by Irene Hannon
He gave her an abbreviated version of the background—including the efforts Maureen had made to locate her son—though he never mentioned the professor’s name. If the woman asked for it, he’d have to call her back after clearing the breach of confidence with his unofficial client. There’d been no sense doing that in advance and raising Maureen’s hopes. The woman might never have called.
“So your friend is hoping to connect with the son who was placed through the agency my brother recommended.”
“Yes. The lady I spoke with at St. Columba said you used to volunteer at that agency. May I ask when that was?”
She recited the dates of her tenure, and he did the math.
Delores Kohler had been there when Maureen’s baby was adopted.
Trying to tamp down the sudden surge in his pulse, he told her the boy’s birth date. “Since your brother recommended the agency, I wondered if you and he might ever have discussed cases?”
“On occasion—but never names, or even very many details. Both of us respected the confidentiality of the information shared with us.”
Not promising.
He tapped his pen against the desk. “May I ask what you did at the agency?”
“I helped adopting parents deal with logistics and paperwork. It was quite rewarding to see couples who yearned for a child finally have their wish fulfilled. I got to know many of them well, because the adoption process is long and involved. I exchanged Christmas cards with some of them for a few years afterward. There were a handful I kept in touch with far longer.”
“Any from the year in question?”
“I’d have to check through the cards to refresh my memory. Twenty-one years is a long time, and those days are a bit fuzzy now. Do you have any other details about the birth that might help me determine whether any of the parents I’ve had contact with is a possible match?”
“Yes.” He flipped open his briefcase, pulled out Maureen’s medical file, and read her the name of the hospital, time of birth, and the baby’s weight. “I also believe that both of the adopting parents were teachers.”
“All right. I’ve jotted that down. Give me a day or two to look through my files. I’m not certain I can pinpoint dates, but I’m willing to make the effort. It sounds as if your friend has gone to a great deal of trouble.”
“Yes, she has. I can’t thank you enough for calling me back and for offering to help.”
“Well, it’s best not to get your hopes up. Many couples came through our doors, and I stayed in touch with only a small percentage. On the other hand, stranger things have happened. God works in mysterious ways, you know.”
“Yes.” All the unexpected happenings in his own life these past few weeks were proof of that.
“I’ll be in touch, then. Good-bye.”
As the woman severed the connection, Keith dropped the phone into its cradle and rocked back in his chair.
Despite the dubious odds, he had the strangest feeling he was on the verge of a big discovery. That Delores Kohler might be the key to solving Maureen’s puzzle.
And if such a long shot ended up paying off in the professor’s case, might something equally surprising come from the application for the Missouri Adoption Registry he’d pried out of his fingers and dropped in the mailbox on Tuesday?
If it did, though, would the surprise be good—or bad?
“You were holding out on me.” Haley on her heels, Claire glided over to Keith, who’d just executed a perfect hockey stop near the edge of the rink.
“Yeah! You’re almost as good as Mom!”
Keith grinned at them. “I guess skating is like riding a bicycle. Although I expect I’m going to have a very sizeable bruise on an unmentionable part of my anatomy after that eye-popping fall I took three minutes out. And I do mean eye-popping.” He bent down to Haley’s level. “Are my eyeballs still in their sockets?”
When she leaned in for a closer look, he crossed his eyes.
She giggled. “Yeah. They are.”
“Whew. I wouldn’t want to lose one out here on the rink. Otherwise we’d have to have a game of chase the eyeball.”
Haley giggled again.
“I take it you played hockey.” Claire moved out of the path of a twosome skating hand in hand.
“For a couple of years. But I can’t do any of the fancy stuff figure skaters do.”
“I bet you could.”
“Nope. I rented a pair of figure skates once on a high school date after the girl convinced me it was easy. Ha! I kept getting the toe pick caught and falling flat on my face. I was the laughingstock of the rink. She never went out with me again.”
“We’ll go out with you again even if you fall a whole lot,” Haley promised.
“That’s a relief. Are you speaking for your mom too?” He glanced her direction.
“Yes, she is.”
“Excellent. Then what do you say we give that a try?” He gestured to the cozy couple circling the rink.
Claire adjusted one of her gloves, giving the duo a quick perusal. “I was never into pairs skating.”
“Me either, but I’m willing to give it a try. It might take a few circuits to get our rhythm in sync, but I have a feeling we can make it work.”
She looked over at him. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were serious.
He was talking about more than skating.
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Go ahead, Mom. I bet neither of you will fall.”
“If one of us does, though, we’ll both go down.” She continued to watch Keith.
“Or we’ll hold each other up.” As the music switched to a waltz beat, Keith pulled off one glove and held out his bare hand.
He wanted to skate skin to skin.
When had this simple ice-skating excursion turned into that kind of date?
“Chicken.” Keith said the word so softly only she could hear it. Under his teasing tone, however, was a subtle dare.
It was the sort of challenge designed to rankle . . . and goad her into accepting the gauntlet.
And it was working.
She could do this without letting herself get carried away. She’d just pretend she was holding hands with her dad. Imagining she was a little girl again letting him teach her how to skate would take any hint of romance out of the equation.
Lifting her chin, she put her hand in Keith’s.
Instantly her plan disintegrated.
Because Keith’s warm, firm, strong grip didn’t feel anything like her dad’s.
Nor did she feel like a little girl.
“I’ll follow you guys, okay?” Haley moved away from the edge of the rink and waited.
“Ready?” Keith glided out a few inches, until their linked arms were stretched.
No.
But she wasn’t backing down now.
Pushing off, she fell in beside him.
The first time around the rink was a struggle as they tried to match their pacing. Once, she stumbled. He grabbed her, and they both remained upright. Then he lost his balance, and despite her efforts to help, they both ended up in a heap on the ice.
Haley glided up beside them as they untangled themselves. “Are you guys okay?”
“I am.” Keith reached over and brushed some frost off the sleeve of her jacket. “How about you?”
“I’ve had worse falls.” Claire rubbed her elbow.
He rose and held out a hand, which she regarded warily. “Maybe I better get up on my own.”
“Uh-uh. We’re in this together.”
Capitulating, she put her hand in his again. He braced and pulled her to her feet. “We’re going to get this right. You’ll see.”
She wasn’t as certain—but to her surprise, after a few more circuits, they managed to establish a gliding pattern that was comfortable for both of them.
Keith’s eyes twinkled down at her. “You know what? I wasn’t real keen on this skating idea, but I’m glad Haley suggested it.”
She searched his face
as she concentrated on matching him pace for pace. “Why?”
“What’s not to like about holding a beautiful woman’s hand?”
She tottered again, and his grip tightened.
He’d called her beautiful.
She refocused on the frozen expanse in front of her—but the slippery ice wasn’t the only thing throwing her off balance today.
“Hey.”
At his soft summons, she sent him a hesitant look.
“That wasn’t an empty compliment. You are a beautiful woman, and I like spending time with you. I’m being honest, not manipulative.”
Like Brett was.
He didn’t say those words, but the message hung in the air between them.
“I believe you.” And she did. “It’s just that we don’t know each other very well yet. I don’t want this to get too . . . personal . . . until we do.”
In silence, he guided her over to the railing. When he faced her, faint creases marred his forehead. “I’d buy that . . . except you told me some very personal stuff the other day.”
Yes, she had. Because it had felt right—and she’d hoped he’d reciprocate.
But she didn’t intend to share her rationale. If he ever decided to tell her his story, she wanted it to be by choice, not under duress.
“You caught me at a weak moment.”
“Hey, Keith.” Haley zipped over to them, her own hockey stop spraying them both with ice crystals.
“Haley!” Claire put up her hands to shield her face.
“Sorry.” But Haley’s unrepentant grin said otherwise. “Want to have a race?”
“I’m game.” With one more look at her, Keith slipped his glove back on.
Claire did the same, stifling a pang of disappointment. No more hand-holding today, apparently. “Not me. I’ll be the starter. Two laps. Get ready. Set. Go!”
The two of them took off, Haley’s shorter legs working twice as hard as Keith’s but giving him a run for his money. Despite his height advantage, her daughter had practice on her side. It was neck and neck, making the outcome hard to predict.
Kind of like the outcome of her relationship with Keith.
It was clear he liked her and that he had romance on his mind. So did she.
But she was older and wiser now. Less susceptible to charm and pretty words and a handsome face. Yes, Keith appeared to be a fine person. The more she learned about him, the less he reminded her of Brett. But she wasn’t going to settle for a man who kept parts of his heart—and his past—off limits, no matter how nice he was.
This time around, she was going to hold out for the whole package.
And if Keith couldn’t offer that, she wasn’t going to let this go any further.
No matter how much she wanted to.
“That was great pizza, Keith.” Haley buckled herself into the backseat of his car as he held the door for Claire.
“I’m glad you liked it. It’s one of my favorite places. Are you in?” He pulled Claire’s seat belt out for her.
She took it and clicked the buckle. “All set.”
He closed her door, then circled the car. As he slid behind the wheel, his phone began to vibrate, and he pulled it off his belt to check caller ID—just in case. Not that there was much chance it was his boss. David’s weekend calls had tapered off to almost nothing over the past few months.
When his mother’s cell number showed up on the screen, he frowned.
“If you need to take that, it’s not a problem.” Claire tugged off the knit headband she’d worn for skating.
“I think I better. This is the second call from my mom in the past few minutes, and that’s not like her.” He pressed the talk button and put the phone to his ear. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She expelled a loud breath. “I was afraid I might have to call 911.”
His heart stuttered. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s the silliest thing, really. You know that flip lock I have on my basement door for extra security?”
“Yes.” Of course he did. He’d installed it at her request, for whatever good it did. The thing was meant more for childproofing than deterring burglars who might break into a basement window and come up the stairs to the kitchen. But hey, if it made her feel safer . . .
“Well, I guess it must have been positioned just right—or I should say wrong—because the door banged shut behind me when I came down to do some laundry, and the lock flipped over. Now I’m stuck in the basement.”
He unclenched his fingers from around the wheel. “How long have you been down there?”
“An hour or so. I’ve been jiggling the door, hoping I could shake it loose, but it hasn’t budged.”
“It wouldn’t be much of a lock if you could.”
“True. Thank the Lord I had my phone. That was a smart idea of yours, to carry my phone around with me at home. Listen . . . I hate to bother you, but can you run over and let me out? Or are you in the middle of something?”
Keith slid a glance toward Claire. “I’m, uh, a little tied up, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. An hour, tops. Can you hold out that long?”
“I can—but I’m not so sure about my bladder. Just do the best you can. See you soon.”
The line went dead.
Keith tapped a finger against the wheel, then removed the phone from his ear.
“Is everything okay?” Claire angled toward him.
“It’s not a catastrophe.” He slid the cell back onto his belt, not certain his mom would agree, given her lack of bathroom access. Too bad she’d shared that tidbit. Otherwise, he’d have had no qualms about taking Claire and Haley home first. Now he’d feel guilty if he made his mom wait unnecessarily. On the other hand, if he took the two of them with him, she’d get all kinds of ideas he didn’t want to encourage.
“What’s not a catastrophe?” Haley unbuckled her seat belt and bounced forward to rest her elbows on their seats.
Might as well come clean.
“My mom locked herself in the basement.”
Claire leaned toward him, concern etching her features. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. Embarrassed more than anything, I think.”
“Where does she live?”
“South County. Not far from the mall.”
“If you want to stop by and let her out before you take us home, that’s fine. I don’t have any plans for the rest of the evening.”
“I don’t, either,” Haley chimed in.
“Yes, you do, young lady. Homework. We’re not going to leave it until Sunday this week. But we have time for a quick side trip.”
It would definitely be closer to swing by his mom’s rather than backtrack. Besides, he wanted to see if he could fix that faucet at Claire’s tonight.
Could he ask her and Haley to wait in the car while he ran in—or would that look suspicious . . . like he didn’t want them to meet his mother?
Possibly the latter—and Claire was cautious enough already.
But prolonging his mother’s ordeal wasn’t an option, either.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, I think it would be best if I stop by.” He fitted his key in the ignition. “It won’t take more than a minute.”
“That’s fine. Haley—buckle up again.” Claire settled back in her seat too. “I take it your mom is alone?”
He put the car in gear and pulled into traffic. “Yeah. Dad died suddenly two years ago of a stroke. He was seventy-three, but he’d never had any health issues. It was a shock to both of us.”
“I’m sorry. That kind of abrupt loss is especially hard. How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s hanging in. Some days are better than others.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
At the query from the backseat, he flashed Haley a quick glance in the rearview mirror. Claire must not have shared any of the minimal background he’d offered. “No, it was just me. But I always thought it would be cool to have brothers or sister
s.”
“Me too,” Haley said.
Claire shifted around. “You never told me that.”
Her daughter shrugged. “I didn’t figure it would do any good, since you’re not married. How come your mom and dad didn’t have more kids, Keith?”
“Haley . . . it’s not polite to ask personal questions.” Claire sent the little girl a warning look.
“It’s okay.” He switched lanes and picked up speed. “I was adopted, and my parents were older when they got me. So they didn’t want to take on any more children.” He checked out her reaction in the rearview mirror. No shock. Not even surprise.
“I have a friend at school who was adopted. Her name is Jennifer. She’s really nice. I like her mom and dad too. Is your mom nice?”
“Very.”
“Do we get to meet her?”
“It will be faster if we wait in the car, Haley.”
Keith looked over at Claire. Was she offering him an out—or didn’t she want to meet his mother?
Whatever her motivation, he should be grateful. That would keep things simpler.
For some weird reason, however, different words came out.
“You might as well come in and let me introduce you. Mom would enjoy meeting you.”
Too much.
That was the problem.
But he’d deal with it later.
“Are you sure?” Claire scrutinized his face, as if she was aware of his conundrum.
“Yes.” His response came out sounding more confident than he felt.
“For a minute, then—but we’ll wait in the car until you have a chance to talk with her. After being locked in the basement, she might not be in the mood for company.”
“Oh, I think she’ll be very receptive to meeting you.”
Chomping at the bit was more like it.
“Goody!” Haley grinned at him in the rearview mirror. “I like meeting new people.”
“Miss Gregarious.” Claire shook her head. “Not from my genes.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Your dad seems like the outgoing type.”
“Oh, he is. He meets new people all the time, on his boat. And he’s a lot of fun!” With that, Haley launched into a chorus of praises for her grandfather that lasted the rest of the drive.