Accidental Family. Joan Elliott Pickart

written soap opera, yet it was her reality and she’d been dealing with it inch by emotional inch over the past months, gaining at least a modicum of inner peace.

      But would she ever totally forget the devastating pain she’d gone through when Peter had moved out of their home and into his secretary’s apartment the day after Thanksgiving, just before Patty had discovered she was pregnant with their second child? And as a Christmas gift? Peter Clark had served her with divorce papers one week before the special holiday.

      She’d tried so hard to talk to him, to make him understand how sorry she was that she hadn’t been an adequate wife, that she’d do much better in the future if he’d only give her another chance. But no, his mind was made up. Their marriage was over, he was in love with his secretary and that was that.

      She had failed.

      She’d done her very best to keep the house clean and picked up despite having a busy little boy who left a trail of toys everywhere. She’d prepared nourishing meals with Peter’s favorite desserts made from scratch. She’d never pleaded fatigue or a headache when he reached for her in the night but… It hadn’t been good enough. She hadn’t been good enough.

      She was a devoted mother. She knew that. But she had failed miserably in the role of wife to her husband, and because of that he’d left her for another woman who could and would meet his needs.

      Because of her, Tucker rarely saw his father. More often than not he did not show up when he was scheduled to have Tucker for an outing. Tucker no longer asked about his daddy. When Peter did manage to come for his son, Tucker trudged out the doors with a frown on his little face, then ran into Patty’s embrace upon his return.

      And this new baby? Patty thought, gazing at Sophia. When she’d told Peter she was pregnant he’d rolled his eyes in disgust and told her to have her attorney contact his attorney about adjusting future child-support payments.

      He never acknowledged her changing body when he came for Tucker, nor asked how she was feeling or if she knew if she was having a girl or a boy. He knew when the baby was due but he hadn’t contacted her to see if she’d given birth. He just didn’t care.

      Because she had failed as a wife.

      To Peter she was the mother of his children, nothing more. Because she had that title he was going to have to fork over a chunk of his paycheck every month to help feed and clothe those children. Patty was an ex-wife, and he’d moved on to be with someone who knew how to perform in that role properly.

      “Patty?” Susan said, coming into the office and snapping her back from her tormented thoughts. “This is the first chance I’ve had to really speak to you alone. Has Peter seen Sophia yet?”

      Patty shook her head. “He knew when my due date was, but I haven’t heard from him. He hasn’t shown up on his scheduled visitation days for several months to take Tucker for an outing, either. Tucker rarely mentions his daddy anymore. Well, it’s Peter’s loss. I have two wonderful children and I’m enjoying being a mother to them more than I could ever begin to express in words. Life is good.”

      “I don’t know how you can be so cheerful,” Susan said. “I’d have murder on my mind if a man did to me what Peter did to you, Patty. Every time I think about it my blood boils. But you? You just keep on smiling.”

      Because she’d cried until she’d had no more tears to shed, Patty thought.

      Chapter Two

      The afternoon passed quickly and just after five o’clock parents began to arrive to pick up their offspring before the center closed at six. At five minutes before six o’clock Susan planted her hands on her hips and stared at the front doors.

      “That’s strange,” she said to Patty. “Ever since David Montgomery started bringing Sarah Ann here you could set your watch by him. He picks her up at five-forty-five on the dot, never, ever later than that.”

      “Well, ten minutes doesn’t mean anything other than the traffic is heavier than usual,” Patty said, sinking onto a rocking chair used for story hour. “You go ahead, Susan. I’ll wait for David. Sarah Ann is the only child who hasn’t been picked up and she and Tucker are playing nicely together with the blocks. Sophia just ate so she’s fine, too. I’ll use these few minutes to rest my weary self.”

      “I hate to leave you here alone,” Susan said, frowning, “but Theresa’s caregiver will be furious if I’m late.”

      “Then go, go, go,” Patty said, flapping her hands at her. “I’ve worked here since January and no one has ever been later than a few minutes after six.”

      “Not during my two years here, either,” Susan said. “I don’t even know what Marjorie’s policy is about it because it never came up. I wouldn’t be concerned if it wasn’t David Montgomery. He’s just never late, Patty, and it’s now six minutes after six. This is creepy. Something is wrong.”

      “It is strange that he hasn’t phoned to say he’s running late,” Patty said. “You know, if he had a flat tire or something. He’s devoted to Sarah Ann and… You’re right. Something is wrong, but I don’t have a clue as to what it is.” She paused. “Well, I’ll just sit here, relax and wait. Susan, go.”

      Susan glanced at her watch, cringed, then hurried toward the doors, disappearing from view moments later.

      Patty shifted in the rocker to see that Tucker and Sarah Ann were still engrossed in their building project, then stared at the Mickey Mouse clock on the wall.

      Something was definitely wrong, she thought, frowning. It was evident to everyone who worked there that David Montgomery’s world centered on his daughter. For him to be late picking her up without a telephone call to explain his tardiness was totally out of character for him.

      Dear heaven, it was nearly six-thirty. Where was David? What had happened to him? What should she do?

      David, please walk through that door. Now. Right now.

      But David Montgomery did not appear and the clock kept ticking.

      “Mommy,” Tucker whined at six-forty-five. “I’m hungry.”

      “I know, sweetie,” Patty said, getting to her feet. “Why don’t you and Sarah Ann sit at one of the little tables and I’ll get you some juice and crackers.”

      “My daddy?” Sarah Ann said, her bottom lip trembling. “I want my daddy.”

      “He’ll be here, honey,” Patty said. “Your daddy is just a bit late, that’s all. Don’t cry, Sarah Ann. Your daddy will come in a wink and a blink.”

      Now, David, she thought, staring at the doors again. Forget the wink and blink and walk through that door.

      When Tucker and Sarah Ann were happily consuming their snack, Patty went into Marjorie’s office and sank onto the chair behind the desk. The walls were clear glass and she could see the two children from where she sat. Sophia slept peacefully in her carrier on a loveseat set against the wall.

      Think, Patty told herself. Calm down and think. Okay. David had gotten a sudden case of the flu, was running a temperature and had fallen asleep at home because he was burning up with fever.

      She went to the filing cabinet in the corner and found the application David had filled out when enrolling Sarah Ann at the center. Moments later she punched in the number listed and the telephone rang on the other end. And rang and rang and rang. There was no other information on the form. No place of employment, no one to contact in an emergency. Nothing.

      She replaced the receiver, sat down again and pressed her fingertips to her now-throbbing temples.

      So much for that brilliant deduction, she thought. Now what? Hospitals. Oh, as grim as the idea was, maybe David had been in an accident and… Well, she’d start with the hospital she knew best. Mercy. Where Tucker and Sophia had been born.

      The telephone book produced the number and Patty ignored her