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He’d done a good job himself tonight, deftly handling Brandon’s attitude and managing to get Chelsea to talk to him—all without pulling out a single clump of his own hair. Dinah would be proud of him.
Dinah. He shook his head. Why did she keep turning up in his thoughts these past few days? They barely knew each other. He shouldn’t care what Chelsea’s teacher thought of his parenting skills, but he would be kidding himself to say he didn’t.
As he continued trying to stuff ill-fitting puzzle pieces together, images from earlier in the day flitted through his thoughts. At the school Dinah had looked so pretty with her auburn hair blowing in the wind. He’d been so tempted to tuck one of those soft-looking strands behind her ear that he’d had to put his hands in his pockets to prevent it.
Then and now, he fisted those hands, trying to get a stranglehold on his straying thoughts. He had no business thinking about any woman right now, not when his plate was so full with caring for Karla’s children, not when he didn’t even know who he was as an individual let alone as part of a couple. Like the pieces of this puzzle, he just didn’t fit.
Finally back from the journey of his thoughts, Alex glanced over at the section of the puzzle on which Chelsea had been working. She’d already completed the pieces forming one of the tiny mountain peaks.
“I’ll have to work harder if I ever want to catch up with you.”
Chelsea smiled, but she continued concentrating on her project. With focus like that, no wonder she was such a good student.
After they’d worked together several minutes in silence, Chelsea glanced sidelong at him. “Can I ask you something, Uncle Alex?”
“Sure.” He tried not to stiffen too much, imagining questions about enemy fire and terminal illness. Whatever it was, he would answer as honestly as he could.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Alex blinked. Okay, he hadn’t expected that one. “No. Why do you ask?”
Without bothering to answer his question, she asked one of her own. “Why not?”
He made a dismissive sound in his throat. “No time for that.”
“Because of us.”
He drew in a startled breath. “Oh, no, kiddo. I didn’t mean because of you. I’m just a busy guy.” He cleared his throat. Backpedaling was tough work. “It’s been great having you here.”
She didn’t say anything, but he hoped her silence meant she’d forgiven him for his slip. He wasn’t blaming her and Brandon for his lack of a social life. He’d made that choice himself.
“You should take Miss Fraser on a date.”
Alex started shaking his head the moment the words were out of Chelsea’s mouth. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
The only problem was that part of him thought it sounded like a pretty good idea. The part that wasn’t rational. The part that took risk for granted every time he donned his gear and climbed aboard the truck to go out on a run.
He needed to ignore that dangerous part as much as he needed to forget about Chelsea’s suggestion. As the only adult here, he had to be the sensible one. He didn’t know whether he would be able to accomplish any of those things, but the one thing he knew for sure was that he wouldn’t be able to get Dinah Fraser out of his mind this evening, either.
Chapter Four
Alex used his forearm to swipe at the sweat on his forehead and started buffing the fire engine’s shine again. He didn’t care that his hands were already red, and a few blisters had popped out on his palms. By the time he was done with the job this morning, none of the pretty boys at the station would need to primp in the bathroom mirrors because they would be able to see themselves just as well in the truck’s shine.
It hadn’t been his turn to wax. He’d volunteered, figuring he needed the workout with as many visits to the gym as he’d missed lately. The burn in his biceps convinced him he was right. That the manual labor helped him burn off some stress didn’t hurt, either.
Busy trying to expend more energy, he didn’t notice anyone approaching until the man tapped him on the shoulder. He jerked around, coming to his feet at the same time.
“Sorry about that, buddy.” The dark-headed man, similar in height and build to Alex, took a step back. He clasped a briefcase in his hands.
Alex frowned. Good thing he’d chosen firefighting instead of police work because he’d probably be lying in a pool of his own blood by now. On the other hand, the guy standing across from him and scanning the perimeter of the room, probably looking for alternate exits, had to be a cop. In his line of work, Alex had been around enough of them to recognize one of the guys in blue when he met one.
“May I help you?”
“Yeah. Are you Alex Donovan?” The man waited for his nod before he continued. “My name is Ross Van Zandt, and I’m a private investigator working with Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.”
Alex swallowed, trying his best not to look surprised. “Good to meet you.” Wiping his filthy hand on a towel, he gripped the man’s hand.
He would have remembered that name from the newspaper articles even if Ross hadn’t made the association to Tiny Blessings. Not that Alex had followed the reports that closely. Or calculated the dates. Or wondered.
Ross patted his briefcase. “I have a private matter I’d like to discuss with you. Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”
The only private matter Alex could think of was one he wasn’t ready to discuss with anyone, much less allow the rest of the firefighters to overhear, so he glanced around the main bay. A few of the others were working in the office on the other side of the window, and two more had gone to pick up lunch.
Alex cleared his throat and tucked his hands in his jeans pockets. “I guess here is as good as anywhere.”
“I’m investigating some falsified birth records from Tiny Blessings, the agency where my wife, Kelly, is the executive director. Have you heard anything about the duplicate birth records?” He lowered his briefcase to the floor at his feet.
“I read about it in the newspaper.” Tried to get it out of his mind was a more accurate statement, but both were true.
“Then you know that two sets of doctored documents have been uncovered—the first behind a false wall at the agency office and a second group at the Harcourt mansion.” He waited for Alex’s nod before he continued. “Are you also aware that you were adopted through the agency during the period in question?”
“Yes, I am.” Alex didn’t want to say the words, knew that speaking them would open a can of worms, but he did it anyway. “You’re here because my records were found with this newest batch, right?”
“That’s right,” Ross told him.
Alex pulled his hand from his pocket and braced it against the truck, not caring if he marred the shine. He felt numb. Why did having his suspicions confirmed feel like another affront? More lies piling upon earlier lies. No, that wasn’t right. These came first, before his parents’ lies of omission, though those were the ones that had hurt the most.
“Now you understand that we don’t know for sure which, if either, set of birth records is authentic,” Ross continued. “But the fact that Barnaby Harcourt built a secret room in his home to hide these makes a strong statement of guilt.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
Ross stopped and studied him, his gaze narrowing. “Aren’t you going to ask me what we’ve discovered in the records?”
“Why would I?”
“Don’t you want to know who your birth parents are? Or at least your birth mother?”
Clearly, the guy didn’t get it, so Alex repeated himself. “Why would I want to know? Did you see any requests in my original file to know about my birth parents or even to learn about their medical histories?” He waited for Ross to shake his head before he continued. “Why would I feel any differently about these new files?”
Because Van Zandt probably hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t want the information, Alex tried to explain. “You assume that every adopted child is just dying to know who brought him into the world. To know those people who have no more connection to him than sharing a species and some DNA.”
Ross tilted his head and studied him, as if considering the idea for the first time. Alex couldn’t blame him. Until a year ago, he probably would have thought some of the same things. Now he knew differently, but he realized it wasn’t this guy’s fault.
“Look…” Alex paused, holding his hands wide. “I really appreciate your making the effort to find me. If I were some guy searching for his birth parents, then all your research would have been a gift.”
“You just don’t happen to be that guy.”
“’Fraid not. But I’m also not your average adoptive child, either.”
Ross raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Let’s just say I had a rude awakening with that news, but not until after my adoptive parents died.”
“You didn’t know you were adopted? Oh, sorry, man.”
The look of pity in Ross’s eyes was the exact reason he hadn’t shared that information with many people until now. “Anyway, if I were that guy, what were you offering to do for him?”
“I would help him track down a woman who might be his birth mother—the woman whose name is written in a file right in here.” Ross glanced at the bag at his feet.
The impulse to reach for that bag took Alex by surprise. He didn’t want to know about his biological parents, did he? He’d never wasted any thoughts on those people who didn’t care enough about him to keep him.
“You’re sure you don’t want to know?”
Ross lifted the briefcase that possibly held a piece of the puzzle that had become Alex’s life. A puzzle he hadn’t asked for. Didn’t deserve. But there it was.
“Look, why don’t you think about it?” Ross offered. “In the meantime, I have plenty of other files to work through. If you decide you want the answers, just give me the word, and I’ll use my resources to help you find them.”
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Alex looked up from the briefcase that still tempted him with its information. “I’m sure you could work on some of the other cases for people who’ll appreciate your effort a lot more than I would.”
“Wouldn’t take much for that.” Ross chuckled. “Hey, you’re one of Eli Cavanaugh’s football buddies, aren’t you? Have you heard anything about Eli’s brother, Ben? He found his birth family not long ago.”
“I didn’t know, but I’m glad for him, if that’s what he wanted.”
“It had to be bittersweet for him. Ben found his half siblings, but his biological mother had already passed away.”
Ross didn’t say more, but his suggestion that Alex shouldn’t wait too long hung in the air between them. Would Alex feel even more betrayed if he finally decided to search for his birth mother only to find her name printed on a headstone? Who would answer his questions then?
Ross crossed to the fire engine and walked along its length, admiring it. “You know, there might not be anyone who needs to know the truth more than you do.”
“Maybe not.”
The topic closed for now, Alex led Ross to the back entrance that faced the parking lot. The two men shook hands once more at the door.
“Thanks again,” Alex said. “You know you caught me off guard when you said you were a P.I. The minute I saw you, I thought cop. In my line of work I have to trust my instincts, but lately…”
“Trust those instincts, man. I used to be on the force back in New York.”
Alex nodded, sensing that kinship that civil servants share. The private investigator left then, closing the door behind him.
Even after Alex’s explanation, it was clear that Ross still didn’t understand why he would turn his back on the answers when they were right in front of him. Alex didn’t know why he’d even promised to think about letting the P.I. investigate further. Probably just to humor the guy.
Through the window, Alex watched Ross as he headed to his car. Ross waved before he climbed in and closed the door. Alex didn’t bother waving back. The other guy probably thought he would eventually get in touch with him, his curiosity growing until he had to know the answers. Alex could tell him right now he wouldn’t be calling.
“Who’s up for foosball?”
Dinah glanced around the Chestnut Grove Youth Center for any takers, but no one could hear her over the chatter and laughter in the room. Tyler and Dylan just continued capturing enemies in their board game, Tiffany and Gina sat mesmerized by the animated movie they probably knew by heart and Jeremy and Billy wrestled on the couch.
With all the chaos, Dinah didn’t hear her mother’s approach until Naomi Fraser touched her on the arm, startling her.
“Here, try this.” The redhead pressed a child’s-style, wireless microphone into her daughter’s hand, mischief shining in her vivid blue eyes. “I would give you a whistle, but the power might be too much for you.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.” But her frown softened. Flipping on the switch, she tapped her hand a few times on the microphone’s head, sending out a crackly, pounding sound. To her surprise, the room fell silent.
She covered the mike with her hand. “Wow, Dad sure has this group trained.”
“Haven’t you noticed that when your father uses the microphone, he’s usually saying grace before he hands out snacks?” Naomi winked.
“I can’t believe you set me up. Now everyone’s going to be hounding me for food.”
Naomi rolled her eyes as she brushed her hand back through her no-nonsense short hair. “Just make your announcement before they go back to what they were doing.”
“Fine.” She turned back to her audience and uncovered the mike. “Hey, everybody. Our foosball tournament starts in ten minutes. Do we have any other late entries so we can make teams?”
She scanned the group for any takers.
Near the front entrance a boy with light brown hair stood with his arms crossed. Not a likely joiner. She couldn’t get a real good look at the boy because he had hair falling over his eyes, but he still looked familiar.
She knew why he did the second Alex and Chelsea came through the door. Though both the boy’s hair and eye color were a few shades darker, his square jaw and distinctive, straight nose were too similar to Chelsea’s for him not to be her brother, Brandon. If the two children bore any resemblance to Alex, she didn’t see it yet.
Chatter erupted again as the teens noticed the visitors in their midst. Soon the three of them were surrounded by a bunch of youths giving them the welcome treatment. Somehow Alex extricated himself from the crowd and made his way over to Dinah.
“Friendly bunch, aren’t they?”
“We try to be.” Her throat felt dry. She cleared it, covering her mouth with her fist. “What are you doing here?” Was it because she would be there? No, that was ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly have known that she volunteered at the center that her father also ran. But he did know her dad was pastor of this church, so…
“Sorry. I thought the youth center was open to anybody. Youth, I mean. But if it’s not…” He let his words trail away, waiting for her to explain.
Again she struggled with the frog taking up long-term residence in her throat. “It is. Of course. I just meant—” Stopping herself because she didn’t know what she’d meant, she lowered her gaze to the floor. That was when she noticed the microphone still dangling from her free hand. She didn’t have to examine it closer to remember that she hadn’t switched it off yet.
Apparently, she was the only one who hadn’t noticed until then that she was broadcasting their brief conversation, and now more than a few confused faces were trained on her, their owners wondering why she was trying to uninvite their guests. Her mother lifted an eyebrow and smiled. Naomi Fraser never missed much.
Dinah tapped the microphone again. “Let’s try this again. The tournament is about to begin. Anyone can play as long as you sign up in the next five minutes. Now would anyone like to introduce our guests?”
Tiffany raised her hand to do the honors, and Dinah couldn’t help but smile. The slightly plump teen, who was a bit of a tomboy, had carried a torch for Billy for a long time, but he might have some competition in Brandon.
“I’d like you all to meet Brandon and Chelsea White and their, uh, guardian…” Tiffany shot a questioning look at the new kids.
“Alex Donovan,” Dinah said, filling in the blank too quickly. Alex was kind enough to look away instead of picking this moment to trap her in one of his infamous stares.
“Anybody else want to play?” Dinah asked. “If so, I need you to sign up immediately at the tennis table.”
Not surprising given that the center had guests, there was a renewed interest in foosball, and she registered five more participants, Brandon included, before the competition began. Only after the start of the first game could Dinah make her way back to her mother, who just happened to be talking to Alex.
“…were looking for a youth group for the kids, and my own church doesn’t have one,” Alex was saying when she reached them.
Of course he’d come here because of the children. Why else would someone visit a youth center other than to find Christian fellowship for young people? When was she going to stop wishing Alex’s words or motives had something to do with her instead of with the children in his care? Just because Chelsea thought Alex was Dinah’s boyfriend didn’t mean he was interested in her—or even that he should be.
“Oh, Dinah, Alex says you two know each other.” Naomi didn’t say more, didn’t need to. Those mischievous eyes spoke volumes.
