Random Acts (3 page)

“Should I challenge you?” Gram’s frail voice drifted in from the family room. She sounded exhausted.

“No, I promise it’s a real word,” a little girl said.
Patrick’s daughter
. Heat washed over her. Her mind raced. She hadn’t even asked his daughter’s name.
Great.

Danielle moved toward the archway separating the kitchen and living room. She hung back unnoticed, watching the father-daughter exchange. Her heart swelled with an emotion that caught her off guard. Patrick rested his hand affectionately on his daughter’s shoulder. In her mind, Danielle had envisioned his child to be younger, preschool aged maybe. But the girl playing Scrabble with Gram was not yet a teen, but close. She hadn’t been around enough kids to know her exact age. But one thing she did know. His daughter was beautiful. Long, wavy blonde hair like her late mother’s.

A sharp, sudden pain stabbed her heart. A personal pain. An overwhelming desire to draw this child into an embrace—to tell her she understood what it was like to grow up without a mother—swept over her.

“I don’t know, Gram. Do you think Ava’s trying to fake you out?” Father and daughter leaned over the Scrabble board. Gram tipped her head back and glanced down, trying to see through her bifocals.

Ava playfully swatted Patrick’s hand and shifted in her seat, jutting out her lower lip. “
Dad…
” She rolled her eyes, then suddenly froze. Her back stiffened.

Patrick followed his daughter’s gaze, his green eyes landing on Danielle. Her cheeks grew warm. Again. Why did this man, even after all these years, have such a strong effect on her?

Danielle pushed off the arched doorway and forced a smile past the uneasiness swirling in her belly. “Hello.” She crossed to Gram and pressed a kiss to her soft cheek. The sweet scent of butterscotch tickled her nose. “How are you?”

Gram caught Danielle’s hands and squeezed. Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “You came.”

“Of course,” Danielle said, her tone edged with indignation as she pulled her hands free. She lifted her eyes, mortified to find Patrick studying her. Averting her gaze, she struggled to shake off the guilt Gram’s words had inflicted.

She tried again, this time softening her tone. “I went to the hospital first. Jenny’s hanging in there. Would you like to go see her this afternoon?”

“That would be nice, dear.” Gram twisted her hands in her lap. “I couldn’t bear to see her earlier. But now you’re here.” The older woman bowed her head. “Thank God.”

Danielle placed her hand over Gram’s. “It’ll be okay.” The image of Jenny’s battered face flitted across her brain. The words tasted like a lie on her lips.

Danielle turned around, but before she had a chance to introduce herself, Patrick placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Ava, this is Miss Danielle.” He lifted his other palm toward Danielle.

Ava’s eyes sparkled with surprise. “Gram talks about you. You’re the lawyer.”

“I am.” Unsure of the protocol with the preteen set, Danielle extended her hand. Ava took it hesitantly then quickly dropped her hand to her side.

“I’ve been praying for Miss Jenny,” Ava said in a hushed tone.

Danielle wasn’t sure what to say, but settled on a simple, “Thank you.”

“How come I haven’t met you before?” The innocence of Ava’s question cut Danielle to the core.

“I live pretty far away.” Danielle’s simple answer did nothing—in her mind—to excuse the inexcusable. But how could a child understand the reasons she had avoided Mayport? Reasons even she struggled to understand.

“But you flew here today?” Ava’s green eyes, the color and shape marking her as her father’s daughter, twinkled. “I flew all the way over the ocean when we came back from the military base.” She tilted her head and pressed her lips together as if giving it great thought. “But Atlanta is in Georgia, right? It’s not
that
far.”

Danielle wilted under the intensity of the girl’s interrogation. “You’re right. It’s not. I guess work has kept me busy.” Danielle crossed to the loveseat on the opposite wall and sat. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the delicate detail of the crocheted doily on the arm of the furniture.

“My dad works a lot too,” Ava said with the resigned authority of a child older than her years. “But—” her voice brightened, “—he gets to tuck me in every night, no matter what.” The girl flashed a big smile at her dad.

Standing behind his daughter, Patrick gave her shoulders a playful squeeze. “Sometimes she’s asleep when I get home, but I still get to kiss her goodnight.” His deep love for his daughter rolled off him in waves.

“I’m never asleep when you come in. I wait up for you.” Ava tipped her head back to look at him.

Patrick smiled and gently tugged a long strand of her hair. “I can hear you snoring.”

“I never snore.” Ava laughed. She shifted her focus to Danielle, her bright eyes sobering. “When I was little, Dad spent a long time in Iraq. Mom and I wouldn’t see him for like forever.”

“That had to be really hard.” Danielle searched for the appropriate words. This charming little girl had suffered a lot of hurt in her short life, yet her eyes exhibited a spark, an energy that spoke volumes. Despite everything, she had a solid home. A father who loved her. And in the end—on the surface anyway—it seemed Ava wasn’t the worse for wear.

“You’re pretty good at Scrabble?” Danielle asked, changing the subject.

It was Ava’s turn to lift a shoulder, then let it fall. She bowed her head and studied her shoes.

“She’s being modest.” Patrick nudged his daughter’s shoulder. “She won the fifth-grade spelling bee.”

Ava looked like she wanted to protest, but Gram lifted a shaky hand. “Learn how to take a compliment, child. God gave you a talent. With the proper schooling, you can do anything.” Her eyes moved to Danielle. “Look at my granddaughter here, a big-time lawyer.”

“The partners in the law firm might dispute that claim.”

“Hey, sweetie,” Patrick said to his daughter, “it’s time to run home. Let your new friend get settled.” He pressed a business card into Danielle’s hand, the brief contact sending a delightful warm sensation up her arm. “Call me if you need anything.” He paused and lifted an eyebrow. “Anything.”

She ran her thumb across the embossed lettering of his name. “We’ll be fine.” Tucking the card into the back pocket of her jeans, she escorted Patrick and Ava out through the kitchen door.

When she returned to the living room, she found her grandmother with the Bible open in her lap. “Excuse me, Gram.”

Her grandmother looked up expectantly.

“I’ll make us some lunch before we go see Jenny.”

“I’d like that.” Gram placed her finger on the page to mark her spot.

Danielle spun on her heel, hoping to escape before Gram asked her to sit and read the Bible with her, something she had often done as a teen. If God was keeping track, she didn’t want Him to call her out on her hypocrisy. Certainly not twice in one day.

“Dear…”

Danielle tossed a glance over her shoulder, fearing she was too late.

“Patrick’s a good man,” the older woman said.

“Yes, he is nice,” she muttered and took another step toward the kitchen.

“He’s a widower now. Tragic what happened to his wife.” Gram pinned her with a gaze.

“Yes, it is.”

“Sometimes God works in mysterious ways.” Gram smoothed a hand across the Bible page, seemingly searching for the right words. “He’s single. Maybe now…” She let the words trail off.

Danielle shook her head. “Gram, I’m here for Jenny. And for you. Nothing more.” She took another step toward the kitchen. “Patrick is just doing his job.”

“Dear, you wear your heart on your sleeve. Don’t go passing up a perfectly good opportunity. Patrick has been a widower for two years now.”

Danielle rolled her eyes, a smile pulling at her lips. Gram always told it like it was. “I’m not interested in Patrick,” she said, not sounding very convincing.

Gram pursed her lips. “You need more in your life. All you do is work. Even the child saw that.”

Danielle’s eyes flared wide and she laughed. “You filled her head with that notion.”

“But it’s true.”

Danielle waved her hand in dismissal. “Let me get your lunch.”

Danielle strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The shelves were full. Jenny must have shopped recently. A pain squeezed her heart. How quickly life turned on a dime. One day you’re grocery shopping and the next you’re in a coma. Unease skittered down her spine. The recent events had driven her to distraction, making it impossible to do something as simple as pull together lunch.

Up until now, Danielle’s adult life had been exactly the way she’d wanted it. She had a great job, a lot of responsibility, people who counted on her. With any luck, she’d make partner in twelve to eighteen months. Her plans didn’t include starting a relationship. Her sole reason for returning to Mayport was for her family. For Jenny. Nothing more. Gram was old-fashioned. A woman didn’t have to have a man to be complete.

“Danielle?” Gram called from the other room. “Are you standing with the fridge door open?”

Danielle grabbed the carton of eggs to make warm egg-salad sandwiches and closed the fridge door. Some things never changed.

Chapter Three

After lunch, Danielle escaped to the wide front porch, one of her favorite places. She loved the porch swing. But when it emitted a high-pitched creak, she quickly shifted her weight to the balls of her feet until she was satisfied the chains weren’t going to rip from their anchors. Finally, she settled back and let the crisp autumn breeze caress her cheeks. The dried leaves scurried across the wooden porch, sending goose bumps across her flesh. She zipped the jacket she had borrowed from Jenny’s closet, the fleece collar snug against her neck. Maybe the southern heat had thinned her blood.

Resigned she couldn’t put it off any longer, she punched in her administrative assistant’s number on her cell phone. The missed calls and voice-mail counters indicated Sandra had been trying to reach Danielle all morning. A nagging dread dogged her. She imagined impeccably groomed Sandra’s distinct disapproval at being unable to reach Danielle. Sandra prided herself on efficiency and expected the same from the lawyers with whom she worked.

Danielle pressed the phone to her ear. “I’ve been trying to reach you,” her assistant said, her frustrated tone not at all surprising. Sandra had starting working for Danielle’s boss some thirty years ago when the term
secretary
was still in vogue. When Danielle had been promoted last year, Sandra had suddenly added the youngest member of the firm to her slate of lawyers. She suspected Sandra wasn’t very pleased but had taken on her newest charge with professionalism mixed with a moderate dose of stern mothering.

“What’s going on?” Danielle was too tired to hide the edge in her tone. What could possibly have gone wrong at work already? She thought of the files stacked neatly on her desk. In reality, any number of problems might have cropped up. That’s why she never took a day off.

“You left a brusque message regarding a family emergency?”

“My sister has been in a car accident.” The reality of her words had yet to sink in.

“Oh dear,” Sandra said, “I hope she’s okay.”

Me too. “Thank you.” Danielle cleared her throat. “Is there something urgent at work?”

“Mr. McCoy had a few questions on the contract.” McCoy was one of her biggest clients, a self-made millionaire real-estate developer. The kind of client her firm was known to represent. The kind who paid the bills.

“I’ll get back to him.” Danielle absentmindedly ran her hand along the rough edge of the wood swing.

“Never mind. I gave John the file.”

“Oh…” She struggled to find the words. John was another young lawyer in the firm, one who’d love to home in on such a high-profile client. “Was that really necessary?”

“It couldn’t wait.” A sniff sounded across the line. “And Danielle?”

“Yes?” A flicker of apprehension washed over her.

“A Miss Tina Welch called.” She said the words as if reading them from a note.

Danielle’s heart dropped.
Tina Welch
. She was only supposed to call Danielle’s cell phone. She slouched against the hard wood slats of the porch swing. Tina had probably left a voice mail. When Danielle hadn’t gotten back to her sooner, Tina had probably become anxious and called the main switchboard. “Did she say what she wanted?” She tugged at the ponytail, freeing her hair. She pressed her fingers to the back of her neck, easing some of the pent-up frustration.

“No, but she sounded upset.” Sandra paused. “I don’t seem to have her name on file.”

Tina usually was upset. Life hadn’t dealt the young woman an easy hand. She was currently facing foreclosure and becoming homeless with her young son. Empathetic to her situation, Danielle had offered to help Tina on her own time. Sandra wouldn’t understand. Neither would her bosses.

“It’s personal.” As soon as the words came out of Danielle’s mouth, she wanted to call them back. Danielle didn’t have a personal life. It’s what made her excel at work. Gave her an edge when it came to promotions. The firm wouldn’t be happy if they knew one of their lawyers wasted billable hours on a client who couldn’t pay. Because technically all of her time was potentially billable hours.