WHEN SHE BECAME OURS

Chapter 2: Desperate Measures

"You want to hire an actress to pretend to be Emma's mother." Jake leaned back in his chair, his pen tapping against a legal pad. "David, please tell me you're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" David had barely slept since the Mother's Day announcement three days ago. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually pristine appearance was rumpled around the edges. "Emma made a card yesterday. She drew a picture of herself holding hands with a woman in a blue dress. "When I asked who it was, she said, 'That's my mommy for the tea party.'"

"This is insane."

"Is it illegal?"

Jake was quiet for a long moment, and David could practically see the legal wheels turning. "Technically? No. You're not defrauding anyone for money or deceiving government agencies. But David, think about what you're really asking here."

"I'm asking how to keep my five-year-old daughter from being the only kid in her class without a mother figure at the most important event of her kindergarten year."

"And after the tea party? What then? Emma's going to expect this mysterious mother to stick around."

David had been dreading this question. "I don't know. Maybe I'll figure out how to let her down easy. Tell her the woman had to move away or something."

"You're going to lie to your daughter."

"I lie to my daughter every day." The words came out harsher than David intended. "I lie when she asks why Mommy doesn't call. I lie when she asks if Mommy loves her. I lie when she draws pictures of our family and asks why there are only two people." His voice cracked slightly. "At least this lie will make her happy for one day."

Jake set down his pen and studied his old friend. They'd known each other since freshman year at State, had been roommates when Jake was struggling through law school and David was pulling all-nighters in med school. Jake had been David's best man. He'd also been one of the few people who'd seen the real damage Lisa had left behind.

"Okay," Jake said finally. "Let's say I help you find someone. What exactly are you looking for?"

David pulled out his phone and showed Jake a photo of Emma at her school's fall festival, grinning gap-toothed at the camera while clutching a stuffed prize. "Someone who can look at that face and not break her heart."

"That's not really specific criteria."

"Someone responsible. Professional. Someone who understands this is just acting, not..." David struggled for words. "Not whatever Lisa was supposed to be and wasn't."

Jake made notes on his legal pad. "Age range?"

"I don't know. Twenty-five to thirty-five? Old enough to be believable as a mother but young enough to seem like someone who might have had a kid in her early twenties."

"Physical appearance?"

David hesitated. "Emma's got blonde hair and blue eyes like Lisa. Maybe someone who could feasibly be her biological mother?"

"You've really thought this through."

"I've had three sleepless nights to think it through."

Jake leaned forward. "David, I have to ask—have you considered that this might backfire spectacularly? What if Emma gets attached? What if she starts asking questions you can't answer?"

"Then I'll deal with that when it happens." David's voice was firm. "Jake, you should see her at school pickup. All the other kids run to their mothers, get picked up, get their hair fixed, get kissed and hugged. Emma runs to me, and I love that, but I also see her watching. I see her wondering what she's missing."

"And you think one afternoon with a hired actress is going to fix that?"

"No. But it might give her one perfect memory where she felt like everyone else."

Jake stared at the photo of Emma again. He'd met her a handful of times at David's barbecues and birthday parties. She was a bright kid, chatty and curious, but there was something in her eyes that seemed older than five—a watchfulness that came from learning early that the adults in her life could disappear without warning.

"I might know someone," Jake said slowly.

"What kind of someone?"

"A client. She's going through a messy divorce, needs money for legal fees. She's..." Jake paused, choosing his words carefully. "She's good with kids. Has younger siblings she helped raise. And she's desperate enough that she might actually consider this."

David felt a flicker of hope. "Is she trustworthy?"

"She's a kindergarten teacher."

"Perfect." David sat up straighter. "A teacher would know how to handle Emma, how to act around other kids and parents."

"David, slow down. I said I might know someone. I didn't say she'd agree to this crazy scheme."

"Will you ask her?"

Jake looked at his calendar. "She's coming in tomorrow morning to review settlement papers. I'll... see if she's interested in some unconventional freelance work."

"What's her name?"

"Sarah Collins."

David frowned. "That name sounds familiar."

"It should. She's Emma's teacher."

The words hit David like cold water. "You want me to hire my daughter's actual teacher to pretend to be her mother?"

"Think about it," Jake said, warming to the idea now. "Emma already trusts her. Miss Sarah knows all about Emma's situation—she's the one who's been dealing with the Mother's Day project, right? She understands the dynamics."

"This is getting more insane by the minute."

"Or more perfect. Sarah knows exactly what Emma needs to hear, how to act around her, what will make her happy. And if she's really strapped for cash..." Jake shrugged. "Everyone wins."

David ran his hands through his hair. "What if other parents recognize her? What if Emma slips up and calls her Miss Sarah instead of... whatever we decide her mother's name should be?"

"Details we can work out later. The question is: are you serious about this?"

David thought about Emma that morning, carefully packing her handmade card in her backpack and asking for the third time if he was sure her mommy would be there on Friday.

"I'm serious."

Jake made more notes. "Standard contract work. We'll call it 'event consultation' or something vague. One afternoon, a few hours, payment upon completion."

"How much?"

"For pretending to be someone's mother for an afternoon? I'd say five hundred dollars."

"Done."

"David, you haven't even met her at parent-teacher conferences. What if you two don't get along? What if the chemistry isn't believable?"

"Then we'll figure something else out. "But Jake, I'm running out of time and options." David stood up, pacing to the window that overlooked the courthouse square. "Emma'd been asking me every day when she'd meet her mommy. Yesterday she asked if her mommy would like her Mother's Day card. "How do I tell a five-year-old that her mother doesn't want to see her card?"

Jake watched his friend stare out the window, recognizing the set of David's shoulders. It was the same stubborn determination he'd seen when David had insisted on taking eighteen credit hours while working nights to pay for med school. The same focus he'd shown when Lisa left and David had suddenly become a single father overnight.

"Okay," Jake said. "I'll talk to Sarah tomorrow." But David, promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll think about what comes after. Because if this works—if Emma has the perfect Mother's Day tea party—she's going to want more. And you can't hire someone to be her mother forever."

David turned from the window. "I know that. But maybe after Friday, I'll have bought myself enough time to figure out a real solution."

"And what would a real solution look like?"

The question hung in the air between them. David had been so focused on getting through the immediate crisis that he hadn't let himself think beyond it. What would a real solution look like? Dating seriously for the first time since Lisa left? Trying to find someone who would love Emma as their own? Opening himself up to the possibility of being hurt again—and worse, opening Emma up to the possibility of another abandonment?

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I know that right now, my daughter believes her mommy is coming to her school on Friday, and I'm not going to let her down."

Jake nodded slowly. "I'll call you after I talk to Sarah."

"And if she says no?"

"Then we'll figure out Plan B."

As David left the office, his phone buzzed with a text from the hospital. Another emergency operation was scheduled for tonight, which meant another evening where he'd have to scramble for childcare and another night where Emma would fall asleep wondering if Daddy would be there when she woke up.

He thought about Sarah Collins—Miss Sarah, as Emma called her. In every parent-teacher conference, she was kind but professional, updating him on Emma's progress while carefully avoiding any mention of the family situation. She'd never asked intrusive questions about Lisa's absence, never made Emma feel different for having only one parent at school events.

Maybe that's exactly what they needed—someone who already understood.

David's phone rang as he reached his car. The caller ID showed the hospital.

"Dr. Miller, we need you in OR 3 in twenty minutes."

"I'll be right there."

As he drove toward the hospital, David caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked like what he was: a man barely holding it together, running on coffee and determination, trying to be everything his daughter needed while keeping people alive in his day job.

But for the first time in three days, he felt something that might have been hope.

Maybe Jake was right. Perhaps hiring Emma's teacher was the perfect solution, rather than the insane one.

Maybe, for once, everything would work out exactly the way Emma needed it to.