It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and he was midway through one of his sleepless bouts. That was nothing unusual.
Since Laura died, he’d spent plenty of nights pacing the house and watching the clock. Over the past few years, his insomnia had shifted from chronic to sporadic. He’d sleep all right for a few nights, maybe even a week. Then it would come back in full force. There usually was no particular rhyme or reason to it, but this time, he knew exactly what had triggered it.
It had been a long time since he’d interacted with his students outside the classroom, three years since he’d looked at the kids and seen them as more than just names on a roster. Back when he’d been in his sweet spot as a teacher, that had been different.
Once upon a time, he’d gone to every sporting event, known about every triumph and failure, kept a weather eye on moods and relationships as well as grades and averages. He’d headed up after-school clubs and volunteered for field trips and extra bus duty.
He’d taught his classes dressed in period costume at least three times a year. He’d helped students build a working catapult, and once, when every single one of his students had passed their midterm exams, he’d made good on a rash promise and ridden a borrowed horse into the lunchroom in full medieval armor.
That stunt had gotten him a half-hearted reprimand from the principal. It had also scored him a full-page spread in the yearbook, a page he’d signed for the over two hundred students who’d crowded around him when the books were distributed. Those kids hadn’t called him Iceman. They’d called him Prof, and they’d had his personal phone number, his ear and a big chunk of his heart.
For Prof, teaching had been more than a job. It had been a mission. A passion.
A joy.
Back then, not only would he have known about his students going hungry in the summertime, he’d have done something about it. No kid went without anything he or she needed, not on his watch. And he definitely would have known about Dex’s situation. Prof had always been the first to know things like that.
Right up until the day one of his students had decided to answer a text while driving to school. He’d T-boned Laura as she turned into the faculty parking lot to bring her absentminded husband the wallet he’d forgotten on the bedside table. Again.
Laura and their soon-to-be-born son hadn’t been the only ones who’d died that day. Prof had died, too. Neil just hadn’t fully realized it until tonight.
That was what had been keeping him awake. He’d had a private funeral of sorts. Then he’d booted up his computer, done a little internet searching and completed online applications for five potential jobs in five different cities.
None of them were teaching positions.
If he couldn’t be the teacher he used to be, it was time to move on. Spending time with Maggie today had shown him just how far he’d slipped. Maggie Byrne had all the vitality he’d once had—maybe more. She had the same above-and-beyond mindset, baking those ridiculously elaborate flip-flop cookies. Most important, she had the compassion—decorating her table with shoes she could then give away to the kids who needed them and even saving their pride by assuring them they were doing her a favor by taking them.
His old self would have given Maggie a standing ovation and probably shown up for the lunch distribution wearing flip-flops and scuba goggles. But what had he done instead?
He’d questioned her good sense for wasting the time.
Prof was long gone, and enough was enough. Once he found a new job, he’d give Audrey his notice and put teaching in his rearview mirror for good.
Rover, who’d been dozing on the corner of the desk, lifted his head and looked toward the cabin’s front window.
“Rowr?” the cat inquired sleepily.
Headlights raked the room as a car rolled up the driveway. Neil frowned and stood. Somebody must have taken a wrong turn.
Then he heard the screaming.
He had the door open before Maggie had finished struggling up the steps, a shrieking Oliver in her arms.
“He’s been like this for hours,” she gasped. “I can’t get him to stop. I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but I just... I didn’t know what else to do.”
Oliver was hoarse, but he was still screaming, his eyes squinched tightly shut. Neil gently lifted the sweaty little body out of Maggie’s arms.
“Come on, buddy,” he murmured, settling the boy against his chest. “What’s the matter?”
At the sound of Neil’s voice, Oliver halted in midscream. He opened his puffy eyes a slit. Then he started to sob quietly against Neil’s T-shirt.
Neil rubbed the little boy’s back and shot a questioning glance at Maggie. She stood on his porch, wearing an oversize shirt and stretchy pants, her hair disheveled. She was barefoot, he noticed, and for once, she wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked as if she were about five seconds away from crying herself.
“That’s the first time he’s stopped screaming since we left you at the high school,” she whispered.
“You’d better come in.” Neil stepped inside and nodded toward the couch. Maggie sat, tucking one leg underneath her, her shoulders slumped and her eyes fixed on Oliver.
Neil sank onto the recliner. He straightened the little boy’s rumpled pajama shirt, sprinkled with bright blue and red dinosaurs, and rocked the chair with one foot, patting Oliver’s back in rhythm. “Everything’s all right, bud,” he murmured. “Let’s just calm down a little, okay?”
Oliver hiccuped and stuck a thumb in his mouth, sucking noisily. Except that sound and the child’s snuffly breaths, the room went still.
Maggie watched them, her eyes shadowed. “He wouldn’t stop,” she repeated softly. “He cried all the way home from the high school, and even Ruby couldn’t calm him down. We tried everything we could think of, but he just kept asking for you. He was hysterical, and Ruby thought... She said I should bring him here. I was desperate, so I did. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Maggie snorted a humorless laugh. “It’s the least I can do after banging on your door at two in the morning. You were probably asleep—”
“I wasn’t.”
“And Oliver’s my responsibility, not yours. Neil, I promise you, we really did try everything, but if you feel like you need to report this, I understand. I plan to talk to Mrs. Darnell myself as soon as I can get an appointment with her.”
She thought he was going to report her for coming to him for help. The realization chilled him. The most horrible thing was, before his wake-up call today, he might have actually done it.
“Relax, Maggie. A woman who’s willing to do whatever it takes to calm down her little boy isn’t the kind of mom who needs reporting.”
She nodded, looking relieved. “Is he falling asleep?”
Neil checked the toddler’s flushed face. Oliver’s eyelids were drooping. “I think so. Give it a minute.”
“I probably made things worse, bringing him here.” Maggie shook her head. “What am I going to do the next time this happens? Come banging on your door in the middle of the night again?”
“If you need to.” Neil settled more comfortably in the chair. Oliver’s eyes flickered at the movement, and his fingers clamped on to Neil’s T-shirt. “It’s okay,” he murmured. Oliver seemed to be trying his best to stay awake, but the poor kid was obviously exhausted. The lids drooped again, and the child made a fretful noise, nestling closer.
Instinctively, Neil adjusted his hold, putting both arms around the little boy, snugging him in tight. That seemed to do the trick. He sighed deeply and relaxed against Neil’s chest.
“I think he’s almost out—” he murmured, looking up. Then he stopped short.
Maggie was crying silently, her fingers pressed over her face, her hunched shoulders shaking.
“Whoa.” He had an irrational wish to put an arm around her
and pat her back the way he’d been patting Oliver’s. He couldn’t budge, though, not without waking the child, and anyway, that probably wouldn’t be...appropriate. “Hey, Maggie. It’s all right.”
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and inhaled a shuddering breath. “No,” she whispered. “It isn’t. Oliver’s not attaching to me. Not at all. I thought it was because of his trust issues, you know? Poor Sierra... She was struggling so hard just to keep her head above water, there wasn’t anything left over for her baby. I told myself it would just take time to rebuild that part of his heart. But now—” she shook her head sadly “—I don’t know. He sure seems able to trust you. It doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” Neil agreed quietly. “It doesn’t.”
She glanced at him, and her brow wrinkled. “I’m sorry, Neil. I didn’t mean to sound... I’m sure you’re a very nice person.” She didn’t seem sure at all. “It’s only... Oliver just met you, but he screamed half the night for you. I’ve spent every minute I could with him for weeks, and he’s still running away from me every chance he gets. I’m just confused and frustrated, that’s all.”
“You have every right to be.” Neil looked down at the wispy hair tickling his chin, acutely aware of the toddler’s warm weight against his chest. “This doesn’t mean anything, Maggie.” He spoke to himself as much as to her. More, maybe. “You’re right. Oliver barely knows me. This...whatever it is...isn’t based on anything real. That’s why it came on so fast—because there’s nothing to it. Maybe what you’re building with Oliver is taking more time because it’s genuine.”
She was listening, her head tilted to one side, her face still wet with her tears. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am. I haven’t done anything to deserve Oliver’s trust. You have. Sooner or later that’ll click in his little brain, and everything will turn around. You’ll see.”
“Maybe, but we don’t always get what we deserve, do we?” She was watching him closely now, and she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Life’s not like that. God’s plan can be pretty mysterious. Sometimes bad things happen to us that we don’t deserve. Sometimes that flips around, and we get a blessing we haven’t earned. Like tonight.” She smiled slightly. “I know I was kind of chilly with you when we left the school. I sure didn’t deserve for you to be such a good sport when I banged on your door at two in the morning, carrying a screaming toddler—who’s drooling all over your shirt, by the way. You’re actually a pretty great guy, Neil Hamilton.”
I used to be. He wanted to tell her that. He hadn’t cared much what anybody thought of him in years, but for some reason, he wanted this woman to know that once upon a time he had been a different kind of guy. The sort of guy she would have liked.
Instead he said, “That probably just proves you don’t know me any better than Oliver does.”
Rover, who’d been sitting in the bedroom doorway, left his post and stalked into the living room. He jumped on the couch next to Maggie and then curled up in her lap, purring loudly. Maggie studied Neil as she stroked the cat. “Well, I’ll tell you what I do know. You’ve been an answer to prayer for me tonight, and I’m thankful.”
An answer to prayer. He flinched, and Oliver stirred in his sleep and made a fussy noise.
“Maybe we should stop talking,” Neil murmured gruffly, “and let Oliver get deeply enough asleep so that you can take him back home.”
“Oh,” Maggie whispered with an embarrassed nod. “You’re probably right. I’ll shut up.”
She kept looking at him, though, so Neil closed his eyes, hoping to discourage any further conversation. If he got drawn into a discussion with Maggie about God, that would prove once and for all to her that he wasn’t the great guy she thought he was.
The room went silent except for Oliver’s soft breathing, the tiny squeaks of the recliner as they rocked and the ridiculously loud purrs coming from the cat. Slowly, Neil’s tense muscles unclenched.
This was...nice. Way back in the furthest reach of his brain, a realization dawned. He’d missed just being with somebody, not talking, but just sitting together, hearing her breathe and stir gently, feeling her presence. His grief had sliced at him from a thousand different directions, but until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed simply being relaxed and quiet with another human being.
Something deep inside of him uncoiled, and a strangely comforting current of exhaustion flowed over him, washing away worries and troubling memories alike. Neil leaned his cheek against the top of Oliver’s head, and for the first time in a long, long time, he drifted effortlessly into sleep.
* * *
Well, everybody in the room was asleep but her. Maggie stroked the dozing cat as she watched the pair dozing in the recliner. She supposed she should get up and try to disentangle Oliver from Neil’s arms, but she hated to.
The two of them looked so peaceful.
In spite of her relief that Oliver’s scream-fest had finally ended, seeing the little boy she loved cradled in Neil’s muscled arms made her sad. She’d have cheerfully given anything she owned to have Oliver cuddle against her like that.
Maggie couldn’t help but remember something Mrs. Darnell had said. Because of Oliver’s past, she felt that the ideal situation for him would be a stable, two-parent adoptive family, not a single mom like Maggie. The social worker had trotted out statistics showing how young boys tended to do better with fathers in the home. Maggie’s older brothers could certainly provide some positive male presence in Oliver’s life, Mrs. Darnell agreed. But that still wasn’t the best option.
To start with, Maggie hadn’t been too worried. In the world of foster care, perfect situations were hard to come by—she knew that firsthand. Anyway, she and her brothers had done just fine being raised by a single foster mom. Ruby had been enough, and somehow, with God’s help, Maggie would find a way to be enough for Oliver, too.
But now she wondered. There was something awfully sweet about the picture they made, Oliver and Neil. The toddler in his new dinosaur pajamas, Neil with his glasses slipped down to the end of his nose, snoring softly, his strong arms cupped protectively around the toddler.
Maybe Oliver was going to be missing out on more than she’d realized, not having a dad in the picture.
A flicker outside the cabin’s side window caught her eye. A circle of light was bobbing up the path leading from the farmhouse. She sucked in a horrified breath.
Ruby. It had to be.
Maggie scooped Rover off her lap and deposited the annoyed feline on the sofa cushion. She slipped out to wait on the moonlit porch as Ruby walked slowly to the house.
“Ruby Sawyer!” Maggie scolded in a whisper as soon as her foster mother was within earshot. “What on earth do you think you’re doing, walking all this way in the middle of the night? You ought to be in your bed asleep!”
Ruby was breathing heavily, but she gave a low, comforting chuckle as she switched off her flashlight. “Oh, I’ve made that walk a thousand times. I could do it blindfolded. There was no way I could go to sleep not knowing how that baby was doing. Did he calm down all right once you got here?”
Ruby had always had a mind of her own, and Maggie knew from experience there was no point arguing with her. Still, she hoped Logan didn’t find out about his foster mother’s middle-of-the-night walk. If he did, Maggie would never hear the end of it. “Come see for yourself.” She eased the door open and beckoned Ruby into the cabin.
Ruby looked down at the sleeping pair and clucked under her breath. “My, my. Ain’t that something? Poor young fella. It just breaks my heart.”
Maggie frowned. “But Oliver seems all right now, doesn’t he?”
“I wasn’t talking about our boy, honey.” The elderly woman retrieved a crocheted throw from the couch and began tucking it around the sleeping figures.
“What are you doing? I need to get Oliv
er up and take him home,” Maggie protested.
“No, baby. Leave the child here tonight. You can come back first thing in the morning and get him.”
Maggie stared. “I can’t do that,” she managed finally.
“Sure you can. They’re both sound asleep, and it’d be a real shame to disturb ’em.” Ruby stroked Oliver’s hair with a gnarled finger. “Sometimes a nice, long rest is the Lord’s best medicine.”
“But what would Mrs. Darnell say?” Maggie whispered, worried.
Ruby flapped an indifferent hand. “Leave Ellen Darnell to me. I’ll settle her if she kicks up any ruckus, not that I think she’s likely to. Neil’s one of Audrey Aniston’s teachers, so she’ll have checked him out good and proper. That woman’ll know what kind of toothpaste this man uses, you can trust me on that. He’s safe enough.” When Maggie hesitated, Ruby added, “He needs this tonight, honey. This could be what starts his heart healing. I feel it in my bones.”
Maggie had intended to argue, but she stopped short. When Ruby Sawyer felt something “in her bones,” she was nearly always right.
“All right,” Maggie agreed reluctantly. “I’ll drive you home and come back to get Oliver in the morning.”
“Good.” Ruby allowed Maggie to steady her arm as they walked toward the door. “I ain’t as young as I used to be. I’m not sure my old legs could’ve made a second trip down that trail tonight.” The older woman paused, glancing around the sparsely furnished room and clucking her tongue. “Lives a lonely life from the look of it, don’t he?” She edged away from Maggie and examined the shelves. “No pictures of family nor friends. No little mementos. Nothing but books.” A cardboard box sat at the foot of the bookcase, its flaps neatly folded in. Ruby leaned over and opened it.
“Ruby!” Maggie fussed in a whisper. Casting a worried glance at the recliner, she hurried over. “Don’t snoop.”
“Mighty pretty, ain’t she?” Ruby picked up a framed photograph and tilted it in Maggie’s direction.
A dark-haired woman smiled up from the picture. “She’s beautiful. Now, please, put that back, and let’s go.”
Lost and Found Faith Page 7
