by Loree Lough
“You have a friend with the Department of Social Services?”
Jaina nodded. “I’ve known Skip since…” She hesitated. “For years,” she finished carefully.
Connor made note of the way her smile faded and the bright light in her eyes dimmed during her moment of hesitation. She was hiding something…something that seemed to be causing her a great deal of discomfort, and he aimed to find out what. He had enough familiarity with adoption proceedings to know they were rarely cut-and-dry. Just as in custody cases, folks would sometimes fight ruthlessly over a child, with both sides willing to wage full-scale, no-holds-barred war to win. Connor didn’t like the idea of putting Jaina through that. But if that’s what it took…
Because he was a practical man, if nothing else. Sure, he owned a fifteen-room house on a three-acre property in one of Howard County’s most prestigious neighborhoods. And true, his legal practice provided him with more money than he could spend in his lifetime.
But he was divorced. Had developed a bit of a reputation for being a ladies’ man. Even his peers called him a shark because he’d defended clients accused of the most heinous crimes—spousal abuse, murder, kidnapping—and secured acquittals more often than not.
He was realistic enough to know he’d have a fight on his hands, trying to beat a woman like Jaina Chandelle in a courtroom. If the judge issued his decree based solely on outward appearances, she’d win hands down. Pretty and petite, with an angelic voice and the smile of a saint, she was a hard worker who could prove to the court that she had an army of friends and relatives standing by to help if and when she needed it.
The way he saw it, if he wanted Liam—and Connor wanted him more than anything—he had no choice but to use every weapon at his disposal. And the secret she harbored, he believed, might very well be the deadliest weapon of all.
He’d faced enough hostile witnesses in his day to know how far to push, how hard, and when. This was not the time for confrontation. “So,” he said, smiling, “what does this Skip person say your chances of adopting Liam are?”
Her gentle expression hardened, and Jaina sat up straighter. “He advised me to keep you away from Liam, if you want to know the truth,” she snapped, “but I didn’t think it was fair, to you or Liam.”
Connor expelled a bitter chuckle. “Not fair? Why?”
She seemed amazed he needed to be told something so obvious, so elementary. “Because you’re family, of course.”
That word again. Connor bristled as it echoed in his ears.
“I may be cutting my own throat to admit this,” she began slowly, “but I happen to love that little boy more than I imagined it was possible to love another human being. You can ask my mother. I didn’t want to keep him…at first.”
That surprised him, and he said so.
“It’s true,” Rita confirmed. “She was dead set against the idea.”
“But…why?”
Focusing on her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, Jaina took a deep breath. “I…I have my reasons,” she said softly. Lifting her gaze to his, she continued, “It was past closing time when Kirstie left the diner. I couldn’t shuttle him off to some institution that late at night.” Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes. “It was supposed to be one night. Just one night.”
“You don’t have to tell him any of this, sweetie,” Rita interjected, patting her hand. “He’s—”
“He’s Liam’s uncle,” she stated matter-of-factly. Jaina sandwiched her mother’s hand between hers. “He deserves to be a part of the boy’s life.”
“So what made you change your mind?” Connor asked quietly. “About keeping Liam, I mean.”
She gave him a whimsical smile. “He did.” She cut a glance toward the bedroom where the baby was napping.
Rita gazed lovingly at her daughter. “She didn’t have a crib that first night, so she dumped her clothes out of a dresser drawer and lined it with a quilt. And would you believe this girl spent the night on the floor?”
“Because I couldn’t leave him,” Jaina defended.
Connor’s eyes narrowed. He hoped they’d rehearsed this little skit just for him because if Jaina was sincere… “But you’d only be, what, three or four feet away.”
“I know. But everything about him fascinated me. The way his chest rose and fell when he breathed, the way he puckered his lips now and then, the sweet little sounds he made… He was just so…beautiful!”
There’s a time and a place for everything, he reminded himself, biting back anger that seemed to have no source, yet pulsed through him like jolts of electricity. “So you’re intent on taking this to court.”
In place of the smile was a look of strength and determination. “I know it sounds silly after just a week with him, but I don’t have any choice.”
Connor stood. “Then I hope you have a good lawyer.”
Rita frowned. “Good lawyer? Ha! I believe that’s the best example of an oxymoron I’ve ever heard.”
Jaina turned to her mother with a warning glance. “Mom, please…”
Connor ignored Rita’s insult. “I only meant that legal battles can be lengthy and expensive, Mrs. Chandelle.”
“I have the rest of my life,” Jaina asserted, standing and looking at him hard. “As for money, I’ve saved a little for a rainy day.”
He acknowledged that he’d be doing his own research, that he’d be representing himself. The hearing would cost him next to nothing, but Jaina…
Guilt hammered inside him as Connor walked toward the door. “I’ll get started first thing in the morning, then.”
“Started?” Rita asked. “Started on what?”
“Paperwork. Call my office and let Pearl know who your lawyer is, so I can mail him the filings.”
Jaina stood near the door, wringing her hands in front of her. “Will your…your paperwork spell out where Liam will stay in the interim?”
“It will.” For motives he could neither name nor understand, he felt like a heel for causing her even a moment’s fear. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother filing for temporary custody because the judge more than likely will decide Liam should stay right where he is, until the final court date anyway.” He met her eyes. “Frankly, I think that’s best for him, all things considered.”
She nodded, then sent him a trembly smile. “I appreciate your honesty, Connor.” Jaina extended a hand.
Connor hesitated, unable to believe she could bring herself to do such a thing under the circumstances. She had a surprisingly strong grip for a woman her size. Another item on his “Reasons To Like Jaina Chandelle” list.
“I just want you to know,” she said, “that if I win, you’ll always be welcome here.” She straightened her shoulders. “I hope you’ll extend me the same courtesy if you—”
“If he wins,” Rita snapped, “Liam loses.”
Again he pretended he hadn’t heard Rita’s barb. He was still holding Jaina’s hand and could barely believe it when he heard himself say, “You can see him anytime you like. That goes without saying.” One of the first rules a defense attorney learns is to keep his strategies to himself. So why had he exposed so much of his plan to the enemy?
She released him and stuffed the hand he’d held into her apron pocket. “Would you look at me?” she asked, running her other hand through still-damp curls. “I’m a soggy mess. What must you be…?” Biting her lower lip, she sent him a nervous smile. “You won’t use this against me in court, will you?”
He returned the smile. “What…that as for your being a mother, I think you’re all wet?” Jaina nodded, and he read the hopeful expression on her face. “I fight to win, and usually I do,” he admitted, “but I believe in fighting fair. If I win, it’ll be because I deserve to. Dirty tricks will not be on the agenda.” His earlier thought—of using her secret against her—resurfaced in his mind. Dirty trick, he asked himself, or semantics?
She opened the door. “I’ll call your office, then, once I’ve hired someone.”
“Good. And I’ll
call you to arrange another visit with Liam soon.” He glanced toward the bedroom. “He’s quite a kid.”
Jaina agreed. “Speaking of kids…have you had any luck locating Kirstie?”
“The investigator I hired did some computer tracking, found out who her doctor was. She’d been going for treatments twice a week before coming to Maryland.” He looked at Jaina, at Rita, then Jaina again. “She hasn’t been back.”
Rita’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, no. You don’t suppose that means…”
Connor slowly shook his head. “I don’t know…I hope not.”
Jaina laid a hand on his forearm. “We’ll all pray that you find her.” She squeezed the arm gently. “She needs to be with family at a time like this.”
There was that word again. Connor stepped into the hall.
“If you find her, will you let us know?”
He nodded. “Sure thing.”
This wasn’t the way he’d intended for things to go. Not even close. He’d planned to leave here, feeling secure in the knowledge that he’d made her see how futile it would be to fight him for Liam. And what had he done instead? Advised her to get a good attorney!
He started down the steps, stopped, then turned to face her. Say something businesslike, he told himself, something to end things on a professional note, like “Don’t wait too long to get a lawyer.”
He met her big dark eyes—eyes still damp with concern over his niece’s disappearance—and was reminded of what she’d told her mother. “He’s Liam’s uncle,” she’d said in her no-nonsense way. “He deserves to be a part of the boy’s life.” The memory of that killed the last of his resolve.
“Thanks, Jaina,” he said instead.
“For what?”
You really don’t know? he asked silently. For being you! “For the lemonade, the hospitality, letting me see Liam….”
With him now two steps down from the landing, they were eye-to-eye. She smiled. “Anytime. When Liam becomes mine, I know I’ll need to provide a place at my table for his closet kin. You know where to find him. No need to call first, because—”
“I’m family?” He didn’t miss her hopeful statement.
“Exactly.”
It was as though someone had sneaked up behind him and nailed his shoes to the step. Connor couldn’t seem to make himself turn away from her warm gaze.
“Well,” she offered, rescuing him, “I’d better change into some dry clothes and get back to work.”
He hurried down the steps. “Thanks again.”
“No thanks necessary,” he heard her say as he stepped into the diner, “but you’re welcome all the same.”
“‘Fear not, for I will be with you,’” Connor recited Isaiah quietly to himself, “‘the rivers shall not overwhelm you, and when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, nor will the flame consume you.’”
He wondered if, within the pages of his Bible, he’d find a passage that assured him protection against falling in love with the enemy….
Jaina locked up The Chili Pot and turned out the lights as Liam babbled nonstop in her arms. She felt Connor Buchanan’s presence as she climbed the stairs. Though there was no physical evidence that he’d been in her apartment, it seemed he’d left a sliver of himself here, a fragment there, to remind her of him.
Soon, she’d be standing toe-to-toe with him in a courtroom, fighting for Liam. The dilemma: how to defend herself against a man she genuinely liked.
Though she considered herself a peaceable sort on the whole, Jaina had participated in her share of disputes, debates, and arguments. Calm, reasonable discussion, she believed, could only take place between rational, mature individuals. If an adversary didn’t respect her right to express an opinion, she wouldn’t respect his. She’d never started a fight, but she’d never run from one, either. “If you have right on your side,” her father had always asserted, “you can’t lose.”
But was she right to fight for Liam?
Or did Buchanan have right on his side?
“‘The way of the righteous is level,’” she quoted Isaiah. “‘Thou dost make smooth the path of righteousness. In the path of judgments, Lord, we wait for Thee.’”
As she got Liam into his pajamas, he cooed and gurgled contentedly. She felt as though he’d been a part of her life all of her life. Taking care of him had seemed natural and normal—routine—and no more work than brushing her teeth or combing her hair. What would her world be like without him, now that she’d grown so accustomed to having him near?
She couldn’t bear thinking of the possibility.
If she lost the court battle, would Buchanan really allow her to remain a part of Liam’s life? Why should he? She wasn’t blood kin.
But he had to, she thought, biting her trembling lower lip. “I’ll just have to believe in the power of hope,” she said softly. God had promised to be her steadfast anchor, her forerunner, her refuge, hadn’t He?
After filling a baby bottle with milk, she microwaved it for a few seconds to take off the chill, screwed on the top then shook it well. Nestling in the chair where Buchanan had sat mere hours ago, she held Liam close.
He wrapped both hands around the bottle, sucking greedily from the nipple. “‘Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,’” she crooned. “‘Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.’”
Smiling with his eyes only, Liam continued to drink.
“‘And if that mockingbird don’t sing, Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.’”
She finished the song, and another, and halfway through the third lullaby, his eyelids began to flutter as he struggled to stay awake. But soon his jaw relaxed and he let go of the nipple, setting a gurgling stream of tiny bubbles loose in the bottle. Jaina got slowly to her feet, tiptoed into the bedroom and eased the baby into his crib. He stirred slightly, then settled into a peaceful sleep. She gazed at his sweet face and tears filled her eyes. “In my heart, he’s already mine, Lord. If You truly don’t want me to have a child of my own, please know that I’m available for this one.”
Several years ago, in an attempt to comfort and console her, her pastor had suggested she read Psalm 113:9. The verse had not given her hope, had not provided solace as she fretted about whether she’d ever marry and have children like a normal woman.
She found solace in God’s Word, and in doing His work, teaching Sunday school, helping to prepare children’s services, preparing food for the potluck suppers and labeling products to be sold at white elephant sales and volunteering for the pastor’s various rehabilitation programs. Helping others, she discovered, kept her mind off her past and her lost dreams.
Now, with Liam safely sleeping in the next room, Jaina took the black leather volume from the shelf and found the verse. “‘He gives the barren woman a home,’” she read softly, “‘making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!’” The verse that had once been the source of bitter tears now gave her hope as she took heart in the possibility that with Liam she had a chance, at least, at motherhood.
Carrying the Holy Book to the overstuffed chair, Jaina did something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl.
Every night before turning in, instead of getting on her knees and asking the Lord to bless her parents, her stuffed animals, her teacher, like so many other Christian children, she’d sit on the edge of her bed, the Bible in her lap and, closing her eyes tight, let the book fall open on its own. Her forefinger would draw an invisible spiral that started above her head and stopped on a crisp, gilt-edged page. Only then would she open her eyes to read what she believed to be the verse the Lord had chosen for her and think about how the passage fitted her life.
When she opened her eyes this time, Jaina’s finger was resting on Genesis 2:18. “‘It is not good that the man should be alone.’” She closed the book, opened it again, read the first verse she saw. “‘Oh that his left hand were under my head,’” she read from the Song of Songs, “‘and that his right hand embraced me!’” Another flip o
f the wrist provided a line from Proverbs. “‘House and wealth are inherited from fathers, but a prudent wife is from the Lord.’”
This wasn’t working the way it used to, Jaina thought, smiling wryly at every romance-related passage. She decided to give it one more try. This time, the Bible opened to Ecclesiastes, 4:9. “‘Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow; but woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up. Again, if two lie together, they are warm; but how can one be warm alone?’”
She had a strange feeling these verses were messages from God. But why? And what had He intended her to learn from them?
Jaina reread the last verse. “‘Two are better than one…’” Did it mean that together, she and Connor would be better for Liam than either of them could be alone?
The thought struck a reverberating chord in her heart. Strange as it seemed, the idea did make sense….
Stop it, she commanded herself. Stop being a silly, overly romantic girl! Grow up and face the music. If you want this child, you’re going to have to fight for him.
Still…the idea of raising Liam with Connor instead of against him had a certain appeal that she hadn’t thoroughly embraced. For one thing, if they had a…relationship…he might not be so certain to dig up her sorry past.
Jaina hadn’t felt much like reading the Bible since the tragic night that had changed the course of her life. Her faith had been badly shaken, her trust all but snuffed out, because the way she saw it, God had gone back on His word. He’d promised that if she believed a thing strongly enough, it would be done. Well, she had believed He would help her, so why hadn’t He? Confused, angry, afraid and hurt because she believed He’d abandoned her, she’d turned from Him. Until now, nothing had seemed important enough to encourage her to reestablish a relationship with Him.
Liam’s well-being was important enough. It was more important than anything.
She wanted so badly to be his mother—legally, not just in her heart. But she also loved him enough to want what was best for him. Was she best for him, a woman with a tainted past? Or was Connor Buchanan?
