Busy

Mackenzie stares at Misty for several moments before turning back to Carson. "What did..."

Heather intervenes. "Mackenzie, Mr. Banks doesn't have a whole lot of time. He's a very busy man."

"Too busy for me?"

Heather cocks her head, giving the child a gentle but firm look. "I already told you that. We made a deal, remember? You get to see him, then no more trouble."

Mackenzie ignores her and looks back up at Carson, having to crane her neck to see out from under her hat brim. "Are you really that busy? 'Cause you don't look like the busy type."

The corners of Carson's mouth start to twitch and he finds himself playing along for just a moment. "And what does a busy type look like?"

"You know... a suit and tie or something. But Miss Jones said you were a criminal, so I didn't think you'd be in a suit."

Carson throws Heather a look of annoyance. Sometimes the whole truth need not be told to a child. "I guess you were right then."

"So you're not too busy to see me?"

Carson's eyes meet Heather's. Her look warned him to play the part he was supposed to. He was supposed to make Mackenzie feel unwanted so she wouldn't want to stay. But a fresh feeling welled up inside of him. One that fed his bullheadedness. No matter the impression he wanted to give this kid, his actions were being dictated by this woman, and he didn't like it. "Nope," he states flatly, retaliating against Heather's suggestions. "I'm not too busy."

Heather's stare turns into a glare. "I'm sure you have other things to do, Mr. Banks."

"Actually..." Carson glances at his watch. "I planned for the afternoon. My employer already approved me taking off several hours."

Hope shimmered in Mackenzie's eyes, and for a moment, her mature stance fades just a little to reveal that she is indeed, just a hurting little girl. "Really?"

Carson shifts his tactic. Maybe he could do this his own way, and still accomplish what they wanted. "Why would you want to spend time with a criminal?" he counters.

Mackenzie has to think about that one.

Heather smirks a little smugly. "He's right you know," she cautions. "I told you he's been a very bad man. I'm not going to leave you alone with him."

Mackenzie ignores the social worker. Stepping closer to Carson, she reaches up to tug on his shirt, forcing him to bend down. Now at her eye level, her eyes pierce her father's with an identical steel gaze. "You're not bad," she muses. "Just sad."

For a moment, Carson squints at her, feeling out of control again. "What would I be sad about?" he questions.

"I don't know. Maybe because people say you're bad."

Carson straightens up again, giving a sigh. The little games were over. "Look, kid... you got a family waiting for you. Miss Jones is right. You should go back with her now."

Tears well up in Mackenzie's eyes. "No," she begs, "I wanted to spend time with you."

"Don't pay any mind to those tears," Heather warns. "She's a little expert at manipulation."

But Carson can tell that the tears are genuine. This was no game to this little girl. And for the first time, Carson begins to wonder what was really the right thing to do here. "It won't work," he explains, his tone becoming more gentle. "You'll be much better off with that other family that wants to adopt you."

"But... but you're my dad."

"That may be true. But kid..." He stops and swallows hard, throwing a glance to Misty that was confused and a little bit scared. "You're gonna have to let this go," he finishes.

"But..."

"No buts." Carson changes tactics again. "You want to make me happy so I'll like you, right?"

Mackenzie nods.

"Then you need to do what I tell you. You need to go back with Miss Jones now and start behaving yourself for that nice family." Carson extends his hand. "It was nice meeting you, Mackenzie."

She bravely takes Carson's hand, forcing her lower lip not to tremble.

"Come on, Mackenzie," Heather urges, taking her other hand. "We can't miss our flight."

As she's pulled away, Mackenzie's grip tightens on Carson's hand. "No," she begs. "I want to stay."

"You can't. Now come on."

"But I want to stay with my dad!"

"No!" Heather's volume rises to match that of the determined little girl. Several heads in the park turn to see what's going on.

A tear rolls down Mackenzie's cheek. "Please let me stay," she begs Carson.

Carson's own eyes flood with emotions, not understanding what he felt, and not understanding why this little girl cared. He lets go of her hand, forcing hers to slip from his as she's pulled away.

Planting her feet, Mackenzie rips her hand from Heather's and spins around to just stare at Carson, then Misty, then Carson again. Leaving would be on her own terms, not Miss Jones'. After hesitating several seconds, she turns around on her own to walk with Heather back to the car. Though this time her head was hanging.

Watching the car leave, Carson denies what he doesn't want to feel rising up inside of him. "She's better off this way," he concludes. "She's young... she'll bounce back and she'll be happy with a real family."

Who was he kidding? Turning his back on Misty, he leans up against a tree, his jaw muscles working to prove the tension he felt. A lump rose in his throat. This felt all wrong. But he didn't know what would make it right. He didn't know why he felt this way anyway.