All Roads Lead Home. Christine Johnson
She fought the bile rising in her throat. How she wished she didn’t have to tell him this, but there was no way around it. “Luke’s father has returned.” The words fell between them like stones. “He wants Luke back.”
All the life went out of Gabe. “His father?”
She tried to temper the pain. “Perhaps I should say that a man who claims to be Luke’s father wants him back.”
“Claims?” Gabe pressed his hands against the top of the desk. “Is he Luke’s father or not?”
“That’s what I intend to find out, and that’s why I have to go to Montana.”
“Montana? What on earth does Montana have to do with this?”
“The man who says he’s Luke’s father lives in Montana.”
Gabe paused, processing what she was trying to tell him. “Why do you think he isn’t who he says he is?”
She traced the wood grain of the chair’s arm with her fingernail. “His name doesn’t quite match the records. The old Detroit office listed the father as Francesco Guillardo. The man says he’s Frank Gillard. He claims he anglicized his name.”
He sat back heavily. “People do change their names to avoid prejudice. Remember how Luke was received when people heard his full name was Luciano?”
She nodded. How could she forget the gasps of shock, the slurs against the boy’s dark skin?
Gabe’s long sigh weighed heavily on the hot summer air. “Where in Montana?”
“The western part. A town called Brunley.”
He stared off into space. “So far.”
Mariah ached for him, for Felicity and even for herself. During those three months she’d stayed with Luke, she’d spent every moment of the day with him, had heard his first words, had wiped his tears after the nightmares. Luke was the closest she would ever get to having a son. “I won’t let Frank Gillard take him.”
“Mariah! That’s kidnapping.”
“Is that any worse than abandoning a child?” She stood, too agitated to sit. “That’s what Luke’s father did two-and-a-half years ago. And whatever happened before they got to the asylum made Luke so afraid of his father that he stopped talking. I’m not about to let that man touch him.”
Gabe frowned. “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t come to the same conclusion.”
“That he was abandoned, yes. That’s on the record, but you don’t know what made Luke stop talking.”
She held his gaze. “Did Luke ever tell you anything about that time?”
Gabe shook his head. “He got so upset any time I tried to talk about his parents that I stopped trying. I figured he’d be ours soon, and it wouldn’t matter.”
“Do we dare ask him again?”
He shook his head. “He can’t know a thing. Promise me you won’t say a word.”
“If you promise to fight.” She felt the hot tears rise. “We’ll find a way to keep Luke here. We have to.”
He stared into space a long time, thinking. At last he hit on something. “Didn’t Frank Gillard sign away his parental rights when he left Luke at the orphanage? That is the usual procedure.”
Mariah squirmed under the horrible truth. “The termination-of-rights paperwork wasn’t done correctly. The agent must have mixed up Luke’s paperwork with someone else’s because the signature doesn’t match the name. Instead of Francesco Guillardo or even Frank Gillard, it’s signed Desmond Corliss.”
“What?” Gabe shook his head in bewilderment. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. Mistakes seldom happened, and, when they did, they hadn’t mattered. Until now.
He strode back to the desk. “Show it to me.”
She drew the papers from her handbag and laid them on the desk. He pulled them close and sat down, jaw taut as he scanned the pages.
After agonizing minutes, he raised hopeless eyes to her. “You’re right.”
She couldn’t stand to see his despair. “I’m going to do everything in my power to stop him. Everything.”
“How?” His voice sounded hollow. Defeated. “We have no proof of wrongdoing other than a child’s refusal to talk. That could mean anything, and in a court’s eyes, it’s useless. You know as well as I that the birth parents have every right to reclaim their children, as long as they haven’t signed that right away. We have no way to stop this man from taking Luke.”
She couldn’t allow it. She wasn’t going to let Gabe or Luke down. “I’m going to Montana, and I’ll get Mr. Gillard to sign new termination-of-rights papers.” She pressed her hand over his. “I promise you I will not rest until Luke is safe.”
Gabe slowly shook his head. “I don’t see how you can convince a man who has already asked for his son to sign away his parental rights. I wouldn’t sign them if I were in his shoes.”
“That’s you. You’re a good, loving father. You would never have abandoned Luke in the first place. Frank Gillard is another matter. Something’s not right about this, Gabe, and I intend to find out what it is. Come with me. Together we can find a way to save Luke.”
He sank back in his chair. “I can’t go to Montana. Felicity—” He rubbed his eyes to hide the tears, but he couldn’t hide the quiver in his voice. “She doesn’t want anyone to know, but the pregnancy has been difficult. She started bleeding last week. It stopped, but—”
Mariah gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth.
Gabe stared off into space. “Doc Stevens wants her to carry the baby as long as possible. I’m supposed to ensure that nothing upsets her. Hearing this would be the worst thing for her and the baby. If I left with you, she’d know something was afoot.” He turned worried eyes on her. “Promise you won’t say a word.”
Mariah nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Did you plan to take Luke with you?”
She shook her head. “Of course not.” She gripped her brother’s hand. “It’ll turn out all right, Gabe. I promise.”
He smiled weakly. “First you have to get to Montana. The trains aren’t running right now, but you’re welcome to stay until they are.”
She didn’t have the luxury of waiting. “I’m driving my car.”
“Your car?” he said incredulously. “The one that’s broken down?”
She nodded.
“By yourself? That must be two thousand miles. You can’t drive that far alone.”
She would not be dissuaded. “I will do whatever it takes to stop that man from uprooting Luke.”
Gabe shook his head, signaling he knew when he was defeated—and when his goal matched hers. “I don’t know how you’re going to manage.”
“With God’s help.”
He let one corner of his mouth lift, just for an instant. “Promise me you’ll take someone with you, preferably a mechanic.”
She knew exactly whom he had in mind. “Gabriel John, you know full well that I can’t travel two thousand miles with a man who’s not a relative. I will drive to Montana myself.” She whisked the papers into her bag and left his office.
He followed on her heels. “Then take a woman along,