She was vaguely aware of Hugh strapping the baby into her seat, and knew that the child was fussing again and had to be fed. But she buckled her seat belt and waited without looking back at the priest, waited until Hugh backed around, waited until he had returned to the street and driven out of sight of the church. Then she bent over and began to weep.

Chapter 19.

Hugh had no idea what to do. But he couldn't just drive, with Dana crying in the front seat and the baby crying in the back. And there wasn't a Dunkin' Donuts or McDonald's in sight. So he pulled into the parking lot of an office building, found a spot under the shade of an oak, and let the car idle.

He touched Dana's arm. When she didn't pull away, he rubbed her shoulder. He didn't speak. There was really nothing to say. He had hoped for more by way of answers from this trip. But if he was disappointed, she had to be feeling worse. So he sat, lightly ma.s.saging her neck to let her know he was there.

When the weeping finally slowed to hiccoughs, he left the driver's seat, unbuckled the baby from the back, and gave her to Dana, who silently pushed up her top and let the baby nurse. The silence was instant.

Hugh drank some water from the bottle in his cup holder, and offered it to Dana. She took the bottle, drank, then closed her eyes and continued to let Lizzie nurse.

He didn't say anything until she shifted Lizzie from her breast to her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked then.

She shook her head no. "Was that a help? Do we have any answers?"

"We do know he's your father."

She put her cheek to the baby's head and continued to rub her tiny back.

"And we know that he has no African-American heritage," he added.

"Do you believe him?"

"His story was pretty convincing."

Dana continued rubbing Lizzie's back until a tiny bubble came up. Then she wiped the baby's mouth with her bib, and put her to the other breast. "Was it a little too convincing?"

"You mean, designed to preclude doubt?" Hugh had considered that. "But he didn't know we were coming. Not many people can think on their feet that way."

"An incorrigible liar could."

"Do you think he's that?"

Dana raised discouraged eyes to his. "I don't know what to think. I didn't expect a priest. I didn't expect a man who would imply that he loved my mother, or one who would run for a picture of his daughter to show me how much she and I look alike. I didn't expect he would want to stay in touch."

"But all that is good, isn't it?" Hugh wouldn't mind telling his family that Dana's father was a priest. It would go a long way toward shutting them up.

Dana sighed wearily. "There's so much going on right now-the baby, us, my grandmother. She won't welcome sharing me with the man she feels hurt her daughter. And we don't have any answers, Hugh. Look at Lizzie. If she didn't get that skin from my father, where's it from?"

Ellie Jo, Hugh guessed. "We'll figure it out."

"How?"

"I don't know, but we will. Anyway, you must be hungry. Want to stop somewhere for lunch?"

"I'm not comfortable staying in Albany," she said.

"Are you hungry, though?"

"Probably."

Gently, he prodded. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"I'm not hungry, but I know I have to eat to keep producing milk."

"If you want to stop nursing, stop. I'm fine with formula."

Her eyes flew to his. "I want to nurse. What I meant was that I know my responsibility even if he didn't. If you really loved someone, wouldn't you hunger for news? Wouldn't you try and find out how she was and what she was doing?"

"I would," Hugh said. "It's called fighting for what you want."

"That's right," Dana replied in a burst of angst. "He didn't fight. He just gave up-turned off-closed up!"

"Feels kind of like what you're doing," Hugh remarked.

"Me?"

He softened the accusation by accepting blame. "I hurt you. I'm sorry for that. But your response has been to shut me out. I know that you loved me before, Dee. Where did that love go?"

Mute, she stared at him.

"What Father Jack said back there about not pining over a relationship that wasn't meant to be?" Hugh continued. "Is that how you feel about us, that we weren't meant to be?" When she didn't answer, he went on. "Because if you do, I disagree. This is a period of adjustment. That's all."

"Lizzie's skin isn't going to suddenly become white."

"Obviously," he said, "but that doesn't mean we have to be hung up on her color. You accuse me of being upset about it. 'Upset' isn't the right word. I'd like to know where it's from. Is that asking so much?"

"In that I have no idea where it's from, yes. In that I'm struggling to figure out who I am, yes. In that I've just gone through an emotional wringer and don't want to talk about this right now, yes!" Taking the baby from her breast, she propped her on her thigh.

When she said nothing more, he offered a quiet "There you go again, shutting me out."

"I'm struggling with this, Hugh."

"Okay." He backed off. "Okay. Let's think about lunch. One thing at a time."

And that was how they took it. When Dana finished burping Lizzie, he buckled her back into her seat. They got burgers and fries at a drive-through, and ate as they drove. By the time they hit the highway, Dana had closed her eyes.

Hugh drove on in silence. He was feeling completely useless when his cell phone rang. It was his secretary, wanting to patch through a call from Daniel Drummond. Hugh's spirits revived.

Daniel Drummond was a big-name Boston lawyer with an ego to match. He claimed to be the model for at least one lead character on every TV legal series with a local setting, and he certainly had the looks, the skill, and the flair. He was known for flamboyance, and was arrogant to a fault.

Hugh and he had worked together once, representing clients in a complex case. They had never opposed each other before.

"How are you, Hugh?" Daniel asked in a booming voice.

"Great, Dan. And you?"

"I was fine until I got a certain call." He remained collegial. "What's going on here?"

"That depends on who called."

There was a snort. "You know my client list. What's the most high-profile case you ever hope to try?"

"Well, there is one that's come down the pike, but I have no desire to try it. We're hoping for a settlement that is quiet and quick. If this is the case you're referring to, then you and I need to meet. Cell phones aren't safe."

"Cell phones aren't safe?" Collegiality dissolved. "Try false accusations. Do you know how many of these calls he gets?"

"Where there's smoke..."

"Be real, Hugh. Do you know who you're dealing with?"

"I do."

"Then you know what he stands for. An accusation like the one you made in your letter won't go over well."

"That's not my concern. My concern is my client."

"So's mine, and my client doesn't like being threatened."

"Neither do I," Hugh said. "Look, Dan. The situation here is urgent. Either you and I meet tomorrow, or I file papers in court. My client has nothing to lose. Does yours?" They both knew he did. "There's a quiet solution to this. It starts with a meeting in my office. Tomorrow morning. Name a time."

"I'm not free until next week."

"Then your client called the wrong lawyer. Anything beyond Friday, and we file."

"Come on, Hugh. It's never really urgent with these women."

It was the old get-in-line ploy, which infuriated Hugh. "It is this time. We're talking about a child's health crisis. If you can't help me out, a judge will."

"Health crisis? Tell me more."

"Not here. In my office. If not tomorrow morning, then Friday." He could give an inch, but only that. "Name a time."

"I would have to do it early morning-say, seven. I hear you have a new baby. That could be hard for you."

"Seven a.m. Friday. I'll be at the door to let you in."

Dana slept a good part of the way home. She felt better as they got out of the car, and when Hugh suggested he watch the baby while she drove over to talk with Ellie Jo, she took him up on the offer. Confronting her grandmother-asking again about the Joseph family tree-would be easier without distractions.

She was taking Lizzie in to feed her before leaving when David came across the yard. He wore a ragged tee shirt and shorts, both liberally spattered with paint.

"We're making Ali's room green," he explained. "She's inside, covered with paint, but she made me come out as soon as she saw the car. She ran out of yarn making the second scarf. The poor doll is so wrapped up you can barely see her face, but Ali wants the scarf even longer. She was sure you'd have more. I'm trying to please her so she'll please me. She says she's not going back to New York."

"Mm. She told me that, too," said Dana.

"Did she explain why?" David asked. "She loves Susan. I don't know what the problem is."

"Have you asked?"

"Ali? Sure. She says she just wants to live with me, and then she looks outside and says it's the ocean, then she looks at your house and says she likes your baby, then she looks at me and says she feels bad that I'm living alone and we'd have so much fun if she lived here all the time." He ran a hand over his bald head. It was the only part of him that wasn't covered with green. "Susan says Ali was fine when she left New York. The fiance seems nice enough. Susan says he's good with Ali. She thinks it's just the idea of change."

"Sharing her mom?" Hugh asked.

"And moving. His place is only a couple of blocks away, but he got her into an exclusive new school. It's pretty chi-chi."

"Chi-chi rich?"

"Chi-chi white."

Dana had a thought. "She keeps that doll-the one she calls Cocoa-hidden. Now you're saying she is wrapping her up so you can't see her face. Think she's sending a message?"

David's eyes were worried. "Like she doesn't want to be the only African American at the school?" He put a hand on the top of his head. "Makes sense, doesn't it? Okay. I'll ask Susan." He turned and strode off.

Dana had barely parked in The St.i.tchery's lot when Tara ran out, wanting to know about Albany. Dana filled her in on the basics, but had no desire to elaborate. She was still on emotional overload where Father Jack was concerned.

Tara didn't press. She had two other more immediate matters to discuss.

The first she pulled from her pocket and pa.s.sed to Dana. It was a check with the names of Oliver and Corinne James at the top, written two weeks earlier in Corinne's elegant script. The amount was forty-eight dollars and change, payment for one knitting book and the single skein of cashmere Corinne was using to knit her beret.

"I was helping Ellie Jo with the bookkeeping and found this in an envelope from the bank," Tara explained.

"Bounced?" Dana asked in surprise. Corinne was wealthy.

"One of us will have to ask her about it. Coward that I am, I'm leaving that to you. I know how much you love Corinne," she drawled.

"Was she in today?"

"Yeah, but she didn't stay long."

"She never does lately. Something's up with her."

Tara took Dana's hand. "More to the point, something's up with Ellie Jo. She doesn't seem right. I've been content to blame it on her foot, but Saundra noticed it, too. Have you?"

"She seemed distracted?" asked Dana.

"That, too, but I was more concerned by her lack of balance. She was barely over here today. Maybe she's noticing something herself and doesn't want people to see. Or else she really is feeling ill. Saundra's at the house with her now."

Heart pounding, Dana pa.s.sed back Corinne's check. "I'm there." She half-ran along the stone path, up the back stairs, across the porch, and into the kitchen. The two women were at the table having tea. They seemed perfectly at ease until Ellie Jo asked, "What happened in Albany?"

Dana hesitated. After coming here specifically to report to Ellie Jo, she didn't want to talk about it at all.