The roads were still a little slick in places from yesterday’s moisture and last night’s freezing temperatures, so she sat in silence rather than distracting Tom. She fiddled with the notebook where she’d recorded every tiny bit of information they’d managed to uncover. The notes were disappointingly short and unhelpful. Even Tom’s calls to every private investigation agency in town hadn’t yielded anything of value. Two hadn’t bothered to respond to his voice-mail queries, and the ones he spoke to directly weren’t willing to divulge information without a retainer. Tom refused to pay for answers, and Alexa didn’t have the funds. So what she’d thought would be a solid lead toward locating her birth mother turned out to be a dead end.
God, let today’s venture uncover something I can use. I want to find her. I want to tell her— She ended the prayer abruptly. What she wanted to tell the woman who’d given birth to her and then dumped her in an alley wasn’t very Christlike. God wouldn’t be pleased.
She opened the notebook to a fresh page and wrote across the top: “January 13—Door-to-Door Info Seeking.” She drew little curlicues on both sides of the title and then put a swoopy line underneath. The embellishments didn’t make the page seem any less stark. She smacked the book closed.
Tom, his eyes on the road, reached over and tweaked her ponytail. “Don’t give up before we start.”
She swallowed a snicker. He knew her so well. As well as any birth grandfather could. Maybe even better than some. “Okay, okay,” she teasingly groused.
His grin rounded his full cheek. “We’ll be there soon. Just relax.”
She tried to relax but it wasn’t easy. Mom had called last night, all stressed out about a man—a former police officer, she said—running around town asking questions. Alexa thought it curious, but after hosting Briley Forrester, someone asking questions didn’t make her as suspicious as she once might have been. She hoped her assurances helped Mom feel better about the guest. The man planned to leave soon, anyway, so Mom wouldn’t have to deal with him much longer.
She spun on Tom, forgetting her plan to stay quiet. “How much longer do you think it will take to get some information we can actually use? I need to get back to Kansas. I promised to make special cookies for the grade school kids’ Valentine’s Day party. Mom won’t know how I want them decorated. Then I’ve got to get the rooms ready for the two couples staying Saturday the thirteenth for Valentine’s Day. And Anna-Grace’s wedding is February 18. Family will stay with us that night. After that—”
“Whoa, girlie, slow down.” Tom chuckled. “That wedding and the Big Heart Day are almost a month away yet. No sense in getting yourself all worked up over it. You young people these days, thinking everything has to happen right now. I blame it on microwaves.”
Alexa burst out laughing. “Microwaves?”
“Uh-huh.” He took the exit for Indianapolis. He eased off the ramp into the flow of traffic and then went on as if there’d been no interruption. “Used to be if you wanted hot soup for dinner, you spent an hour chopping vegetables and boiling meat to make the broth. Then you waited another hour or so for everything to cook up. Nobody fussed about the time it took until microwaves came along and you could heat up a can of soup in two minutes.” He shook his head, his lips pursed into a rueful grimace. “Now nobody wants to wait for something good. They want to snap their fingers and get it right now.”
“So you think I’m being too impatient?”
“Aw, honey-girl…” Tom’s smile turned tender. “I think you’re eager for answers, and I can’t say that I blame you. But not everything can be microwaved. Some things take time.” He winked at her. “If you’re supposed to find your birth mama, it’ll happen. God’ll open the door when the time is right. Can’t you trust that?”
She sighed. “I’m trying to.”
“I know you are.”
She sighed again. “I’ll try to be satisfied to let things slow simmer instead of getting zapped, okay?”
He laughed. “Now you’re talkin’.”
Alexa’s determination flagged as the afternoon wore on. Her nose dripped and her toes froze as she and Tom trudged from house to house in the neighborhood surrounding the unwed mothers’ home, ringing doorbells or knocking on doorjambs. Most of the time nobody answered at all. Of those who did answer, the majority said they hadn’t been living there twenty years ago, so they couldn’t help at all. The three who had lived in the area way back then claimed they hadn’t noticed any pregnant girl except the ones from the home itself. One of those three didn’t even try to hide his disdain for the home and its occupants. The snooty attitude made Alexa sad for Mom and for Melissa, Lennah, and Polly. Why couldn’t people love like Jesus loved instead of condemning people for making mistakes?
The reflection jolted her. Wasn’t she on a mission to condemn someone, too? She pushed the thought aside. Her situation was different. She’d been directly affected by her mother’s heartlessness. These neighborhood people had no connection to the girls at the home and therefore had no business judging them. Those people had reason to be ashamed. She didn’t.
She stomped her feet hard against the concrete sidewalk to put some feeling back in her toes and trailed Tom to the car. Once inside, he started the engine and put the heater on high. Cold air blasted from the vents.
Alexa hugged herself and shivered. “Is it okay to wish the heater was like a microwave—instantly hot?”
“I’m with you on that wish.” His breath hung in front of him. “I’m chilled clear through. You couldn’t have got the idea to hunt for your birth mom in June or July?”
“You were the one who said January was a good time to go hunting since not much was happening at the B and B.”
He grimaced. “Guilty.” He heaved a huge sigh, fiddling with the heater knobs. “Well, I think we both need to get something warm inside us or Linda’s prediction about us catching pneumonia just might come true. Then there’ll be no living with her.”
Alexa glanced at her cell phone’s clock. Three thirty-five. “Tom! Three thirty to five are the open hours for the girls at the home. Could we go see Melissa? I bet Ms. Reed would give us a cup of hot tea or cocoa if we asked.”
He shifted into Drive. “The home’s a lot closer than a downtown coffee shop. And even if she doesn’t have anything hot to drink, the house oughta be warm. All right. We’ll drop in on your friend and see how she’s doing.”
Ms. Reed insisted on Alexa leaving her purse beside the door, and she searched through the pockets of their coats before hanging them on ornate hooks above a built-in bench next to the staircase. Tom didn’t act insulted by the woman’s actions, but Alexa had a hard time not seething.
Just as she had the last time, Melissa lit with pleasure when she spotted Alexa. But her smile turned shy when her gaze fell on Tom. They sat, at Ms. Reed’s direction, around the table in the library. “You’re less likely to be disturbed in there,” she said in a tone as chilly as the outside air. She departed, but she left the door wide open, and they could hear her rustling around in her office on the other side of the wall.
Melissa kept her head low, picking at a hangnail on her thumb and sending nervous sideways glances at Tom. He leaned back, propped his ankle on his knee, and chatted as if the girl wasn’t scared spitless of him. Within minutes she came out of her turtle-like pose and began offering stilted and then open responses to his questions.
Alexa sat back and observed the pair’s exchanges. She marveled at Tom’s innate kindness. Linda was kind, too, but crusty. Sometimes her brusqueness put people off until they really got to know her and figured out how soft she was underneath. But Tom was so personable, so sincerely pleasant. Mom always said he could make friends with a hungry grizzly bear, and Alexa believed it. She watched Melissa blossom under his warm attention, losing her inhibitions and finally sharing a bit of her past.
“Maybe if Mom hadn’t died, Dad wouldn’t be so…” The girl cringed. “I guess…bitter. It’s probably not easy for a man to
raise three kids on his own. Anyway, when I turned up pregnant, he got madder than I’d ever seen him. Called me all kinds of names.” Her face glowed pink, and she ducked her head again, her chin quivering. “He gave me money for an abortion, but I’d waited too long to tell him a baby was coming. The clinic wouldn’t do it. That made him mad, too.”
Alexa had to bite the tip of her tongue to keep from saying what she thought about Melissa’s father. So heartless and cruel! He’d be a good match for her birth mother.
Melissa fiddled with a strand of her lank brown hair. “Anyway, he said there was no way he was going to raise another kid so I’d better find some way to get rid of it.”
Alexa said, “Wouldn’t your boyfriend help you?”
A sad smile appeared on Melissa’s sheepish face. “You mean my baby-daddy?”
Heat filled Alexa’s cheeks. The term sounded so impersonal and almost vulgar. “I guess so.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy from school. I met him at a party, and we…” She licked her lips and angled her face away. “We were both pretty drunk. He says he can’t even remember doing anything with me. So…” She shrugged.
Alexa gave Tom a can-you-believe-this look and turned on Melissa. “Whether he can remember it or not, he’s responsible for this baby, too. After it’s born, you can have a DNA test and prove he’s the one. Then you can—”
“I don’t want anything from him.” Melissa’s eyes sparked. “I know what it’s like to have a daddy who doesn’t want you around. I wouldn’t wish that on an enemy. I’m sure not gonna wish it on this baby. She deserves better than that.”
Tom placed his hand on Alexa’s arm, the gentle pressure stilling her planned retort. He said softly, “How’d you end up here in Indiana, Melissa? It’s a long ways from Kansas.”
Melissa shrugged. “Long story short? My dad was ragging on me at work, about how stupid I’d been and how he couldn’t stand to look at me, and one of his coworkers told him he ought to ship me off someplace. So Dad Googled ‘homes for unwed mothers’ ”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“and started calling different places. This one took his insurance, so here I am.” She closed her eyes, cupped her round belly, and sighed. “I’ll be glad when this is all over.”
Alexa remembered the director saying Melissa wasn’t certain where she’d go after the baby was born. She started to ask Melissa about her plans, but the click of heels on hardwood intruded.
Ms. Reed stepped into the room and pointed at the keyhole-shaped Regulator clock tick-tocking on the wall. “Four fifty-five, Melissa. Time to tell your guests good-bye.”
Alexa shifted in her chair to face the director. “May I come back tomorrow at visiting time, please?” Belatedly she faced Tom. “If I can borrow the car.”
Tom pushed up from the table. “It’s fine with me if the weather isn’t too bad. I don’t like the idea of you driving on ice.” He looked at Ms. Reed. “So I guess it’s up to you, Ms. Reed.”
The woman offered a tight smile. “Melissa seems to enjoy your company. As long as you don’t prevent her from completing her assignments, it’s fine for you to visit during our free hours.”
Melissa awkwardly stood, one hand pressed on the small of her back. “We have free hours in the evening, too, Alexa. Seven thirty to nine.”
Tom shook his head. “It’s dark by then. I don’t want Alexa driving this neighborhood at night.” He gave Ms. Reed an apologetic grin. “Not to be derogatory, ma’am.”
Ms. Reed sighed. “I’m aware that the crime-infested areas of any major city tend to broaden over time, and this neighborhood has fallen prey in the past years. That’s why we’re so cautious about what comes into the house. We want this to be a safe haven for our girls and the babies they’re bringing into the world.”
Alexa examined the director’s weary face. Maybe she didn’t mean to come across like an army sergeant. Maybe she was just overly protective. In that moment Alexa decided she liked Ms. Reed after all. She smiled. “Thank you. I promise not to get in the way, but I would like to spend more time with Melissa.”
“That’s fine.” Ms. Reed’s forehead pinched into a frown. “You said your name is Zimmerman. Is that correct?”
Alexa nodded.
She tapped her mouth. “I’ve heard that name somewhere else recently…” She seemed to think deeply for a few seconds. Then she held out her hands. “Ah well, it will come to me eventually. But for now, we need to begin our dinner preparations. We’ll see you tomorrow, Alexa. Have a safe drive home.”
Indianapolis
Cynthia
When Glenn and Cynthia joined the Southern Baptist church shortly after their marriage, they’d made a promise to be in the church whenever the doors were open. Over the years they’d faithfully attended Sunday school, morning worship, discipleship classes, evening worship on Sundays, and the combined Bible study and corporate prayer time on Wednesday evenings.
Of all the services, Cynthia liked the Wednesday Bible-study time best. A smaller crowd attended, and the minister, known to the congregation as Brother Gary, spoke to them from a metal music stand placed between the front two pews instead of from the pulpit. Only adults filled the benches because the children attended their own evening classes, so people openly shared. The informal setting encouraged a give-and-take of ideas, and Cynthia often thought she learned more during the twenty-minute Wednesday Bible study than the two hours of Sunday morning study and worship. She also loved the prayer time—believers coming together in one accord to lift their praises and petitions to God.
During the winter months, attendance dropped off for all but the Sunday morning worship, and at times either she or Glenn had sheepishly suggested they stay in rather than drag the children through the cold. After all, a person could worship God anywhere, right? But somehow when one of them wanted to stay in, the other always wanted to go, and the entire family bundled up to head out the door. Afterward, she’d always been glad they’d made the effort.
Until this evening.
Brother Gary crossed to their pew and shook their hands by turn. Not an ounce of condemnation showed in his expression, but the murmurs rolling at the back of the church increased the disgrace-induced fire in her cheeks.
The minister faced the congregation. “It took a great deal of courage for Glenn and Cynthia to share this burden with us. We didn’t get to verse twenty-six of James chapter one this evening, but I would encourage each of you to read it tonight and let it remind you of your obligation to this brother and sister in Christ. We’ll be tempted to speak among ourselves, maybe find fault with the decision Cynthia made. Because we’re human.” He cast a brief, tender smile on Cynthia. “But instead of judging, let’s choose words of encouragement. I suspect our sister has suffered enough censure already. Now…” He moved back to the front. “Who else has a request?”
Others raised their hands, and Brother Gary wrote the needs on slips of paper. He passed them out, and people gathered in small groups to pray over the stated requests. Cynthia and Glenn joined two other couples, Jim and Judy McCoy and Dean and Jill Harrison. A lump filled her throat when Jim asked God to bring Cynthia and her daughter together and also to give her and Glenn peace as they waited to meet her daughter. Their group hadn’t even taken the slip with Cynthia’s request on it, but still he prayed over them. She was deeply touched by the gesture, and she told him so when they’d finished and the group separated.
He gave her a couple of awkward pats on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.” A worried frown pinched his face. “Can I tell you something?”
He seemed so serious, she started to refuse.
“It might make you feel better.”
After a moment’s hesitation she nodded. She followed Jim out of the sanctuary, where people still milled in small groups and chatted quietly, across the reception area, and into the small alcove beneath the stairs leading to the balcony.
He leaned against the wall and began talking without preamble. �
��My sister Terri couldn’t have kids, so she adopted a little girl through the foster-care Cynthia dropped the bag and crossed to the sofa. She placed one hand on Barrett’s cheek and the other on Darcy’s shoulder. Her daughter still didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me. There isn’t room in Lindsey’s apartment. But I’ll come over tomorrow morning and drive you to school. I’ll pick you up after school like I always do and take you home. I’ll still see you every day, okay?”
“The wisdom in James’s letter to the twelve tribes is applicable to us today.” Brother Gary was closing the study.
She pressed her hands to her stomach. Nausea rolled through her middle. She hoped she wouldn’t throw up.
“As we move into our prayer time, let’s remember verses five and six of chapter one. Asking God’s will for a situation is the same as asking for wisdom. Let’s believe God’s way is best and not doubt that He will provide guidance when we ask.” The pastor laid his Bible aside. “What requests do we need to lift to our all-knowing God this evening?”
Glenn raised his hand.
“Yes, Glenn.” Brother Gary aimed a bright smile in their direction.
Glenn grabbed the back of the pew in front of them and pulled himself upright. Cynthia clutched her hands together. Would her heart leave her chest? She’d never felt such an intense booming beneath her breastbone. She wanted to grab her husband, yank him down, laugh, and tell everyone that he’d only been kidding, that they didn’t need anything. But her trembling limbs refused to cooperate.
“This might surprise a few people, but a long time ago, when Cyn was still a teenager, she gave up a baby for adoption.”
A few stifled gasps came from behind her. Cynthia bowed her head, awash in shame.
“Her daughter is twenty years old now, and Cyn would like to find her. So we’re asking for prayer. For us to know for sure if it’s God’s will for Cyn and her daughter to reunite.” He paused, his nostrils flaring with a slow intake of breath. “The search has been”—he blew out the air—“stressful. So we need prayer for us, too.” He sat so hard it appeared his legs had given out.
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