by Nicole Deese
“Well, now curious minds want to know: What kind of prize would Lauren Bailey want if she could win anything in the world? No limitations.”
“Goodness.” My eyebrows spiked. “No limitations at all? That’s more like a genie-in-a-bottle wish.”
“What would your wish be, then?”
We approached my Jeep at the far end of the garage, but instead of unlocking my doors and slipping inside to crank up my heater, I pursed my lips and leaned against the hood, thinking. “Hmm. That’s hard. I suddenly have empathy for all the beauty pageant contestants who answer ‘world peace’ as their big platform goal.”
He smiled in response to my nervous chatter. “It’s not nearly as hard as you’re making it. What do you want most?”
But wasn’t that a different question altogether? “Hmm.” I closed my eyes, allowing my imagination to run wild as it leapt over physical obstacles like mortgage payments and early retirement to a realm where my fantasy bordered on reality. And there it stopped, in the same place it always did when I gave myself permission to desire something outside the lines of my control. Something that had turned the corner of want and need and had merged into a substance as vital as the blood pumping through my veins. Only motherhood wasn’t a prize to be won. Adoption was a privilege, a blessing, a responsibility so much greater than myself.
“There. You have it, don’t you?” His question sounded far too certain to be a guess.
I opened my eyes to find him peering steadily at my face.
“What?”
His gaze reflected the confident tenor in his voice. “You wore that same expression earlier tonight, too. During the lighting. You definitely have something in mind.”
The air between us thinned, as if our altitude had skyrocketed to thousands of feet above sea level in a matter of seconds, leaving my lungs burning for oxygen. How had he been able to discern my mental track so easily? Even if I had the most readable face on the planet, I’d still managed to keep this child-size secret from my family members for over a year. And yet this man I’d known for only a matter of weeks was on the verge of cracking it wide open.
I rubbed my lips together, willing my brain to skirt around the obvious in search of the abstract. “I just want what everybody wants, I suppose.”
He’d moved in closer, his breath a white pocket of cinnamony air between us. “And what’s that?”
“To bring a little bit more hope to the world, in whatever way I can.”
He didn’t speak, and yet his eyes roved my face as if he had, as if he’d asked a hundred questions only to receive the one answer he hadn’t expected.
“You do that, daily. In your classroom.” His statement resonated all the way to my bones. “Those kids adore you.”
“Not nearly as much as I adore them.”
He studied me in the orange-tinted light of the near-empty parking garage. “The way you teach . . . it’s inspiring. You’re inspiring. It’s obvious to everyone who sees you in your classroom that you do what you do out of love, not out of obligation.”
The pause that followed his declaration had me assessing him again. Every time I looked at him I uncovered something new, something more insightful and profound than the time before. And no matter where I was or how I’d coached myself beforehand, I never wanted to walk away from him. Even when I needed to.
“What about you? What would you wish for?”
His gaze slid down my face and lingered on my mouth. “Something I hadn’t planned on wanting again.”
The tick of his pulse against the base of his throat awakened my own, and somehow in that one sentence we’d switched from hypotheticals to something much more specific. Something that made my ribs ache and my toes tingle, and suddenly the only thing I could focus on was how close our noses were to touching.
As he closed the gap between us, my frozen lips had already begun to part, already begun to imagine the warmth that would envelop them, when he changed course and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek instead.
“Good night, Lauren.”
Three simple words that pulled me from the swirling chaos in my head and haunted me all the way home. Whatever rules I’d dictated before the start of our non-date had been completely nullified by the wanting I was certain Joshua had seen in my eyes as I’d stood before him like a homeless puppy. And yet . . . and yet he hadn’t acted on it. Instead, he’d done the one thing I’d been too weak to do: walk away.
chapter
thirteen
There was no better cure for a clouded mind than fuzzy socks, hot chocolate, and a Christmas movie on a weeknight. I knew this well, because it was the only remedy that distracted me from thinking about what had almost happened in a dimly lit parking garage last Friday night. I still couldn’t understand how I’d been so careless.
While I scrolled through Pinterest, pinning crafty gift ideas for my students to make for their parents, Jenna continued her running commentary on the scruffy-looking love interest starring in tonight’s holiday romance. She dug to the bottom of her popcorn bowl, where her half-popped salty kernels lived, and tossed several in her mouth at once. Cringing slightly at what sounded like a person chewing on gravel, I pinned both a popsicle stick photo ornament and a mason jar snow globe to my virtual board.
When the camera crew did a close-up on the hero’s unshaven jawline, Jenna nearly slid off the sofa cushion. “I mean, look, seriously, what was that casting director thinking? He’s so shaggy! Who’s in charge of those awful sideburns?”
I glanced up long enough to see a man with a rugged beard and plaid sweater removing a wax snowflake from the eyebrow of the actress playing Holly. Or maybe it was Merry. Or Joy. It had to be one of those, right?
“Yeah, it’s not so great.”
“Not so great? Lauren. Come on. Close your laptop and get into the movie criticizing spirit with me. It’s what we do.”
I pinned a few more ideas to my board labeled No-Mess Christmas Projects. “I think you’re doing pretty well on your own.”
“No,” she whined in that this-is-how-I-got-my-way-as-a-teenager voice of hers. “I need you.”
“And I need to figure out what we’re doing with our students so they have something to give their parents. Christmas break is just around the corner.”
She chucked a pillow at me, but I blocked it before it made contact with my head. As usual, Skye rushed to my rescue after the fact, and Jenna tossed a piece of popcorn for her to snatch midair. No wonder she loved coming to Jenna’s house.
My pouty friend readjusted herself in the overstuffed loveseat, crossing her perfectly toned calves underneath her. She muted the cliché plot on the TV and switched her focus entirely to me.
“What?” I asked, not bothering to glance up from reading the directions on a very impressive ornament frame made from pinecones. “Why did you stop ogling your favorite nineties hair model?”
“Because I’d rather hear about my best friend’s real-life romance. I’m due for an honest update on you and Joshua.”
At his name, my stomach plummeted twenty floors. “What? Jenna, there is no ‘me and Joshua.’”
“There is so! I saw the way you two were making eyes at each other in the lunchroom today.” She flicked her pointer finger at me. “And don’t try and tell me it was because of the pumpkin loaf Annette brought in to the staff lounge. Something’s going on, I know it. So tell me what really happened between you two after Brian and I left the tree lighting.”
For once in my life, I wished I could tell a believable lie. Instead, I accepted my handicap and tried to think of a suitable explanation that might throw her off this track forever. I couldn’t exactly say nothing had happened between us, but then again, nothing had actually happened, right? I mean, for a blink of a second I’d considered what it would be like to feel his lips brush against mine, but . . . no. I hadn’t kissed Joshua. Because that could never, ever happen.
“Oh my gosh. Something really did happen.” Jenna actually hopped while
still seated in that lotus flower yoga position of hers. “Tell me everything. Brian loved him, by the way. Not that he used the word love, of course, but you know what I mean. I could totally see the four of us hanging out and doing couple things together and—”
“No.”
“Going on vacations and maybe even—”
“No. Stop.” I fought the urge to plug my fingers in my ears and sing the ABCs, if only to drown out her squealy inflections.
I shut my laptop and set it aside so I could focus all my energy on de-escalating Jenna. “You are getting way too—”
“Lauren, he likes you. Like really, really likes you. Can’t you see that?”
Why did that statement alone make me want to listen to a nineties boy band and dance on the sofa while using my hairbrush as a microphone? “That doesn’t matter.” It couldn’t matter.
“It absolutely does matter. He’s a good one, Lauren. Joshua Avery is a fantastic guy who loves God and his family and likes you a whole, whole lot. What more do you need?” She flung her hand toward the television. “He’s ten times better than anything we’ve watched on these cheesy movies lately. I know you have to see that, too. And I also know from the way you’re acting that the two of you must have made some kind of connection—whether or not you set out to do so. You might be able to fool everybody else, but you’re not fooling me. Not for a single second.”
I picked up one of Jenna’s fur pillows and smashed it against my abdomen, needing a buffer from her romanticism of reality. “Jen . . .”
She softened her approach, this time playing the part of Sincere and Loyal Friend. I honestly liked this version of her best. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Nothing.” The truth. Thankfully.
“That nothing doesn’t sound like a complete sentence.”
I paused, rubbed my lips together, and then carefully crafted the rest of the sentence. “We didn’t kiss but . . .”
She clasped her hands, eyes wide. “But . . . ?”
“But . . . I don’t know. We did have a moment, I guess.”
“A moment!” A whisper yell if ever there was one. In Jenna’s world, I’d just announced a five-star proposal.
“Relax. It wasn’t even a full sixty seconds. Probably more like ten seconds, tops,” I explained. “But yes, there was a very brief, very hormone-driven moment where I thought that maybe . . .”
“Yeah?”
“That maybe he might kiss me.” My cheeks flamed at the admission like I was a nerdy bookworm freshman all over again and had finally been asked to a dance by an upperclassman.
“So what happened?”
“He said . . .” I held it out, trying to see if Jenna might actually fall off the couch the longer I made her wait. “‘Good night, Lauren.’”
“Wait . . . I’m sorry. What?” She shook her head. “You said you two had a moment? That’s an ending.”
“I know.” I’d analyzed and rehearsed those tension-filled seconds at least a dozen times over the weekend. “Which was exactly what I needed him to do—to say. And he did it. Because I asked him to. Because when he invited himself to the lighting festival with us, I told him we could only attend as friends.”
She threw her back against the sofa cushion. “Wow.”
I nodded, picking at my nails. “So you’re right. Joshua is a good man. But he’s not my good man, Jen. He can’t be. It wouldn’t be right for me to start something with him now when I’m so close to being matched. And it certainly wouldn’t be in the best interest of my future child, who will need all my focus and attention.” And then, of course, there was the pesky little issue of all the paperwork I’d signed in my adoption dossier stating that I would be adopting as a single woman. But Jenna looked about as interested in rehashing China’s marital status rules for adoption as I felt about repeating them.
I needed a cold drink, something to wash down the disappointment building in my throat. I’d fought so hard against the hope of maybe if . . . and yet here I stood, thinking about him, talking about him, wanting to forget about him. Because if Joshua had been sent as a test from God, then I hadn’t been faring too well at all. Maybe that’s what it had all been about, me not selling out. Me not giving in. Me not growing winded before the race had actually begun.
I reached inside Jenna’s oversize fridge for a sparkling water, popped the tab, and guzzled it down until the carbonation burned my throat and rinsed away my wavering resolve.
“What’s that sound?” Jenna called to me from the other room.
I swallowed, hoping she hadn’t heard me drinking like a cavewoman all the way in the kitchen. “What sound?”
“A muffled buzzing or . . . wait—I think it’s your phone?”
I patted my hips, realizing too late that I was wearing my pocketless pjs and my phone was still stuffed in the bottom of my work bag on the couch. Yet another sign of my distracted life as of late.
I set my can on the countertop, then unzipped a series of pouches, reaching my phone on the last ring.
“Hello?” My chest pounded as the contact name registered.
“Lauren?”
“Yes.” A breath more than a word.
“This is Stacey with Small Wonders. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Was there ever a bad time for my adoption agency to be calling? Not in my book. “No, no. This is fine. How are you?” I said, remembering my manners at the last possible second. It was hard to think with my heartbeat drumming against my skull.
“I’m doing quite well, thank you. These are actually my very favorite calls to make. Lauren, we’re just minutes away from sending you a possible match, but we always like to touch base by phone first.”
“Really? You . . . you have a match for me?” Tears sprung to my eyes immediately. I reached out for the sofa, missing it altogether before I slumped onto the arm like a boneless jellyfish.
Jenna moved down the length of her sofa until her knees brushed mine and she could cover my hand with hers. Somehow her best friend spidey sense had clued in on exactly what I needed before I had a chance to voice it aloud.
“Yes. He’s an adorable baby boy. Only ten months old, and he comes from an orphanage partnership we’ve worked with for quite some time in a province near Guangzhou, China.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably now. “Oh my gosh. Wow. A boy.”
No, a son.
I glanced at Jenna. Tears streaked her cheeks as well, making mine come all the quicker.
“You’ll have two weeks to make a decision on moving forward with him after reviewing his file, of course. There are several pictures and also a video of his nanny holding him. His medical needs appear to be very manageable, minor. But you’ll still want to have a medical professional look them over with you.” She paused. “If you decide you’d like to move forward with him, you’ll just need to submit a Letter of Intent that we’ll send on to our partners in China.”
“Yes, the LOI. Right.” My brain was starting to click now, starting to comprehend that this was, indeed, the phone call I’d been waiting on for nearly fifteen months. And perhaps a lifetime before that. This was the phone call that would make me a mother. To a baby boy.
Stacey’s patient voice reeled in my thoughts. “Yes. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me.” She paused a second time, apparently conferring with someone in the office. “All right, Lauren, the file has just been sent to you.”
“Okay,” I said. “Okay.” I pointed to my laptop and Jenna seemed to know exactly what I was asking of her.
She retrieved it from the end of the couch and opened the lid, waiting for me to take over.
“Blessings to you, Lauren. All of us here at Small Wonders are thrilled to be a part of your child’s story.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
After I hung up the phone, Jenna pushed the laptop aside and tackled me with a hug that made me break into a sob. “It’s a boy? You’re going to have a s
on?”
All I could do was nod into her shoulder and tell myself to keep breathing.
“Lauren, oh, Lauren . . .”
“I know.” There weren’t words for this. There were barely even thoughts.
After another few minutes of ugly crying, we finally broke apart.
I needed to see his face. My son’s face.
Jenna swiped under her eyes, then backed away. “I feel like I should give you a few minutes, let you see him for the first time on your own?”
I shook my head and held out my hand to her. “No, please stay. I want you here with me.”
Unshed tears glittered in her eyes, and she took the seat beside me without another word.
We both seemed to be lacking sufficient oxygen, as there were no exhales to be heard when I clicked into my Gmail account.
Sure enough, just as promised, there was a waiting email from Small Wonders International, linked to a large attachment file.
“Okay,” I said, releasing the breath I’d been holding. “Okay.”
My shaky fingers hovered over the mouse. This is really it.
I clicked into the email.
The eight attachments took nearly two minutes to load and then . . .
I scrolled down the screen to find the JPEG files first. I couldn’t wait a single minute longer to see his sweet face. No matter what his paperwork said or what his medical information contained, none of it mattered as much as seeing his long-awaited picture for the first time.
The instant the first photo came into focus, I started to weep.
Jenna saved my laptop from slipping off my kneecaps as I cupped both my hands over my mouth and stared into the eyes of my son. Dark chocolate, almond-shaped eyes full of curiosity stared back at me. He sucked on three fingers as he sat in the center of a red carpet, a plastic teething toy gripped in his opposite hand. Under mile-long lashes, he gazed directly into the camera as if to say, “Here I am, Mama.” His cheeks were pudgy and round, his skin baby-smooth and flawless . . . except for a single pink scar that trailed from his right nostril to the soft peak of his upper lip.
