Chapter 1: An Unexpected Responsibility

What the hell am I doing in the Department of Social Services? I wondered as I sat in the office staring out the window. All I knew was that I had received a mysterious phone call last night from a Mrs. Forrest, who had asked to meet me here today.

It wasn't my first visit. I had been here once before, though at least the first time I had known what it was about. I had noticed some bruises on the arm of one of the girls that I taught at the junior high. I reported it as any good teacher would, an investigation was launched, and it turned out the girl's father had been abusing her. They had taken her away from her parents, and I had had to come down here to make a statement.

But here it was the beginning of July, and I hadn't so much as seen any of my students in a month. So obviously it couldn't be about one of them. Not unless one of the more obnoxious ones had made a false report against me. It wasn't unheard of, but then, I had never been the type of teacher to make enemies of my students. Most of them liked me, as far as I knew. And that would fall under the jurisdiction of the police, since I wasn't their parent or guardian.

I sighed. My imagination was getting the better of me. I was just cranky because my girlfriend had just left me two weeks ago. At twenty-seven years of age, it was time for me to be thinking about settling down, giving up my bachelor's ways. Now I was without prospects, and too burnt-out on the social scene to get back into it. That explained my mood, but it didn't explain why I was here.

I had been sitting there for about ten minutes when a woman, probably in her early forties, entered the room. She had a kind face and a warm smile that immediately put me at ease.

"Good morning, Mr. Nelson," she said. "My name is Margaret Forrest. We talked on the phone last night."

I stood and shook her hand, then we both sat down.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting. You're probably wondering why we called you to come down here," she said.

"I admit I'm curious."

"I suppose I could have told you over the phone, but in cases like these I feel it's much better to explain it to you face to face."

"Cases like these?" I asked.

"Does the name Rebecca Parker mean anything to you?"

That surprised me; the only Rebecca Parker I had ever known had been my girlfriend in junior high. But that had been fourteen years ago.

"Should it?" I asked instead.

"We have it on good authority that you dated her some time ago."

"Well, yeah, when I was thirteen. I haven't seen Becky since her parents pulled her out of school. What's going on?"

"Rebecca Parker passed away a couple of months ago."

Her answer certainly didn't clarify the situation; if anything, it just confused me even more.

"Why tell me this?" I asked. "I mean, it's sad and everything--"

"The only thing sad about it is that it didn't happen sooner."

"What?" I exclaimed, shocked. That wasn't what I would expect to hear from a social worker.

"You misunderstand me," said Margaret. "It's not that I have no respect for the dead, or that I disliked her personally. I didn't even know her. But the truth is, her boyfriend was sexually abusing her daughter. With the consent of the mother, I might add. Troy Hamilton was a very bad man, and I'm not convinced Rebecca Parker was much better. It was only her death by overdose of heroin that put an end to that horrible situation for her daughter Kimberly. You'll be happy to know that Troy is behind bars now; as soon as Kimmy was taken into our custody she told us what had been going on, and Troy confessed as part of a plea bargain to get his sentence reduced. He's still going to be locked away for a very long time."

"That's good," I said. "A man like that deserves nothing less."

"So now the only thing left to do is take care of Kimmy. She's been living in a foster home for the past couple of months, while we searched for her family. Rebecca's parents are both deceased, so we've been searching for Kimmy's father. That's where you come in."

My eyes opened wide with shock, and I think my mouth even dropped open. "What do you mean?" I demanded. "I can't be her father. I told you, I haven't seen Becky for fourteen years."

"Do you recall why her parents pulled her out of school?"

"Yeah, she got pregnant."

"By whom?" asked Margaret.

"Wait. Do you mean... ?" Suddenly, there it was. That pregnancy, which was my responsibility, had resulted in a baby girl, a girl she had named Kimberly.

"Oh my god," I breathed as the full import of it hit me.

"It's a little overwhelming, isn't it?" said Margaret.

"More than a little."

"So now we've found you, and--"

"And nothing," I interrupted. "I can't take care of her. I don't have any experience raising a child."

"She's not a child. She's a teenager."

"Okay, so I have no experience raising a teenager."

"Neither do any parents when their first child reaches that age."

"But ... I'm not wealthy, I don't have a wife ... what am I supposed to do with her?"

"You're supposed to be a father to her. That's what she needs right now more than anything."

"I'm sorry, but I just can't do this."

"Mr. Nelson, you're a school teacher. Junior high, in fact. You realize of course, that that makes you particularly qualified. You know how to deal with kids of that age."

"That's beside the point."

"And with school out for the summer, you'll have plenty of spare time to get to know her."

"Look, I'm not going to take her, and that's final."

"You're going to refuse her? After what she's been through?"

"That's not fair. And it's not going to work, either."

Margaret stared at me for a minute, then finally shrugged. "All right. If that's the way you feel, why don't you tell her yourself? We've got her in another room. I'll bring her in right now."

"You think you're going to make me feel guilty? Fine. Bring her in, and I'll tell her right to her face."

She stood up, and without a word, left the room.

I sighed. Maybe I was being too harsh. It wasn't that I didn't want to accept the responsibility for my mistake. When Becky had admitted to me that she was pregnant, I was willing to do whatever it took to make things right. I wasn't going to abandon her when she needed me most. Unfortunately, her parents refused to have anything to do with me once they found out. They had pulled her out of the junior high and home-schooled her instead, and wouldn't even let me call her.

Perhaps if not for the timing, I might be willing to take care of Kimmy, but things were bad enough in my life right now. The last thing I needed was to take on more responsibility. Especially a teenage girl! Most parents had years to prepare themselves for raising a teenager. It took that long to build up love and trust between the parents and their children. Suddenly being forced to take care of a girl this age would be hell on her and me!

She would probably turn out to be some bratty girl who smoked and swore and had sex with every boy she knew. I could just imagine her, with her dyed black hair, heavy makeup, pierced lips, and queen-bitch-of-the-universe attitude. Not that it would be her fault, coming from such a background as Margaret had described. I almost felt sorry for this girl that I didn't even know. Almost.

But that was all the more reason not to dump her in my lap. Let her be adopted by someone who actually wanted her. If I took her in, she would always know it was only out of duty, and that she was living with someone who didn't really want to take care of her. No child deserved that.

The door opened, and Margaret entered again. I glanced down in surprise at the young girl at her side that was completely opposite in every way to the girl in my imagination. This was no goth-punk-vampire girl who hated life and wanted everyone to know it.

Immediately I could tell the resemblance to her mother. She had the same long, straight, brown hair, large brown eyes, and pouty lips that had attracted me to Becky in the first place. If anything, this girl was even more beautiful. She wore a plain green blouse and light blue skirt that made her look like a nice, wholesome, innocent girl.

She stared at me for a second with those big brown eyes, and I recognized that look. I don't think I'm conceited when I say that I'm a very handsome man. I've always had fine, strong features, and I work out daily so I'm in good shape. Half the girls in my classes are madly in love with me. The first couple of years that I taught school their flirting bothered me, but I learned to ignore it and keep my relationship with them professional. While I admit that I've been attracted to more than a few of them despite their age, I knew that if I were to do anything to them I would be no better than Troy Hamilton.

The little girl in front of me wore that same look that I had seen on the girls in my class the first day of school.

"Daddy?" she asked, in a subdued but hopeful tone. Her voice matched her face perfectly. It was soft and sweet, the kind of voice that one could listen to for hours without growing weary of it.

I nodded.

She suddenly burst into tears, then dashed over to me. I rose to my feet just in time for her to throw her arms around me and sob into my chest.

"I knew one day you would come for me," she cried.

I felt my resolve weakening. How could I refuse such a sweet, vulnerable girl? What kind of a man would I be if I threw her out of my life the moment I met her?

But I had already made up my mind. It wasn't fair for them to suddenly burden me with this girl.

"Kimmy," I said. "Is that what you like to be called?"

"You can call me whatever you want," she said.

"All right. Kimmy it is. Look, I ... well..."

She lifted her head and stared up at me, the hope in her eyes turning to worry. "You ... you do want me, don't you?" she asked.

"Well ... how can I put this... ?"

"But you have to!" she said. "All these years, with all the bad things that have happened to me, only one thing has kept me going. The thought that one day my daddy would come and take me away from it all. I've dreamt about you, about you coming to rescue me from all the bad things. All I've ever wanted is someone to love me and care for me and wrap his arms around me and protect me. Please, don't send me away. I'll do anything you want if you'll keep me. Just give me a chance!" She was back in tears again by this point, and I felt horrible for hurting her like that. She buried her face in my chest and sobbed.

I knew now that I couldn't reject her. She had no one else to turn to, and if I were to refuse to take her, I would rob her of the one happy thought she had ever had in her life.

I knelt down in front of her and took her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Kimmy, I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to listen carefully. You seem to have it in your head that I'm some kind of perfect person. Maybe your guardian angel. You have this image of me, and I'm afraid I can't possibly measure up to it. That means I'm going to disappoint you. No matter how hard I try, I'm going to make mistakes, and you're going to realize I'm not the man you think I am. I'll never be as bad as Troy, but I'm still a human being, and I have weaknesses. Do you understand that?"

She nodded.

"Then I'm going to make this your decision. Now that you know that, do you still want to be with me?"

She threw her arms around my neck. "I want to be with you forever, Daddy," she said.

I glanced up at Margaret, who had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "That was a nasty trick," I told her. "But it worked."

"It always does," she replied.

"Okay. I'm sure I have to sign something, so bring it in here so I can get it over with and then take home my new daughter."

"Oh, thank you!" Kimmy exclaimed, hugging me even tighter.