Counting Stars

by Michele Paige Holmes

  Jane stood in the doorway. “Hi,” she said. “Guess what?”

  “What?” Paul asked warily as he looked at her, worry on his face.

  Jane followed his gaze to Mark’s knit hat, still in her hand. “I’m just taking it home to wash,” she quickly assured him. “My sister gave me a darling red-and-white striped hat and matching socks. Mark is wearing those now. Look.” She pulled her digital camera from her purse. “I took a picture for you. He looks just like an elf.” She let go of the door and walked toward the bed, then almost jumped in surprise as she noticed the woman sitting in the chair beside the door.

  Jane looked at Paul, her mind racing. Please tell me you’re not thinking of adoption again. “I didn’t realize you have company,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”

  “Please stay,” Paul said. “Jane, this is Christina Sands, the social worker assigned to my case.”

  The woman rose from the chair and held out her hand. Jane shook it and gave her a warm smile, though her heart had gone cold at the words. You can’t take Madison, she wanted to say.

  “Miss Sands and I were just discussing what would be best for Madison.”

  “And your son as well, Mr. Bryant,” Christina reminded him.

  “Yes,” Paul said, and Jane caught the note of strain in his voice. She hoped that meant he was unhappy with the conversation—that he wasn’t thinking about giving up the twins.

  “Miss Sands feels that my illness renders me unable to care for Madison right now.”

  Jane swallowed and decided on a bold move. She hadn’t wanted to present her idea to Paul this way—Caroline had advised her it was always best to let the man think any new plan was really his idea—but Jane realized she might not get that chance. Looking away from Paul, Jane said, “I agree.”

  “You do?” Miss Sands and Paul spoke in unison.

  “Yes,” Jane said, “which is why, this morning, I notified my employer that I would be taking an indefinite leave of absence. I’ve got the money in my bank account to allow me to do so—you can check if you’d like, and—” Jane took a short breath, then continued on, her voice tremulous. “I’ve also listed my cottage on Bainbridge with a realtor. I realized, some time ago, that the island was just too far away.” She chanced a look in Paul’s direction and saw that his mouth was open. “I’m going to find a twin home for Paul and I, so I’ll be there all the time to help him care for Madison, and Mark also, when he comes home.”

  “Well then,” Christina said. “That changes the situation a bit.” She looked at Paul. “Madison would still need foster care until you’re settled though . . .” She turned to Jane. “Is it possible you could take Madison now—before you’re moved?”

  “Of course,” Jane said enthusiastically. “I’ve been staying with my sister who lives close by and—”

  “Jane is wonderful with Maddie,” Paul interjected.

  Christina glanced at the camera in Jane’s hand. “It’s obvious you care for the children. And if Madison were to be placed in foster care it would become extremely difficult to remove her. I’ve got the paperwork—” Christina bent down and picked up her briefcase beside the chair. Opening the case, she removed several papers from a manila folder. She looked up at Jane first and then Paul. “Normally, I would never consider this, but this morning I was not aware, Mr. Bryant, that you had someone helping you with your children. And, as our system is already overloaded . . .” She tore the papers in two. “I think it best that we consider these alternate arrangements. Miss—”

  “Warner,” Jane supplied. “Jane Warner.”

  Christina smiled. “Miss Warner, if you will assume care for Madison for the next ten days, I will recommend that she be allowed to stay in your care. At that time, the state will require proof of a primary residence, suitable for both Mark and Madison, and proof that you, Miss Warner, reside at such residence full time with Mr. Bryant.” Christina’s look grew serious as she turned to Paul. “At no time, Mr. Bryant, are you to be left alone with your children. The medications you are on, as well as your current medical condition, dictate that your children have additional supervision. If at anytime you are found alone with either Mark or Madison, I will recommend foster care for both of them. Is that understood?”

  “Yes,” Paul said. His voice was calm enough, but Jane read the tension in his face.

  “We understand,” Jane reiterated.

  “Good.” Miss Sand’s face softened. She handed a business card to Jane. “Here is the number to call to set up your first appointment. It needs to be within the next ten days. The state will monitor the children and make periodic home visits. Mr. Bryant, are you certain this arrangement is satisfactory?”

  Jane held her breath as she turned to face Paul.

  The smile he gave her was full of gratitude. “It’s great.”

  Chapter Twenty

  . . . I’m sorry. Though I can’t take back the wrong I’ve done you, I hope you will someday forgive me . . .

  * * *

  Jane frowned as she looked at the address written on the paper in her lap. “You sure this is the right neighborhood?”

  “Yeah. It’s older, but hey, the house has the accessory apartment and a yard.” Paul grinned at her from the passenger seat of her Corolla. “Weren’t those your requirements?”

  “I said a yard would be nice. Being safe would also be nice.”

  “It’s safe. I grew up—” Paul stopped midsentence and looked out the window.

  “What did you say?” Jane asked as she turned the corner.

  “Nothing,” Paul said. “There it is. Third house on the left.”

  Jane pulled up to the curb of a 1950s ranch-style home and stopped the car. Reluctantly she climbed out and walked toward the house. The exterior siding was gray—a perfect match to the dreary sky. The paint was chipped and peeling, but she could deal with that.

  The driveway was another matter. A series of gigantic cracks ran through the concrete, splintering out to various potholes. Pushing a stroller down it would be like four-wheeling, and the sidewalk didn’t appear a whole lot better. But she supposed she could live with the driveway if she had to. It was the yard that broke her heart.

  She couldn’t see a single blade of grass in the entire front. Patches of weeds were interspersed through dirt and pea gravel. Besides the weeds, the only other thing growing in the yard were two enormous junipers, so fat they covered much of the front windows. She hated junipers, especially fat, overgrown ones. Ugh.

  Jane sighed, thinking of the perfectly sculptured potentillas that framed the curved stone walk she’d painstakingly laid in her yard last spring.

  Paul took her elbow. “Let’s go inside.”

  She walked beside him, looking down so she wouldn’t fall and twist her ankle. He stuck the key in the front door and, after a good shove, it swung open, hinges complaining loudly. Jane flipped the light switch, but nothing happened.

  “No power,” they both said at the same time. Of course, Jane thought. She’d shown vacant houses many times, and the electricity was almost always disconnected. She walked over to the floor-length drapes and gave the string a tug.

  The entire thing—drapes, rod, and shade—crashed to the floor.

  “You okay?” Paul asked quickly as she stumbled back.

  Jane put her hands over her face as she coughed away the dust. “Fine,” she muttered.

  “At least we can see now,” Paul said brightly. “Come on. Let’s look at the rest.”

  Jane pulled her gaze from the newly formed, three-inch holes on either side of the window and followed him as they completed a quick tour through the 1,200-square-foot house.

  The kitchen was tiny, and the psychedelic linoleum and harvest-gold appliances filling the small space made her dizzy. The family room was larger, but it had a rough stone fireplace Jane worried the twins would get hurt on when they started to crawl. The two bedrooms in the main house were decent-sized, though they were all painted baby blue and
had gold miniblinds. The blinds, combined with the color of the orange shag carpeting throughout the house, were enough to give Jane the beginnings of a headache.

  A glance into the bathroom made it worse. The toilet, tub, and sink looked as though they hadn’t been scrubbed for over a decade. Again, she realized these were all things that could be remedied with some heavy-duty cleaners, a lot of hard work, and a paintbrush, so she told herself it would be okay—until she saw the backyard.

  It was, if possible, worse than the front.

  Foot-high weeds covered the entire yard, except for the space just outside the family room door, where a concrete patio was covered by a sagging, rusted awning. Two sides of the yard had a decrepit wooden fence, but the only thing dividing the yard from the neighbor behind was a three-foot-high chain-link fence—an open gate right in the middle. In this neighborhood, that would never do. It was one thing to live in an ugly house, but she’d never feel safe with that fence. Anyone could walk right in.

  Jane stood at the sliding glass door looking out at the yard when Paul came up behind her.

  “There’s a door out front and another one in the back to the mother-in-law apartment, and it’s got everything I’ll need—a full bath, one bedroom, and a small kitchen. And there’s plenty of room in the main house for you and the twins. This place is great, isn’t it?”

  “Great?” she croaked.

  “Yeah. It even has your yard—”

  “Not my yard,” Jane said.

  Paul continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “The rent is cheap—”

  “It ought to be free.”

  “And most important, it’s close to the hospital,” Paul finished. He took Jane by the shoulders and turned her gently toward him. “What do you think?”

  She looked him in the eye. “I hate it.”

  “Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

  “Yes, really,” Jane said.

  “But think of the twins,” Paul argued. “It’s minutes to the hospital for Mark and—”

  “Yes, think of your babies,” Jane interrupted. “Do you really want your children learning to crawl on that?” She turned away from Paul and looked out the sliding glass door again.

  He looked down at the carpet. “Well, the shag would need to be cleaned.”

  “Replaced. And I wasn’t just talking about the carpet,” Jane said. “Look at the grass—or what’s left of it.” She pointed at the yard. “And there isn’t even a real fence in the back. Just some flimsy chain-link thing that the neighbor behind can see right through.”

  Paul hung his head and sighed. “We’re almost out of time, Jane.”

  She heard the plea in his voice and closed her eyes against it. He was right, and she didn’t want him to be. It was Wednesday. They had until Monday to get settled somewhere before the first social services visit. But did that somewhere have to be here?

  The price of rent everywhere else dictated yes. That they would each have their own separate unit was also a plus. But as far as Jane was concerned, that was where the positives ended. And they didn’t begin to stack up against the long list of negatives.

  But it is close to the hospital. Jane opened her eyes and looked at the yard once more. Living with a sagging fence, cracked patio, and grassless yard were small prices to pay for a healthy baby boy. She imagined them living in a nice house with a pretty yard—a yard without Mark toddling around in it because something had happened to him and they’d been too far away from the hospital. A shudder ran through her.

  Jane left the window and walked back into the kitchen. She ran a finger over the dusty counter and looked at the empty breakfast nook. She imagined Paul’s table there and the four of them sitting at it on a Sunday morning. She and Paul would each be feeding a baby. Paul would have oatmeal on his chin. She would laugh.

  She walked into the family room, imagining a Christmas tree in the corner and four stockings hung at the fireplace. In her mind she heard Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas,” and she saw herself sitting in a rocker with Madison on her lap.

  Jane swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought of Caroline’s yard with its assortment of children’s toys, headless flowers, and ruts from tricycle wheels. She thought of Caroline’s house—the toothpaste-smeared sinks, the noncommissioned artwork on the walls, the particleboard furniture her sister said they were “getting by with” until they’d saved enough for what they really wanted. And yet, Caroline had what Jane really wanted. She had the husband and darling children. She had a family of her own to love and who loved her. But things hadn’t started out easily for Caroline, and her happy life wasn’t without sacrifice. Jane wondered why she hadn’t realized that before.

  Or maybe she had. She’d known it in her subconscious and even offered it to Paul in the parking garage when she’d told him that her house didn’t matter, that she’d give it up in a heartbeat for a chance to be with his daughter. She’d known it and meant it too, and now it was time to make good on her promise.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she looked at Paul. He had hope in his eyes, and it gave her the courage she needed. She fished in her purse for a pen, then smiled as she held it up.

  “Where’s the contract?”

  * * *

  Jane slipped her cell phone into her purse as she stood on the top deck of the ferry and watched Seattle’s receding skyline. The earlier clouds had blown away, and it was a gorgeous, clear night. After sleeping at Caroline’s most of the week, she’d left Maddie there for the night, then caught the late ferry. She could hardly wait to get home and climb up on her roof. Nights like this were why she’d bought her house. And tonight, she would enjoy it one last time.

  For a fleeting second, Jane felt sad and knew she would feel the same way again tomorrow when she closed the gate on her white picket fence for the last time. But there was no going back. She’d made a decision, and she was going to follow it with all her heart.

  Even her parents understood—sort of.

  She’d spent the evening at their house, explaining the situation and her choice to move next door to Paul and help him care for his children. Her mother had been shocked at such a sudden turn of events, and her father had expressed his concern over how fast she was jumping into such a difficult situation. To say the least, they had not seemed pleased.

  But her parents had called a few minutes ago, not quite giving their blessing on Jane’s choice, but instead telling her they loved her and would support her decision. She was relieved and had already phoned Paul with the good news.

  At ten tomorrow morning, she would meet him at the hospital. By noon they’d be back at Paul’s apartment packing, and by Sunday they would each move in. Madison would be hers to care for—hers to love. Suddenly life seemed full of happy possibilities, and Jane looked up at the sky, counting her blessings as well as the stars.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  . . . I know I can never make up for my selfishness, but I’ve left you three presents. One is taller than the others, but all are equally fragile. Take care of them for me . . .

  * * *

  “Happy birthday!” The chorus around Jane had ended and everyone was clapping. Chants of, “Wish, wish, wish,” began from her nieces.

  “All right,” Jane said, smiling as she looked around at Paul, her mother, sisters, and nieces. Having opted to forgo the traditional girls’ birthday lunch date in favor of packing, Jane had been pleasantly surprised this morning when much of the female side of her family showed up at Paul’s apartment to help with the move. She could tell her mother was still having a difficult time understanding her choice, but she was trying.

  “Blow your candles out, Aunt Jane,” her twelve-year-old niece Amber said.

  “Let me get a breath.” Jane puffed out her cheeks, though looking at the cake loaded with thirty candles she doubted she was exaggerating her need for air. Elbowing Jessica, she pointed to the cake and began to blow. Jessica and Amber leaned over to help until the last candle flick
ered and went out.

  “Phew,” Jane said. “I am getting old.”

  “You’re not old,” Jessica protested. “You’re the coolest aunt ever.”

  “Let me take that to the kitchen to cut,” her mother said, whisking the cake away from the pile of boxes it had been resting on. “Amber and Jessica, you girls come help me with the ice cream.”

  Caroline and Mindy went back to the computer they were boxing up, and Karen and Emily picked up the boxes of CDs and videos and took them out to the truck.

  Jane looked at Paul. “Take a five-minute break?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Let’s make it fifty. I’m beat.” He sank onto the loveseat, and Jane sat beside him.

  “You okay?” she asked, concerned.

  “Yeah. Just tired, and we’ve got a lot more to do.” He glanced around the room.

  “Not really,” Jane said. “The only thing left in the kitchen is the pantry, and that’s pretty bare.” She looked at him knowingly. “Don’t cook much, do you?”

  He lay his head back and gave her a wry smile. “No.”

  “Me neither. I guess we can learn together.”

  Paul turned to her, then surprised her by taking her hand. “You’re really great, you know that?”

  “Because I don’t cook?” She laughed casually but felt anything but casual as she glanced down at Paul’s hand on hers. She was shocked at the boundary he’d just crossed.

  “No.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Because of all you’re doing for me. Spending your birthday packing up some other guy’s mess isn’t something a whole lot of people would do.”

  “I’m not ‘a whole lot of people,’ and—” She stopped, feeling a slow blush creep up her face.

  “And?” Paul prodded.

  She met his gaze. “And you’re not just some guy.”

  “Birthday girl gets the first piece,” Amber called, walking toward them with a plate of cake and ice cream. “I got you a piece with frosting on two sides, Aunt Jane.”