What? Wow. She really was flirting with him.
“Now don’t go selling tickets on yourself. I only meant that if I don’t see you, I won’t see Ryan, and that’s not okay with me.”
Whoa. Slow down a second. Did she just imply . . . ?
“What are you talking about?”
Red-cheeked, Stella stammered, “I mean—if you plan to take Ryan home with you, that is.”
The girl had some nerve. Devon couldn’t take Ryan. Sure, he cared about the boy, but there was no way Devon could raise him. Maybe if he had a wife or fiancée or lived closer to his family—but he didn’t.
“Stella, when are you going to realize that I’m not in a position to take Ryan? I can’t. I have no idea how you convinced me to stay for two weeks or why I’m even here, but you did—which is the only reason I haven’t left. If you keep pressuring me about Ryan, though, I’ll be on the next plane out of here. Understand?”
Stella nodded and then turned away, but not before Devon saw the pain on her face. Was she going to cry? If so, tears wouldn’t work on him. Devon refused to be coerced into taking Ryan home permanently.
Almost unconsciously his arms tightened around Ryan, and Devon found himself wishing things were different. If the truth be known, he wanted Ryan to come with him. He’d love nothing more than to offer the child a home filled with love and security. But he couldn’t.
And now Devon would have to leave knowing there was nothing he could do.
Sometimes he wished he’d never met Stella Walker.
But then traitorous and betraying images slapped him in the face. Stella, with her gorgeous blue eyes and cheeky grin. Stella, comparing him to a platypus or snuggled on the couch with Ryan. Stella, splashing Ryan in the ocean and spouting random facts. Stella, Stella, Stella. For a girl he’d known less than a week, Devon sure had a lot of memories of her.
In her own frustrating, beseeching way, Stella had touched him. Which would make saying good-bye to her and Ryan that much more difficult.
Devon took a breath and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry.”
There were no tears, only a sad resignation. “I’m sorry too.”
“I’m not sure why you want me to take Ryan, anyway. It’s only been a week, and I’ve already lost count how many times I’ve messed up.”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re wonderful with him.”
“Really? Because I remember you once said that I’d never make a good father.”
“I’ve been known to say things I don’t mean when I’m frustrated.” Her fingers reached out and gently brushed Ryan’s curls before falling to Devon’s shoulder. “You’re generous, patient, and caring—the type of person every boy should have in his life. You would make an amazing father, if you only had the desire to try.”
Not again. Devon closed his eyes. “Stella, please . . .”
“I know,” she said. “I promise not to push you anymore. Just promise me you won’t leave until you have to.”
“I won’t.”
But somehow, Devon knew he’d come to regret the promise.
⇐ ⇑ ⇒
Ryan finished his prayer and crawled into bed. “Will you read me a story?”
A story? This was a new request. Devon searched the room, hoping a children’s book would suddenly appear. “Sorry, bud, but I don’t have a book. Maybe we can get one at a bookstore tomorrow. Would that be okay?”
“I have one.” Ryan jumped from the bed and ran to his bag. Unzipping a side pocket, he pulled out a beat-up hardback book. It pictured a wooden doll on the cover with the words, “You Are Special.”
A flood of good memories rippled through Devon. He’d been eight when his family moved to Oregon, where he’d struggled to fit in and make friends. He started pretending to be sick so he wouldn’t have to go to school. One day, Devon arrived home to find You Are Special lying on his bed, tied up with a bright green bow. His mother had read it to him nearly every night that entire school year, even after he’d made friends. And every night she’d kiss him good night and say, “You’re special too. Don’t ever forget that.”
Devon’s fingers glided over the cover. “I know this book,” he told Ryan. “My mom used to read it to me.”
“My mum always read it and said I’m special.”
Devon blinked at the moisture in his eyes. “She’s right. You are special.”
“Can we read it?”
“Sure.”
Devon picked up the boy, swung him around a few times and threw him onto the bed, loving the sound of his giggles. He scooted next to Ryan and smiled when the child snuggled up to him.
Together, in the dimly lit hotel room, they read the book. Devon would read a page and then Ryan would explain it with his own enthusiastic words. It was almost déjà vu for Devon, bringing back memories when his own mother had done the same thing.
The story ended, and Devon turned the last page, recalling the message his mother had written in his book years before. His breath caught. The words were faded, but they were still there. “Devon, I hope you never forget how special you are to me, to your dad, and to God. I love you! Mom.”
Why had Lindsay taken it? The thought settled inside Devon as Ryan’s little arm came to rest on Devon’s chest. His finger grazed Ryan’s cheek. Whatever her reason, Devon was glad she had. Somehow the knowledge that his book was now Ryan’s favorite made it all the more special.
Chapter Eight
Stella stared at the open file on her desk. It was Monday, the beginning of a new week, and the skies were clear and blue. It should have been a great day, but the words from the file seemed to pop off the pages and smack her in the face.
Ryan Devon Caldwell
Mother: Lindsay Ellen Caldwell, deceased.
Father: unknown
Mother’s parents: George and Betty Caldwell
Stella shut the file, hoping it would lessen the hatred and fear that came with those last two names. Her eyes drifted closed. Please, God, please bring Devon around.
“Looks like you could use something stronger than a lolly, but it’s the only thing I have on me,” Tess said, throwing a wrapped piece of candy at her.
Stella caught it and set it on her desk. “Ta, love. I haven’t talked to you in a few days. How’s Jeremy?”
A diamond glistened from Tess’ left ring finger. “He wants to move up the wedding date to September.”
“A beach wedding will be a bit chilly in September.”
“I know, which is why I still want to wait until January,” Tess said. “But he has a brother living in England, and they haven’t seen each other in three years. Turns out, his brother is coming to Sydney for a business trip in September and Jeremy wants him to be the best man.”
“His brother won’t come back in January for the wedding?”
“Can’t. His pregnant wife is due about then.”
“How about November? It should be warm by then.”
Tess shook her head. “Jeremy’s parents have a three-week vacation booked. And October is close enough to September, so we might as well have it then.”
“Well there you have it,” Stella said. “If I had a gavel, I could pronounce the case closed.”
“But I’ve already found the loveliest dress with short, capped sleeves.”
“You could always wear a sweater.”
Frowning, Tess said, “Some friend you are. I want my lolly back.”
Stella’s hand clamped over the candy. “No way. Besides, you’ll be radiant no matter what you wear or where you get married. And just think how much Jeremy will owe you for this one. You could probably ask for anything.”
A slow smile crossed Tess’s face. “You’re right. I never thought about it that way. He told me the other day that he wants to wait awhile before we have a baby. Maybe I can use this as leverage to make it sooner.”
Stella laughed. “It’s a good thing you’re a solicitor. If he does agree to that, you’ll know to get it in writing.”
“True. Now, what about you? How are things going with the American?”
If only Stella knew. “He’s a good guy. I just wish he’d stop thinking about why he can’t take Ryan and focus on how he can.”
“What are you going to do if he doesn’t?”
“What can I do? I’ll have to turn the matter over to the Department of Human Services.” Stella hated saying the words out loud. Speaking them seemed to make it more of a possibility. A possibility she wasn’t willing to consider yet—not when there was still a speck of hope. “I’ve been thinking about taking a few days off work. Do you think Gerald will mind?”
“Of course not. He thinks you work too hard anyway.”
“I want to spend some time with Ryan before I can’t anymore.”
“I know. I need to talk to Gerald anyway, so I’ll let him know.” Tess offered her a look of sympathy and stood. “Eat the lolly. It’s the red kind that brings good luck.” She blew a kiss and left the room.
Pulling the wrapper from the candy, Stella popped it into her mouth. She needed all the luck she could get.
As Stella rode home on the train that evening, she sent a text to Devon, asking if it would be okay if she tagged along to the zoo the following day.
His reply came seconds later.
Tag away.
Tag away? What did that mean? That he’d tolerate her presence? That he didn’t care either way? Stella shoved her phone into her purse. Why did she care what he thought, anyway? Ryan was the one she wanted to spend time with, right?
Right.
And Devon.
Stella couldn’t think about Ryan without Devon’s name forcing its way though, like a child seeking attention. Unfortunately, Devon didn’t seem to have the same problem. What was Stella hoping for, anyway? That he’d be overjoyed to see her again? That he’d decide to stay in Australia permanently? She almost laughed at her absurd daydreams. Well, overjoyed or not, he’d have to put up with her “tagging” for a few more days.
Her phone buzzed again.
In the mood for some ice cream?
A smile spread across Stella’s face as she typed her reply.
Only if it’s New Zealand Natural.
You’d know best. Where? When?
Stella was waiting on a bench at a train stop when they appeared. Ryan grinned and ran to her while Devon followed at a leisurely pace.
“How was work?” he asked.
Who wanted to talk about work? “What are we, some old married couple?” Stella teased, hugging Ryan.
Devon shrugged. “Fine, if that’s the way you want it. I guess we won’t tell you about our day either.”
Pulling free, Ryan gushed, “We saw tigers and monkeys and rhinos and zebras and elephants and a wombat!”
They’d already gone to the zoo. Without her. Stella forced the smile to remain on her face. Why did Devon tell her to “tag away” if they’d already been? “You went to the zoo today?”
Devon shuffled his feet, looking sheepish. “Sorry. When I got your text, we were in the middle of the bird show. I skimmed through the message and didn’t realize you’d mentioned the zoo until I reread it when we were on our way to meet you.”
If only Stella didn’t feel as though she’d missed out on something special. “Sounds like you guys had a fun day,” she said to Ryan.
“Yeah, and now we get ice cream!” Ryan’s enthusiasm, as usual, was infectious.
As they made their way out of the train station, Stella couldn’t resist saying to Devon, “So you reread my text?”
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Maybe. I had a long day. I could use a nice compliment about now.”
Devon chuckled. “In that case, I reread your text over a hundred times and savored every last word. In fact, I plan to read it again and again when we get back to the hotel tonight. I’m sure it’ll keep me awake half the night.”
“Only half the night? That’s it?”
“Blame Ryan. He wears me out.”
A laugh escaped her mouth. “In that case, all’s forgiven.”
When they arrived at New Zealand’s Natural, Devon held the door for her and Ryan. They ordered their ice cream and found a small table tucked away in the corner.
“Ice cream is good!” Ryan said, digging in.
“Better than custard?” Devon asked.
“No.”
Stella cleared her throat. Now or never. “So, what are your plans tomorrow? Since I invited myself to the zoo and you’ve already been there, mind if I come along to wherever you’re going?”
“I was actually surprised to get your text. I figured you’d be working most of the week.” Devon took a bite of his ice cream and then examined it. “This stuff is amazing. Why don’t we have this in the States?”
Hello, I’m over here. “Believe it or not, I took a few days off work.”
“You did?”
“I’m not a workaholic like you.” Maybe Devon didn’t want her along. Was he trying to think of a way to tell her to bug off? Enough, Stella. You’re acting like a teenager. What Devon thought didn’t matter—it was Ryan who mattered. That’s why she’d taken the time off.
“So, would it ruin your plans if I hung out with you guys?” Stella asked again.
“Since when did you need an invitation?” There was a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Since now.”
“Then consider yourself invited, if that’s what you want,” he said. “Although we haven’t planned anything for tomorrow yet.”
“But you do want me to come?” Stella nearly groaned. Did she really just say that? Why hadn’t she said a simple, “Thanks,” and left it at that? Honestly, Stella, you need help.
“I see you’re fishing again.”
Stella played with her ice cream. Why did he have to be so unreadable? She wouldn’t have to fish if he would give her some idea of what was going through his mind—at least where she was concerned. It was a simple question, really. Did he want her to come or not?
As if reading her mind, Devon leaned over the table and picked up her hand. “Yes, I do want you to come—but only if it’s pressure-free.”
A wonderful, tickling sensation coursed through her fingers and up her arm. “I already told you I won’t pressure you anymore.”
Devon returned to his ice cream. “Perfect. Then what should we do tomorrow?”
“How about a bushwalk?”
Ryan’s eyes lit up and Stella wanted to hug the darling boy. “You mean a real one? In the mountains?” Not waiting for an answer, he turned his dimple on Devon. “We get to go on a bushwalk and see real live kangaroos!”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything about kangaroos,” Stella said.
“A bushwalk sounds great.” Devon winked at her. “And seeing real live kangaroos sounds even better.”
So much for a pressure-free outing.
⇐ ⇑ ⇒
The following morning, Stella chauffeured Ryan and Devon to the Blue Mountains near Katoomba. As they wound their way up the road, Ryan wouldn’t stop talking about kangaroos. Stella hoped the clearing at the top would contain the usual mob. She wanted a front row seat to Ryan’s excitement when he saw them.
Stella parked the car and led them past an old and decrepit knee-high wooden railing. Peering through the trees, she smiled. A mob of kangaroos was clustered in a clearing not far from them.
“I see them!” Ryan shouted, his little legs bouncing along in anticipation.
Devon and Stella shared a smile and quickened their steps to keep up.
“Don’t get too close,” Stella called as they neared. Several kangaroos looked their way but soon lost interest.
Ryan burst into giggles and pointed. “Look! They’re hitting each other!”
“It’s their way of playing, I think. Like when we wrestle.” Devon studied the kangaroos. “They’re interesting animals, aren’t they?”
Maybe to him. To Stella, and most Australians, kangaroos were more like vermin. “Wh
en early European explorers described what they looked like, the English thought they were crazy. They called them travelers’ tales until a man shot one and brought the hide back to England. It was stuffed and put on display.”
“First the platypus and then the kangaroo,” Devon said. “The English aren’t very trusting, are they?”
“I guess not.”
When Ryan had seen enough of hopping marsupials, Stella drove them to the trailhead of one of her favorite hikes in the Blue Mountains. In the middle of a rain forest, eucalyptus trees, ferns, and moss-covered boulders framed a well-worn dirt path. Every now and then a tropical flower would appear, stark and lovely against the green backdrop.
The sweet scent of vegetation, chirping birds, and fresh air—Stella never tired of bushwalks, especially ones that snaked through the dense and humid areas of these mountains. There was something calming about nature. Peaceful—a feeling that had been missing from her life recently. It had been too long since Stella luxuriated in sliding her worries aside. Way too long. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the gentle reminder.
Thank you, Father. I needed this.
Ryan stopped to point out a bug, and Devon crouched down beside him. Next it was a plant or something else Ryan found interesting. Each time, Devon was there, making Ryan feel important. It showed in Ryan’s dimple and his proud, dark brown eyes. A feeling of rightness stirred inside Stella, bringing with it a penetrating warmth. For all of Lindsey’s skepticism about the existence of a God, her friend definitely had a spark of inspiration there at the end.
Devon was exactly what Ryan needed.
The knowledge filled her, buoyed her, lifted her. Stella wished she could capture the impression and somehow inject it into Devon. He needed to feel what she felt—to know what she knew. If only she could tell him; if only he’d listen.
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