Mail-Order Matty. Emilie Richards
“So there’s no compromise in sight?”
“They want all or nothing. If I retain custody, I don’t think they’ll even want to see her. And if they get custody, they’ll throw up every possible roadblock to keep me from visiting.”
Matty was silent as the server took away their soup and plunked down the sandwiches they had ordered. Damon had eaten half of his before she spoke. “You told me during our first phone call that your attorney thinks you’ll have no problem keeping Heidi if you’re married to me.”
He understood that she needed to hear the reasons again. He obliged her. “You’re not a stranger, Matty, or at least the court won’t see it that way. We were friends in college—”
“We weren’t.”
He went on. “We knew each other. A case could easily be made for a friendship that continued through the years and turned into a romance. No one will ask for proof. We stayed in touch, fell in love…” His voice trailed off, and he sipped his tea. Everything tasted like ashes.
“You don’t like this, do you?”
“I like losing my daughter less than I like lying.”
Her eyes were grave. “And I have all the perfect qualifications to be Heidi’s mother.”
“Matty, you have nothing in your past that anyone could object to. And you’re a pediatric nurse, one of the best. No one could question Heidi’s safety or your loving care of her. If we marry, my attorney believes the custody hearing will be a formality and nothing more.”
“How long?”
He wasn’t sure what she was asking, but he was sure how important the answer was to her. She looked as if everything in both their futures depended on it.
“How long before I’ll know if I retain custody?” he asked.
She shook her head slowly. “No. How long before you can safely divorce me?”
There were still half a dozen questions she could be asking, questions he might not even comprehend. The ashes in his throat seemed to sift deeper, layering his heart. “I don’t know.” He leaned forward, but he didn’t touch her. “If you can only make a brief commitment to us, this can’t work. I might be at Inspiration Cay a year, a month, a decade. And as long as I’m there, Heidi’s vulnerable.”
“A decade?” She voiced the question softly. “And then a divorce when you no longer need me?”
Now he understood exactly what the question was, and he was almost giddy with relief. “Matty, have I ever mentioned divorce? I’m not planning to divorce you the minute I don’t need you anymore. Heidi needs a mother, not a baby-sitter. She needs the emotional ties that Gretchen can’t give her. I don’t know how long our marriage will last. Maybe we’ll grow to hate each other despite every effort not to. Maybe you’ll decide you need more than I can give you. I can’t see the future. But I’ve never thought this was going to be less than a real marriage. Maybe we have to pretend about our past, but not about our future.”
Her cheeks flushed a delicate rose. “A real marriage?”
“Were you really ready to settle for less?”
She bit her lip, small even teeth pressing hard enough against the soft tissues to be dangerous. He folded his arms over his chest to keep from covering her hand with his own. “We’re adults, and we’re going to be almost alone in paradise. And we’re going to be married. I don’t work in the lab day and night….”
“Well, that puts things in perspective.”
He smiled, dredging it up from some place deep inside that hadn’t been touched by the cruelties and disappointments of the past years. “We’ll take that part slowly. I’m not expecting you to jump into bed with me. I’m not making demands.” The smile disappeared, and he tasted ashes again, because he knew he was not above using his most foolproof weapon. And he used it now.
“I need you. No one will ever need you more than Heidi and I do, Matty.”
She nodded. If she was aware that he was playing on her greatest vulnerability, she gave no sign. “I’ll go with you to Inspiration Cay.”
“And I’ll do everything in my power to be sure you’re never sorry that you did.”
He told himself it was true, but even as she smiled in answer, he wondered what he could ever give her in return that would be half as important as what she was giving him.
Matty was used to exhaustion. She had worked graveyard shifts, double shifts and even, during the worst years of her father’s illness, around-the-clock vigils, snatching sleep when she could as she hovered at his bedside. What she wasn’t used to was the muscle-clenching, nerve-pinging meltdown of a body stressed to the limits of its endurance. She had survived the flight to Miami with its delays and rerouting, and the first sight of Damon with its emotional intensity. She had survived their lunch together with its revelations and evaluations. She had survived her own decision to accompany him to Inspiration Cay.
But she wasn’t at all certain she was going to survive the trip there.
“Matty, you’re as white as a ghost.” Damon’s voice vibrated against her ear.
She wanted to smile reassuringly, to explain in a cheery nurse voice that nothing was wrong except that her blood had drained to her feet. But she couldn’t summon a smile or an explanation. She closed her eyes and promised her stomach that the flight to George Town was almost over.
“You’ve never flown in a small plane, have you?” Damon shifted subtly closer in his seat. The heat from his body felt like an electric blanket cranked up to nine.
“Tell me we’re almost there.”
“We promised to be honest with each other.”
Something surprisingly close to a groan rumbled through her throat. His voice was kind. “This wouldn’t be bad if it weren’t stormy. But we’re perfectly safe. We’ll pass through this in no time.”
She wanted to keep him talking. She needed to concentrate on something besides the jolting of the plane and the roiling of her stomach. “Tell me about the island.”
He didn’t answer immediately. “First, I’d better tell you about Kevin. And Nanny.”
She knew that Kevin Garcia and Nanny Rolle were the other two adults who lived on Inspiration Cay. During one of their phone calls, Damon had mentioned that much in passing. He had left her with the impression that they were caretakers, and she had pictured them as a friendly older couple who trimmed hedges and swept verandas in exchange for a small cottage in paradise.
“Kevin first,” he said.
Matty waited, but moments passed before Damon began.
“About six months ago I was in Miami on business, and I’d stayed out later than I’d expected at dinner. My colleagues grabbed cabs back to their hotels somewhere on the other side of town, but I decided to walk to mine because it was less than a mile away. About halfway there I met Kevin.”
She frowned. This didn’t jibe with her notions about who Kevin was. “You mean Kevin was visiting from the Cay?”
“No. He was living in Miami.” He paused. “On the streets.”
Her picture of a smiling old man who would show her shells on the beach and identify tropical shrubs dissolved. “Go on.”
“Kevin ran away when he was fifteen. That was almost two years ago.”
“He’s only seventeen?”
“Not quite.”
“How