Adam said, defensive and lost at the same time. “From my mother’s second, brief marriage.”
Sue listened, one of Carrie’s feet in each of her hands, while her heart and mind tried to find each other.
And that’s when the truth hit her. In shock she turned and stared at her high school sweetheart. Her boss.
“We’re cousins,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.
Joe stared back.
And Sue opened her mouth one more time, saying quietly enough that only he could hear, “Thank God we didn’t have sex.”
Chapter Five
RICK’S APPOINTMENT with his attorney early Wednesday morning went only moderately better than his meeting with social services the day before. He had a chance, but success was not guaranteed. At least his lawyer was going to file a motion for a hearing and for DNA testing.
Until then, WeCare Services wasn’t even going to grant him visitation rights.
And in the meantime, unless and until they got a stay with the court, someone else could get custody of the baby.
Cell phone in hand before he’d even reached his Nitro, Rick punched in the speed dial number he’d programmed the day before.
Maybe she hadn’t received his message. Or had lost his number. Maybe she didn’t want to talk to him. At this point he didn’t much care.
She was to be at every meeting pertaining to Carrie’s welfare. To give her opinion. An opinion that, apparently, carried as much or more weight as that of the social worker WeCare had assigned to the case.
“Hello?” She answered before the first ring was complete. She sounded breathless.
Young and breathless.
“Ms. Bookman?”
“Yes. This is Rick Kraynick, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I recognized your number on caller ID,” she said, her voice uneven, as though she was still doing whatever had her so breathless to begin with. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back with you. I’ve been a little…distracted.”
The words came in disjointed spurts. Was she jogging?
“No problem,” he said, when in fact he’d spent the better part of the night before watching his phone—with mounting frustration. “Did I get you at a bad time?”
“No worse than usual,” she said, “better than some. So, how can I help?”
God, if only this could be that easy. He’d ask; she’d help. And he could officially pull off the road to hell.
HURRY, PLEASE, Sue silently urged the man on the other end of the line. No matter how vigorously she bobbed, Camden wouldn’t go back to sleep. There’d been a mix-up with his paperwork the day before, so she’d had him one more night.
But they’d be here within the hour to take him away from her. One hour. Sixty minutes of which, to Sue, every second counted.
The baby was going to be calm, happy, in a good mood to begin his new life. It was the only way she could rest assured that he’d have a smooth transition.
Or at least any hope of one.
Besides, Carrie was due to wake up, and one thing Sue had discovered over the years was that talking on the phone was a tad difficult with a squalling infant nearby.
“Mr. Kraynick?”
“Yes. Sorry. I was…are you sure there isn’t a better time to call? Are you jogging or something?”
“I’m bouncing a baby, Mr. Kraynick. It’s what I do.”
“Is it Carrie?”
Just that quickly Sue’s mood went from self-pitying to defensive. “How do you know Carrie?”
“I’m her uncle, her mother’s older brother, and I know you have her.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny your allegations, Mr. Kraynick. Please call social services.” She rattled off the government number. If he was legitimate, the city would send him to WeCare. And Sonia, Carrie’s social worker.
Sue was already walking back to check on Carrie, about to hang up.
“Wait!” The urgency in his voice stopped her. “Please,” he said more calmly. “Just hear me out.”
He didn’t sound like a crackpot. Weary, maybe. Desperate, perhaps. But not nuts.
“How did you find me?”
“A friend of Christy’s. Apparently Christy talked about you all the time. She said Christy had visitation rights.”
That was true.
Christy had never missed a visit.
And maybe that was why Carrie was so special. Because Sue had spent a lot of time with the baby’s sixteen-year-old mother. Had seen how hard the girl was working to get her baby back. How determined she was.
“Why are you calling?”
“Because you have a say in Carrie’s welfare and I’m concerned. I…”
She was invited to all meetings pertaining to the baby’s welfare. She gave input for Carrie’s sake. And only regarding what she’d seen with her own eyes. Only regarding what she knew, not what she heard.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you, Mr. Kraynick. Maybe if you talk to your sister—”
“What do you know about Christy?”
“Uh-uh, Mr. Kraynick,” she said softly, laying a sleeping Camden in his crib. Carrie was sound asleep, on her right side, just as Sue had left her. “This conversation is over.”
“I grew up in foster care,” he said, as though that gave him privilege. Some insider’s edge.
“Then you know you shouldn’t be calling me.”
“I know that, right now, you’re my best shot.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m no shot at all.”
“My mother was a user,” he said out of the blue, reminding her of Joe when he spoke about his father—Sue’s uncle now. With seemingly no emotion, as if he didn’t care. She wasn’t convinced.
Joe, her cousin. Uncle Adam. Uncle Daniel. Grandma lying to her all her life. Grandpa being unfaithful. Her maternal grandmother giving away her mother, but raising two sons and a grandson. Grandma Sarah’s diamond shockingly going to her mother instead of to Uncle Sam.
Even after twenty-four hours Sue still couldn’t quiet the cacophony.
Shaking her head, she tuned back in to the conversation at hand. And wondered why it was still taking place. The man should never have called. His life, his mother’s life, had nothing to do with her.
Was he some kind of crackpot, after all?
He was still talking.
“The point is,” he said, “that while I was in and out of her life growing up, I didn’t know her that well. Which is why I was not even aware she’d had another child, that I had a sister, until last week,” he continued, almost as though he was reading to her from a storybook.
A sad one. As an infant, Rick Kraynick could have been any number of her babies.
In a quiet moment, with Camden’s few things packed, his long,