A Love of Her Own

by Bettye Griffin

  Ava sighed. “I felt the same way, Kendall, but since Vicky knows more about how mothers feel than you and I do, I’m willing to at least try to understand Glenda’s reasoning.”

  “You’re a better woman than me,” Kendall replied as her fingers continued to deftly button the back of Ava’s dress.

  “Not really, it’s just that while it would be nice for Marcus and Monet to legally be my children, I have to concentrate my energy on the fact that I have custody of them…not that I might not ever be able to officially adopt them.” She smiled. “It’s a matter of not focusing on what I want, but what I’ve already got.”

  “Good for you,” Vicky said.

  “Is everyone here?” Ava asked.

  “Everybody,” Kendall replied. “Marcus’s cousins look so happy with Neil and Linda.”

  “I can’t wait to see them. They don’t come up as often as they used to. Once Mr. and Mrs. Hudson were satisfied that they were adjusting well in a good home, they gave Neil and Linda a break from making that long drive up here every other weekend. Sometimes the Hudsons take the bus down to West Palm and spend a few days.”

  Kendall stepped back. “Okay, I’m done with my half of the buttons.”

  “I just have a few more to go,” Vicky said. “You know, Ava, I don’t think Hilton is going to be very patient in undoing all these buttons later.”

  “Yes, he will. This dress cost me plenty. I do plan on wearing it again.”

  “Can I help with anything else?” Kendall offered.

  Ava thought for a moment. “Would you send Monet up and tell Marcus I’m almost ready? He’s supposed to tell the musicians.”

  “Sure.”

  “Wait, I’m done. I’ll go with you,” Vicky said, picking up her purse from the bed.

  Monet returned within minutes, accompanied by Linda Carson, who embraced Ava warmly. “Ava, you’ve done so much around here. It looks like a completely different house.”

  “It’s amazing what a little wallpaper and wainscoting can do, isn’t it?” Ava said with a laugh. “That and getting Hilton to move all his carpentry supplies to the carriage house. This is really a beautiful house, and best of all, it’s big enough for all of us.”

  Linda looked around the master bedroom, decorated in a lovely sea green with tan rattan bureaus and accent pieces. “Did you decorate this room, too?”

  “Yes. I told Hilton that if I’m going to be living here he’d have to make some changes. Honestly, you’d never believe he’s a skilled carpenter and handyman to see the way he was living, with just the basics and nothing decorated.”

  “And I love the family pictures.” Linda moved to the mosaic of five-by-seven photos arranged on an open area of wall of all three of the children, surrounding a larger studio portrait that included Ava and Hilton. “But this is my favorite,” she said, pointing to an informal photo of Hilton and Marcus taken at the beach.

  Ava walked to stand next to her friend. “I’ll tell you a secret, Linda,” she said softly so Monet wouldn’t hear. “That’s my favorite, too.” She looked at the picture of the man and boy who had changed her life, and happy tears filled her eyes.

  The two friends embraced. “I’d better get back downstairs so you can get this wedding off the ground,” Linda said. “And just remember…this may not be your first marriage, but it’s your last.”

  *****

  Together, Ava and Monet waited for the flutist to begin the hymn Ava had chosen to make her appearance to. Monet went first, dropping rose petals on the stairs from her wicker basket; and Ava followed.

  When Ava saw Hilton standing in front of the fireplace with Max and Marcus at his side, all three of them dapper in black tuxedos, she broke into a broad grin that she was unable to control, even after they took their vows and shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

  Woody shepherded the guests outdoors into the walled tent that in addition to the chairs and cloth-covered tables, was furnished with space heaters to guard against the November chill. Hilton, Ava and the children remained inside, where they posed for pictures. They remained inside after the photographer finished. “So now that you guys are married,” Marcus said, “we’re all gonna live together?”

  “That’s right, Sport,” Hilton said. “Right here. You and Max are gonna share a room. I hope that’s okay.”

  Both boys pretended to be displeased by this, but their happy grins said otherwise.

  “Monet’s going to have her own room,” Ava added, pinching the child’s cheek, “because she’s the only girl. We’ll make it pink, like strawberry ice cream.”

  Monet’s face lit up.

  “What about the bedroom by the kitchen?” Marcus asked. “The one where Aunt Ava stayed when she got out of the hospital?”

  “That’ll be our guest room,” Hilton replied. “That’s where your grandparents will sleep while they’re taking care of you during our honeymoon.” He winked at Ava. They had privately agreed that they would invite Wilburn and Eva Mae Hudson to stay with them if or when it became too difficult for the disabled couple to continue to live independently. Hilton said he could make the detached carriage house into a studio apartment for them to give everyone some privacy. “But I was thinking it might be nice if we made that big room on the third floor into a playroom for you guys,” Hilton said casually.

  “Yay!”

  “I’m gonna need some help from you, though, to fix it up,” Hilton said.

  “I’m your helper anyway,” Marcus said proudly.

  “I’ll help, too,” Max chimed in.

  Marcus’s small face twisted, as it often did when he had a concern. “So if we’re a family now, and Monet and me are gonna live with you from now on, does that mean you’re our parents?”

  Ava cast Hilton a panicked look.

  Hilton calmly put his arm around Marcus. “Well, you see, Sport, it’s like this.” Something caught his eye, and Ava followed his gaze to see the Hudsons approaching. “Hello, Mr. Hudson, Mrs. Hudson.”

  Ava welcomed the interruption, for it would give her and Hilton a few more minutes to think of how best to answer Marcus’s question. It would be painful telling Marcus and Monet that they wanted to adopt them but couldn’t because of their mother’s refusal to allow it.

  “We’re sorry to intrude upon what looks like a private moment,” Wilburn Hudson began. “But we have a wedding gift for you.”

  A beaming Eva Mae Hudson handed Ava a white envelope.

  “Thank you,” she said graciously. It wasn’t a card, but a white envelope of the size that bills came in. She pulled a piece of paper from the unsealed envelope and unfolded it. As she read the simple block print, her heart leapt into her throat.

  ‘I, Glenda Louse Hudson (incarcerated), hereby grant permission to Ava Maxwell and Hilton White to legally adopt my minor children, Marcus Jerome Hudson and Monet Simone Hudson, at any time after Ava and Hilton become a married couple.’

  The signature below the print had been notarized. She joyfully handed the document to Hilton and gathered Marcus and Simone into a tearful embrace while a baffled Max looked on.

  Hilton read it, then stared at the senior Hudsons. “But I thought she—”

  “She was against it at first, but we kept on her,” Eva Mae replied. “We told her she was being selfish. It hurt, but we reminded her of how little she’s done for Marcus and Monet, that you two willingly took them into your home and gave them not only love, but that you took over their financial support. We told them the children deserve to be in a home where they’re loved and cared for.”

  Wilburn nodded agreement. “We also pointed out to her that they’d be practically grown by the time she’s released from prison, and that if she refused it would mean they wouldn’t get to grow up with parents.”

  “Maybe she was worried that we’ll try to keep her from seeing the kids after she’s released,” Hilton suggested.

  “She said as much,” Wilburn confirmed. “I told her I didn’t think you would preven
t the kids from seeing her any more than you would keep them from us, and that the best thing she could do for them would be to let you adopt them and give them a real childhood.” He beamed at his grandchildren. “We finally got her to agree just three weeks ago.”

  “And since it was almost time for the wedding, we decided to let this be our wedding gift to you,” Eva Mae concluded.

  Ava sniffled. “And I can’t think of a better gift. Thank you both, from the bottom of my heart.” She hugged both of them and tried to blink away her tears. “This is the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me, and it’s definitely the most meaningful wedding gift Hilton and I will receive.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made us,” Hilton said simply. He turned to the children as the elderly couple looked on happily. “Well, kids, we’ve got an answer for you. “It may take a little time to make everything nice and legal, but your mother has just consented to let Ava and I take over raising you two.” He gave Ava a lingering glance. “Now, your mother will always be the one who gave you life, but she won’t be able to see you for a long time, and nothing would please us more than if you thought of us as your parents.”

  “I never had a daddy,” Marcus said thoughtfully.

  “Well, you’ve got one now,” Ava said, half laughing and half crying, but with a big smile.

  Marcus did a fist bump with Hilton, then turned earnest eyes upon Ava. “Since Mama is still my mother, what do I call you now, Aunt Ava?”

  She felt her throat constrict. Maybe it was selfish of her, but if she was going to perform all of the job duties of a parent she wanted the credit. It wasn’t fair for the technicality of Glenda Hudson’s imprisonment to prevent that from happening.

  Max jumped into the breach. “I call her Miss Ava. That’ll stay the same…right, Daddy?”

  “That’s right, Dude,” Hilton replied. “But Marcus and Monet’s situation is a little different from yours. You’ll get to see your mom, and they really won’t.” He didn’t mention that Max no longer had a stepfather, for Janelle had been unable to salvage her marriage to Donald. The man she married seemed to have lost interest once the gravy train that was her child support payments stopped. Heartbroken and unable to deny how happy and well-adjusted Max had become, she then relented to give Hilton custody, but Max had spent most of his summer vacation with her in Augusta and would be going back the day after Christmas.

  “Marcus, Monet, y’all listen to me,” Eva Mae said. “Believe me, your mama knows that Ava has been more of a mother to you in less than a year than she’s been all of your lives, before she went to prison. I’m not saying it’ll be easy for her, but I don’t think she’d mind if you called Ava your mama, too.”

  Marcus looked at Ava, and she was reminded of that first day when she’d planted her foot in his back to prevent him from running away. Except now, instead of scowling, he seemed hesitant.

  “Is it okay, Aunt Ava?” he asked. “Can Monet and me call you Mama?”

  She opened her arms wide, beckoning them to come forward. “Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes!”

  “I think this calls for a family hug,” Hilton said. He and Ava knelt to gather up all three children, then rose to their full heights, with the kids’ legs dangling and their arms stretched across the shoulders of the person on either side of them.

  “I think we’d better join our guests and get this party started,” Hilton suggested.

  “We’ll let the band know you’re on your way out,” Eva Mae offered.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Hudson.”

  Hilton tenderly brushed away the happy tears from Ava’s face. “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  As they emerged from the back door, the children first, the guests cheered, and the lead singer of the band, who’d been playing a quiet instrumental, spoke into his microphone. “Friends and family, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Hilton White and family.”

  Once again Hilton and Ava bent gathering the children for another group hug, to the delight of the audience, whose cheers were heard over the swell of music.

  *****

  As their guests helped themselves to the buffet that had been catered by Spencer Barnes’ Sundowner restaurant and the children socialized with their cousins, Ava and Hilton slipped into the small bedroom off the kitchen, where she stayed after her release from the hospital, and had a few private moments to express their happiness, first by sharing a kiss and a prolonged embrace with no words.

  “Are you happy, Ava?” he asked.

  “I never knew I could be this happy. I just married the man of my dreams, and thanks to the Hudsons’ efforts, I have everything I ever wanted.”

  “That was an incredibly kind thing for them to do.”

  Ava nodded. “You know what I’m looking forward to?” she asked.

  “Our honeymoon in St. Maarten.”

  “No.”

  “You and the kids finally moving in with Max and me.”

  “No.”

  Hilton looked baffled. “Well, you can’t be looking forward to packing up your stuff and moving it to my house, then getting your place cleaned up and ready to go on the market. That’s going to be a pain in the neck and is going to keep us busy for weeks.”

  “I can’t deny I’m looking forward to moving into that gorgeous bedroom I decorated and you’ve been enjoying all these months, but that’s not it, either.”

  “All right, I give up. What is it you’re looking forward to?”

  Ava squeezed her new husband’s arm. “Christmas. Putting up a tree. Shopping. Even wrapping gifts. I think that for the first time in a long time I’m really going to enjoy it.”

  ♥

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Bettye’s contemporary romance Isn’t She Lovely?

  Also by Bettye Griffin

  Contemporary Romance Titles currently available

  LOVE WILL FOLLOW

  LOST THAT LOVIN’ FEELING

  A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS

  MAN OF HER HEART

  WHERE THERE’S SMOKE

  SOMETHING REAL

  ACCIDENTALLY YOURS

  ISN’T SHE LOVELY?

  A KISS OF A DIFFERENT COLOR

  THE HEAT OF HEAT

  SAVE THE BEST FOR LAST

  3-eBook bundle:

  Save the Best For Last/Something Real/Man of Her Heart

  Women’s Fiction Titles currently available

  TROUBLE DOWN THE ROAD

  A NEW KIND OF BLISS

  ONCE UPON A PROJECT

  IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK

  NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

  THE PEOPLE NEXT DOOR

  About the author

  Bettye Griffin is the author of seventeen contemporary romances and six works of women’s fiction. Originally from Yonkers, New York, she now makes her home in Southeast Wisconsin.

  You can contact Bettye through her web site, www.bettyegriffin.com, or the old-fashioned way at P.O. Box 580156, Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin 53158.

  A Note to the Reader

  A Love of Her Own in its original format was my second published novel, from way back in 1999. This eBook version has been updated and revised to reflect both the Twenty-First Century and my improved writing skills. This remains one of my favorite books, and I do hope you enjoyed the story of how one woman whose life had been defined by infertility achieved that love of her very own. If you did, please feel free to share your high opinion with other readers, either orally or in the form of a written review on Amazon, BN.com, Goodreads, or Shelfari!

  I plan to continue bringing you re-releases of previously published novels, as well as brand new stories.

  I thank you for continuing to read my novels that I publish through my own imprint, Bunderful Books…because good writing is always in fashion. Please drop in at the Bunderful Books website (www.bunderfulbooks.com) to stay current with the latest news on upcoming books.

  As always, I wish you good reading!

  Bettye

  And now, for an exce
rpt from my novel Isn’t She Lovely?, available at my eStore (where prices are usually significantly less than at online retailers), as well as popular eBook retailers.

  Isn’t She Lovely? - Excerpt

  Keith disappeared into the adjoining conference room just as a knock on the door sounded. Jeff strode over to the door and opened it. His assistant stood with a slim, simply dressed woman on the down side of thirty-five, whose natural hair was cut so short that Jeff found himself hoping she’d worn a hat to guard against the cold March wind.

  “Come in, Mrs. Pegram,” he greeted, extending his hand. “I’m so glad you could come down this morning.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said nervously, not cracking the slightest hint of a smile. Her eyes darted around the room, lingering on the college and law school degrees that shared the wall with attractive artwork, the rich leather furniture and heavy oak desk.

  He invited her to sit down, skillfully sitting next to her in the second easy chair that faced his desk rather than in his usual chair behind it. The first thing he did was ask about her son. He noted the relief on her face as she told him that the broken leg was expected to heal without complications.

  “Mrs. Pegram,” he began, “I want you to know that your son was run over by a frightened teenager who’d taken his sleeping grandfather’s car for a quick trip to the library. He was trying to rush home before his grandpa woke up, and that’s when he collided with your son.”

  “And kept driving,” she said in an unforgiving tone. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?”

  Tough as nails, Jeff thought. But what would he do in her position? “No, Mrs. Pegram. I have a child myself. She’s three years old, and if anyone harmed her I’d want to choke the life out of them with my own hands. I’m just trying to give you the background information. Now, the boy did confess what he’d done to his grandfather, who immediately contacted the boy’s father, my client, who in turn informed me.”