by Pamela Toth
During his years at Children’s Connection, he’d heard more hard luck stories than he could count. He’d seen infertility overcome, families formed and empty hearts—big and small—filled with love.
Of course, not everyone left happy. Some problems couldn’t be cured. Some people didn’t qualify for adoption, some children grew from cuddly to surly without being placed. Morgan ached for them all.
He swallowed the last of the Merlot in his glass and thought of Emma—not what he couldn’t do, but what he might do.
The answer was so simple that he nearly laughed aloud. From what she had told him, names were only one of the things she needed. Morgan could put a little money in her pocket without getting slapped for his trouble, while at the same time he solved a problem of his own.
A couple of days after her lunch with Ivy, Emma drove down to the office of a school district in the Willamette Valley near Eugene for an interview. After her talk with the superintendent, she suspected the trip to be a waste of her time and gas, her appointment a formality and the position already earmarked for a candidate within the district. The only thing she’d learned from the trip was that her car was going to need new struts in the very near future.
When Emma got back to her apartment complex, she parked in her assigned slot and retrieved the mail from her box in the central kiosk. As she walked back across the asphalt, she shuffled through the bills, junk mail and sale flyers. The hot afternoon sun seemed to soak right through her navy cotton dress. Without water, the surrounding lawn had dried until it looked like shredded wheat and the few spindly trees provided only a thimble’s worth of shade.
Ignoring the peeling paint on the front door of her unit, she let herself inside. The blinds were closed against the sunlight, so the temperature was slightly less than a warming oven. The message light on her answering machine was flashing, but she ignored it as she bent to pet her cat, a recent shelter survivor named Posy.
“Hi, baby,” Emma crooned as the fluffy Siamese-Himalayan mix kitten entwined itself around her ankles.
Posy’s response to being roused from her nap was a soulful plea for attention and fresh food, not necessarily in that order.
As Emma scratched beneath the kitty’s chin, she couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer she’d be able to afford this place, cheap though it was. Since the school district had let her go, she had been working in a nearby video store. The pay was abysmal, the blare of the soundtracks annoying, and the endless task of restocking the rentals mind numbing to the extreme.
The manager appeared young enough to be carded every time he ordered a drink. Just the other day he had told Emma that her hours would be cut at the end of August to make room for the returning college crew.
She would need to look for something else to supplement her dwindling funds until she lined up a fall job, she thought grimly as she filled Posy’s water dish. The two of them would end up on the streets before Emma would consider asking her adoptive parents for a loan.
She didn’t listen to the message on her machine until she got back from work with an old Mel Gibson movie under her arm. She had spent her evening unpacking and logging in the latest new DVDs—a gory-looking slasher film, an action sequel about a mutant and a romantic comedy with stars who appeared young enough to be shopping for back-to-school supplies. Listening to her co-worker gush about the male lead made Emma feel old.
The phone message was from her adoptive mother, Sally Wright. Her plaintive tone made Emma’s heart ache until she reminded herself that she was the innocent victim. The Wrights were more concerned with sweeping the entire issue beneath the carpet and pretending that none of it had ever happened than in trying to understand Emma’s desperate need to find her roots.
As Emma slid the tape into her aging VCR and sat down on the couch with her cat, she felt as though there was a yawning hole inside her where the knowledge of family used to be. Until she figured out how to fill it back up, she had no idea what to say if Sally called again. Emma’s feelings were still too raw. If the phone rang while Emma was home, there was always Caller ID.
“Are you sure you don’t have personal reasons for wanting to offer her the job?” asked Aaron Levy, Morgan’s neighbor, as the two of them pounded down the pathway along the riverbank.
Aaron was an attorney with a social conscience and a trust fund. He practiced out of a storefront law office in an older part of downtown Portland. He and Morgan made a point to run together before work whenever their schedules permitted.
Aaron was training for an upcoming marathon, and Morgan, who wasn’t a serious runner, had foolishly agreed to go the extra distance with him. Morgan was saved from finding the breath to reply as they crossed the common area surrounding their building.
They pulled up, Morgan gasping. “Like I told you,” he said, panting, his heart thudding like the drum in a marching band, “I feel sorry for her.”
Aaron didn’t appear to be breathing hard, but his laughter was still uneven.
“Be careful, my friend,” he warned, bending over. “That’s what I told myself about my ex.”
Morgan used his damp T-shirt to mop the perspiration from his face. “I didn’t know you’d been married.”
Straightening back up, Aaron shrugged. “It only lasted long enough for me to realize that pity isn’t a substitute for love.” He twisted his torso and stretched from the waist. He was a vegetarian and as whipcord lean as a greyhound.
“I don’t love Emma,” Morgan protested, alarmed by the attorney’s assumption. “I don’t even know her.”
He didn’t want to go into her whole story as he’d done with his parents, so all he had said was that he’d met her and she needed a boost.
“I like helping people,” he added, wincing at the defensiveness in his tone.
True to form, Aaron heard it, too. “Careful, man.” A grin broke on his long, homely face as he started backing away. “Your words say ‘no, no,’ but your eyes say ‘let’s get naked.’”
With a laugh, Morgan waved him off. “That’s your fantasy, not mine.”
“And a great fantasy it is,” Aaron called after him. “When you’re picking out the ring, just remember that I warned you, and don’t hit me up to be best man.”
Morgan ignored his last comment, but a few minutes later when he was standing under the hot blast of the shower, his mind veered to it. Was his brainstorm just a flimsy excuse to see her again?
As he toweled himself dry, he didn’t waste time analyzing his motives. His parents hadn’t raised him to put his own selfish needs first. Other people counted on him and he didn’t let them down.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked into his bedroom. This morning he paid no attention to the soothing shades of pearl gray and charcoal as he finished dressing. He was in a sudden hurry to get to work.
Emma had stayed up late watching movies, and the next morning the phone woke her. As she rolled over to grab the receiver, not yet awake enough to think about screening the call, Posy protested from her nest behind the bend of Emma’s knees.
“Hold on for a minute, okay?” Emma told the cat. “Hello?”
Silence greeted her. The telemarketers must be starting early. The clock by her bed said it was barely past nine.
“Hello?” she said again, some of her surliness over being woken up leaking into her tone.
“Emma Wright?”
She didn’t immediately recognize the voice, but it sounded familiar. Maybe it was a callback about a job interview.
She sat up straighter, wishing she had some water as she consciously sweetened her tone. “This is Emma.” With her free hand, she patted Posy so the cat would be quiet.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the man’s voice continued. “I, um, didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Damn, he could tell she was still in bed. Emma’s cheeks grew hot at the idea that he’d probably heard her comment to Posy and assumed Emma wasn’t alone.
“No, no, it’s okay,
” she replied eagerly. “You didn’t bother me at all. How can I help you?” She still couldn’t place the voice, but if it turned out to be a salesman on the other end of the line, she was going to be really, really annoyed.
“This is Morgan Davis from Children’s Connection,” he said. “We met the other day.”
Emma nearly dropped the receiver and the muscles of her throat closed so tight that she could hardly croak out a reply.
“Did you change your mind?” she asked.
“About what?” He sounded puzzled.
“My parents’ identity,” she replied. “Why else would you call me?”
When she heard him sigh, her heart plummeted.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I made it clear that your file is confidential and there’s nothing I can do.”
She pushed her hair back from her face, fully awake now. If this was a personal call, she was going to slap him with a harassment suit for getting her hopes up.
“What, you had to call in case I didn’t get that already?” she snapped. “You and I have nothing else to discuss!”
“Please don’t hang up,” he said quickly. “The reason I’m calling is to offer you a job.”
Three
Morgan Davis had said the magic word. Job. It was the only thing that prevented Emma’s hand from slamming down the receiver. Her cat leaped down from the bed with obvious annoyance, tail twitching.
“What do you have in mind?” Emma asked cautiously.
The director of Children’s Connection hadn’t struck her as a player, despite his awesome appearance. He’d been totally businesslike, but a woman couldn’t be too careful and Emma had been wrong before. If he suggested they meet somewhere cozy—like a bar—to discuss it, she was definitely hanging up.
“Let me explain,” he replied. “Every year a group of us takes two weeks of our vacation time in August to put on a camp session for some of the kids who haven’t yet been placed with adoptive families,” he replied. “Everyone pitches in wherever we’re needed. It’s a lot of fun.”
“How would this apply to me?” she asked as soon as she realized that he was talking about volunteering. Since she’d told him she had lost her job, he probably figured she wasn’t working at all and had a lot of time. She didn’t have that luxury; even the video store job put a little money in her pocket.
Before she could refuse, he began talking again.
“With your background as a school counselor, you’d be a great addition.” His voice was filled with enthusiasm. “I know it’s just temporary, but we’re funded by grants and donations, so we do have a small budget. In addition to getting room and board for two weeks, you’d be paid a salary.”
She would have expected it to be a fraction of what he said, but it was more than she earned at her part-time job. They must have a generous benefactor.
“When does it start?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “Next week. Sorry for the late notice. I hope it will work out for you. Someone else backed out—broke her leg in a boating accident—so a spot opened up.”
“As a counselor?” she asked.
“Uh, partly.”
His suddenly evasive tone made her curious. “And what else?”
“How do you feel about peeling potatoes?” he asked with an edge of humor. “She was also going to help out the cook.”
Posy hopped back onto the bed and butted Emma’s hand.
“Hey, baby,” Emma cooed, patting her silky fur. “Looking for attention?”
“Look, I’m obviously interrupting something,” the voice over the phone said hastily. “Why don’t you think it over and get back to me. Just tell Cora that I’m expecting your call.”
His sudden abruptness puzzled Emma. Before she could say anything, Posy apparently got tired of waiting for breakfast. She let out a yowl of displeasure as only a Siamese could, right into the receiver.
“I hope that didn’t destroy your eardrums,” Emma said quickly as she pushed Posy away.
“Was that a cat?” He sounded startled. Maybe he didn’t like animals.
“Yeah. I think she’s hungry.”
The richness of his chuckle surprised Emma again. “I thought—Well, never mind what I thought.”
His voice had shifted, becoming huskier and definitely more human. The image of his face, tan complexion, dark hair and blue eyes flashed across her consciousness as the intimacy of his tone sent shivers down her bare arms.
Her hand tightened on the receiver as suddenly it dawned on her why he hadn’t finished voicing his assumption. He could tell that she’d been asleep when he called. He’d overheard her comment to her cat and assumed she was making pillow talk with a lover!
Emma couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or embarrassed, but her free hand tugged automatically on the neckline of her nightie, making sure she was decently covered.
“Where’s the camp session going to be held?” she asked.
“It’s in a fantastic place called Camp Baxter in the Cascade foothills. We lease their facility every year.”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there,” she replied. “I’m not really an outdoorsy kind of person.” Roughing it in the great outdoors had never attracted her, and being a contestant on Survivor was her worst nightmare. She was too fond of her creature comforts—not that she’d be able to afford them for much longer if she didn’t get a steady job.
“We’ll change that.” His voice was full of confidence.
Maybe she didn’t want that part of her changed. Being pampered was way more appealing than sleeping on a bed of pine cones and rushes.
“I don’t know—”
“Why don’t you mull over the idea and give me a call back, today or tomorrow if you can?” he suggested. “The kids you’ll be working with are terrific. You’ll love them. We bus them out there, and the rest of the staff takes a van.”
“If I can find someone to cat-sit, I’ll do it,” Emma said, going totally on impulse.
It wasn’t the idea of fresh air that attracted her, it was getting a second chance with the person who held the key to her genealogy!
“Are you sure?” He must have been a little taken aback by her quick acceptance.
“Yes,” she replied, thinking fast. Even though he had been the one to call her, the last thing she wanted was to make him suspicious. “It would be a great addition to my résumé,” she added.
“Well, that’s probably true. Why don’t you deal with the cat and let me know for sure?”
As soon as she agreed and ended the call, Emma bolted for the bathroom. That would teach her to drink a soda right before bedtime.
“Of course I’ll feed your cat,” Ivy said, “but I wish you’d reconsider the entire idea.”
The two friends were sitting on Emma’s old couch sharing a pizza that Ivy had brought with her. Emma was beginning to wish that she hadn’t told Ivy about her plan to persuade the director to change his mind and let her see her file. Thank goodness she hadn’t confided her entire scheme. For someone who had grown up rich, Ivy could be remarkably naive and easily shocked.
“I’ve struck out in trying to find my parents’ names through any other source,” Emma said around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza. “This guy is my last hope.”
“Maybe your parents—” At Emma’s glare, Ivy shook her head. “Pardon me. Maybe your adoptive parents had the right idea when they asked you to put it behind you so you can move on,” she continued.
Before Emma could interrupt, Ivy put a hand on her arm. “Hear me out, okay?”
Emma nodded, frustrated, and tore off another bite of pizza. Ivy’s upbringing had been far from ordinary, but she didn’t seem to understand Emma’s determination. This could very well be her only opportunity to solve the mystery of her past.
“You said this guy Morgan is really attractive, right?” Ivy asked. “And he doesn’t wear a wedding ring, so he’s probably not married.”
“Lots of guys don’t�
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Ivy ignored Emma’s interruption. “What if your plan to get on his good side backfires? I mean, what if he’s single and you get to know him really well? What if he’s a great guy and you end up falling for him?”
“That’s not going to happen!” Emma huffed. She didn’t need that kind of complication right now.
“You’re completely over Don, right?” Ivy asked after she’d taken a ladylike sip of her soda.
“Need you ask?” Emma rolled her eyes. “Toad-boy deserted me when I needed him. He stopped loving me—if he ever did to start with—because of something that wasn’t my fault.”
Just thinking about her ex-husband was enough to destroy Emma’s appetite. What had she ever seen in him? Why had she wanted children with him?
Angrily she set aside her paper plate. “I am so over that creep that I hope I never see his face again.”
“See?” Ivy exclaimed. “You’re emotionally vulnerable. Spending two weeks in close quarters with the new hunk could get complicated, especially the kind of hunk who might be the total opposite of toad-boy.”
“How so?” Emma patted the couch cushion.
Posy jumped up between them and settled down with her front paws tucked under her fluffy fur.
“Well, it sounds like he’s kindhearted as well as cute,” Ivy replied as she held out her fingers for the cat to sniff.
“Kindhearted?” Emma echoed. “I don’t think so. Remember how Mr. Kindness treated me?”
“Maybe so, but anyone willing to give up prime August vacation time for a group of orphans must have a few noble qualities,” Ivy retorted.
“I’m not attracted to him,” Emma insisted. If she were Pinocchio, her nose would have provided them both with firewood for the winter. Under very different circumstances, she might have been interested.
“I wish you’d reconsider,” Ivy said, blotting her mouth with a napkin. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t go, because I think the break would do you good. Spending time with nature can be a healing experience.”