Bachelor Father (7 page)

Brett handed her his bandanna, which Molly
took reluctantly.

“Go ahead and use it,” he said.

“Thanks.” The bandanna was warm, slightly
damp, and scented with an odd combination of baby powder and male
sweat. It should have grossed her out. Instead, she reveled in the
intimacy of the smell, holding the cloth to her face longer than
necessary.

“Ahem.” Brett cleared his throat.

Lord, this was embarrassing. Molly didn’t know
whether to hand the bandanna back, offer to clean it, or
what.

Brett seemed to read her mind—or expression.
“Keep it.”

She folded the bandanna and tucked it in her
sweatshirt pocket. The room felt overly warm again. Maybe she was
coming down with something more than embarrassment.

When she looked back at Brett, he offered her
a hand up.

Accepting, she couldn’t help noticing the
contrast between the soft plaster dust that covered his fingers and
palm and the hard calluses beneath. Everything about Brett appeared
hard and soft at the same time.

Not to be left out, Jake called, “Unca Unca,”
reaching his arm up to Brett.

“There you go.” Brett gently pulled Jake to
his feet and bent to pick him up.

“No, walk,” Jake protested, looking to Molly
for support.

Brett lifted Jake. “You can walk once we get
down the stairs.” Turning to Molly, he asked, “Are you coming
down?”

“Yeah, my tour of duty is done here, too. We
still need to set up a meeting for Monday. Why don’t I walk out
with you?”

“Sure,” Brett agreed. “Let’s go.”

Molly got her coat while Brett his and Jake’s
and checked out with Charles.

As the three of them walked to the street
corner, Molly and Brett agreed to meet first thing Monday
morning.

“See you Monday, then,” Molly said starting to
step off the curb to cross the street to her Neon.

“Nooo!” Jake screeched, causing her to stop
mid-step. “Hand.” He showed Molly his own hand tightly gripped in
Brett’s.

“Oh, you want me to hold your other hand while
we cross the street.” She stepped back and took Jake’s free
hand.

He dug his heels in and shook his head. “Car
whoosh. Unca hand.” Jake looked to Brett for approval.

“That’s a good idea, Bud. The cars do go
whoosh.” Brett tried to keep a straight face. “I’d better take
Molly’s hand and make sure she gets across the street
safely.”

Molly didn’t think it was such a good idea.
After admiring Brett’s work all morning, she was ready to put a
little distance between them.

Brett stepped around and took her hand in his.
“We look both ways before we cross.” He made a point of directing
his words to both Jake and Molly. “No cars. We can
cross.”

When they reached the other side, Molly turned
to Brett. “So, we’re safely across. Can I have my hand back,
now?”

Brett kept her hand firmly in his, ignoring
her question. “Which car is yours? We’ll walk you over.”

“The metallic green Civic,” she answered,
wanting nothing more than to be in her car and on her way. Brett
seemed to be enjoying this togetherness a tad too much.

They walked hand in hand to the car. “See you
Monday, then,” Molly said, pulling her hand free and reaching in
her satchel for her key.

“Right.” Brett watched her unlock her car
before walking to his Jeep.

Brett held his head in his hands and rubbed
his temples as he stared at the registered letter on the
table.

At the direction of Korean Child
Welfare
, it said,
we regret to inform you that Thayer House is instituting
steps to reassume custody of Shin, Keebok, ne Jacob Keebok
Peterson. You have a legal right to contest our custody claim
Please respond within ten days
.

When he’d first read the letter from the
director of adoptions and foster care at Thayer House, he’d wanted
to smash something to blow off his anger. Now, he was beyond angry.
He felt like he did when he was thirteen and his little sister Kate
had beaten him in a karate tournament. Knocked flat on his back,
out of breath, and wondering how he could let a girl do this to
him.

What a fool he'd been to think Molly Hennessey
wanted to help Jake and him. Obviously, she’d been jerking him
around all along with her social-worker reassurances given in that
low sexy voice of hers. That's what he got for letting his hormones
think for him. He should have stuck with his first impression that,
for whatever reason, Molly Hennessey didn't think he was parent
material.

Brett wondered for the hundredth time what
Molly had said in her follow-up report to Korean Child Welfare.
Rising wearily, he picked up the letter, went to the wall phone,
and dialed the Thayer House number. When he'd called Molly
yesterday, the receptionist had transferred him to Charles Brown
who said she was out ill, had been all week. Brett supposed he
could have talked with Charles. Tina had told him he should file
his custody challenge as soon as possible. But he did have ten
days. He'd wait for Molly. They had other business to
settle.

“Thayer House. How may I direct your
call?”

“Molly Hennessey, please.”

“I’m sorry. She’s not in the office today.
Would you like to leave a message on her voice mail?”

No, he wouldn’t like to leave a message on her
voice mail. Anything Brett had to say to Molly, he wanted to say in
person.

“Sir?” the receptionist asked at his lack of
response.

“No,” he said. I’ll try to reach her another
time. Do you expect her back on Monday?”

“Yes, she’s been out ill all this week, but we
do expect her back on Monday.”

So, Molly wasn’t dodging his phone calls. That
took a little of the edge off his anger. Still, she had all but
assured him that he wouldn’t lose Jake. He slapped the letter
against the wall.

The receptionist continued, “Are you one of
Ms. Hennessey’s clients? You could speak with Charles Brown. He’s
covering her cases while she’s out.”

Brett rubbed his forehead and thought. “No,
thanks. I don’t need to talk with Charles, but would you leave
Molly a note that I’ll meet with her first thing Monday
morning?”

“You don’t want to leave her a voice mail
message?” the receptionist pressed.

“I’d rather not.” Brett etched the
word
NO!
on a pad
that hung next to the phone, breaking the pencil point. He wanted
Molly to get his message straight off on Monday. He didn’t want to
be the last message on a week’s worth of voice mail.

“All right. Your name please?”

“Brett Cahill.”

“Okay, Mr. Cahill. May I tell Molly what the
meeting is concerning?”

“She’ll know,” Brett said gruffly, feeling his
chest tighten. “And thanks for your help,” he added. After all,
none of this was the poor receptionist’s doing. He shouldn’t vent
his feelings on her. He’d save that for the person
responsible.

Molly opened the desk drawer, dropped in her
satchel, and sat. Where to start? She sized up the stack of folders
and correspondence in her in-box, then reached over to switch on
her computer. The computer beeped that she had e-mail messages,
while the voice mail light on her phone flashed for her attention.
If the quantity of paper in her box was any indication, she’d
probably need half the day to return phone calls alone. Who would
have thought missing a few days work would back everything up
so?

Turning to the computer, she saw a post-it
message stuck on the monitor. How odd. Since Thayer house had
installed voice mail on everyone's phone, the receptionist rarely
took written phone messages anymore. Molly pulled the message from
the screen, read it, and smiled. Brett certainly was anxious to
meet with her and get started on the new adoption
application.

And Molly admitted to herself that she was
just as anxious to see him. He’d been in her thoughts a lot this
past week, especially the first couple of days when the flu had her
laid so low, she couldn’t do much more than sleep, think, and
dream. She’d drift off thinking about his case and have the most
fascinating dreams. Dreams she wouldn’t want Freud
scrutinizing.

Darn, she still didn’t know the answer to her
question whether Korean Child Welfare would let Brett submit his
application immediately, or if he would have to wait until the new
rules went into effect in January. Molly started rifling through
her in-box to see if she’d received a reply fax.

The phone buzzed. “Molly,” the receptionist
said, “a Mr. Cahill is on his way up to see you. I left a message
on your computer.”

“Got it, and I hear him coming up the stairs
now. Bye.”

Molly looked up as Brett entered the office.
He certainly was handsome. She him a big welcoming smile—a smile he
didn’t return.

“Brett.” She started to stand and motion him
in, but he was already there, looming over her.

“What do you know about this?” he demanded,
tossing an envelope on her desk.

Now what
,
she thought unable to escape the wave of déjà vu. Glancing at the
envelope, she recognized the Child Welfare Logo in the left corner.
Add nausea to the déjà vu.

“Well.” He glared at her.

“Brett, sit down. I don’t know anything about
it. I just got in and haven’t even begun to go through my
correspondence or messages from last week. May I? She motioned to
the envelope.

“Go ahead.” His expression clearly said he
didn’t believe her.

Molly unfolded the letter and skimmed down the
page. “Oh, no.” She dropped the sheet, feeling she really might be
ill.

“You didn’t know.” Brett’s voice softened. The
anger in his eyes was gone, replaced by raw pain. “They’re going to
take Jake.”

“I don't understand. Give me a moment to
re-read the letter.” She read it through twice, feeling his heated
gaze on her the whole time. “I don't understand,” she repeated.
“Didn't they consider any of my recommendations? I'd thought I'd
made a good case in your favor.”

“Sure. I’d say you made a real
good case. Korean Child Welfare read your report and immediately
directed Thayer House to take custody of Jake. You must have
made
some
kind of
case.”

“Brett,” she soothed, trying to get him to
sit. I understand you’re upset.” The words sounded as small and
powerless to her as the apparent effect they had on
Brett.

He glared at her and paced the length of her
desk like a caged cat, radiating fury and helplessness.

Molly rose, and stepping in front of Brett,
she placed her hand on his upper arm. A jolt of uncertainty coursed
through her the second she touched his rock-tense biceps. He might
as well be a statue. Her breath caught and they stood for what
seemed like an eternity before Molly dropped her hands.

“Let me talk with the director,” she said, her
gaze still locked with his.

He shook his head violently, whether as a
reply or to clear his thoughts, Molly wasn’t sure.

“Don’t bother,” he said, finally. “We’ve been
here before. I talk with you, you talk with them, you talk with me.
Where’s it gotten us? Nowhere.”

“But, I—”

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, Tina
Cannon. She’s filing a counter action for custody. I’d like to say
it’s been nice, but it hasn’t.”

Molly thought she saw a flicker of
something—regret, maybe—in his eyes before his expression settled
to stone again. They stood silent for a moment before Brett turned
to leave.

“Wait,” Molly said. “I'll call you when I know
more.”

He muttered something indiscernible on his way
out.

Charles plunked down his briefcase on his
desk. “Good to see you back. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” she said distractedly.

“Say, was that your favorite client I saw
stalking out of here?” he asked.

“Yes.” She shook her head. “I mean no. I don’t
know what I mean.” He’d done it again. Brett had left her totally
flustered. She took a calming breath. “Yes, that was Brett Cahill,
but I don’t think he’s a client any longer.”

“How’s that?”

Molly squirmed, thinking that Charles might in
some way think this was her fault, that she’d fallen down on the
job. Perhaps it was. Had she said something in the home study
update that caused KCW to take action against Brett?

Evading Charles’ question, Molly asked, “Did
you know KCW has directed us to reassume custody of Brett’s nephew
Jake?”

“No, the director hasn’t said anything to me,
but she was down in New York on Thursday and Friday.”

“His situation really bothers me, Charles.
It’s so uncaring on KCW’s part to deny him the opportunity to adopt
his nephew.”

“Wait a minute. Aren’t you the person who a
couple of weeks ago thought it would be in the child’s best
interest to place him with a couple, rather than his single
uncle?”