by Dana Corbit
Alex and Dinah stared at each other, each lifting an eyebrow. Clearly, video game therapy was working for Brandon.
“I don’t know. What do you think, Miss Fraser? Should I let them have some more money?”
Chelsea put on her worried face that she used whenever she had to think of grown-up concerns. “Do you have any more money?”
“Oh, I think I have a few more dollars I can spare without breaking the bank.” He reached into his wallet and withdrew a ten-dollar bill. “Now when this is gone, we’ll be going home, so don’t ask me for any more.”
“Okay. Thanks, Uncle Alex.” Chelsea bounced over to him and, wrapping her arms around him, planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Brandon didn’t offer hugs and kisses as his sister had, but he almost smiled, and that was enough. In a flash, the brother and sister were off again to race at lightning speeds and conquer new worlds.
When Alex turned back to Dinah, she grinned. “All this bribing is getting expensive.”
“Don’t I know it,” he said, pausing before adding, “but it’s worth it for fifteen more minutes.”
He didn’t add alone with you, but he knew it was understood. She seemed to crave these private moments as much as he did. He couldn’t get enough, of watching her graceful movements, of breathing in the light floral scent of her perfume.
His fingers itched to reach out and touch one of those little wisps of hair at her cheek. He’d already lifted his hand to do just that when she glanced over at the children and then quickly turned back to him. He lowered his hand.
“Hey, you said Brandon had detention today. Did you just let that be his punishment, or did he have additional consequences at home?”
“There were more. No TV and no Internet—except for homework—for two weeks.”
She nodded. “You definitely have the whole loss of privileges thing down.”
“But at some point I’m going to have to stop taking away TV as a consequence. If the two of them keep messing up this way, I’ll never get to watch the evening news again.”
She laughed at that, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’ll probably be up in the middle of the night watching infomercials just to get to see that flickering screen.”
“What do you mean flickering screen? I have a forty-two-inch plasma at my house. It knows better than to flicker.”
“You’re such a guy,” she said, shaking her head.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not.”
Again, she was smiling at him, and he realized he would say almost anything to make her look that happy.
As if by tacit agreement, they both stood up from the table and made their way over to the game area for the last few minutes before the tokens disappeared again. Chelsea took two more rides on the motorcycle that went nowhere, and Brandon managed to earn that elusive top score on his last token. Dinah cheered them both on though it was clear that she and video games didn’t speak the same language.
When there were no more excuses to stall, they piled into his SUV and returned to the Fraser home. Alex opened the car door for Dinah and helped her out, but, aware of their audience still inside the car, he released her hand as soon as she was on her feet. His hands ached so much to reach for her again that he stuffed them in his jacket pockets to stop himself.
Instead, he shuffled up the walk beside her, and she matched his pace, seeming to understand his reluctance to hurry. Though this date hadn’t turned out anything like what he’d planned, he still didn’t want it to end. As they stopped at the bottom of the porch steps under the glow of the outdoor light, he half expected Reverend Fraser to be watching them, but the curtains didn’t even flutter.
“Your dad must be slipping on the job here,” he said, pointing to the oval window in the center of the front door. “Where is he?”
“Mom probably wrestled him to the floor or he’d be up here flashing the front-porch light off and on right now.”
He could picture that and was grateful for Dinah’s spunky mother, who seemed to have passed her strength and humor along to both of her daughters. As he turned, Alex’s gaze came to rest on the sweet face of Naomi’s oldest daughter, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
“Mom can only hold Dad on the floor for so long, though. Nobody’s wrestling skills are that good.”
“Oh. Right.” Clearing his throat, he pressed his fists farther into his pockets. “I just wanted to say once more how sorry I am about tonight.”
“Don’t be. I had a wonderful time.”
“Me, too. Still, I want to make it up to you. You already said you’d be working on carnival stuff all day tomorrow. How about next Saturday?”
“Did you forget?” She drew her eyebrows together and studied him. “Saturday is the carnival. And we’ll be working every night up until then on the booths, and that Saturday we’ll probably be up to our elbows in cotton candy.”
“You’re right. After the carnival. How about next Sunday night? Oh. Right. Sunday evening services.”
Alex couldn’t help frowning. He wanted to see her again, to really be alone with her this time, and, though he liked the idea of seeing her at the youth center every day until then, it wasn’t enough.
“Hold that thought.” She paused, closing her eyes and tapping her index finger against her lips as if deep in thought. “No. Sunday’s good. Dad said he would be canceling the evening service so everyone could spend time with their families after all this work to put the carnival together.”
“Then Sunday night it is.”
That he felt as giddy as one of Dinah’s students when a snow day was called should have shamed him, but it didn’t. They would have to wait for it, but it gave him the time to plan a dinner date she would never forget.
Then a thought crossed his mind that rained all over his parade and left all the imaginary floats sopping wet. “Won’t you be expected to spend time with your family during this free family evening?”
Dinah rolled her eyes at him. “The Fraser household is going to have to do without me just this once.” Glancing at the window to see if they’d gained another audience from inside the house, she turned back to him and winked. “I happen to have an important date that night.”
An important date? This was supposed to be casual, just a laid-back opportunity for two adults to get to know each other better. But he recognized that he’d been kidding himself to have ever thought so. A date with Dinah Fraser would never be a laid-back event for him.
When he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms in front of God and relatives and anyone else watching, Alex extended his hand to her, and she gripped it in a polite handshake. If nothing else had been normal about this date, at least he would end it as the type of gentleman Dinah deserved.
“Thanks again.” After a few seconds, Dinah withdrew her hand from his. “Will I see you at church this Sunday, or will you be attending services at your own church?”
“Probably mine.”
She smiled and nodded, but he sensed she didn’t believe him. As seldom as he’d attended lately, he didn’t quite believe himself.
“Well, good night.” She turned to wave at the children in the car before tripping up the steps to go inside.
“Good night.”
Alex watched after her for a few seconds and then turned and strode back down the walk. He was still smiling when he opened the door to the SUV.
“Why didn’t you kiss her, Uncle Alex?”
He sighed but didn’t answer. He should have expected a comment like that from Chelsea, who probably had high hopes for this date that she’d orchestrated.
She was too young to recognize it, but this date that hadn’t been sealed with a kiss had been more successful than she knew. He wasn’t ready to tell her, either. He wasn’t ready to admit that he couldn’t wait for their second date or for every minute he would spend with Dinah until then as they prepared for the carnival. So
me things were meant to be private.
For once Alex was grateful for Brandon’s brooding personality. At least he wouldn’t have to face some embarrassing comment from a boy who was almost old enough to understand some of the things Alex was feeling.
Slipping the keys back in the ignition, Alex started the engine and put the car in Drive. As he peeked into his rearview mirror to check for oncoming traffic, he caught sight of the boy who often looked anywhere but at him. This time, though, Brandon was staring right his way.
“Yeah, Alex, why didn’t you kiss her?”
Chapter Eight
J ared Kierney settled into the comfortable guest chair in the office for Cavanaugh Carpentry, located in the downstairs of Ben and Leah Cavanaugh’s cozy, three-bedroom home. Unfortunately, the man who carried cups of coffee for himself and Jared into the room didn’t appear as relaxed as his surroundings. Far from it.
“Thanks, Ben.” Jared took a sip of the too-strong brew and managed to swallow it before setting the cup on the coaster Ben had provided. “That hits the spot.”
“You’re too kind.”
Ben’s ironic smile hinted that he might be able to relax during this meeting with the help of a seasoned reporter, and Jared was just the guy to do it. He knew plenty of tricks for putting his interview subjects at ease.
“You’re right, I am too kind. Have you ever made coffee before?”
Ben took a sip from his own coffee and grimaced. “Not often enough. Leah’s so much better at making it that we agreed it would be her job.” He shrugged. “Tonight, she took Olivia and the baby to the Starlight Diner for dinner, so we could…do this.”
By “do this,” Ben meant that they would discuss the intensely private matters regarding his falsified birth records and the search for his birth mother for an article in the Richmond Gazette. Jared figured a little more small talk would be necessary to set Ben at ease.
“How is Olivia dealing with the arrival of little Joseph? It had to be hard becoming a big sister after nine years of being the one and only.”
Ben’s smile answered for him before his words had a chance. “We were told to expect a little tension, but Olivia fell in love with her baby brother from the first night we let her hold him.”
“Chance and Luke were the same way when Hope was born. They think of her as this little redheaded doll.” He figured there would never be a perfect time to segue to the subject of his interview, but Jared went with it anyway. “I wanted to thank you again for agreeing to speak to me about your adoption for the article.”
Ben shrugged. “If it can help somebody else…”
“I know it will,” Jared assured him.
“I hope so.”
Jared cleared his throat and studied his prepared list of questions. He hated to bring up difficult memories, but it was the only way he could do justice to Ben’s story.
“For the article, let’s start at the beginning. When did you first know that you were adopted?”
Ben planted his elbows on his desk, and he stared past Jared instead of at him. His lips lifted. “A better question would be when didn’t I know. My parents—Tyrone and Peggy Cavanaugh—” he paused, his gaze flicking to Jared “—talked about adoption all the time, even before I knew what it meant.
“Mom used to say that another woman carried me in her belly, but I was the child of her heart.” A sheepish look appeared on the carpenter’s face. “Any chance I could get you not to quote me on that?”
Jared chuckled, imagining how emasculating such a comment could appear in print. “It’s always my policy to tell the people I interview that nothing’s off the record. But if you give me dozens of other great quotes, I’ll consider not using that one.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
“Glad I could help.” Jared would have liked to continue the light banter with his friend, but they had a more difficult topic to discuss. “When did you first realize that your birth records were among those that were tampered with at Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency?”
“Not long after the first batch of doctored records were discovered at the office. Until then, I’d always thought my birth parents had a no-contact agreement to keep me from ever reuniting with them.
“Anyway, private investigator Ross Van Zandt told Kelly Young and me that one of us had to be the child of his client. Her baby had been stolen thirty-five years before.”
Ben didn’t have to go into further detail on that story. They both were well aware now that the client, Sandra Lange, turned out to be Kelly’s birth mother, and former mayor Gerald Morrow was her birth father.
“How did you feel then when you learned that your real records were among the set found at the Harcourt mansion?”
Even as he asked the question, Jared hated himself for having to do it. Why had he thought this series was a good idea in the first place? He’d told himself that sharing the personal side of the adoption scandals would help provide healing and understanding for the victims. Now dredging up these painful memories only seemed cruel.
Ben spun in his executive chair until he faced the window, but after several long seconds, he turned back to his desk. “I don’t know. Probably relieved at first. And then excited. I really wanted to meet her.”
“You mean your birth mother—” he paused, looking at his question list “—Millicent Cunningham-Watson?” At Ben’s nod Jared continued, “I’m sorry to hear she passed away before you had the chance to know her.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Ben straightened in his seat and planted his hands on the edge of his desk. “I’m also sorry that Barnaby Harcourt used my existence to blackmail her out of a good chunk of the Cunningham Publishing empire’s money.”
“It has to be hard knowing that.”
“You have no idea.”
And that was the truth. Jared could only guess at the guilt Ben had to feel for a situation over which he’d had no control—then or now. Ben had that distant look again, as if he was retreating into his thoughts, just when Jared needed him to open up about his adoption.
“Would you rather that the records were never found?”
“Well…” He paused for a long time, considering. “No. I would still want to know. It’s one of those enigmas that many children of adoption face. We know that we were wanted by our adoptive parents, but a little part of us can’t let go of the fact that, for whatever reason, our birth parents didn’t want us.”
“Did learning about your birth mother help you answer that question in your mind?”
“It did.” Ben settled back in his seat, loosely crossing his arms and appearing relaxed for the first time since the interview began. “I learned that, whatever mistakes Millicent—Millie, they called her—made, she always regretted her decision to give me up for adoption.”
Jared felt himself relax, as well. Perhaps Ben’s story would help heal a few hearts, after all.
“Though your birth mother had already passed away, did you have the chance to meet anyone else in your extended birth family?”
He already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to give Ben the chance to tell the rest of his story. If he could describe the glowing smile that settled on Ben’s face then, Jared would be thrilled with his article when it went into print.
“I found out that in addition to my brother Eli, I have three other brothers and sisters in Maryland.”
Jared hated to ask it, but it was the question that adoptive parents had to face eventually—himself and Meg included since the twins, Chance and Luke, were adopted. “How have your adoptive parents felt about your discovery of your birth family?”
“Hey, they’re my parents. Nothing can change that. I told them that as soon as Ross told me they’d found my original birth records, and I think Mom and Dad realize it’s the truth.”
Ben swept his hand wide to indicate his surroundings. “Look at this place. It’s the house I grew up in, and I chose to raise my family here when my parents retired to Florida. My memories are here. This place r
epresents my family. My real family.”
“Do you think you’ll be as understanding if Olivia someday wants to find her birth father?” Jared worded the question carefully because Olivia’s adoption was unusual in that Ben was now married to his daughter’s birth mother.
“How could I not be? I know I’ll be able to relate to Olivia’s need to understand where she came from because I’ll know that I am just as much a part of who she is as her biological father. Leah will help me if I get sensitive about it.” He grinned at the last.
The sound of an opening door and the pounding of running feet turned their attention to the den’s doorway.
“We’re home, Daddy.” A little girl with light brown hair rushed into the room and into her father’s lap. “We had pie at the Starlight.”
“If it was banana cream, I’m jealous,” Ben told her.
“It was banana cream.” She giggled with delight.
“Olivia, aren’t you supposed to be getting a bath?” Leah stood in the doorway, holding a sleeping infant in her arms. Her smile was warm as she watched her husband nuzzling their daughter.
Jared flipped closed his spiral-topped reporter’s notebook, the perfect ending for his feature article already in his mind. The Cavanaugh family had just given him the reminder he needed and would reinforce with his newspaper series. Families didn’t come about by genetics alone. They were formed by love.
“If you’re planning to pull a Michelangelo on the W, you’re never going to make it to the E before we quit tonight.”
Dinah looked up from where she was kneeling above the weathered Welcome sign, her red-paint-covered brush poised for another stroke. Not that she’d needed to look up to know who stood behind her, even before he spoke. She’d had a sixth sense all week when it came to Alex, and again she’d sensed his nearness. That the skin on her upper arms tingled every time he was within ten feet of her offered a strong clue.
Alex grinned down at her before taking another swallow from his bottled water.
“Art critics are not welcome,” she said with a frown.