“Will that work for you, Mr. Davis?” Olivia asks, bringing me out of my downward spiral. I’m thankful. I look over what she and Georgina have and make notes and corrections where I need to. They tell me about an award the company won last week, and I nod, telling them to put it with the others in the boardroom.
That’s another part of my life that I try not to think about. All of my achievements are met with silence because I have no one to share them with. My mom died from a blood clot when I was a baby. My dad raised me all by himself until I was in high school, and then he had a heart attack and died. By that point he was the only person I talked to, so when he was gone, I didn’t have anything. I was sent to live on a farm with a distant aunt and uncle for my last two years of high school. It could have been a chance for me to connect with some of my mom’s distant family, but instead I just used it as an excuse to close myself off even further.
The phone rings again and Georgina hits a button on her headset. I expect her to walk out and take it, but she writes down a few things and then tells them I’ll call them back.
“Mr. Davis, this is the fourth call I’ve gotten this morning. I think you need to take it.”
Georgina hands me a slip of paper and I read it over.
“Hold my calls. I’ll see what this is about,” I say, and she and Olivia leave.
When the doors are closed I pick up my phone while I try to figure out why the Jackson County offices at Domestic Social Services are trying to call me. The phone rings a few times until finally an operator picks up. I give him my name and number, and he sounds like he’s bored out of his mind.
“Transferring,” he says before the phone clicks over to elevator music.
“What the hell?” I ask as I pull the phone away from my ear, bewildered.
“This is Debra.”
“Hi, this is Anderson Davis. I’ve gotten several messages this morning to call you back. I think you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Let me check,” she says, and I hear clicking on a keyboard. “Give me your birthday.”
I rattle it off to her, and to my amazement she proceeds to tell me the last four digits of my social, my driver’s license number and address.
“Wait, how do you know all of this and why?”
“Mr. Davis, do you have a relative named Charlene Frank?”
I think for a moment and then I remember a cousin at the farm I was sent to after my dad died. She was younger than me, but I think that was her name.
“Maybe,” I hedge, waiting to see what this could mean.
“I’m the family liaison coordinator with Jackson County. I’m sorry to tell you, but your cousin Charlene Frank passed away in an automobile accident this week.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, not really knowing what else I should offer. I didn’t even remember her until now. “But why are you calling me?”
“You are the last known living relative of Charlene, which makes you the guardian of her one-month-old daughter.”
I sit up in my chair and blink a few times. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
“We’re a small town with only one office, so I don’t have a ton of time to explain. But Baby Charlotte has been here with the Jackson Police Department foster family until I could notify you. We’ll send uniformed officers over tomorrow to drop her off and you can sign the paperwork.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Slow down. I can’t have a baby.” I stand up from my chair so quickly it falls over backwards.
“I’m afraid that’s what Charlene’s will stated. That her daughter was to go to her closest living relative, and we exhausted all sources until we found you.”
“What about her parents—Uncle Clyde and Aunt Ruth?” I say, hearing the panic in my voice.
“I’m afraid the elderly couple passed away many years ago.”
“What about the baby’s father?” I run my hand through my hair as my chest tightens again.
“As I’ve stated, sir, we’ve exhausted all avenues. There was no father listed on the birth certificate, and according to her records, it was an artificial insemination.”
“I just…” I can’t think straight, and the room begins to spin.
“We’ve done all your background and criminal checks, so you’re all set.” She sounds like she’s flipping through papers. “As I said, a uniformed officer will meet you at your home tomorrow. We’ll have someone from our department with them to do a check on the property, then Baby Charlotte and all her paperwork will be left with you. If you have any further questions you can contact the public administrator and they’ll be happy to answer them for you. Thank you so much and have a great day.”
I hear the click of the line and then the floor comes out from under me as the room tilts sideways. Before I know what’s happening the world goes black.
* * *
It’s been a week since the county brought Charlotte to my house. In that week I haven’t slept, I’ve hardly eaten, and I can’t remember the last time I showered.
At first, I called all my lawyers and I even called the district attorney. But they all said the same thing. The will was iron clad and the only way I could get out of it was to give the baby up for adoption. But the day they showed up with her and I laid eyes on that sweet chubby face, I was done for. There was no way I was going to give her to some stranger. That baby was mine now. She looked just like my mother.
The first night she only stopped crying when I patted her back. So, she slept on my chest in the living room, which meant I didn’t sleep. I had to google how to feed her and then how to change a diaper, and though I’ve gotten better the last couple of days, it’s clear I need some help.
I have no one to turn to, no one to ask for advice. This is what happens when you isolate yourself from the world and focus only on your career. That’s why I’ve decided to finally sell the company and move away from the city. The first time I carried Charlotte to the grocery store, we passed a drug dealer. I kept thinking about how innocent she is and how she can’t be raised around that. I never paid any attention to it before, but now that I have a baby, I’m hyper-aware of my surroundings. I have a baby. Will that thought ever become real?
My phone rings and it’s my realtor. I told her that I wanted an old farmhouse in the country with a lot of land. A nice quiet place with a big yard and a nice community. It’s amazing what having deep pockets can get you and how fast it can all happen. She tells me the contract is final and the movers will be here in the morning. When I hang up I go over to the makeshift crib I put together for Charlotte and watch her sleep.
“I might not be good at a lot of this baby stuff, but I’m doing my best,” I tell her as I pat her back.
She makes a cooing sound of contentment and I wonder how I have become so completely head over heels so quickly. I knew the moment I saw her that I was done for. I haven’t even stepped foot in my office since. It’s like I’ve been waiting my whole life for her to find me. And now that she has, we’re going on an adventure.
Chapter 3
Robin
“Ma, like this?” I ask, pinching the side of the pie crust.
“That’s perfect, honey,” she tells me as she goes back to chopping vegetables.
There’s been an impromptu family dinner set for tonight. Normally they are every Sunday, but Kent called saying he had news he wanted to share. Of course Ma said we’d do it over dinner because everything is done around food. How she’s so skinny is beyond me. It’s a good thing she had so many boys, so someone is putting away all the food she makes.
I smile over at her as she hums and chops. She’s happiest when she’s cooking. She’s the reason why I want kids so badly. She’s always doting on us and running around taking care of everyone. Even my dad is the same way. My brothers drive me crazy, but watching us as a whole is something else and it’s what I want for myself.
“Can you get that?” Ma asks when there’s a knock at the front door. I know it’s not anyone we know because they would have just come right in.
“Sure,” I say and go open the door. I freeze when I see Franky standing there smiling.
“Hey, Robin. I was hoping it would be you that answered.”
I step outside and close the door behind me in case my dad comes downstairs. I don’t need him seeing Franky. He can be as bad as my brothers when it comes to dating.
“What are you doing here?” I ask in a whisper. He looks at me like I'm crazy and holds up a box.
“Oh.” I realize he’s just delivering a package. Duh. “Thanks,” I say, and as I go to take it from him the box slips out of my fingers and hits the ground. I hear something break inside and he groans.
“That was fragile.”
I look down at the box and see the large red sticker on it that proclaims handle with care. Great. I lean down to pick it up at the same time Franky does and we hit heads. I yelp in pain when the top of my head hits his chin, making him stumble back.
“Crap. I’m so sorry!” I squeak as he grabs his chin.
“It’s fine,” he says, but his face doesn't look fine. His brown eyes spark with irritation as he clenches his jaw. He takes a deep breath then runs a hand through his dirty-blond hair.