How can you be my uncle and my dad?
“Fine, for tonight,” he agreed. “But before this year is out, we’re going to broach the subject.” As he stood under the porch light, his features set, she saw the tight line of his jaw. There was no turning back. Cade was determined to step into the role of fatherhood, which was what she’d wanted, right?
They headed into the house and the girls, who had been coloring in front of the television, suddenly looked up and screamed in delight. Markers and crayons flew every which way as they flung themselves at their “uncle.” He swung them each deftly off their feet, giving them each a quick hug before planting them back down. Hattie could hardly watch as, completely ignoring their mother, they giggled and laughed, vying for Cade’s attention before he could even take off his coat. “More!” McKenzie cried, practically jumping into his arms again. A lump filled Hattie’s throat as she watched him with them. Already they adored him, and the feeling was obviously mutual. Her eyes burned. This was so right, yet it could have far-reaching consequences for her.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Hey, girls, give your uncle a break,” as she slipped out of her coat and left her boots by the front door.
“He’s not our uncle,” Mallory said with that superior know-it-all attitude that was just beginning to bloom and really get under Hattie’s skin.
“What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
Zena appeared from the kitchen. Wearing an apron, an apricot-colored wig, and a smile that seemed painted on, she said, “I’m the culprit!”
“You took it upon yourself to tell them?” Hattie was aghast.
“So it’s true?” Mallory asked eagerly.
“Mom! What were you thinking?” Turning to her daughters, she said, “Uh, yeah. From now on Cade is your daddy.”
“Did you get married?” McKenzie asked.
“No, we’re not getting married.”
“But then how come he’s our daddy now?” McKenzie’s little face twisted into a knot of concentration.
“Mommies and daddies don’t have to be married,” Mallory said. “Neva’s mom and dad are divorced and so are Charlie’s. He’s got a new dad.”
“That’s right. Families can be pretty mixed up. Look at Aunt Cara and me. We have different fathers,” Hattie said desperately, shooting Zena a dark look.
“What about our real daddy?” McKenzie asked.
“He’s dead, dummy! That’s why we need a new one!” Mallory had it all figured out.
Hattie chastised her daughter, “Mallory, don’t call your sister names.” To Cade, she added, “Uh, you talk to the children, I need a word with my mother.” Hustling Zena into the kitchen where a pot of bean soup was simmering on the stove and a pan of corn bread cooled on racks set near the window, she said in a low, furious voice, “I can’t believe you did that!”
“It’s time the girls know who their father is.”
“But, Mom, you had no right! This was for me to decide.”
Picking up a wooden spoon lying in a holder, she stirred the soup, turning the beans from the bottom of the kettle. “It’s been nine years of lies, Hattie, and I, for one, don’t have any more time for this.”
“You’re so wrong about this.”
“Maybe. Call me ‘selfish’ or a ‘meddler’ if you want, I deserve it. But I need to leave this earth knowing that my family is settled.”
Dread crawled up her spine. “What’re you talking about?” she asked, even as a cold awareness was taking hold of her. And then she saw the quiver of Zena’s jaw and the tissues that had been used and wadded before being tossed into the trash. “Mom? What is it?”
“I got the call today.” She touched her cell phone lying faceup on the counter and took a deep breath to steady herself. “It’s the cancer. It’s grown, honey.”
“No, don’t say it.”
But, as usual, her mother ignored her. “According to the doctor, there isn’t much more they can do.”
Chapter 30
“Are you out of your friggin’ minds?” Brewster roared, the veins in his neck protruding, his face a nasty shade of red that was turning purple. “What the hell were you thinking, going out into the woods half cocked with some asinine theory about Verdago? All because of a damned picture from a traffic cam?” Standing over the desk in the office he’d claimed, he was dressed in full uniform, leaning forward, obviously expecting Pescoli and Alvarez in their visitor’s chairs to cower.
Pescoli wasn’t giving an inch and neither, it seemed, was Alvarez as they tried to explain themselves. The door to the office was closed and the room felt suddenly foreign, a sterile place without Grayson’s easy demeanor, without his dog, and definitely without his class.