Her Second Chance Family (Contemporary Romance)

by Holly Jacobs

  And it made sense that Sawyer wanted to know about Willow, so this wasn’t really nosiness. She sighed. “With Willow there were no hoops. Our social worker called me. She’d been assigned Willow’s case, after...well, you know.”

  “After she broke into my house?” he supplied.

  “Yes. She thought we could help Willow and she moved in with us in February.” She watched the kids patiently helping Willow float on her back. “It’s been an adjustment. Me, Clinton and Bea had a rhythm. We were a family. Willow... Well, did you ever hear the old Ukrainian folktale about a mitten?”

  “No,” Sawyer said.

  “A boy loses a mitten and one by one all the forest animals climb into it and use it for shelter. Each time a new animal crawls in, they all have to move around and adjust so they’ll fit.” She didn’t add that the tale ends with the mitten bursting at the seams. Maybe it wasn’t such a good analogy.

  “These first months with Willow have taken a lot of adjusting. We were comfortable. Willow forced us to make a lot of adjustments. And she had to adjust, as well. But I think we’re all getting there. Today she shared with me for the first time.”

  “Shared what?” he asked.

  “She’s a reader. A voracious reader by the look of her reading list. She’s been hiding an e-reader, which meant she had to hide the fact that she read.” She felt the elation at Willow’s revelation all over again.

  “Why would she hide the fact she read?” he asked.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be moved from one home to another? Never really fitting in. Never really belonging? And definitely never trusting people with your stuff.”

  “No,” he said.

  “I do. I had a picture of my mom when she was young. It wasn’t worth anything to anyone but me. But after being moved around three or four homes, it disappeared. Someone stole it. You learn real fast to guard what’s yours. It was...”

  “Wait, you were in foster care?” he asked.

  Audrey nodded. “I was in a group home for the last two years. That was even worse. There was no privacy. But I didn’t have anything to steal by that point.”

  He took a moment, digesting what she said. She wondered what he was thinking. Finally, Sawyer said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t tell you in order to get your sympathy,” Audrey assured him, “but to make you understand what a big thing it was for Willow to trust me with her most valuable possession. You learn to guard what’s yours.”

  “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

  Audrey assumed he was talking about Willow breaking in. “She said that she realized she’d made you feel that way—that you have to guard your things because she broke in and stole not just your stuff but your sense of safety.”

  * * *

  SAWYER NODDED. MAYBE Audrey had made Willow volunteer to mow his lawn, but he realized that the teenager was doing it for herself, as well. Willow felt the need to “balance her karma.”

  Sawyer tried to imagine what that was like for Audrey, and then again for Willow. He looked at her, Clinton and Bea splashing around and shrieking in the pool.

  Audrey’s piecemeal family suddenly made more sense to him. She hadn’t grown up with a family herself.

  He thought about what she’d said about the picture of her mother that someone had stolen and realized she hadn’t grown up with anything. Rather than bemoan her fate, she’d gone out and found herself a family of her own.

  He looked at the three kids. From where he was sitting, she’d done a good job of it.

  “And look at them now.” She was a little teary.

  “So what you’re saying is the mitten fits again?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head. “Not completely, but it’s getting there.”

  Her attention was on the kids, and in her eyes he saw love. It didn’t matter that they weren’t hers. It didn’t matter that from the sound of it she’d never had anyone to show her how parenting was done. She’d taken in three kids with no one and she’d made a family.

  “You’re an interesting woman, Audrey Smith,” he finally said. That was the best word he could come up with.

  She laughed. “I’ve been called worse. Your turn now.”

  “My turn?” He wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “So now you know a bit about me, it’s your turn to share something about yourself. Your childhood?”

  “It was pretty normal. The only child of two parents who actually stayed together. We lived in a west-side neighborhood and literally had a picket fence around the yard. I did okay in school. Played basketball. Went to college and ended up with dual degrees in accounting and business. I started interning at a bank, and when I graduated, they hired me. And...here I am.”

  “Do your parents still live in town?”

  “No. Dad retired last year and they moved to Phoenix. Dad said he was over shoveling snow. His new favorite hobby is to watch the Weather Channel and call me in order to compare temperatures. And there’s this website that compares snow totals. We won again in ’14. He sent me flowers.”

  Audrey chuckled. “Sounds like he has a sense of humor.”

  “Well, let’s put it like this, my father finds himself amusing. He did an open mic night at the comedy club here in town once. Turns out my mom was right all along.”

  “About?”

  “He’s the only one who finds him amusing. They still spend part of the summer here.”

  “There’s no snow in the summer,” she said.

  Sawyer didn’t mind talking about his parents, but he realized that Audrey had tried to sidetrack him. “So how did you meet Clinton?”

  How did she meet Clinton? That was something Audrey wasn’t going to get into with Sawyer.

  “Let’s go help the kids,” she said. She stood, took off her shorts and T-shirt and jumped in the pool. She was relieved when Sawyer followed.

  She watched as the three kids worked together and stayed out of the way. Watching them work...well, they worked like a family.

  They squabbled and teased like siblings would.

  Sawyer’s question kept ringing through her head. How had she met Clinton?

  Because of that night. That one night that changed everything. It had been horrible, tragic, but as she watched the kids in the pool she thought that maybe something good had come out of it. It didn’t change how awful it was, but since that moment she’d tried to make her life stand for something.

  Again she thought of that Frost poem about two paths diverging.

  This wasn’t a path she’d ever imagined, but it was a good one.

  Sawyer didn’t ask any more personal questions that day. He stuck to questions about hot dogs or burgers. And once Audrey realized that he was done quizzing her, she relaxed.

  After the picnic of hot dogs and burgers, Clinton and Bea got back in the pool, but Willow pulled up a lounge chair and took her e-reader out of her bag.

  Audrey could tell Willow was trying to be nonchalant about it, but she realized what a big deal it was. Sawyer jumped in the pool with the kids and started a loud game of Marco Polo.

  “So what are you reading?” Audrey asked.

  “A mystery,” Willow said.

  Audrey purposefully kept her eyes focused on Sawyer and the kids as she asked, “Any good?”

  “Yeah. I like it. The heroine’s a maid who accidentally cleans a murder scene and is trying to figure out whodunnit so she doesn’t get put in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. It’s just a fun time. Sometimes, after I’ve read a bunch of older books, it’s nice to have something contemporary and light.”

  “I saw Sherlock Holmes on your list. So you like mysteries?”

  “I like anything and everything,” Willow said with more animation than Audrey had ever seen. “The one
old lady I stayed with had this copy of A Girl of the Limberlost. I’d seen a movie about it. Do you know it?”

  “She lived in a swamp?”

  Willow nodded. “That old lady had a bunch of books by Gene Stratton-Porter. I mean, really old books. I think she probably bought them new.” She grinned at the joke. “But old or not, I liked them. I read all but one while I was there.”

  “Why didn’t you read the last one?”

  “The old lady decided I was too much work and I got moved to a new house so I didn’t have a chance. I’ve got a bunch of them as ebooks.”

  “I’m sorry,” Audrey said.

  Willow shrugged, as if it had been no big deal, but Audrey knew differently. No matter what she’d told herself, every time she got moved from one place to another, she’d felt as if it were her fault. As if there was something wrong with her. “I’m really sorry,” she said again.

  “It’s okay. She was old and I wasn’t the sweet, demure young woman I am now,” Willow said with a very serious expression.

  Willow couldn’t maintain the expression and started laughing.

  Audrey snorted. “Yeah, demure might not be the word I’d use to describe you. But sweet... Willow, I don’t think you want people to see it, but I believe there’s quite a bit of sweetness in there.”

  Willow looked flustered, and she quickly went back to her book.

  Audrey went back to watching the kids and Sawyer.

  Well, mainly Sawyer.

  When she pictured a banker, it was not Sawyer. He looked more like a surfer with that tattoo on his shoulder blade. It was small and he kept diving under water, so she wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed out of place for a banker.

  He looked up, caught her staring at him and grinned.

  Audrey turned to Willow, who was also grinning.

  “What?” she said defensively.

  “Nothing. I’m just sitting here reading. Demurely reading, I might add.”

  Despite feeling slightly embarrassed, Audrey laughed. “I take it back. You’re demure.”

  Willow nodded her head with a wicked grin. “Thank you for noticing.”

  * * *

  AUDREY LEFT HER car at Sawyer’s and he drove them downtown at dusk. Parking was crazy whenever there was an event at the amphitheater and tonight’s fireworks were definitely an event. Sawyer pulled into the bank’s private lot. “We’ve got a couple hours until the fireworks. Let’s catch a trolley to Liberty Park.”

  The city had buses that looked like old-fashioned trolley cars. They traveled from State Street down to the Bayfront Parkway to the amphitheater at Liberty Park, which sat right on the bay.

  The trolley they caught was packed, but it was a quick ride. As they got off, Willow announced, “I’m going to meet my friends.”

  Audrey nodded. “When the fireworks are over, we’ll meet you back here.”

  “Can we go with you?” Bea asked Willow.

  Audrey waited for Willow to snap at Bea, but instead she knelt down and said, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go hang with my friends for a while, but when you guys find a place to watch the fireworks, Audrey can text me and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Before the fireworks?” Bea asked.

  “I’m not going to promise, but I’ll try.”

  Bea launched herself at Willow and almost knocked the older girl down as she hugged her. Willow froze, as if not sure what to do, but then she awkwardly hugged Bea back. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Bea disentangled herself from Willow and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Don’t worry, munchkin, you’ve got me,” Clinton said. “I think we should sit as close to the top of the hill as we can get. Near the food carts.” They started walking toward the hill.

  Audrey and Sawyer followed.

  “Don’t get in any trouble,” Sawyer called after Willow.

  Willow turned and glared at him. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but trouble isn’t what I have in mind. I’m meeting a couple kids from school. Jill’s brother plays in a band—they should be on the main stage in half an hour.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that I...” He hesitated, not sure what to say. He liked Willow. He just wanted to make sure she was safe.

  “Never mind,” was all he said. “Sorry.”

  Willow glared at him and stormed toward the stage.

  “I made a mess of that, didn’t I?” he said to Audrey.

  Clinton replied first. “Yep, you did. You offended her.”

  “Yeah, you made her mad,” Bea said. “And you better be careful. It takes her a long time to get over being mad. One day I borrowed her T-shirt and didn’t ask. She was mad at me for two whole weeks.”

  “It was only a couple days,” Clinton said.

  Bea looked offended. “Well, it felt like two weeks.”

  The kids walked ahead of them, looking for the perfect spot to set up the blanket and still squabbling.

  Audrey could see that Sawyer was bothered by Willow’s reaction. “Listen, don’t worry about it. She’ll get over it.”

  “I wasn’t accusing her of anything,” he said. “I was just worried. I know she said she was alone that day, but I heard voices—plural—and I don’t think she was just talking to herself. I can’t help but wonder if the friend she’s meeting...” He let the sentence end there.

  Audrey totally understood his concern. She felt it every time Willow saw her friends. She worried that one of them was involved in the break-in. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Then how do you trust her out on her own?” he asked. “She’s meeting with friends. How do you know she’s not getting into some kind of trouble with them?”

  “Willow is sixteen. And though she’s always had shelter, she’s never had a real home. That’s why our social worker called me. She wanted Willow to have that—a home—and she thought the kids and I could give it to her. Maybe give her more than a home, a family. We said yes, but we weren’t naive. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Willow’s been on her own her whole life.”

  “That doesn’t reassure me.”

  “I can’t give you reassurances or guaranties. Willow and I have talked...a lot. She’s doing what she can to make reparations to you. She’s kept her nose clean. She meets with her probation officer. She’s got good grades in school. But when it comes down to it, teachers, probation officers and even a new foster family won’t be enough to keep her out of trouble. The only one who can do that is Willow.”

  “What you’re saying is you just have to trust her?” he asked. “I don’t see how you can. She hasn’t earned your trust, or proven herself to you.”

  Audrey wasn’t sure how to explain it. “I know they say that trust is something you earn. Maybe that’s so. If it is, then she’s earned it in the few months I’ve had her. She’s done everything I asked and then some.”

  “But that’s not what you believe?” Sawyer pressed. “That trust is earned?”

  Audrey shook her head. “No. I think trust is a gift. It’s a gift I choose to give to Willow.”

  “And if she breaks that trust?” he asked softly.

  “Then I’ll forgive her and we’ll try again. I know, I sound hopelessly naive, and maybe I am, but sometimes all someone needs to change for the better is one person who believes in them no matter what. That’s the gift I’m trying to give Willow. A home, a family...and my trust that she can be anything she wants to be, and my hope that what she wants to be is an honest person.”

  * * *

  SAWYER NODDED AND didn’t say anything else because, frankly, he didn’t know what to say. Could Audrey really be as good as she sounded? All giving and trust and forgiveness?

  He found it hard to believe because giving trust and forgiveness wasn’t something he w
as good at. He remembered when Millie had asked for his forgiveness. He’d told her no. She’d picked her job over him and he couldn’t forgive that.

  She’d asked him to give her time, but he couldn’t do that, either. If she didn’t want him, then fine. He cut her out with surgical precision.

  And when he’d gone to court to testify against Willow, he hadn’t been thinking about forgiveness; he’d wanted vengeance. Willow and her friends had stolen from him. They’d broken into his home and tried to take things he’d worked for.

  Then he thought about Willow, reading her ebook for the first time in front of them all. She’d grown up expecting everyone to steal her things.

  He looked at Audrey, who’d grown up the same way.

  How could she be so unjaded?

  He understood why the social worker had called Audrey about Willow. If Audrey could find a way to blossom despite her childhood, she might be able to help Willow do the same.

  The social worker had seen something in Willow, and so did Audrey.

  And so did he, truthfully.

  Somewhere along the line, he realized that he liked the girl.

  Willow was tenacious. She was out in his yard every Monday, in the summer heat, mowing, weeding and keeping things tidy.

  She wasn’t doing some shoddy job of it. She was taking her time and doing a better job than his lawn service had done.

  He admired that kind of grit.

  Willow might blame her balancing her karma on Audrey and threaten him with quinoa—he smiled at the memory—but mowing his lawn this summer was more than what her guardian wanted.

  Bea and Clinton found a place to squeeze their blanket between other groups on the hill.

  “Can we go down to the food stands?” Bea asked.

  “You can’t be hungry after that huge picnic, can you?” Audrey said.

  Sawyer shook his head. “I guess I didn’t feed you well enough.”

  Bea laughed. “Nah, Audrey says I’ve got a hollow leg that all the food drops into.”

  “Does she now?” he asked.

  “Yeah, and she says that I should enjoy it now because someday my leg won’t be so hollow and all my food will drop around my hips.”