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eBook Category: Romance/Mainstream
eBook Description: Peter Strickland can't allow Jann Fletcher, with her New Age crystals and non-traditional lifestyle, to stand in his way of acquiring custody of his nephew. Having failed to keep his sister safe, he vows to do for her baby what he was unable to do for her. Jann has already lost her parents and her best friend Claire, and is determined not to lose custody of Claire's baby. She combats Peter with all the magic she possesses, magic which can only come from the heart of a woman.

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: http://www.fictionworks.com, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: July 2004

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [207 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [206 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [171 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [697 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [190 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [205 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [217 KB] , hiebook (KML) [500 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [256 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [155 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [197 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [248 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [258 KB]
Words: 58064
Reading time: 165-232 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Gael Morrison's most recent masterpiece is a story of love and sacrifice, with a touch of tropical magic thrown in. I loved this heartwarming story."--Vanessa Grant, bestselling author of Writing Romance

Tearing his gaze from Jann Fletcher's disconcertingly blue eyes, Peter Strickland ushered her into his lawyer's office.

"My lawyer, Mr. Moore," he murmured.

The Fletcher woman glanced at Moore, nodded, then turned back to Peter, frowning. Her long cotton skirt and wispy blouse seemed more suited to the beach than to an upscale Honolulu lawyer's office.

"Have a seat," Peter said, directing her to one of Moore's black leather chairs. "I appreciate you meeting me on such short notice."

Somehow he was able to stop himself searching the space beyond her, knowing already there was no baby carriage parked against the wall in the corridor outside. The need to see his sister's baby, to touch him, to truly believe he existed had driven Peter mad in the week since Jann Fletcher's letter had arrived. Only seven days, but they'd been filled with paperwork, lawyers and travel arrangements.

"I hoped you would bring Alexander with you," he said.

"It's Alex's nap time," she replied, her voice warm and slow with the lilting drawl of an islander.

It should have been sharper, Peter thought, and crisper, should have matched her red hair.

"Besides..." The frown lines on her forehead deepened. "I don't know why you asked me here."

"I wanted to thank you," Peter said stiffly, not liking his obligation to this woman. "I wanted to tell you in person how grateful I am for all you've done for my nephew." He banished Claire from his mind, not wanting to think of his sister now, wanting only to concentrate on her baby.

"It was my pleasure."

"It must have been difficult."

"No," she denied, the lie obvious in the pain angling through her eyes, smudging their blue with blackness.

"A young woman like you, single." As his sister had been single. Peter cleared his throat. "The last six months can't have been easy." If he kept his mind focused on Jann Fletcher's hardships, he might stop thinking of Claire's, of how alone his sister must have felt, how frightened.

"Alex has been no problem," the woman said.

"Just the same, I'm grateful. Grateful, too, that you wrote."

"It seemed the right thing to do." She gave him a faint smile. It lit the room, her smile, Peter thought dazedly.

"I knew the lawyers would inform you," she went on, her smile now fading, "but that's a terrible way to find out."

"Yes," he said, his shoulders stiffening. He still prayed that he'd wake and find he had dreamed the whole thing; that it was a nightmare, not a reality.

"You'll want to visit Alex now you're here," Jann said, sitting straighter in her chair.

"Visit? I'm not here to visit. I've come to collect Alexander."

"Collect him?"

"I'm taking him back to Boston with me."

"Taking him? What do you mean?"

"Alexander is my nephew. Naturally, he'll live with me."

"No!" Her voice was low, but she gripped the arms of her chair, her fingers digging into the black leather.

"I want to give Alexander a home." Like the one he and Claire had enjoyed as children, until their mother changed and abandoned Claire without a backward glance.

Jann shook her head, but was unable to pull her gaze from Peter Strickland's eyes. Claire hadn't mentioned they were the color of emeralds, although she'd said plenty on the subject of her brother.

"I won't be taking him today, of course."

"You won't be taking him at all."

"You'll need time to get his things packed, to say your good-byes."

Jann fought back the panic rising in her chest. Surely this man couldn't mean what he was saying. Not looking as he did. Not staring at her with Claire's eyes.

Alex's eyes, too.

"I can understand you wanting to spend time with Alex--"

"I do," Peter said. "I haven't even seen him yet."

"He's already six months old." She could hear the criticism lacing her voice, the implication that if he'd truly cared, he'd have known where his sister was, would have been there to help her.

"I know." His lips tightened. "But I didn't know Claire was dead. I didn't know where she had disappeared to until I got your letter."

And was furious about that, Jann realized. She should have listened to Claire, should never have contacted her friend's brother. But she hadn't realized until now that he would want her baby.

"I'm sure you've become attached to Alexander," Strickland continued in a gentler voice, "but I know you'll be happy to be free of the responsibility, relieved to get back to your own life."

The air fled Jann's lungs, leaving her dizzy. Claire's brother's lips still moved, but his voice had disappeared beneath the buzzing in her ears.

"I hope you'll accept a token of my gratitude."

His voice had become clear again, too clear, as though all other sounds had died, leaving only his words and the horror they promised. He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and held it out towards her.

"No," Jann said again, in a lower voice than before, but the word reverberated in her head like a scream.

"You've been very kind, Ms Fletcher, but I insist."

"I mean 'no' you may not have custody of Alex."

"I'm his uncle," he said again, as though this was something he wasn't sure she understood. "If not me, who?"

"Me. Claire gave Alex to me."

He frowned. "She had no business asking such a thing of you. She was too young herself to know what a responsibility he would be."

"She knew," Jann said firmly, moisture pricking her eyes.

"Mr. Moore has started the paperwork." Strickland gestured toward his lawyer sitting dwarfed behind his desk, his papers spread before him like soldiers on parade. "When you've thought this through, you'll see it's for the best."

"There's nothing to think through."

"You can't seriously want the responsibility of caring for a child?"

"That's exactly what I do want." The disbelief in his eyes unnerved Jann. She rose from her chair, wishing she were taller, wishing she could stand eyeball to eyeball with this man.

"It doesn't have to be the end of your relationship with Alexander." Strickland's expression grew gentler, his eyes sympathetic. "Honolulu's a long way from Boston, but we can work something out. Fly you over once a year--"

"I don't want to fly to Boston once a year. Or even twice a year. I want Alex with me all the time. You can fly here if you want to visit him."

Strickland seemed to grow even taller than he had been before. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

His gravelly voice skittered shivers across Jann's shoulders. He paced the length and breadth of the office while he spoke, as though unable to keep still. Then he turned back to his lawyer, his black hair lifting with the movement.

"I want you to file that custody application today, Mr. Moore. I don't want to stay here..." Strickland's gaze flickered out the office window toward the downtown Honolulu street. "...any longer than necessary."

Jann swept her strawberry curls away from her face and jerked back her shoulders, wishing she had tied her hair in a bun, had tried to look older, more responsible.

She had dressed inappropriately, too. Her loose-fitting Indian blouse and gauzy skirt were comfortable, but--she glanced at the tie knotted impeccably around Strickland's neck--she should have worn a tailored suit.

If she had owned one, she would have. If she had known beforehand what this meeting was about.

"You can file all the legal suits you want," she declared, "but nobody..." Her throat rasped raw as she attempted to clear it. "...nobody is going to take my baby away from me."

"Your baby?" Strickland's accent suddenly seemed more British than Bostonian.

"Yes, mine." Little Alex was hers. Claire had said so.

No. Claire had insisted.

Strickland's gaze swept over Jann, seemed to linger at her waist before flashing past her breasts to meet her eyes. "You didn't give birth to Alexander. I fail to see how you can claim him."

Claire had given her that claim. Claire, sitting on their special bench in the park, calmly asking Jann to be her delivery coach.

Jann had argued with Claire, reasoned with her, tried everything rather than become involved. But in the end she had agreed. There hadn't been anyone else.

"I was there when Alex was born," she explained in a low voice. Born. Such a simple word for a miracle.

"As were the doctors and nurses, but they aren't here laying claim to my sister's child."

"Claire didn't give them custody." Jann's hand stole upward to the heart-shaped crystal hanging from her neck. Her mother had given it to her, the last thing she'd given her. Its smooth surface usually soothed Jann. But not today. Her pulse was racing as fast as a fox's before a hound.

"Claire was obviously not in her right mind--"

"You don't know anything about the state of your sister's mind." Heat swept Jann's cheeks.

Peter Strickland's eyes darkened. "It wouldn't be the first time she made a poor decision."

"How would you know? You were off in Asia or Africa somewhere."

"She left home--"

"You could hardly call it a home."

"...moved into a slummy apartment in New York..." A muscle rippled along his jaw line.

"Which you never saw."

"...ran around with people who'd have been better off in jail..."

"She had no one else."

"...drank, did drugs..."

It sounded ugly. Jann shuddered. Was ugly. But didn't he care why Claire had done it?

"...and got pregnant with a man not fit to breathe her air."

Jann took a step closer, her skirt swirling around her legs. Her arms hung straight at her sides and her fingernails bit her palms. She felt like a thin wisp of nothing next to Peter Strickland's bulk and muscle.

"It doesn't matter what sort of man Alex's father was," Jann began, moving forward another step. "What matters is who his mother was."

The man before her flinched.

"And that's Claire--your sister--in case you've forgotten." Tears filled Jann's eyes, reducing Strickland's image to a series of squiggly lines. "My friend," she added softly, then swept away the tears. She would not cry in front of this man. He would think she was afraid. He wouldn't know her tears were for Claire.

She was very close to him now. He reached out his hand as though intending to grasp her shoulder, but at the last instant stopped, his fingers warm as they brushed her arm.

"I've not forgotten Claire is Alexander's mother," he began, his eyes burning with a pain Jann understood too well. "There's no likelihood of my ever forgetting that."

"Or forgiving it either," Jann accused.

He sucked in a deep breath, seemed to be collecting his thoughts as to how to deal best with an emotional female. "Don't worry about Alexander," he finally went on, ignoring her accusation. "I'll take good care of him. I promise."

"I promised Claire I would never give him up." She stood as tall as she was able. "I never break my promises."

"You're going to have to break this one." He waved his hand in the direction of Mr. Moore. "You won't want to fight this out in court."

Jann glanced at the lawyer sitting behind the oak desk. His face was expressionless, looking as dry and unfeeling as the laws he upheld.

She didn't want to go to court, couldn't face such an ordeal again. Her chest tightened. Courts made decisions, and they weren't always the right ones. In the past, they had never been the right ones for her.

"You don't want to throw away your money," Strickland went on, dragging Jann's attention back to what he was saying.

"Money?"

"If you intend to fight, Ms Fletcher, it's going to cost you in legal fees. Are you prepared for that?" He looked at her as though he knew to a penny all she had or ever would have.

Her spirits sank. He was right in his knowledge that she had no money, but the thought of Alex, with his soft skin and laughing eyes, strengthened her resolve.

"If it's a fight you want," she said tightly, "then it's a fight you'll get." She'd pay for it somehow. Take that assignment on Molokai if she had to.

Strickland's eyes narrowed. "Why do you care so much?" His question seemed sincere, but he held himself stiffly, as though already distrusting whatever answer she would give.

"I promised his mother," she repeated, pushing away the image of Claire on her deathbed, not wanting ever again to think of her friend like that.

"I'm sure you've done your best," he said, brushing away her promise as though it meant nothing, "but Alexander is my nephew, my blood. He belongs with me."

"He belongs with someone who loves him. And that's me," she said firmly.

"Perhaps it's time we concluded this meeting," Mr. Moore broke in saying.

Jann was unable to move, unable to breathe, unable even to wrench her gaze away.

"Alexander is mine," Claire's brother insisted.

"He's not a possession," she cried, rage erupting as suddenly as a Tsunami at sea, blowing the lid off emotions she'd suppressed for years.

Until Claire died.

Until now.

"He's a little baby," she protested. "He needs love. My love." Even if loving Alex went against everything she had learned in the twelve years since her parents had died, that she could only be safe if she kept herself to herself.

Mr. Moore noisily shifted some papers on his desk, but Peter Strickland's gaze didn't stray from hers. It didn't seem possible his eyes could become darker, but they did, the soft fullness of his lashes incongruous frames for their sharpness. Like feathers around steel.

Jann struggled to get a sense of his aura, of what he was feeling and what he would say. But her own senses seemed to have shut down, for around Peter Strickland she could discern nothing but a black mist.

"Love isn't the issue," he said, leaning forward as he spoke, drawing so near his breath warmed her cheek. "Not with you."

"What do you mean?"

"How much do you want?" His voice had hardened, become businesslike.

But he smelled like the earth after a rain, Jann thought dazedly. Crisp, clean, and good.

"Well?"

She couldn't think, couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Not when he was this close.

"How much would it take for you to disappear?"

"Money?" she asked, suddenly understanding. "Of course, money. Five thousand? Ten thousand?"

"Dollars?"

"You drive a hard bargain, but fifteen thousand is as high as I go."

"You think I would sell Alex?" She couldn't believe his suggestion, was sure her ears deceived.

"I'm sure you have your price." His expression held no surprise, but rather disappointment, as though he was sure what her answer would be. "It's what you've been waiting for, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why else would you be so interested in raising my sister's son?" His jaw hardened. "You knew what she was worth. Now she's dead her baby inherits the lot."

Jann opened her mouth but no words emerged. It was as if he had wrapped a steel band around her chest and was tightening its pressure until it squeezed her in two.

"Well?" he prodded.

She tried again. "I can't believe you think I'm doing this for money."

"I didn't at first." His lips tightened. "I do now."

"If you believe that..." She lifted her chin. "...then you know nothing about me or your sister."

"I know your type."

"What do you mean type?"

"My sister surrounded herself with people like you. People who used her to get what they wanted. You had me fooled, too."

His words were like bullets hitting her square between the eyes.

"My sister didn't know any better, had never been taught." He stopped suddenly and caught his breath, as though he had more to say, but couldn't bear to utter the words.

"You're attractive," he finally went on. "I'm surprised you haven't linked up with some rich old man. Easier, surely, than caring for a baby."

"You can think what you like."

"Your hair's an unusual color. If you need money, I understand beauty salons pay well to turn hair like yours into wigs."

"If you've completely finished," Jann said, her fingers forming fists. Claire's brother might dress like a gentleman and have the eyes of an angel, but he didn't play by the rules.

"Although your clothes will never do," he continued, ignoring her interruption. "That flower child look went out in the sixties." One brow lifted. "But perhaps that's part of the con. Work the sympathy element and force the sucker from back east into paying more."

Jann squeezed her eyes shut. She'd faced a lot in her life, but this man was hard.

"So, Ms Fletcher, what's your price?"

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze squarely. "You don't have that kind of money," she said, exhilaration surging through her at the surprise sweeping across his face. "The only thing I'll settle for is one ... small ... baby."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe it. If it takes everything I have, I'm keeping Alex."

"I've underestimated you, Ms Fletcher. Not a mistake I often make."

"What do you mean?"

"You're after it all." His lips pulled back in disgust. "Alexander's your ticket to the good life. No court in the land would object to you spending money to keep him in the style to which he's entitled."

"I've spent very little!" Before Alex was born, Claire had already purchased a crib and high chair, a changing table and a car seat, too.

"Though there have been some expenses. Formula..." This time it was impossible to fight back the image of Claire lying in her hospital bed breast-feeding her newborn son. A few short days were all they'd had together. Idyllic days before Claire got sick.

"...and diapers." Every time Jann turned around, Alex was wet. "Clothes," she continued firmly. "I've sewn him some smocks, but he's getting bigger. He's going to need clothes to crawl around in soon." She reached for the high back of her leather chair and held on to it for support. "You're being unfair. The little I've spent money on, Alex has needed. That's what his trust fund is for after all."

Claire's brother shrugged his shoulders. "It's a small step from necessities to luxuries. Of course you'd keep it down until your custody claim was assured, then..."

"Here!" Jann cried, snatching up the bag she'd left next to her chair, a multi-colored woven one a friend had brought her from Greece. With trembling fingers, she rummaged in its depths. Finally, she felt the metal clip amongst a multitude of wrinkled papers, and with a sharp tug, extricated a stack of invoices from the bottom of her bag.

She flung the papers onto Moore's desk. "You'll find every penny I've spent accounted for in these receipts."

"Really, Miss Fletcher," Strickland's lawyer began, "you're not required at this time to show us an itemized account."

"No?" Jann turned and looked at Claire's brother. "Then it seems I've misunderstood Mr. Strickland. I thought he'd be relieved to know no one is interested in cheating Alex." Her voice caught. "Least of all, me."

"So you say," Peter replied. "But until I gain custody, my eyes will be on you."

Scrutinizing her. Watching. A trembling began in the pit of Jann's stomach and traveled at lightning speed through the rest of her body. No privacy. No freedom. No escape. She'd already been through it a long time ago, and had never forgotten how it felt. She couldn't do it again.

When Claire had refused to inform her brother of her illness and the very real possibility she might not survive, Jann had been aghast. She'd been convinced that no matter how imperfect the relationship between them was, Claire's brother should be there, if only to care for Alex when the time came.

But Claire had been adamant. Her brother would never understand, she had said.

Jann stared up at Peter Strickland.

It seemed Claire was right.