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“Oh, baby, I’ll never be able to find another parking place and go back,” she told him, anxious to get home and get on with her search, now that she knew where to look and who to look for.
A voice called, “Hey, wait up a minute.”
She slammed on the brakes and turned to see Bonnie running toward her, waving the pacifier.
When she reached her, she said, “I remember how my kids pitched fits when I lost theirs.”
Thanking her, Carlee started to drive away, but Bonnie stopped her. “There’s something else.”
Carlee tensed.
“Have you thought about the possibility that Scotty’s daddy might try to take him away from you once he finds out he’s his?”
Carlee hadn’t, but was quick to remind her that Alicia signed a paper giving Scotty to her.
Bonnie shook her head. “That doesn’t mean a hill of beans. Not if he can prove he’s the father. Besides, are you the court-appointed guardian, or are you just going on the paper she signed?”
Carlee hated to admit all she had was Alicia’s note.
“Well, maybe you should consider asking him to take him, anyway. You obviously can’t afford to raise him yourself, or you wouldn’t be trying to track the man down.”
Fiercely, Carlee fired back, “He told Alicia to have an abortion, remember? I would never give Scotty to him.”
Bonnie sighed and leaned against the car. “Look, I know none of this is my business, but I just like to try and keep young girls like you from making big mistakes. You try to keep Scotty on your own with the financial problems you’ve got, and sooner or later Child Welfare will take him away from you and stick him in a foster home. Wouldn’t he be better off with his natural father if his father wants him and can take care of him?”
“If he didn’t want him before he was born, he won’t want him now.”
“That’s not necessarily true. When a man is cheating on his wife and he finds out his girlfriend is pregnant, sometimes his first reaction is to tell her to get an abortion. He thinks it will solve all his problems. Things are different now. The baby is here, its mother is dead, and any decent man would want to take over and raise him.”
Carlee slammed her palms against the steering wheel. “If he were a decent man, he never would have walked out on her. He’d have stood by her. So what makes you think I want somebody like that raising a baby I couldn’t love more if I’d given birth to him myself?”
“Because you want the best for him.”
“And who says his father is the best?”
Bonnie shrugged. “Not me. I’m just trying to make you realize that whether you like it or not, Nick Starke might want Scotty, and if he does, you’ll have a hard time stopping him. But on the other hand, you might be doing the best thing for Scotty. After all, Nick didn’t seem like a lowlife. Sure, he breezed in, swept Alicia off her feet, then walked. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t make a good father. Think about it. And if you decide you don’t want to take a chance on giving Scotty up, then leave it alone. Don’t go looking for trouble.”
Carlee spent another restless night. Bonnie had given her a lot to think about. And even though she hated to admit it, as much as it would hurt to give him up, the reality was that Scotty belonged with his father if he was fit to have him. And that was where the problems began. If Nick Starke wasn’t fit, she didn’t want him to know Scotty was his, because she didn’t want to fight him for custody. And if he was a member of the Starke Groves family, he’d have the money to hire lawyers to take him from her. As it was, she couldn’t even afford to pay one to go through the necessary legal procedure of having her officially named Scotty’s guardian.
So she was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
The bills were mounting. She had no money coming in, and even if she went out and found a job, she would not get paid right away. And the apartment manager had let her know in no uncertain terms that if the rent wasn’t paid within ten days, he would start the process to evict her.
Close to dawn, she decided to track down Nick Starke. If he were still married, he might not want his wife to know he had fathered a baby by another woman and be willing to quietly pay support and stay out of Scotty’s life. On the other hand, if she checked him out and ultimately came to the conclusion he was a scoundrel, then she would not tell him about Scotty. Times might be tough, but she would manage somehow.
That morning, as soon as she got Scotty fed and bathed, she called information in Snow Hill and asked if there was a listing for Nick Starke. When told there wasn’t, she asked for the number of Starke Groves.
A woman cheerily answered. Carlee took a deep breath and asked, “Does Nick Starke work there?”
“Indeed he does. He’s the owner.”
“The…the owner…,” Carlee whispered in stunned echo. She’d thought he might be a family member, but not the actual owner.
“Would you care to leave a message? He’s not here right now.”
Now that she had found him, Carlee wanted to quickly learn as much as possible. “Can you tell me how to get in touch with Mrs. Starke?”
The receptionist paused, then crisply replied, “There is no Mrs. Starke.”
So much for him quietly paying child support. Now to plan B, which was finding out what kind of person he was.
“I’m Elaine Streeter,” the woman on the other end of the line said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
When Carlee hesitated, not knowing what to say at that point, Elaine continued, “If you will leave your name and number, I’ll have Mr. Starke call you back. But I should tell you that if this is about a job, he doesn’t do the hiring. You’ll have to see the grove manager, Mike Thurston. But he’s not in right now, either, and he doesn’t hire over the phone. You’ll have to come in and fill out an application.”
Carlee was surprised. “You mean you’re hiring now? But the season doesn’t start for months.” Then she cried, “Valencias! You’re harvesting Valencias.” They were a late-season variety of oranges that matured from March to June, and she had often wished Ben Burns had grown them so Jupiter Groves would have stayed open longer.
“Well, isn’t that why you’re calling?” Elaine Streeter sounded as though she was becoming annoyed. “If not, then what—”
“Yes, yes, of course I am.” It was the answer to a prayer. Working at Starke Groves would give her the opportunity she needed to find out everything she wanted to know about Nick Starke before letting him know Scotty was his.
“Good. Because we’re desperate. The regular migrant workers don’t show up this time of year. They’ve already gone to California, where they’ve got steady work till fall. We’re short of women on the packing lines, but the pickers get paid more, if you think you’re up to that.”
“Of course I am.” It sounded wonderful, but there was Scotty to be considered. “I have a baby that’s a little over a year old. What kind of facilities do you have for child care?”
Elaine sounded pleased to tell her that they probably had the best of any grove in the state. “The Starke family has always taken care of their workers, whether year-round or migrant. We have a wonderful day-care center and one of the caretakers is even an LPN—licensed practical nurse. You won’t have to worry about your baby at all. Just come on in today.”
“It will be tomorrow morning. I have to pack.”
Nick Starke stared at the stack of mail on his desk. He hated being inside doing paperwork, preferring to be in the groves. He enjoyed the whole process of growing fruit, from standing on a ladder and handpicking to watching the oranges roll along the assembly line for grading and stacking in boxes. He was a grower through and through and could not imagine any other kind of life.
Elaine peered through the open door to say she was going to lunch. “I’m going to Newt’s place on the river. The word’s out he’s got fresh alligator tail. Want me to bring you a basket?”
“Do I ever.” He loved the delicacy, which tasted like fried chicken but was sweeter, more succulent, and not nearly as greasy.
“Oh, by the way—some woman called this morning, and when she found out you weren’t here wanted to know how she could get in touch with Mrs. Starke. I told her there was no Mrs. Starke.”
He frowned. He and Gina had been divorced almost five years. He didn’t even know where she was and no longer cared. It was strange that any of her friends, old or new, would try to contact her at the groves. “Did you get her name?”
“No. Actually, she was looking for a job. Maybe she thought your wife would hire her since you weren’t around. I told her she’d have to talk to Mike.”
“Good.” He took out his wallet and gave Elaine the money for his lunch.
When she left, he leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the edge of the desk.
Hearing that someone had asked to speak to his wife stirred up memories of Gina.
Bad memories.
He had met Gina in college, when he was attending Florida State to get a degree in agriculture. She was two years younger and studying to be a teacher, but when his father passed away right before Nick graduated, she bluntly said she wanted to marry him, quit school and help him with the family business. He was not resistant to the idea. Gina was pretty, and the sex was great. His mother had died a few years earlier, and he had not looked forward to going home to live alone.
But there was an obstacle—a painful, embarrassing secret he had kept to himself till the time he felt he should tell Gina. The sad news was that he could not father a child. Childhood mumps had left him sterile. But she said it didn’t matter. They could always adopt.
And so they had married and everything had been fine—for a couple of years. Then Gina began to complain about living in a rural area. She didn’t like the family home and complained it wasn’t modern enough. Nick’s grandfather had built it more than fifty years ago, and though it had withstood savage winds from several hurricanes, Nick agreed that maybe it was somewhat old-fashioned. So he’d given her free rein to redecorate, and she’d spent a fortune doing so, even putting in a swimming pool.
But it hadn’t been enough. She was still miserable and began spending more and more time in Orlando, shopping, she said, with girlfriends from college days.
Then when they had been married about four years, Gina dropped a bombshell. She had been having an affair, had fallen in love with the man and wanted a divorce so she could marry him. Fool that he was, Nick asked her to reconsider, suggesting they go to a marriage counselor and try to work things out. Nick was not the sort of man to take marriage vows lightly.
Gina quickly dashed all his hopes and smashed his heart into little bits and pieces with the news that she was pregnant. To twist the knife, she cruelly reminded him that all the marriage counseling in the world couldn’t change the fact he couldn’t father a child.
At least he could be grateful Gina had not taken him to the cleaners financially. Florida was a no-fault divorce state, and, ordinarily, she would have been entitled to half of everything. But all of his assets had been premarital. They owned nothing jointly, so there had been nothing to divide. Still, she had asked for a mind-staggering sum of alimony. But when it was revealed that she was pregnant by another man, the judge had denied her.
Nick swiveled in his chair to look out the window at the rows of orange trees stretching as far as the eye could see. Perfectly straight lines like soldiers at attention.
Maybe he was a fool, but he just hadn’t felt right about Gina leaving with nothing when he had so much. So he had written her a generous check, which she had snatched from his hand and walked out without a word. He hadn’t heard from her or seen her since.
He had thrown himself into his work, and there had been plenty of it. Once in a while, he dated but never let things go too far. Never again did he want to feel the crushing humiliation of having a woman cut him down because of his sterility. So he tended the groves, went deep-sea fishing in his boat now and then, read a lot and told himself he was content with his life.
After all, being lonely was better than having another woman make him feel like less of a man.
Chapter Three
By the time Scotty’s things were loaded into the Jeep, there was scarcely enough room for Carlee’s few belongings. Alicia had worked almost up to her due date to make enough money to buy him everything she thought a baby might need. The crib had to be left behind in favor of the easier-to-pack portable crib, along with the playpen, but Carlee managed to cram in the bouncing swing he loved, along with the high chair.
She only hoped Elaine Streeter had not been exaggerating about Starke Groves’ facilities for their migrant workers being so nice. It made her cringe to think of some of the conditions she had heard about—outdoor plumbing, windows with no screens, broken-down furniture and sparse appliances. Mr. Burns made a special effort to make his workers comfortable, but even he did not provide day care with an LPN in charge. That sounded too good to be true, especially when she found it hard to believe Nick Starke cared about children in general. Knowing that he had been aware of Alicia’s pregnancy all along filled Carlee with so much anger and resentment she wondered how she could even be civil to the man.
But she would manage, of course. After all, Scotty’s welfare, as well as his future, was at stake here, and for his sake, she wouldn’t blow it.
Give the man the benefit of the doubt, a part of her argued. Get to know him before forming an opinion.
Yeah, right, another side fired back. He was just one more selfish, self-centered man with the morals of a tomcat, possessing the same lack of conscience as her father and Alicia’s father had. And, Carlee grimaced, her ex-husband, as well.
With Scotty sleeping soundly in his car seat, she headed north up Interstate 95 to Titusville, then west to the sleepy little town of Snow Hill near Lake Harney. The trip took about an hour. Very convenient for Nick Starke to drive down to Cocoa Beach to see Alicia. Had she not gotten pregnant, he’d probably still be seeing her and making her think he was still having a difficult time getting a divorce.
Several times she started to turn back, afraid she was wasting her time. After all, a man who had done what Nick Starke had was, in all likelihood, not going to turn out to be the answer to her problems. But she had nowhere else to go and couldn’t have stayed where she was, not when she was being evicted. At least now she would have a job and a good place to leave Scotty while she worked.
But most of all, it was just something she felt driven to do, because she hated to see another man walk away from his moral and financial obligations.
Though she had been up before dawn, it had been almost noon before she was finally ready to leave. It felt strange not having anyone to say goodbye to. The only friend she’d had was Alicia. She did, however, take time to call Mr. Burns and let him know she was planning on returning to work for him when the season opened again. She regretted having to say she’d had to drop out of school. She told him about Scotty, and he said he understood and commended her for taking him as her own. He assured her that her old job would be waiting in the fall, and he’d also find room for her in one of his migrant cottages. She did not tell him where she was going, and he politely did not ask. There were meetings from time to time for citrus growers in the state, and he knew them all. She didn’t want to chance him saying anything to Nick Starke about her. Or worse, mention how noble he thought she was to agree to raise her girlfriend’s baby. Carlee intended to control any information given out about Scotty and her.
She did not have to ask for directions to Starke Groves. It was advertised on billboards all along the interstate and even more so as she drove across a bridge and into Snow Hill.
Once she turned off the main highway, a winding road led the way between lines of orange trees as far as the eye could see. At the end was a lovely two-story white frame house that looked like something out of Gone With the Wind, except there were towering royal palms swaying in the breeze instead of sheltering oaks.
The road curved around as she followed signs pointing the way to the office and the grove operations. Reaching a large clearing among the orange trees, she passed long, open-sided, tin-roofed structures that housed the processing belts and packing area. A paved road led in another direction, and she realized she had taken the tourists’ way in.
The gift shop caught her eye. It had a garden in front, bordered by a quaint two-foot wall made of coquina rocks with seashells embedded in concrete on top. Overhead, flowering baskets hung from a wire ceiling. There were benches and fountains, and she made mental notes to take back to Mr. Burns about how he might redecorate his shop.
She parked under a shady palm and took Scotty inside with her. Her first priority should have been reporting to the office, but she couldn’t resist checking out the gift shop first.
It was larger and better-stocked than the one where she had worked but much of the merchandise was the same—orange marmalade, honey and candies, as well as bags of fruit that customers could take with them or have shipped anywhere in the world.
Scotty saw a stuffed teddy bar holding a tiny jar of orange honey, and he reached for it. “No, no, sweetie.” She kissed his chubby little hand. “Even if I could afford it, there’s nobody around here to sell it to us. Evidently they don’t open this place when it’s off-season.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. We’re closed.”
She whipped about to see a man standing in an open doorway to the side that she hadn’t noticed. Beyond was some kind of huge storage area. Starke Groves was quite an operation, all right.
But as she focused on the man who’d spoken, everything else faded away.
He was tall and looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His eyes were a deep greenish blue, like the ocean above its darkest depths, and they seemed to glimmer with a focused strength. His sandy-blond hair was cropped close, the bill of his cap playfully reversed. And as he appraised her, the play of a smile on his lips revealed the dimples in his cheeks.
He was wearing white shorts, and his legs were long and muscular. A tank top revealed bare arms and shoulders that showed he either worked out or did a lot of hard work. His dark tan glistened with perspiration, and as he turned to close the storage-room door, she couldn’t help noticing he had a nice behind.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But the door was unlocked, and—”
“I know. I came in to do some inventory and forgot to lock it.” He cocked his head to one side, and the smile widened, deepening the dimples she could not help finding so delightful. “Is there something I can help you with? We don’t keep the shop open this time of year, but if you want some oranges, I can fix you up with some Valencias that were just picked this morning.” He patted Scotty’s downy head. “He’s cute. How old is he?”
“Almost fourteen months. His name is Scotty.”
“He’s probably walking and getting into everything.”
“No, he’s crawling and into everything. He hasn’t started walking yet. I think it’s because he’s so chubby. He tries to stand on his fat little legs and falls down.”
“Give him time. He looks like he’s going to be a strong little fellow.” He kept looking at Scotty as he asked, “Did you want to buy some of the Valencias?”
“No, thank you. Actually I’m here to see about—” Just then Scotty’s eye caught the bear again, and he strained to get closer. She pulled him back, and he started crying.
The man laughed. “He really wants that bear.”
“Well, he can’t have it. He’d get that honey all over him.”
“Not if you don’t open it.” He took the bear from the shelf beneath the cash register where it had been displayed, obviously to entice the small fry as Mom and Dad paid for their other purchases. He untied the gold cord that held the little jar of honey in place and set it on the counter, then handed the bear to Scotty.
Scotty gave a delightful squeal, but it was nothing compared to his scream of protest when Carlee promptly took it away from him. “I’m sorry, but he can’t have it.” She had already seen the price tag and could not afford to spend twenty dollars on a toy no matter how badly he wanted it.
Scotty cried all the more loudly, kicking his legs and waving his arms in the throes of a temper tantrum. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again, embarrassed. “It’s time for his nap and he’s cranky.”
“But it’s all right. He can have it as a gift.”
She shook her head, not about to accept something from a stranger. “Thank you, but no.” She saw the clipboard he’d been carrying and brightened. “You must be Mr. Thurston. I talked to a woman in the office—Miss Streeter—and she said you all were hiring pickers, and that’s why I’m here.”
“Well, we are, but—”
“I’ve had lots of experience working in groves,” she interrupted, shifting Scotty, who had calmed down, so she could hold out her hand to shake the man’s hand and introduce herself. “Mostly I worked in the gift shop, but I’d rather be a picker, because I can make more money.
“And she also said there were nice facilities for the workers,” she rushed on, excited because he seemed so nice, but then so did everything else about Starke Groves so far.
