Kristin stood back, enjoying the sweet sound of Randy’s giggles and his admonitions to the geese that they must behave and take turns or he wouldn’t feed them any more bread. Love edged out the overpowering grief that had filled her chest for so many years.
Walking alone a short distance away from the lake, she sat down on the grass next to Bobby’s grave. She unwrapped the small bouquet and slipped it into the flower holder above his headstone, then ran her fingertips over the sun-warmed granite. Robert A. McCoy Beloved Son and Grandson.
“I brought a little boy with me today. His name is Randy and he’s about the age you’d be now if you had lived. I think you would have liked him.”
She pressed her lips together. She’d spent so many years grieving the loss of her son. In her heart she knew it was time to move forward—not to forget Bobby, which wasn’t possible, but to open herself to another chance for love. And she’d done that, with both Randy and Mike.
Now she was going to lose them both.
Slowly she became aware of Randy standing next to her and Mike a few feet away. They both looked somber.
She blinked away her tears and took Randy’s hand. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Mike says your baby’s down there, under the dirt ’n’ stuff.”
“Bobby’s buried here. But I like to think of him in heaven.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Very much. I always will. But you know something?” She hooked her arm around Randy’s waist and pulled him closer. He’d already managed to get grass stains on the knees of his clean jeans and the toes of his sneakers were covered with mud. “When I’m hanging out with you, it doesn’t hurt so much. That makes you very special to me.”
“I’m special to Suzie, too.”
“You certainly are. And to Mike.” Crossing her legs, she pulled Randy into her lap. “And you’re very special to your Aunt Sheryl, too.”
He stiffened. “No, I’m not.”
“Do you remember her?”
“She didn’t like S-Suzie. Said she was a dirty old mutt and wanted to sh-shoot her.” His agitation made him stammer.
Kristin felt a puzzle piece about Randy’s past fall into place, and frowned. “Were you living with your Aunt Sheryl and Uncle Bert when the fire happened?”
He jutted out his lower lip. “They had to score, they said. I’m glad they didn’t come back. Suzie ’n’ me didn’t want to live with them no more.”
Mike knelt beside them. “Did your aunt and uncle use drugs, son?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Sometimes they’d act real weird.”
“How ’bout taking pills, or using needles?”
“I guess.”
Mike shot Kristin a triumphant look. “You’re not going to give Randy back to a drugged-out aunt just because she’s a relative.”
“I don’t wanna live with Aunt Sheryl! She’ll shoot Suzie!” Randy popped up from Kristin’s lap.
Kristin grabbed his hand before he could run away. “No, she won’t, Randy. I won’t let that happen.”
“I wanna go back to Mike’s house!” Randy cried. “I don’t wanna feed ducks no more.”
Kristin had to let go of his hand, and the child raced toward her car as she came to her feet. Mike blocked her before she could run after the boy, the flame of hope in his eyes. And determination.
“This beloved relative you’re so anxious to give Randy to is the same one who left him alone at night with candles burning in the kitchen. He could have died, Kristin. In addition to being druggies, they’re guilty of child endangerment. I’d say I was back in the running to adopt the kid.”
He was probably right, certainly about the child endangerment. She’d have to contact Children’s Protective Services and have them present when she met the aunt and uncle tomorrow. They’d want to question them, too.
But she wasn’t so sure about Mike’s chances to adopt Randy. And she’d be the one who’d have to make that final decision based on what would be best for the child. She didn’t dare take Mike’s feelings into account.
Or her own. Not if she wanted to keep her job.
IT TOOK hours to get Randy settled down and to sleep that evening. Although it was getting late, Mike figured he wouldn’t fall asleep any faster than the boy. He had too much on his mind. Too many decisions to make.
Helluva thing bureaucrats—even a beautiful one who obviously cared about Randy as much as he did—were still messing with his life.
He’d already called the battalion chief to let the department know he’d be taking a leave of absence. Personal business. And he’d start house-hunting tomorrow. He wanted to give himself the best possible chance to become Randy’s dad for real. There was no one in the world who knew more about being a foster kid than Mike did, more about being rejected time after time. For all he knew, an adoptive family might decide Randy wasn’t right for them.
Mike wasn’t going to let that happen.
But there was one other thing he needed besides a house where he could raise Randy, something that would give him a shot at adopting Randy. He needed a wife. And he wasn’t going to wait until morning to pop the question. Which meant he needed a baby-sitter for a couple of hours.
Picking up the phone, he dialed Tammilee’s number.
“You want me to do what?” she gasped after he told her he had to go out for an hour or so, neglecting to mention he planned to propose to another woman. It was important, he said.
“Look, Tammilee, the boy’s asleep. He’s not going to put a lizard in your cup this time. You won’t even have to see him. He’s upstairs and you’ll be down here. It’s just for a little while.”
She hesitated again.
“I’ll owe you, sweetheart. I promise I’ll make it up to you for doing this little favor.”
“You will?” she asked, her voice sultry and come-hither.
Mike winced. “I promise.” He doubted a box of chocolates and some flowers were what she had in mind.
Five minutes later, she was at his door. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, a hurried thank you, and was on his way.
Kristin’s apartment was halfway across town, a nondescript triplex with carports in the back. Hers was an upstairs unit, and he took the steps three at a time, then knocked on the door.
A moment later, she asked, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Mike. I need to see you. It’s important.”
He heard her unlatch the safety chain before the door opened. Her hair was an auburn frame of tousled curls around her face as though he’d awakened her from sleep, her chenille robe prim in contrast to the urges that whipped through him. He wanted to bed her right then, right in the doorway. Damn, what the neighbors would think!
“What’s wrong?” She peered past him. “Where’s Randy? Is he hurt?”
“No, he’s at home. He’s fine. I just needed to talk to you.” His idea, his glorious plan, suddenly felt stupid. What made him think Kristin would ever want to marry him, even for Randy’s sake? What did he have to offer her? He wasn’t capable of the kind of love she deserved.
“If it’s about adopting Randy, I’ve told you—”
“Please, can I come in? I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Just who is watching out for Randy?” she asked.
“I got Tammilee to come over.”
“You sweet-talked her into it?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea.”
As rigid as a sentry on duty, she glanced around as though checking to see if the neighbors were watching, then stood back to let him in.
Her apartment was small but comfortable. Little knickknacks dotted end tables and colorful pillows in pink and green were scattered about haphazardly in an invitation to sit on the floor or simply relax. A small television sat on a bookcase stuffed with paperbacks; the desk in one corner of the room was piled high with almost as much paperwork as he’d seen on her desk at her office.
Obviously she’d ne
ver been in the military and had neatness drilled into her head. Smiling, Mike decided he liked that about her.
“What did you want to talk about?”
He whipped around. Even when dragged out of bed, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her fresh complexion needed no makeup, her rosy lips all the more inviting without lipstick. He wanted to slip that old-fashioned robe from her shoulders, kiss the freckles that were sprinkled across her warm flesh, and show her what he wanted. What he was feeling.
What he was feeling was as awkward as an adolescent inviting a girl out on a first date, but far more serious.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been giving it some thought, and I think we ought to get married.”
Kristin’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh, her surge of joy colliding with a wall of confusion. He could sweet-talk a nun into sinning, and she didn’t want to fall for something that was no more than a practiced line. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t say no until you hear me out.”
She wouldn’t think of it.
“I love Randy and he loves me, right?”
Numbly, she nodded. When she’d dreamed of her first proposal, this hadn’t been the words she’d heard.
“And I think you love him, too. I’ve seen you together enough to know that, even when you’re claiming you’re not supposed to get emotionally involved with your clients.”
“That’s true.” She couldn’t deny, not in her heart, that she loved Randy. The pain of this afternoon, the way he’d thought she was betraying him by contacting his aunt, was still too raw.
“So I figured, for Randy’s sake, we could work together on this. Since Randy knows both of us, and the Children’s Services Department certainly knows you’re a good, decent woman—”
“Thank you,” she said tautly. The ache in her throat was growing so tight, she was amazed she could speak at all.
“—we’d have a good shot at adopting him.”
“I might lose my job,” she pointed out.
“I don’t have a lot of money, but I can support you and Randy. I’ve already decided the boat will have to go for a down payment on a house. You won’t have to work.”
She raised her brows. He already had her giving up the career she’d striven for. A career that at some deep level had helped her to make up for not adequately protecting Bobby’s life—however foolish and illogical that might seem. “And then?”
Jamming his hands in his jean pockets, he glanced away. “The rest would be up to you. Whether you wanted to stay or not, I mean.”
“I see. What you’re looking for is a temporary arrangement until the adoption is all sewed up.”
Lifting his head, his dark brows knitted together. “It’s not like we don’t get along.”
That was something of an understatement. She’d never met a man whose company she enjoyed more—in or out of bed. But that wasn’t enough. She had too much pride to accept what surely was no more than a marriage of convenience—his convenience, however noble, to adopt a child he loved.
Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her arms to her side. “The answer is no, Mike. I won’t marry you just so you can adopt Randy.”
She wouldn’t do it because she knew the ultimate result would be her own shattered heart if she married him without his vow that he loved her, too. A vow she’d need to believe deep in her soul.
Chapter Thirteen
Sheryl Domain was a sallow-faced woman in her early thirties with dark brown hair worn in a spiky cut. Her common-law husband, Bert Rutledge, was the size of a bull and sported tattoos the entire length of his meaty arms. And those were only the tattoos Kristin could see.
She shuddered at the thought of the couple raising any child, particularly one as sensitive as Randy. He’d never known his father and had been orphaned when his mother died. Aunt Sheryl, in Kristin’s view, didn’t deserve custody of a goldfish.
Fortunately that possibility was eliminated when Children’s Protective Services put the pair in handcuffs and hauled them off to jail for having left Randy alone in an abandoned house, with candles burning yet. The fact that they found a stash of drugs in their car didn’t help their case.
Documenting the absence of any suitable relative to care for Randy, Kristin filed court papers to declare him available for adoption. For once, Judge Grimsley acted quickly, and Kristin began the lengthy process of interviewing prospective parents for the boy.
Valiantly she set her grief aside, but her heart remained heavy throughout the rest of the week and into the next. She’d followed the rules all of her life, or tried to. She had little to show for her efforts.
Of the families she visited, the Andersons seemed the best choice. A year ago they’d adopted a three-year-old boy and wanted a brother for him. Despite their apparent suitability, Kristin hesitated to approve the family. Randy ought to be wanted for himself, not because he’d be a good sibling for another, much-loved child.
The Shermans were an older couple. Childless. But at almost fifty years old, Kristin worried that Rod Sherman wouldn’t be able to keep up with a rambunctious child like Randy. He needed someone as mischievous as himself for a father.
Someone like Mike.
She hadn’t talked with him since the night he’d proposed. But he had sent a snapshot of the house he was buying—to add to his file, his brief note had said.
It was a pretty little house with white siding and roses out front, a chimney suggesting a fireplace inside to sit by on cool winter nights, a yard large enough for a child to play in. A house a woman could enjoy, too.
She pursed her lips and closed her eyes. Dear heaven, she missed Mike. And Randy.
Leaning back in her chair, she opened her eyes to stare at the other files on her desk. Each of the families had drawbacks. But then, what family was perfect even when it was a child of their own flesh and blood?
Guilt washed over her at the memory of how imperfect she’d been for Bobby, no matter how hard she’d tried.
Standing, she stretched and walked down the line of cubicles to Mary Jane’s.
“Got a minute?” she asked.
“Barely.” Mary Jane shifted in her chair, and the springs complained. “It’s almost five o’clock.”
Somehow Mary Jane managed to leave the office on time almost every night while Kristin worked late more times than not.
“I just wondered how you do it, how you can make life-altering decisions for these kids without going crazy yourself?”
“Honey, I used to worry about that kind of stuff—about twenty-five years ago. Now I just put in my time. These kids are pegs. You shove them in whatever holes you’ve got available, hope for the best, and move on.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.” Randy was more than a peg to her, much more than a case to be dealt with, then forgotten. For her, that was true with all the youngsters she’d tried to help. She’d never be able to walk away without worrying whether or not she’d done the right thing for them.
“Then maybe you don’t belong here, honey. You wear your heart on your sleeve and this job will eat you alive. I’ve seen a lot of do-gooders throw in the towel because they weren’t tough enough. Me, I’ve only got five more years and I’m outta here with early retirement.” Turning back to her desk, she flipped closed the case file that she’d been working on. “One thing you’ve gotta say about the county, the benefits are damn good if you can stick it out.”
She retrieved her purse from the back of the bottom drawer and stood. “Well, see you tomorrow. My hubby and I have a square-dancing class tonight. Gotta slim down these thighs of mine if I’m going to look good on the beaches of Tahiti after I retire.”
With a determined stride, Mary Jane left the office.
Kristin did some quick mental calculations. It would be thirty years before she could take early retirement. She didn’t want to wait that long before feeling she was doing something useful for children, and doing it right.
Back in her cubicl
e, she booted up her computer. It took her only minutes to complete her recommendation that Mike Gables be made the interim adoptive parent of Randy Marshall, his case to be reviewed and the adoption made final in one year.
After that she typed up her resignation.
She carried the forms and her resignation through the now-quiet office and placed them on Edward Oden’s desk. She wasn’t at all sure what she’d do next. But she knew she couldn’t rigidly stick by the rules if the outcome wasn’t in a child’s best interest.
And she couldn’t possibly avoid becoming emotionally involved. It was simply a part of her nature. No job was worth changing that.
MIKE’S LEG burned like crazy when Addy poured what felt like a gallon of Merthiolate on the road rash he’d got when he fell off the dumb skateboard. The whole length of his left leg, from the hem of his walking shorts to the top of his tennis shoe, was a mass of scrapes and bruises.
The crack he’d gotten on his skull didn’t feel too swift, either, and he’d bled all over his T-shirt. Served him right for trying to teach Randy the finer points of jumping a makeshift ramp. He hadn’t wanted Randy to try it because of his broken arm.
And now the kid was sitting on a stool next to him in the hospital emergency room, watching in fascination, which meant Mike couldn’t even curse. Served him right for trying to show off to the kid with only the light from a street lamp to see by.
He hissed in a quick breath as Addy found another spot of raw skin.
She tsked and got him again with the stinging antiseptic. “You certainly know how to do yourself up right, don’t you, hotshot?”
“Knock it off, Addy. I don’t need any of your editorial comments.”
“What’s ’torial mean?” Randy asked.
“It means if she was a better nurse, she wouldn’t be killing me with that red stuff. It’s murder.” The woman definitely had a vengeful nature hidden beneath that pristine white uniform.
With Valor and Devotion Page 17