Minor Adjustments (16 page)

“You can pray,” she said softly. “And be there for me when I need you.”

“Always.”

⇐ ⇑ ⇒

Stella dropped the phone to her desk and swallowed the dread in her throat, forcing her mind to think like a solicitor. Her fingers tap danced against the wood of her desk. Would Justin really go through with the appeal?

Yes.

The determination in his eyes alone would have convinced her. But then there was that barrister he’d already hired. Well, not “hired” exactly—not if they’d taken on the case pro bono. Stella’s fingers stilled. Exactly who had Justin found to represent him? Or had that all been a lie? Stella could never tell with Justin.

Justin greeted Janelle Renning with a flashing smile. “G’day. I’m Justin Wells. We spoke on the phone last week.”

Janelle had drab brown hair, freckles, and eyes that looked too small for her face. When she peered over the rim of her reading glasses, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

“Yes, I remember. Have a seat, please.” She gestured to a padded armchair. “What can I do for you?”

With his dark hair and eyes, Justin knew most women found him attractive. People often compared him to a younger Ben Affleck, and it was the reason he’d chosen a young, female barrister. Her homely appearance was an added bonus. Yeah. This meeting would go exactly as planned.

Justin had lied to Stella about the barrister agreeing to work pro bono. Janelle hadn’t—at least not yet. But in the face of Stella’s obvious hatred and accusation, Justin hadn’t been able to resist. And it had been worth it. Even if Janelle didn’t agree to represent him, the fear in Stella’s eyes would make him smile the rest of the day.

Justin settled in the chair and replaced his smile with a look of concern. “It’s my son.” He let the words settle a bit before continuing. “You see, my ex-girlfriend was vindictive and emotionally unstable, at least toward the end of our relationship. When I told Lindsay she needed help, she lost it and basically threw me out. After that, she wouldn’t answer my calls or speak to me, so I finally gave up and left for good.”

Janelle watched with interested eyes. So far, so good.

He cleared his throat. “A few weeks ago I ran into an old friend of Lindsay’s and found out some surprising things. Unbeknownst to me, she was pregnant when I left—with my son.”

Janelle picked up a pencil and scribbled something on a paper. “We’ll have to run a DNA test to be sure.”

“I understand, but I know I’m right.”

“How old is the boy now?”

“He has to be close to five.”

“Where is Lindsay?”

“Dead.”

Janelle’s eyes flew to his. “Dead?”

Justin nodded and dropped his gaze, as if downcast. “Or so I’ve been told. According to her friend, she was diagnosed with a terminal illness and died shortly after. Lindsay left my son to some American without even telling me. I’m hoping you can help me discover where he is and help me get him back. It’s not right what she did.”

Janelle offered a sympathetic look. “No, it’s not. And if this child really is yours, and what you told me is true, you could have a strong case.”

“That’s really good to hear.” Justin forced a pained look to his face. “I have to be honest, though, and tell you that I can’t afford you—at least not right now. I lost my job months ago and haven’t been able to find work again.” His eyes implored her. “Please help me. Five years have already been wasted, and I can’t stand the thought of another year going by without me knowing my son. I want him back.”

Janelle hesitated, but only briefly. “Well, you’re in luck. I haven’t taken on a pro bono case in a while and I suppose it’s about time I did.”

With a sigh of relief, Justin placed his hand over hers. “Thank you, Ms. Renning. I knew you were a special person just by looking at you.”

Janelle smiled as she rifled through a desk drawer and pulled out some paperwork. “Well, let’s get going. I only have thirty minutes until my next appointment.”

“Of course.” Justin accepted the papers. “I also need to warn you that the last few years have been difficult ones. After Lindsay broke up with me, I was heartbroken and became clinically depressed. Since then, I’ve been in and out of work, my credit cards are maxed out, and . . . I even considered taking my life at one point,” he said, forcing his voice to shake.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, you poor thing.”

Molding his features into a mask of shame, Justin said, “If you dig into my past, it’s not going to be pretty. But finding out about my son has given me something to hope for—a reason to live again. Please don’t let the courts keep him from me any longer. He’s all I have left.”

Janelle leaned across the desk and touched his arm. “You’ve come to the right place. I’m an excellent barrister, and I promise to do whatever I can to get you your son back.”

It had been almost too easy. But Justin coerced a few tears to his eyes anyway. “How can I ever thank you? You’re an answer to my prayers.”

Janelle smiled, probably congratulating herself on her wondrous act of service.

An hour later, Justin walked out of the law office sporting a grin. Everything had worked out as planned. Janelle would officially file the appeal that week and all he needed to do was continue to act like a despondent father, find a decent temporary job, and clean up his apartment. Janelle would take care of the rest.

For free.

Justin passed by a pub and smiled. In a few more months he’d be able to spend his nights there once again. Days too, if he wanted.

He loved living off the government.

Almost a year to the day of his last visit, Devon again rode the train through Sydney’s busy streets, gripping Ryan’s little hand in his own and hoping it wouldn’t be his last trip. He wanted a reason to return, and if Ryan were no longer his . . .

Waiting and worrying. That had become his life during the past few months. And when Devon had finally heard from the Independent Children’s Lawyer, he’d considered ignoring the summons and taking Ryan far away. Someplace no one would ever find him.

But that wasn’t the answer, so there was no choice but to leave for Australia and let the worry fester. What would happen? How would it end? When would it all be over?

In two weeks, Ryan would meet his biological father. Two weeks and the psychologist would begin his rounds of interviews and observations. Devon’s skin crawled at the idea of Ryan spending time with Justin, but there was nothing he could do.

Nothing he could do about any of it.

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” Ryan said, trying to pull his hand free.

Devon loosened his grip. “I’m sorry, champ. I’m just excited to see Stella again. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” There was that dimple. The one that charmed Devon every day.

The train reached Stella’s stop, and they hopped off. When they reached her flat, Devon hesitated in front of the painted steel door. What would he find on the other side? Stella had sounded optimistic over the phone, but he knew better. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, there was always fear and worry. It unnerved him.

Devon sucked in a breath and knocked.

Seconds later, the door flew open, and there stood Stella, with her bright blue eyes, looking as gorgeous as ever in that baseball cap.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Stella lifted Ryan off the floor and hugged him tight. “When did you get so big? I can barely pick you up anymore.”

Ryan giggled. “I’m big and tall. Dad says so.”

“You sure are, and you need to stop growing. If you get any bigger, I won’t be able to pick you up.”

“You need to lift weights,” said Ryan. “That’s how Dad stays strong.”

Stella laughed, allowing the squirmy boy to slide to the floor. “There’s sugar on the counter if you want to feed the birds.”

“Yay, birds!” He needed no further convincing and ran off.

Stella peeked up at Devon from under the rim of her cap. He couldn’t resist. Two steps and she was in his arms, holding him tight. If only he was there under better circumstances.

Taking a breath, Devon drew back and rested his hands on her shoulders, waiting. He needed Stella to tell him everything would be okay—that Ryan wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’re here,” she said.

“I’m here.”

Her lips stretched into a sad smile. “I wish you didn’t have to be.”

“Me too. But it’s really good to see you.”

“You too.”

Devon’s hands fell away, and he shoved them into his pockets. “Any new developments?”

“I talked to Gerald this morning, and it’s looking good so far. We have Justin’s overdrawn bank records, maxed-out credit card statements, and three witnesses willing to testify that Justin is lazy and emotionally abusive. Basically, we’ve done everything we can and now we’re just waiting on the psychologist. Then it’s off to court. By that point, we should have a better idea how the magistrate will rule since he’ll rely heavily on the psychologist’s recommendations.”

Devon nodded. He didn’t need to be reminded how important the next few weeks would be.

“I need to finish getting ready. Have you had breakfast yet?” Stella asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you’re still hungry, there’s some Vegemite in the cupboard.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just promise me you won’t try to clean up.”

⇐ ⇑ ⇒

Janelle Renning closed the file on her desk. “Justin, I have to be honest with you. Things aren’t looking good.” She had lost that sympathetic smile weeks ago. “Your financial situation is much worse than you led me to believe, and Gerald Larsen now has three witnesses willing to testify against you and your character. Do the names Bethany Marsh, Michael Woods, and Marti Lands sound familiar?”

Yeah, they sounded familiar. One good-for-nothing ex-girlfriend and two cocky bosses who thought they were better than everyone else. “I told you my past isn’t pretty. Bethany is a deranged ex-girlfriend and the other two are old employers who think I’m unreliable. When I worked for them, I struggled with depression and couldn’t handle going to work some days. They fired me because of that.”

“Justin, I want to believe you, I do. You seem like a good guy, but since you never saw a doctor for your depression, there’s no documentation, and I can’t find a single decent character witness for you.”

“But what about Jackson and Michael? They’re willing to testify on my behalf.”

“They’re drunks, Justin. Putting them on the stand would only hurt your case.”

Janelle was starting to sound snooty. Like she knew better than him. “Listen. I found a good job, just like you asked me to. I even moved to a two-bedroom flat.”

“Yes, but a new flat and a few weeks of waiting tables won’t convince any magistrate you’re going to remain permanently employed. Not with your history. You need to show the court you really have changed—that you’re ready to take on the responsibility of a child.”

This woman knew nothing about him or his life. Janelle had probably never waited tables, stocked shelves, or cashiered for a paltry minimum wage. No, instead she sat on her swanky leather chair and looked down on everyone else from her office window. Everything came easy to people like her.

Unlike him. Justin could work his entire life and never get ahead, so why try? Why waste away his life trapped in a demoralizing, low-level job? He was better than that. He deserved better. Which was why he needed his son.

Justin looked down at his hands. “What more can I do? I can’t live the rest of my life not knowing my son.”

“Well, your case isn’t completely hopeless. You do have a few things going for you. You’re Ryan’s biological father, which is huge. You’re also Australian. In fact, this case would be easy if it wasn’t for your unemployment history and an ex-girlfriend ready to testify that you’re emotionally abusive.”

Janelle twisted back and forth in her high-backed chair. “If only you were married or at least engaged to a nice girl. Then at least we could show that Ryan would have two parents.”

Justin leaned forward, suddenly interested. “That would work? How long would I need to be engaged for?”

“I was only joking, Justin.”

“I know a girl who . . . well, owes me a favor. If she agreed to become my fiancée, at least during the psychological interview and court proceedings, would that help my case?”

“Well, yes . . . but that’s unethical. You can’t do that.” Janelle’s voice was hesitant.

“Of course not,” Justin amended. “The truth is, I really want to marry Nicole, and this might give me the courage to actually propose. If she accepts, would that be enough time to convince the psychologist?”

Janelle nodded slowly. “It could, but—”

“No buts, Janelle.” Justin flashed one of his winning smiles. “Just leave it to me.”

The psychological interview was far more brutal than Devon had imagined. Over the course of two weeks, his life was peeled apart, bit by bit, exposing everything—including the glaring black marks against him: An American. Not the father. Single. Currently unemployed—although with that last one, his financial statements should show that wasn’t an issue.

Worst of all had been the expression on the psychologist’s face when he’d learned why Lindsay had chosen Devon. Words couldn’t describe the disbelief, the “Lindsay must have been insane” look. Hopefully Justin was going through a similar, if not worse, experience.

Out of those two weeks, Ryan had spent four afternoons with Justin. It had nearly killed Devon to let the psychologist take him away, even though he knew Ryan would return. But if the day ever came that Ryan was forced to leave permanently . . . well, Devon didn’t know how he’d react to that. He couldn’t stand to even think about it.

Stella was the only reason Devon hadn’t gone completely crazy. At the end of each grueling day, she was there with her planned outings, picnics on the beach, ferry rides, and movie nights. Anything to bring some normalcy back to their lives.

And it worked, for the most part. The only problem was that Devon’s feelings for Stella grew stronger every day, and he couldn’t do anything about that either. It was as though he was suspended, unable to move on with his life until the trial was over. And even then . . . who knew what would happen?

On the last day of interviews, Stella knocked on their hotel room door shortly after the psychologist had left. “Pack your bags,” she announced. “We’re getting out of town for a few days.”

“Where?” Devon asked.

“Byron Bay. A beautiful slice of heaven—and my home.”

Devon could have kissed her. A getaway would be perfect—exactly what they all needed. Click. TV off.

“Hey,” Ryan protested.

“Didn’t you hear Stella? We’re going on a road trip.”

Ryan leaped off the couch. “Yay! A trip!”

An hour later, they left Sydney behind and headed north. For the most part, the Pacific Highway followed the coastline, with views of the ocean as they drove through walls of tropical bushes and trees.

Devon loved the rural feel of it all. It wasn’t anything like the Pacific coast in America. They didn’t have to navigate through multiple dense, populated cities. Instead, the long, scenic highways led them through occasional rural towns. Every now and then they’d come across a larger city—but nothing like Sydney. The landscape was untouched and unsullied. Beautiful.

The sun set, taking the views with it. Ryan had fallen asleep in the backseat, so Devon readjusted the pillow and tucked a blanket around him.

“Are you doing okay?” Devon asked Stella. “I can drive if you’re getting tired.”

“I’m fine, but thanks.”

He gently massaged the nape of her neck. Her skin felt soft and warm beneath his fingers. Even after hours in the car, she was still gorgeous.

“Tell me about Byron Bay,” he said.

Stella smiled. “You’re going to love it there. The city is on the easternmost peninsula, so it’s literally surrounded by beaches. The weather is perfect, the water warm, and the views incomparable. It’s the perfect seaside town.”

“Why do you live in Sydney then?”

“After my parents died, I needed a change. Byron Bay has a lot of memories that were hard for me to deal with, so I didn’t come back for a while. I graduated from law school and then took a job in Sydney before I started visiting again. Now Byron Bay is a lovely place I go to escape when I can. It may sound strange, but I feel closer to my parents when I’m there. I’m looking forward to showing it to you.”

“And I’m looking forward to seeing it tomorrow when the sun comes up.”

She tapped the clock on the radio. Twelve forty-five. “You mean later today.”

“Wow. Time sure flies when I’m with you, doesn’t it? What time do you think we’ll get there?”

“Probably around two. I hope Ryan likes to sleep in.”

“He doesn’t.”

A little over an hour later, Stella pulled into a driveway. The headlights highlighted a small rambler with a one-car garage. “Where are we? I figured we’d be staying in a hotel.”

“This is the house where I grew up. My parents left it to me when they died.”

“You kept it?”

“Of course. I could never sell this place.”

Stella was full of surprises. “You never told me you were a home owner.”

“You never asked.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Who keeps it up?”

“My neighbor’s son takes care of the yard, but the inside is another matter. Be prepared to find some dust.”

“Good. Then I can tell you that your house is as dodgy as mine,” he said.

“Hardly. My walls are painted, the floor isn’t warped, and the cupboards all have doors.”

“Ah, but mine isn’t dusty.” Wait. How long had they been in Australia? “Scratch that. It isn’t
as
dusty.”

Stella laughed.

Devon gently picked up Ryan and followed Stella into the musty house and down a short, narrow hallway. He tucked Ryan in bed and brushed the hair off his forehead. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

Pulling the door closed, Devon sighed and leaned against it. “What am I going to do if they take him away?” he whispered.

“Shhh.” Stella touched her finger to his lips. “They’re not going to, so no more of that kind of talk. We came here to forget about the hearing, so we’re going to have a fun few days and not worry about anything else, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Devon couldn’t stop his fingers from touching the soft skin of her cheek. During the past few weeks it had been difficult to keep his distance, but he had. Now, though, he wasn’t sure he could anymore. Whether it was the feel of her skin or the lateness of the hour, Devon caved to the temptation and brushed his mouth against hers. He meant to keep it light and brief, but a shockwave swept through him, and before he could think about the consequences, his arms were around her, pulling her close. He was like a starved person placed in front of a buffet of food. He couldn’t get enough. She was too soft, too beautiful.

Stella finally broke free and took a step back, gulping in air as her wide eyes stared up at him. Devon fought the urge to pull her back; he wasn’t ready to let her go. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to let her go again. But Stella was right. Not only was it late, they were both tired, and who knew where things would’ve led if she hadn’t broken away.

What Devon needed was distance. The sooner the better.

“Which room is mine?”

Stella blinked, then pointed a limp finger at the door next to Ryan’s.

It took all of Devon’s willpower to step into the room and firmly close the door behind him.