If I married Donald, I could adopt Martin myself.
She and Donald could give him the family he’d longed for his whole life. He’d never have to go back into foster care again.
Tears bubbled up and brimmed over her lashes, baptizing her cheeks with joy. Not only would she have a baby to raise, but she could fulfill her long-held dream of finally giving Martin a real home.
A home with her. She could be Martin’s mother for the rest of his life.
She sank back onto the sofa, dropped her face into her hands, and wept.
“I was glad to get your phone call,” Donald said as they strolled through St. James Park later that afternoon. He walked with his hands clasped behind him, staring straight ahead. Under a gray fedora, only a few strands of his blond hair were visible across his forehead. He’d lost weight, she noted, observing the way his suit jacket hung slackly on his now-thin frame.
“I figured we should talk again,” she said. “Now that I’ve had time to recover from the shock and consider everything you told me.”
“You always were the sensible one in our relationship. Much more so than me at times.” He gave a rueful smile. “Which is why I have every confidence that you’ll make the most practical decision for everyone concerned.”
“I’m glad you have such faith in me.”
“I always have.” He glanced over at her. “May I ask if you’ve come to any conclusions?”
“Perhaps we should sit down for this.” Jane gestured to a park bench tucked away out of the wind.
“Very well.” He waited for her to sit, then followed suit. He seemed overly cautious, as if worried he would say or do the wrong thing. Or maybe he just didn’t want to rush her.
“Where is your son now?” she asked, setting her purse on her lap. She’d been curious about that, not having had the presence of mind to ask yesterday.
“He’s with the nanny. Mrs. Hedley is a friend of Moira’s family, and she was good enough to come with me on the voyage over. I don’t know how I would have managed alone. She said she’d stay long enough to help me get settled, but she’ll be heading back to England soon. For now, I’ve rented an apartment until my plans firm up.”
“I see. And will you be looking for work here?”
“That’s my intention. Once I secure proper employment, I’ll see about buying a house. Somewhere we can put down real roots.”
“You plan to stay in Toronto, then? Not return to England?”
He glanced over at her. “Canada is my home, Jane.”
“What about the boy’s grandparents and other relatives?”
He shook his head. “Moira’s parents weren’t happy about my decision, and I did feel bad about taking Patrick from them, but in the end, I have to raise him as I see fit.” He sighed. “I just couldn’t see myself staying in England.”
Jane straightened on the bench. She could understand his desire to return home, to the place he was most familiar with. She would have felt terribly homesick so far away.
A soft breeze blew up, ruffling Jane’s skirt about her knees. Donald sat in silence.
On the expanse of grass in front of them, a mother rested with her young daughter on a blanket, while an older boy of about seven or eight rolled a ball to the little girl. A pang of longing pinched Jane’s chest. That could be her family one day. Martin, the protective older brother, teaching Patrick how to kick a ball. The four of them, and maybe Mama, out on a picnic on a warm fall afternoon, laughing and enjoying the antics of the children.
If she accepted Donald’s proposal, their future would be secure. With his tenacity, she had no doubt that he’d find work somewhere, doing whatever necessary to provide for them. The safety she’d been seeking for so long would be within her reach at last.
Finally, she drew in a breath. “I’ve tried to view the situation as objectively as possible, though I’ll admit it was difficult to set aside my anger to do so. I concluded that I’m not ready to accept your proposal right now. It will take time to rebuild the trust you destroyed when you left.”
A nerve pulsed in Donald’s jaw, then he nodded. “You have every right to be angry and distrust me. Unfortunately, I don’t have a great deal of time. Mrs. Hedley has booked her return passage to England for two weeks from now. One way or another, I’ll have to arrange for a new caregiver for Patrick by then.”
She tilted her head. “Well, perhaps my idea will work.”
“What’s that?” Hope brightened his eyes.
“I propose that I work as Patrick’s caregiver for a trial period. I’ll accept the same wage you’re paying Mrs. Hedley, and that way I can get to know Patrick. At the same time, you and I can spend time together to determine if we’re still . . . compatible.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. Would he read between the lines? Recognize her uncertainty that she’d be able to overcome her resentment toward him?
His brows rose slightly. “What about your job? I know how much it means to you.”
Her breath caught on a wave of grief. She’d agonized over the pros and cons of giving it up. Yet, after the disappointment of losing the directress position—and even earlier than that, if she were honest—her heart just hadn’t been in her work. Perhaps God had used that setback to make her more receptive to Donald’s proposal. And since the agency was short of caseworkers right now, even more so after Miss Dupuis’s departure, Jane was fairly confident she could get her old position back, if she had to.
“I’m prepared to give up my job, but I’ll need a few days to wrap things up at the office. That should allow me some time with the nanny before her departure. In the meantime, I could come over in the evenings to spend time with the baby . . . and you.”
He studied her, concern clouding his features. “What happens if you decide it won’t work? Will the Children’s Aid take you back?”
Jane forced her lungs to breathe. “I don’t know for certain, but chances are favorable that they would.” She was amazed at how calm she kept. After all, this felt more like a job interview than a potential marriage proposal.
He was silent for a few beats. “This is a big risk for you, and I understand your need to be certain.” He gave a faint smile. “I won you over once. God willing, I can do it again.”
“There are another few details I wish to iron out,” she continued. She might as well get it all out in the open and gauge his reaction.
“And what would they be?” A glimmer of amusement shone in his gray eyes.
She twisted on the bench to face him more fully. “As I’ve mentioned, my mother is in frail health. I’ve been living with her since Brandon enlisted. If he returns from the war, we can reevaluate the situation, but until then—”
He held up a hand. “Of course Hildie is welcome to stay with us. Anything else?”
“Yes.” She paused to level her emotions, unwilling to reveal just how much this next request meant to her. “There’s a boy from the shelter I’ve become quite fond of—” she swallowed but kept her gaze even—“and if we decide to remarry, I would like us to adopt him.”
The words hung in the air between them, laden with all the weight of their previous arguments on the subject. Was Donald remembering their heated discussions on the issue, or had his position possibly mellowed since then?
He remained silent, his hands clasped over his knees. “How old is this boy?” he asked at last.
“Eight, going on nine. I’ve been his caseworker since he was two, and we’ve developed a special bond over the years.”
“Why hasn’t he been adopted by now?”
She hesitated. “The agency hasn’t found the right fit for him yet, mainly because of his epilepsy. Foster parents have a hard time coping with his seizures, but I’ve become adept at dealing with them.” She pressed her lips together and willed herself to stay strong.
“I see.” Donald got up and paced the ground in front of the bench. She could almost see the wheels in his head turning. At last, he slowed and faced her. “
It’s hard to agree to something so important without having met the child. But if it means so much to you, then I’ll consider it.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Perhaps while you’re getting to know my son, I could do the same with this boy.”
“That sounds fair.” A measure of relief loosened the tightness in her chest. At least he was willing to consider adoption. “So, we’ll have a trial period of two weeks, after which time we’ll reassess our respective positions.”
“Agreed.”
She rose, and as they shook hands, Jane prayed she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.
29
The next morning, Jane did her best to brace herself for the difficult day ahead, certain that nothing would really help. Tucked in the recesses of her satchel was her meticulously penned letter of resignation. Since she didn’t know where to send it, the first order of business this morning would be to place a call to Mr. Fenmore and give him her verbal intention to resign. A bitter pill to swallow; however, it had to be done.
But the hardest part of all would be facing Garrett. Because no matter what, she couldn’t deny she still had feelings for him. It no longer stung when she thought about his report to the board, and in all honesty, he’d been right. Though it’d been hard to admit, most times the logistics of the position did overwhelm her. Yet her main goal to overhaul the adoption criteria had been included in Garrett’s report, so the new director would at least have her suggestions in writing. Not the perfect outcome, but better than no change at all.
And she had Garrett to thank for supporting her ideas. If she couldn’t run the agency, then she hoped Garrett would. He had the integrity and vision to overhaul the organization and bring it into the future.
Now all she had to do was try to forget about him and move forward herself.
She found Garrett already at his desk, sleeves rolled up, his dark hair somewhat disheveled. Her treacherous heart constricted on a wave of longing, one she hoped would fade in time. His dark lashes cast shadows on his chiseled cheeks as he stared at the paperwork in front of him. His shoulders sagged, and deep grooves were etched into his brow. She couldn’t help but remember how he’d brimmed with enthusiasm when he first came to the department and compare it to how defeated he looked now.
Had she done this to him?
He looked up. “Jane. Good morning.” He stood and reached for his jacket on the chair behind him.
She entered the room, unable to force a cheery greeting in return. “I came to tell you that I’ve made my decision,” she said without preamble, willing her spine to remain firm and her lips not to tremble.
His hand stilled as he let the jacket fall back on the chair. “From the look on your face, it doesn’t appear to be good news.”
“Probably not.” She hiked the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder, staring at a point just below his chin. “I’ve decided to give Donald another chance. I’m going to be a caregiver for his son while we see if we can make our relationship work again.”
Garrett’s features solidified until his face appeared to be carved from granite. But his eyes came alive with anguish.
“You need to make your decision without any undue influence from me.”
Why did he have to be so noble? Was it foolish to wish he would tell her he loved her and wanted to marry her, that they could adopt Martin together? If only he would, then she’d have another option to consider. One that could change everything.
She remained still, save for the frantic beating of her heart, awaiting his reaction.
“I see.” He folded his arms in front of him, his shuttered expression now unreadable. “What does that mean for your job here?”
She blinked, and her mouth gaped open. Her job? That’s what he was concerned about?
With considerable effort, she pulled herself together and once again donned her professional armor. “I will be tendering my resignation, effective at the end of the week.”
His brow remained furrowed. “Are you sure about this, Jane? What if it doesn’t work out? You’ll become attached to a child who’ll be taken away, and you won’t even have your job to fall back on.”
She pushed back the cold fissure of fear that opened in her chest. If she didn’t take the risk, she’d always wonder if she could have had the life she’d longed for, being a mother not only to Martin but to a baby boy. One who would know no other mother but her.
“If that were to happen,” she said, “I’m fairly certain I could get my caseworker position back. But if not, they’re still hiring women in the factories.” Her voice sounded as raspy as sandpaper. “I can always find another job, but the opportunity to have a family will only come along once. How can I not try?”
He shook his head sadly. “Then I pray it all works out the way you want, Jane. You deserve to be happy.” He yanked his jacket off the chair. “Excuse me, but I have an appointment to get to.”
Then he swept past her out the door.
Blinded by his haze of pain, Garrett had no idea where he was heading as he strode down Isabella Street. But he couldn’t stay in that building another second, not with a tidal wave of regret building in his chest. And not with Jane looking at him so expectantly, as though waiting for him to say something or do something. Like what? Propose to her himself?
Not that he wasn’t tempted, but when it came right down to it, Jane was better off with Donald and the stable family her ex-husband could give her. All Garrett could offer was an uncertain medical diagnosis and a failing farm.
His gut gave a hard twist. The kindest thing he could do for her was take a giant step back, remain silent, and allow her to realize her dreams. No matter how difficult it would be for him. At least next week, she wouldn’t be sitting down the hall from him any longer, and he could avoid the torment of seeing her every day.
After stopping at the boardinghouse to change clothes, then telephoning Melanie at the office to tell her he would be out for the rest of the day, Garrett got back in his car and headed home. The one place that always gave him solace.
The drive through the country seemed agonizingly slow until he turned at last onto the country lane that led to the farm. He parked the car and jogged up the steps into the house, expecting to find his mother hard at work in the kitchen as usual. But the room sat empty, and a strange pall hung in the air. Where were Mom and Cassie? Normally, they would be elbow-deep in some sort of baking at this point in the day.
He walked farther into the room and frowned. Two broken pieces of crockery lay on the kitchen table. He lifted one piece and ran his fingers over the jagged edge. It was his mother’s favorite teapot, the one his grandmother had passed down from their English ancestors. Mom would be devastated over the loss. But what had happened to it?
He frowned. Last weekend, he’d sensed an underlying current of tension between his sister and his parents. He’d overheard bits of conversation alluding to fighting amongst the boys and escalating bad behavior on Kevin’s part, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask if Martin was a factor in this. Could this broken teapot have anything to do with that?
“Mom?” he called out. “Are you upstairs?”
Only silence answered him.
A chill of apprehension raced through his veins. Surely nothing had happened to her? Or to Dad? He strode to the back door, pushed it open, and stepped outside. Maybe she was feeding the chickens, or gathering the last of the vegetables from the garden before the first frost set in. He headed across the lawn until he saw a familiar figure standing at the clothesline, pinning the laundry in place. The wave of relief that crashed over him nearly buckled his knees.
Thank you, Lord. He must be feeling overly emotional after the episode with Jane.
“Hi, Mom,” he called out, not wishing to scare her with his unexpected arrival.
She whipped around, a wooden peg falling from her fingers. “Garrett. What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”
He came to a stop as he noticed her swollen eyes. “What�
�s the matter?” he asked. “Why have you been crying?”
She wiped a hand across her cheeks. “It’s just been a bad morning, is all.”
“For me too. That’s why I came home.” He frowned. “I saw the broken teapot. Is that what’s upset you?”
She shrugged, then bent to pick up the wicker basket. “That’s part of it. The boys were fighting at breakfast this morning, and Martin accidentally knocked the teapot off the counter.”
“Fighting? As in physically?” It would take more than an argument to break crockery.
His mother nodded. “I’ve been trying to keep things under control, but Martin’s behavior is getting worse instead of better. I’m afraid Cassie is at her wits’ end with his bad influence on her boys. Kevin’s become more belligerent, and Dale’s vocabulary has taken a distinct turn for the worse.” She released a sigh, her eyes clouding with regret. “I know we promised to keep Martin until you find him a new foster home, but I’m not sure it’s fair to Cassie and the kids.”
Garrett raked his fingers through his hair. Why hadn’t his parents said anything about Martin before now? “We’re about to make a decision regarding a foster family for him. Can you hang in for another few days?”
A cool breeze blew up, snapping the laundry out from the line. “I’ll try,” she said. “As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think we have the stamina for him right now.” She shook her head. “Especially after the news we got today.”
“What news?”
Her mouth began to quiver. “Bad news about Jack.”
His gut tightened as he sucked in a breath. Dear God, no. Not Jack. “He isn’t . . . ?” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.
“No, at least we don’t think so. The telegram said he’s been injured in battle and taken to a hospital somewhere in Italy. But when Cassie called the war office, they couldn’t give us any more details. Of course, your sister is imagining the worst.” She gave a watery smile. “I guess that telegram brought back the horrible memories of the day we got the same news about you.”
To Find Her Place Page 23