A Mom For His Daughter

Or maybe not. From what she’d seen, Marc and his family were active in the church. While Fiona considered herself a believer, she hadn’t attended any church regularly since she’d worked in Guam, and then it was more because most of her neighbors and the people she worked with attended services than any real compulsion to be part of a church community.

“Here’s the video of him and Natalie.”

A male voice sounded from behind an almost closed door at the back of the room. A door that at first glance had appeared to lead to a closet. But it had a sign: Pastor’s Office.

“I’ve got one of Stella on the rug in the church hallway this morning after preschool, showing me how she learned to do a somersault.”

Marc. Fiona crossed the outer office toward the men’s chuckles, hungry to see the video of Stella. She stopped herself from barging in and knocked on the door instead.

“Come in,” Pastor Connor said.

She pushed the door open.

“Hi. Take a seat. Marc and I were kid-video warring.”

He handed her his phone as she took the chair next to Marc, facing the desk.

“My son, Luc,” he said, “dancing to my wife’s piano playing.”

The toddler in the video stole her voice for a minute. He was a miniature Marc. “Cute.” She smiled and handed back the phone.

“Obviously, he takes after Natalie’s side of the family, but that’s certainly not a bad thing.”

Another Delacroix sister. Fiona glanced sideways at Marc. No, not a bad thing at all.

“For you, it’s a good thing.” Marc razzed his brother-in-law. “You should be grateful.”

Fiona repositioned herself in her chair, unsettled by the easy back-and-forth between the two men and uncertain that Marc and Connor’s apparent closeness was a good thing for her, if Connor was going to mediate. “So, what did you have in the competition?” she asked, turning to Marc in an effort to join the friendly banter.

He tilted his head, looking confused. “Oh.” He followed her gaze to his phone. “A video of Stella doing a somersault.” He made no move to share it.

She swallowed away the painful tightness in her throat and focused her attention on Pastor Connor.

“Let’s begin with prayer.” He reached his hands across the desk to her and Marc.

Marc took her hand as if it were the perfectly natural thing to do. Maybe it was for them. They were family. She tightened her jaw and curved her fingers around Marc’s hand. She was Stella’s family, too.

“Dear Lord, be with us this evening and, with Your infinite wisdom, give Marc and Fiona and myself the guidance we need to do Your will. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

“Amen,” she whispered, lifting her head when the men released her hands.

“I talked with the lawyer who handled Stella’s adoption,” Marc said, moving a folder from his left to front and center on the desk. “Copies of all of the documents are here.”

“Wait.” Pastor Connor laid his palm on top of the folder. “I have a good idea of what you want out of this meeting, Marc. I need to know what Fiona wants. Then we can get to details.”

“First and foremost, stability.” Fiona paused. “My mother moved us around a lot, looking for something better that she never found. She died when I was nineteen and Mairi was fifteen.” She faltered, not used to talking about her family. “I’m only asking for a part in Stella’s life as her aunt. I don’t want to contest the adoption. I have no doubt it’s valid or that Stella is where she’s supposed to be.”

Marc’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “You said you had proof Stella’s your niece.”

Connor frowned at the interruption.

“I do.” Fiona lifted her case onto the desktop. “I’ve made copies of everything I have. But I think this is the proof you want.” She lifted the papers from the case and placed them in front of Marc with a photo of Mairi at three and her at seven on top.

He sucked in a breath.

Fiona had felt the same sucker punch when she’d gotten out the battered family photo album Friday after her appointment with Autumn. There was no way anyone could deny the family resemblance.

She’d claimed the album as a child. It had come with her when, after her stepfather had left, her mother had dragged Fiona, Mairi and their baby sister, Elsbeth, all over northern Vermont and New Hampshire from each promised new start to the next. She’d brought it with her when she and Mairi had moved to Ithaca after their mother’s fatal accident, so Fiona could attend college. And the album had made the trip to Guam and back.

She cleared her throat. “Certified copies of my, Mairi’s and Stella’s birth certificates and the Ticonderoga Birthing Center’s record of Stella’s birth,” she said for Pastor Connor’s benefit.

“Where did you get the birth certificate for Stella?” Marc asked. “My understanding is that her original one is in the sealed records at the adoption agency.”

“I don’t know about that. The certificate I have was in an envelope addressed to me with a letter my sister never sent.” Fiona stopped so her voice wouldn’t crack. “I had no idea until I received a package from the lawyer I hired to settle Mairi’s estate. It came the day after we met at the farm.”

The masculine planes of Marc’s face softened. He tapped Stella’s certificate with his finger. “Stella was only eight weeks old when she was placed with us. Your sister couldn’t have kept her long.”

“About a month, according to the information Autumn Hanlon gave me.” Fiona bit her lip. She had no idea where her sister had been for that month. Mairi had checked into the cabin where she died only the evening before. “I think Mairi may have intended to give her baby up for adoption all along, just wanted a little time with her first.”

“You think?”

“She didn’t confide in me.” Fiona’s stomach tightened. Mairi had probably been afraid she’d be disappointed in her, as her letter seemed to say. Fiona had been so strident about neither one of them ending up like their mother. “I didn’t know about Stella.”

Marc’s eyes narrowed. “Over nine months’ time, I think I would have noticed if any of my sisters were pregnant.”

“Marc,” Pastor Connor cautioned.

“During Mairi’s pregnancy, I was in Guam managing the USDA farm there.” She pinned Marc with a gaze. “You know that from my professional profile I gave you. Mairi and I talked and emailed, but after she drove me to the airport for my flight to Tamuning...” She closed her eyes. This time, she couldn’t swallow the emotion that clogged her throat. “I never saw her alive again.”

A warm male hand covered hers, and her eyes flew open to Pastor Connor pushing away from the desk. It was Marc’s hand, giving her hope that despite his antagonism, they could work something out.

“I’ll get you some water,” Pastor Connor said. He left the office.

Marc’s hand tightened on hers. “I’m sorry I was so rude. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Fiona allowed herself to take comfort from his strength and wonder what it would be like to have a man like Marc care for her.

He removed his hand from hers. “I can’t imagine how I’d handle it if it had been one of my siblings. That’s when you came back to the US?”

“I came back for a couple weeks when the authorities contacted me, and then finished my contract in Guam.” She didn’t need to tell him now that her sister had used a false name to rent the cabin, nor how long Mairi had lain in the morgue as a Jane Doe until she could be identified from her fingerprints on record for her nursing license, and while Fiona was located.

“Where do we go from here?” she asked.

“We get together again to work out details.” He sounded as drained as she was.

“I’m willing to work with your lawyer, to put together something official.”

“No, I was thinking along the lines of telling the rest of the family, introducing you to them and Stella. You haven’t really met her, except the other day at the doctor’s office. We’re going to have to handle Stella’s getting to know you carefully.” He dropped his gaze to his hands on the desk. “Since Cate, my wife, died, Stella has verged on being hostile toward women with light-colored hair, who remind her of her mother.”