by Mary Manners
“Uh huh.”
Kimmy’s gaze shifted toward the doorway. “I’m going to miss Aunt Patty. She makes the most yummiest mac and cheese.”
“You’ll still see her, sweetie.” Cole patted his daughter’s head. Curls clung to the remnants of chocolate along her cheek and cascaded across her forehead, playing peek-a-boo with her eyes. He’d have to work harder to master the art of hair clips and braids. “And soon you’ll have two baby cousins to play with, as well.”
“Yeah.” Kimmy brightened. “Aunt Patty helped me practice writing all my letters, and she said there’ll be lots of kids to play with at my new school.”
“Sure there will be.” It was Patty’s nature to ease Kimmy’s mind—and his, as well. Cole captured his sister’s gaze and nodded his thanks.
“I also ordered your birthday cake.” Cole plopped onto the couch, loosening the top two buttons of his dress shirt. “It’s almost your special day, remember?”
“That’s silly, Daddy.” Kimmy giggled as she climbed into his lap. “‘Course I remember.”
“Have you been thinking of a wish?”
“You mean for my cake, when I blow out the candles?”
“Yes, for that.”
Kimmy nodded. “Uh huh.”
“And…”
“It’s a secret, Daddy.”
Buttercup skulked over and leapt onto the couch. He stretched and nuzzled his head against Kimmy’s chest.
“You know we’re not supposed to keep secrets, right?” Cole buried his fingers in the cat’s fur and scratched while Kimmy selected a picture book.
“I know, but this is diff’rent.”
“How so?”
“It’s a wish for you, Daddy.”
“For me?”
“Sure. I’m gonna give my wish to you.”
“Wow.” Cole struggled to keep the emotion from his voice. “That’s awfully special.”
“You’re special, too, Daddy.”
He took the book from her and turned to the first page as he added, “So, we’re going to celebrate your birthday like a king and his princess, right?”
“Right, Daddy. I’m your little princess.”
“Yes, you are.”
****
Cole padded to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. There was no point trying to sleep, so he might as well fill out Kimmy’s registration paperwork for Precious Miracles.
He’d procrastinated once again, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the effect of exhaustion that seemed to bite him like a venomous snake. Or, maybe it was Rebecca Gillespie, with her burnished hair and captivating eyes, who had something to do with his distraction.
Who was he kidding? Becca had everything to do with his distraction. Seeing her again was like a jumpstart to his system. He hadn’t realized how dormant he’d become—just how much autopilot had taken over the past year—until her laughter washed over him. Cole waited for the coffeemaker to stop sputtering and then filled a mug to the brim before slipping into a chair at the table. Moonlight spilled through French doors that led to an expansive deck, casting a glow over the sleepy kitchen.
His thoughts drifted back to Rebecca once again, and he remembered the flash of shock that crossed her eyes when he mentioned that Kimmy was adopted. She looked like she wanted to ask him more, but she held her tongue. What did it feel like, he wondered, to be on the flip side of the adoption process, especially in her heartbreaking circumstances?
Cole vividly recalled the day he and Leah had brought Kimmy home. He’d been filled with a whirlwind of emotions difficult to describe—joy, apprehension, and exhaustion borne of a string of sleepless nights leading up to the event. It took weeks for the knot in his belly to subside, for him to believe that no one would return to snatch Kimmy away. She’d become a member of his family—for good.
As for the woman who’d placed Kimmy into adoption—Cole often wondered what had become of her. Did she ever think of the child she’d given away? Did she harbor any regrets?
He opened the file Rebecca had given him and began to tackle the forms. On the medical release, he found a space for special notes. He considered a moment, then carefully jotted: Kimmy’s blood type is O negative.
O negative was often difficult to procure in emergencies. Cole knew this because Kimmy had suffered a bout of nosebleeds the year before, one of them severe enough to send her to the emergency room. Her pediatrician had suggested Cole inquire if any of his friends or relatives shared Kimmy’s blood type.
Cole had tried to locate one—and failed. The scare made him wish he knew more about Kimmy’s mother.
6
“Daddy, there it is. I see the school!”
Kimmy’s sweet voice drew Cole back. He glanced in the rearview mirror to find her smiling at him. Her copper curls were untamed and her lightly-freckled face was smudged with chocolate toaster pastry. Green eyes, huge as almonds, squinted against sunlight that streamed through the passenger window. Cole grinned—what a cutie.
“Yes, there it is.”
“Yay, Daddy.” She wiggled her feet and the laces of her sparkly-pink tennis shoes flapped. “You sure I’m gonna like it there?”
“I’m positive.”
“But Daddy.” She wrinkled her nose. “How do you know?”
“I just do, honey. Here, wipe your mouth.” He pulled into the parking lot and handed her a tissue.
“Look at that playground.” Kimmy tapped a finger against the window. “It’s got lots of swings, and the slide looks like a giant snake twisting ‘round and ‘round.”
“That’s called a corkscrew, and it’s pretty cool.” The tension eased from Cole’s shoulders. So far, so good. Kimmy seemed to like the place. That was certainly a bonus. “Now, please wipe the chocolate off your face.”
“OK, Daddy.” Kimmy wadded the tissue and scrubbed. “Am I gonna get to play here?”
“I’m sure you will.” Cole slid into a parking space and killed the engine.
“And make new friends, just like Aunt Patty said?”
“Yes. Aunt Patty knows what she’s talking about.” He removed the keys from the ignition and slipped them into his pocket. “Unlatch your seatbelt.”
“But, where is everybody?”
“I guess we’re early.” Cole glanced at his watch. “I was so afraid of being late for your first day that I guess I rushed us a bit.”
“That’s why I didn’t get to finish my breakfast?”
A pang of guilt stabbed Cole. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s OK, Daddy. You packed me a lunch.” She held up the brown paper sack he’d filled with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a fruit cup, and a grape juice box.
“There’s a car.” Kimmy pointed across the lot to the lone, blue sedan.
“It belongs to Rebecca.”
“That’s the lady’s name?”
“It is. But you should call her Miss Rebecca.”
“‘Cause it’s polite?”
“What a smart girl you are.” Cole opened the passenger door and reached into the cab as Kimmy wiggled from her car seat. “Come on, sweetie. Take my hand.”
“Am I too big to carry now, Daddy?” Her mischievous green eyes danced as she gazed at him.
“Well, you are almost five.” Cole closed the passenger door as she hopped onto the sidewalk. “But you’ll never be too big for me to carry.”
“Even when I’m this tall?” Kimmy stretched her arms as wide as they would go. She spun in the morning sunshine and her copper hair caught fire in the light as it billowed around her shoulders.
“Yes, even when you’re that tall,” Cole assured her. “Now, let’s take a picture so we can remember your first day here. We’ll add it to your special photo album.” He slipped his cell phone from his pocket. “Stand beside the front door, next to those pretty flowers.”
“Here, Daddy?” She scooted toward a waterfall of violet phlox and squinted into the sunlight.
“That’s perfect.” Cole aimed and
snapped the photo. Kimmy clasped his hand, skipping up the walk to match his long stride as they started toward the preschool’s entrance.
“Does the lady know we’re coming?”
“I told her so yesterday.”
“Was she nice?”
“Very.”
“Hurry, Daddy.” Kimmy broke into a run, pulling away from Cole. “I want to meet Miss Rebecca.”
****
“Daddy, nobody’s home.”
The child’s voice was a melody drifting across the quiet building. The sound caused Rebecca to ease from her desk chair and lean closer to the monitor. Just outside the entrance doors, a little girl held Cole’s hand. Sunlight turned her startling copper curls to a fiery halo, and an impish grin hinted at a streak of mischief.
Rebecca’s pulse somersaulted. The floor turned to a current of water. She grabbed hold of the corner of the desk to steady herself, toppling the bowl of chocolate Kisses.
“But, Becca’s car’s in the lot…” Cole’s voice was laced with confusion.
“It’s a myst’ry, Daddy.” Kimmy leaned toward the glass, her breath leaving a large puff of fog along the pane. The child’s hair…Rebecca was drawn to it like a magnet. Where had she seen a color like that…and the large, jade-green eyes—the lightly-freckled nose and soft curve of a chin? Her belly skittered once more as the answer came.
In the mirror…just that morning.
Rebecca felt like an intruder as she watched, yet she couldn’t help herself.
“Daddy, is this gonna take a long time?” Kimmy slipped her hand into Cole’s. “I’m hungry again. My belly’s rumblin’.”
“But you just ate breakfast.”
“That wasn’t a real breakfast. Aunt Patty always makes eggs and pancakes.” She frowned. “With orange juice.”
“And today all you got was a few bites of toaster pastry.” Cole grimaced as he delved into his pocket. “I’ll do better tomorrow. In the meantime, how about some fruit snacks to take the edge off?”
“OK.” She took the small pouch he offered. “You didn’t eat breakfast either, Daddy. Do you want to share?”
“No, thank you.” Cole shook his head. “They have your name on them.”
“Really?” Kimmy studied the foil package. “Where?”
“That’s a figure of speech.” Despite his apprehension, Cole laughed. “It means they belong to you now.”
“Oh.” Kimmy tore open the package and popped one into her mouth. “OK.”
Rebecca snapped out of her stupor and leaned toward the intercom, struggling to hide the tremor in her voice. “I’m here, Cole. I’ll buzz you and Kimmy in.”
****
“I figured you’d be here early.” Rebecca waited in the doorway as Cole and Kimmy made their way down the hall to the office. Her hair was loose today, and flowed over her shoulders to kiss the length of her back. She was dressed in a floral-print skirt that caressed her calves as she walked and a pale green cotton blouse that made her eyes pop. “Overcorrection for yesterday, right?”
“You could say that.”
“Want a fruit snack?” Kimmy’s voice echoed through the vacant building. She nudged by Cole and skipped over to Rebecca. “Daddy says they have my name on them, but I’ll share.” She offered the pouch.
“Um…Thank you.” Rebecca’s gaze locked on Kimmy. Her voice was barely a murmur, and Cole could almost see the cogs in her brain spinning. A snap of electricity filled the room. He wondered if she saw the same thing he did—that the resemblance between her and Kimmy was uncanny. He also wondered why he hadn’t noticed the similarity before, when he first saw Rebecca again yesterday. He’d most likely been so shocked to see her…so pleasantly surprised, that he’d considered nothing else. Rebecca took a step toward Kimmy and crouched to her level. She held out a hand, palm up. “I’d like that. Just one, please.”
“Here you go.” Kimmy drew a piece from the small bag and dropped it into Rebecca’s palm. Cole balked at his daughter’s poor manners, but Rebecca didn’t seem to mind. She slipped the treat into her mouth and smiled.
“Pineapple…it’s delicious.”
“Your hair is pretty.” Kimmy stretched to touch Rebecca’s burnished curls. “It’s just like mine.”
Their hair was identical—from the burnished color right down to the wavy texture. Cole was sure Rebecca heard his heart pounding. Was it possible to experience an earthquake without the ground moving? Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, and his pulse throbbed as he remembered the heartache Rebecca had shared with him the day before.
I’m searching for my daughter.
Was there more here than a simple resemblance?
“Yes, it is.” Rebecca’s voice, merely a whisper floating across the quiet room, drew him back. She smoothed a hand over the length of Kimmy’s hair. “It feels the same, too.”
“Do you know how to braid?” Kimmy asked, twining her fingers in Rebecca’s wavy locks.
Cole took a step forward. “Sweetie, it’s impolite to touch,” he scolded. “Come stand by me and let Miss Rebecca get back to work.”
“It’s OK.” Rebecca leaned in toward Kimmy. “I’m good at braiding.”
“Daddy’s not so good at it, but he tries hard.” Kimmy’s nose scrunched as she frowned. Her eyes narrowed into a thoughtful arch. “Maybe you can teach him.”
Cole gasped. He’d seen the same expression just yesterday—from Rebecca as she’d sketched Kimmy’s cake design.
“Maybe I can.” She took Kimmy’s hand. “Would you like to see your classroom?”
“Oh, yes.” Kimmy reached for Cole’s hand as she fell in step between him and Rebecca. “Come with us, Daddy. You can see it, too.”
****
Cole sifted through file folders scattered across his office desk. Cases were piling up faster than he could read them. He sighed and slouched in his chair. It was no use—he couldn’t focus. He reached for his coffee, sipped, and gagged. It was stone cold.
Not a bad thing, considering it was his sixth cup of the day. One more and his heart might explode. He checked his watch. Still a few hours until he was due to pick up Kimmy. The day was dragging, yet there didn’t seem to be enough time to get things done.
He scanned the room, drinking in the framed certificates on the wall. He’d earned degrees, certifications, and a plethora of commendations. None of them meant as much as the photos on his desk—photos of Kimmy with him…Kimmy with Leah, and the three of them together. Snapshots in time, fresh and happy.
His mind wandered back to the day he and Leah had decided to adopt. She’d become pregnant twice—and miscarried twice when her blood pressure spiked out of the ballpark. It was the second time that the doctors discovered the problem with her heart. Cole had just begun working at the law firm and, after a long and emotional discussion with Leah, he consulted a colleague for some advice on adoption. The news he received was disheartening—he and Leah were young, and not a priority. The adoption process was long and arduous. It might take a few years to bring a baby into their home.
Setting aside their discouragement, he and Leah had hunkered down and started jumping through the adoption hoops, not expecting any immediate results. That was exactly why Cole, when he got a call only a month later, was shocked by the news his elder colleague related.
“There’s a baby, Cole…a girl. She’s five weeks old and beautiful.”
Cole hadn’t questioned, but felt simply that God had provided the miracle he and Leah had prayed for. They brought Kimmy home two days later.
Now, in his gut, Cole knew what had happened. Seeing Kimmy and Rebecca together was proof enough for him that a connection existed—a genetic connection. But would Rebecca put two and two together? And, if she did, what would she do about it? What would he do?
He shook off the uneasiness that was quickly growing into a monster and took the path he turned to when he wasn’t sure what came next.
Lord, help me here. When I said I wanted to get my life
back to normal, this wasn’t at all what I meant. Rebecca is hurting, and I sure don’t want to hurt her more. Let us each find our way without destroying the other—or Kimmy. I don’t understand why all this is happening, but I trust that You have a perfect plan. Amen.
7
Rebecca closed her office door and poured a cup of coffee before settling into the chair at her desk. The packet of papers Cole had delivered with Kimmy that morning sat unopened. So much for being touted as the most efficient preschool in Mill’s Landing. Despite her best efforts, the morning had been a disaster.
Cole’s arrival, and her first glimpse of Kimmy, sent Rebecca’s pulse into overdrive with a ton of questions she longed to ask. Was it possible the miracle she’d hoped for—a reunion with her daughter—had finally come, or was this just another dead end?
Either way, uneasiness took up residence in her belly. She hadn’t given much thought to what came next.
The questions were set aside when Mrs. Penlin called in sick—her twins had the sniffles—and Rebecca had no choice but to fill in until a substitute teacher arrived.
Then the health inspector made an unexpected visit. Thank God all was in order there, as usual. But his list of questions set Rebecca way behind in paperwork. Finally, with merely an hour left before closing time, she made it back to her desk.
She slipped Cole’s papers from the packet and sorted through them. His handwriting would take a little detective work to decipher, but all seemed in order. Though her heart pounded, she took her time as she scanned each form, painstakingly cataloguing the information into the appropriate folders stored on her computer. Emergency contacts, pediatrician, allergies, birthday—
September sixth. It’s a match.
She shook it off. There were a handful of days here at the preschool where three children shared the same birthday, and several more when the event was celebrated by two. That didn’t make the children related—merely born at the same time.
Rebecca paused as she turned to the back of the medical form. Under special notes, Cole had scrawled: Blood type O negative.
