Millionaire's Christmas Miracle

by Mary Anne Wilson

  Taylor was so serious about trying to walk in the boots that Amy smiled at her, then Quint came out of his room and her smile died. He was wearing jeans and nothing else. His hair was mussed and spiked, the beginnings of a beard darkening his jaw, and he looked as if he’d had a rough night. The sight of him brought everything back to her in a rush, and she tried desperately to hide her reaction, that instant response, the catch in her breathing and that explosive need. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  He saw her, narrowed his eyes and grabbed the doorjamb. “I thought I was being attacked by wild animals,” he muttered. “She got on the bed and used me as a trampoline.”

  If she hadn’t been so tense, she would have laughed and felt a certain degree of satisfaction that Taylor had given him a Taylor-style wake-up call.

  “Sorry,” she murmured at the same time as Travis started to squirm and cry. “The storm’s over. I need to leave.”

  He frowned, then ran a hand roughly over his face. “I don’t know how the roads are.”

  She wasn’t going to stay here any longer than she absolutely had to. “I’ll find out. Maybe I can call a cab or something.”

  That made him start to smile, but the expression ended up being a grimace. “No cabs out here. I’ll take you back if it’s safe.”

  Well, it wasn’t safe being here. “I’ll get the children changed and fed, then we can go. Okay?”

  “Sure, sure,” he muttered and turned away from her, going back inside his room and closing the door behind him.

  Taylor just barely made it to Amy before she stumbled and grabbed the hem of her robe for support. “Pop,” she said looking up at her mother.

  “No, no popcorn for breakfast,” she said, turning and managing to get both kids back in the bedroom and the door closed before she realized she was shaking like a leaf.

  IN TWO HOURS they were on their way back to Houston along roads that were still partially flooded, but Quint’s car took them well. He drove Amy, the two kids and Charlie the rat to her place, helped her get them out and up to the apartment. Neither adult talked beyond what was necessary until he was putting the diaper bags on the floor by the door of the tiny apartment.

  He looked up at Amy who stood in the middle of the room holding Travis while Taylor dug into a toy chest near the Christmas tree. “Do you need anything else before I go?”

  “Just to say…I really appreciate all you did for us.”

  How could he thank her for all she’d done for him; for the glimpse he’d had into what life might have been if they’d met in another time and another place? “No problem,” he murmured and he should have left, just turned and gone, but he didn’t. He seldom did the smart thing where Amy was concerned. “Listen, if you need help with Travis or…anything….”

  “No, I don’t need help,” she said, her voice painfully flat. “You can go.”

  “Just like that?” he heard himself ask.

  She jiggled Travis as he started to fuss. “What else is there besides wishing you a happy birthday?”

  He shrugged, happiness a foreign thought to him right then. “Nothing, I guess,” he murmured, and would have left if Taylor hadn’t come running at him, grabbing him around the legs.

  He looked down into eyes the same as her mother’s eyes, then hunkered down in front of her. “Hey there, you’re home.”

  She held out her arms to him. “Pop, spin, peeze?”

  Her voice was tiny, as tiny as she was, and her face sober. He took her in his arms, hugged her, then said, “No popcorn or spinning. Why don’t you get Baby and spin with her?”

  She was very still, then scooted out of his hold and went in search of her doll. Quint looked up at Amy, at eyes unblinking, watching him.

  He’d found love, and right then he knew that love didn’t matter. It didn’t fix anything. He saw by the way she held on to the love for her dead husband that it lasted, but it didn’t make anything easier. It only made it more difficult for him to straighten up, turn around and walk out the door.

  Two days later

  “I DON’T KNOW what to do,” Amy whispered, hugging the crying baby to her and trying to keep an eye on Taylor who was going through the bottom drawer of her desk at the center. “I just don’t know what to do for you.”

  She tried to hold Travis the way Quint had. She tried to get him on her forearm, tummy-down like a football in the crook of her arm, and she tried to jiggle and get him to stop crying. But it didn’t work for her. When the crying bouts came, he wouldn’t be comforted. Her nerves were raw, and all she really wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed with the two kids and have all of them sleep for a week.

  She’d stayed at LynTech as late as she could for the past few days, hoping against hope that a woman would show up looking for Travis. Or maybe it wasn’t hoping, it was trying to tie up that loose end to figure out what to do next. But no one had shown up except the guard checking on her—and Quint checking on her, too.

  She gave up walking and jiggling and sank down in her chair and started swiveling back and forth. “Shhh, shhhh,” she said, frowning when Taylor tossed a package of envelopes out of the drawer, scattering them everywhere on the carpeting. “Baby, no, Taylor, no, pick them up.”

  Taylor looked at her, screwed up her nose and said, “No.”

  “Great, just great,” she muttered, feeling so horribly alone at that moment that it made her eyes burn.

  She hadn’t felt this sort of loneliness since Rob had died, but it had nothing to do with Rob now. When Quint had been there, she hadn’t felt it and that hurt her. She didn’t want him to be the one to hold back loneliness, because he wasn’t going to be here. Loving him had been easy, but letting go was just as hard as any goodbye she’d had to say in her life. She was still working on it, and it didn’t help when he kept stopping by.

  He’d been coming into the center for a few minutes in the morning, and a few minutes at night, as if he was checking on her. Or more likely wanting to know if she’d called the police about Travis. But it was wearing her out. To see him, to have him not even look directly at her, to watch him talk to Taylor, check on Travis, then leave, was more than she could stand. He hadn’t been in this evening, but she was braced for the moment when he’d show up.

  “Mama,” Taylor said, coming over to the chair, obviously sensing her mother’s distress. She laid her head on Amy’s lap and looked up at her. “Mama?”

  “What, love?” she asked.

  “Pop?”

  “Sweetheart, I don’t have any popcorn. I’m sorry. I meant to get some, but I haven’t.” Taylor had been asking for popcorn since Quint walked out, and got increasingly upset when Amy didn’t have any. If she’d had a bit of free time, she would have gone to the store for some, but she hadn’t had two minutes to string together for herself since New Year’s. With Jenn gone, she’d truly been on her own.

  “Peeze. Pop, want pop,” Taylor whined, and her voice cut across Amy’s nerves.

  She knew right then how foolish she was being. She wasn’t some super woman who could go on with life and take care of both kids and make everything right. She wasn’t even close. For the first time since Quint had appeared with Travis in his arms, she considered the fact that she might have to make that call to the police.

  Tomorrow LynTech would return to normal. Lindsey and Zane would finally be home after being grounded by the storm and missing Matt and B.J.’s wedding. Matt and B.J. had taken Anthony along on their honeymoon, something that Amy hadn’t even questioned. Her own life was strange enough as it was. Most importantly, she’d have to explain Travis to everyone. And she couldn’t.

  Not any more than she could figure out how to face Quint day in and day out the way she seemed destined to do. Maybe it was time to let go. She looked at the wall clock. Fifteen minutes to six. She looked down at her hand patting the baby’s back and saw her ring. Plain. Gold. She stared at it long and hard. Yes, it was time to let go.

  She slipped off her ring, h
eld it for a long moment, then reached to put it in the top drawer of the desk. Sliding the drawer shut, she whispered, “Goodbye,” then sat back. Time to let go.

  She looked at the clock again. In fifteen minutes, if a miracle didn’t occur and Travis’s mother didn’t call or show up, she knew that she’d have to make the call. She’d have to let go.

  “I DON’T APPRECIATE you doing this again, Quint. New Year’s Day was bad enough, but right now I’m in the middle of something—”

  Quint cut off Les Merin, his attorney from New York. “If I know you, you’re spending your last day of vacation the way you spent New Year’s Eve, in a hot tub with a couple of blondes.”

  “She’s brunette and there’s just one,” Les muttered.

  “Okay, tell her to wait ten minutes and tell me what you found out.”

  “Well, since you called me yesterday, and remember it’s a holiday, and every sane person is having fun, I had to do some digging, but I found out what you wanted to know. I can’t give you specifics, because I don’t have my notes on me.” He chuckled at that, but Quint didn’t.

  “Just give me the highlights.”

  “Abandoned children go into Child Protective Services, are assigned to a foster-care-type situation until the courts can hear the case and then they’re put into official foster care for however long is necessary.”

  Quint was impatient. “Just get to the bottom line about the child and the mother.”

  “Okay, in a nutshell, the kid’s in the system for anywhere from three months up until he turns eighteen, and the mother, if she’s found, gets arrested and depending on her age and circumstances, goes into youth authority, jail, rehab if drugs or alcohol are involved. You name it. In all probability, somewhere down the road, she gets the kid back, or she gives the kid up. She has to sign away all parental rights, and the father has to do it, too, if he’s known. That can take months, and the kid stays in the system while it’s done.”

  Quint sank back in the chair and closed his eyes. “So, no matter what happens, the kid’s in the system for a minimum of three months? And a druggie mother could get him back if she did or said the right thing?”

  “You’ve got it. Now, can I get back to the hot tub?”

  “Okay, but could you get me the name of the best attorney out here that has full knowledge of child protection laws?”

  “If you leave me alone for the rest of the night, I’ll look into it as soon as I get to work tomorrow and contact you.”

  “It’s a deal,” Quint murmured.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you’re doing out there that has to do with abandoned kids, are you?”

  “Maybe later,” Quint said and hit the Disconnect button, then stood and reached for his jacket. It was time to leave and this time he wasn’t going down to check on Amy and the kids first. He knew she was still here. The guard at the front desk had said she hadn’t signed out yet, but just seeing her wasn’t working. He couldn’t continue spending a bit of time with Taylor and Travis, and then just walk away.

  He shrugged into his jacket and turned out the lights, then left his office, heading for Zane’s office. Zane had come back from Aspen yesterday, gave him a call to touch base and that had been that. But he’d use Zane’s elevator to go down to the parking garage. When he had the name of an attorney, he’d let that attorney contact Amy and help her with Travis. He wasn’t getting into it anymore.

  He went through Zane’s office to the executive elevator. As he got in, he quite literally had a sensation of moving away from Amy and the kids and heading toward nothing. He pushed the button for the parking garage, and, as the elevator headed down, he realized that the craziest part of all of this was that he was doing it because he loved her.

  He just wished he wasn’t stumbling so badly over his own justification for what he was doing. If he was right, why was he feeling such loss? Why was he missing Amy’s voice? Her presence? Why was he missing a two-year-old obsessed with popcorn and a foundling who cried most of the time? More importantly, why was Amy alone with two children and he was alone with no one?

  He stepped out of the elevator, and saw that the only two cars in the garage were Amy’s and his. He crossed to the SUV, gripped his briefcase, then took out his key and hit the Release button. He opened the door, tossed in his briefcase and would have gotten in, but stopped when he heard something. He looked around, certain he couldn’t have heard someone crying. Seeing and hearing nothing he slipped inside his car. But just as he reached to close the door, he heard it again—a soft sobbing sound.

  He got out and, looking around, he realized it came from behind a heavy support column near the center. He crossed to the column and looked around the pillar.

  A girl, a teenager, was sitting on the cold concrete, her head in her hands, crying softly. He hesitated, then went closer and tried not to startle her too much. “Excuse me?”

  Her head jerked up, and she scrambled to her feet. Medium height, with long blond hair tangled around her face, she looked miserable. Her blue eyes were swollen from crying and her skin was blotched with spots of bright color. Green overalls worn with a yellow sweater made her look sallow, but as she pressed back against the pillar, Quint didn’t have to ask who she was. She’d come back for Travis.

  “Sir, I’m real sorry,” she said in a soft Texas twang, and scrubbed her eyes. “I’m leavin’. I’m sorry.” And she would have taken off if he hadn’t stopped her.

  “Don’t go.” She stopped. “He’s your baby, isn’t he?”

  She paled at his words, to the point that he thought she might pass out. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” she muttered.

  Amy had been right. The mother cared. She really cared, but she was a scared teenager who obviously hadn’t known what to do. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not going to get you in trouble. In fact, maybe I can help you.”

  She looked uncertain. “I don’t see how you can help me.”

  “Trust me, I can.”

  She seemed to collapse a bit, leaning back against the pillar and hugging her arms around herself. “I’m goin’ to go to jail.”

  “No, you aren’t. I promise you that.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. You’ve got my word on it.”

  She sighed. “I knew when you got him, you were a nice man,” she said in a low voice. “And I knew that lady in there would be good to him. I watched her and she’s so kind. She’s like, real good with kids.”

  She’d checked out Amy before leaving the baby. That meant a lot to Quint and to what he was thinking of doing. “What’s your name?”

  She hesitated. “Shannon.”

  “Shannon, just answer me one thing?”

  “What?”

  “Do you want the best for Travis?”

  “Oh, yes, I do, but I can’t keep him. I can’t do it. I mean, I want to, but it’s…” She bit her lip. “I want him to be happy and safe, but I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep him, but I couldn’t stand it if he was hurt or somethin’. I’m so afraid of doing the wrong thing.”

  At that moment, Quint understood something about himself, something basic and startling. He knew exactly why he was trying to walk away from everything he loved, Amy and Taylor and Travis, and what there could be with the three of them. It wasn’t his age. It wasn’t him not wanting to do “the kid thing” again. It was fear. Plain and simple. Fear of loving them like a part of his own soul and knowing that he could lose them, of knowing that if he told Amy how he felt, it might not mean a thing to her.

  Just watching the fear in Shannon’s face was like looking into his own soul. But he had choices and the power to make them work for everyone in a way that she didn’t. And his choice at that moment wasn’t just to walk away. His choice was to fight. Amy and the kids were worth a fight to the death.

  “I need you to come with me,” he said.

  “You promised I wouldn’t get arrested,” Shannon sa
id, moving back a bit.

  “You won’t. I want you to come in and talk with the lady who has Travis. She needs to meet you.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, I can’t.”

  “If you love Travis and want the best there is for him, you will.”

  She looked at him, and he could almost see her thoughts, wondering if she could trust him, what she should do. Finally, she simply nodded. “Okay.”

  He motioned to the back door to the center. “Let’s go.”

  She went with him and he opened the unlocked door, letting her go inside first. He heard the crying as soon as the door opened, and he led the way toward the sound. Amy’s office.

  Shannon was holding back, and he smiled at her. “Let’s go inside together.”

  She could have bolted, but she didn’t. Instead, she went into the room. He took it all in, Amy trying to keep a crying Travis on her shoulder while she reached for the telephone. Then Taylor turned, saw him and came running for him, passing Shannon without a glance, launching herself into his arms. He lifted her, hugging her to him, and looked over his head at Amy as she drew her hand back from the phone. Slowly she stood, the crying Travis in her arms.

  Everything made perfect sense to him. Life fitted into a sanity that wrapped him with the hope that he might not be too late, that maybe Amy could do what she said she couldn’t do. Maybe she could care enough for him to let him be with her. Maybe his love would be enough for all of them. Or maybe it wouldn’t be. But he wasn’t leaving until he knew for sure, one way or the other.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amy was reaching to make the call when she heard something and looked up to find Quint coming into the office. Her hand froze in midmotion. Taylor was throwing herself at him, being scooped up and hugged, talking in babble that had “Pop” and “Spin” liberally scattered through it. And to his right was the miracle she’d wanted to happen. A young girl in green and yellow, with a pale face and eyes of deep blue, stood very still, never looking away from Travis.

  She didn’t have to ask to know that the baby’s mother had come back. And she’d come back with Quint. Amy stood slowly, trying to comfort Travis, and the girl came toward them. She stared at the baby, but didn’t offer to take him. “He…he cried for me, too, sometimes. Like, I couldn’t stop him,” she said in a low voice that was almost blotted out by the baby’s wails. “He was real good most of the time, but that crying just made my mama real mad.” Her hands stayed in the pockets of her overalls and she finally looked up at Amy. “He’s a good baby though, you know?”