by Tessa Radley
Ella looked closer—it was true. She glanced back at the third portrait in the folder still open on her lap. The parents sat far apart—a gaping space yawned between them. Despite their smiles neither of them looked terribly happy. “Perhaps it’s the pressure—they know how important this is.”
“They’re supposed to be selling themselves.”
“No!” Ella pulled away a few inches to put some distance between them. “They’re trying to adopt a baby.”
“All the more reason to put the best—the happiest—picture forward.”
She wanted to tell him that he was cynical, that he was oversimplifying the matter. But when Ella stared hard at the three faces in the photo, she realized that it didn’t work for her. There was no vibe of joy or intimacy.
Ella made her decision and shut the folder with a snap.
She wasn’t letting Holly go to this family. “They may be wonderful people. It may have been a tense day when the photos were taken. But that’s a no.”
She couldn’t take that very remote chance of sending Holly to an unhappy home.
A smile lit up Yevgeny’s face.
Was that a glint of triumph? Ella stilled. Suddenly his closeness took on a new aspect. Was the enforced intimacy deliberate? Had his comments been staged?
Was she being manipulated by an expert?
She rejected the suspicion almost instantly. She was no pushover.
Then she paused.
Who had the most to gain if she rejected all the families?
The answer came at once.
Yevgeny.
Ella tipped her head to one side and studied him, measuring and resisting the magnetic pull of that sexy bottom lip, the sculpted masculine features and the clear piercing eyes.
Had he deliberately tried to put her off that last family? “You’re not asking me if I’m going to change my mind and keep the baby?”
“I know you won’t.”
The speed of his response took her aback. Ella realized she’d half expected him to try and persuade her not to give up on the child. “Why’ve you finally decided that?”
His eyes narrowed. Reaction bolted like lightning forks through her. His gaze drifted over her...down...down...sending shivers in its wake...then returned to her face.
Was that calculated, too? A deliberate attempt to ratchet up her awareness of him?
Or was she simply far too suspicious?
Ella forced herself to hold his gaze.
“You’re not cut out for motherhood.” There was distance between them—as wide as the Pacific and many times as deep. He shrugged. “Some women simply aren’t.”
All the frisson of awareness froze. The delicious moments of understanding beside the Christmas tree evaporated.
She tensed.
The dismissal implicit in his words, in that careless shrug, needled her.
How dare Yevgeny judge her when he didn’t even know what made her tick? How dare he assume who she was...and what she wasn’t? But she bit back the fierce tide of anger and said instead with quiet force, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Beneath the question lay a vast sea of unspoken pain.
He looked startled at the challenge. “That your career is too important. That you have other priorities.” He shrugged again, in that way that was starting to seriously rile her. “It’s not unusual not to want to be a mother. I’ve known other women like you.”
He had?
And had he been as clueless about what made those women tick?
Carefully, through tight-pressed lips, Ella said, “I’m starting to think Nadiya had a very lucky escape.”
Yevgeny rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Of course you do.”
Then he reached forward and picked the last profile off the coffee table in front of them. “Let’s see if this couple is any more suitable than the rest.”
Ella let out the breath trapped in her lungs. This time she was determined to open to the front page and fall in love with the family revealed within. This would be it. Then the search would be over, and Yevgeny would have to live with her decision.
But it didn’t happen.
The text accompanying the photo indicated that couple had no children. And they requested a closed adoption.
That request unexpectedly rattled Ella.
Badly.
For the first time she realized what it would mean to never see Holly again—or at least not until her baby was all grown up and legally an adult who could request information about the identity of her birth mother contained in the sealed adoption records. To not know what color her baby’s eyes turned out to be. To miss out on news about her first day at school. To never see photos of her first school dance.
Ella hadn’t contemplated how much comfort having an open adoption gave her. Until now.
She didn’t need to read any further. “No.”
In the silence that followed, the thud of the folder landing on the coffee table sounded overloud. Ella flinched.
“At this rate you aren’t going to find a family for Holly.” Yevgeny sounded faintly smug. “You might find I’ll be the only choice left.”
“Never!” she vowed. That was not an option.
He smirked. “Never is a very long time.”
“I’ll ask Jo for the next set of files.”
“And when all of those families fall short of your rigorous demands, what then?”
Was Yevgeny right? Was it possible that his manipulation had nothing to do with it, that she had set her standards too high? Ella looked away from him and studied the mountain of portfolios through blank eyes, then dismissed his theory.
No, she knew exactly what kind of parents she wanted for Holly.
They were out there.
Somewhere...
Drawing a steadying breath, she pushed her glasses up her nose and glanced across the couch at Yevgeny. “I’ll find a family—and you’re right, they will be perfect, absolutely perfect, for the baby.”
Instead of the usual cocksure arrogance, there was a glint of something close to sympathy in his eyes. Slowly he shook his head from side to side. “You’re not going to find what you’re looking for.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I know you, Ella. Better than you know yourself.”
Ella rejected that instantly. The man was delusional—he didn’t know her. At all. So much for thinking she’d recognized sympathetic understanding in his eyes. All it had been was a different kind of arrogance.
“You’re mad,” she said.
Yet instead of flaring up in anger as she’d half expected at her accusation, he laughed, showing off dazzling white teeth. His mood had changed again.
“It’s day five today. Do you really think you’re going to allow yourself to find a family before Christmas if you carry on being this picky?”
It had nothing to do with “allowing” herself. He had that all wrong. When she saw the right couple...she would know deep in her heart that they were the ones. Ella was utterly certain of that.
“I’m not being unreasonably picky,” she argued. “I want the right family. I’m not going to rush this.”
Even as she spoke Ella could feel the tension starting to rewind tightly in her stomach. Time was of essence. No one understood that better than she did.
She had to find Holly a family.
A week from today would be day twelve, the day she could finally sign the consent to adoption. The sooner Holly could start to bond with her family, the better. Yevgeny was right—if she carried on picking apart every family she would only delay letting Holly go to a family who would love and cherish her.
But on the other hand...it was almost Christmas.
How could she push the baby away b
efore Christmas? She paused.
Why not...
Before she could stop herself her mind traveled down the forbidden path. The anguish she’d expected didn’t come.
Yes, why not?
Ella came to a decision.
“I don’t have to find a family before Christmas. I’m going to wait until after Christmas. That way Holly can spend her first Christmas here.” Fearing the blaze of triumph she was certain Yevgeny’s face would reflect, her gaze flicked to the corner dominated by the giant tree with its merry flashing lights.
The red-and-silver balls gleamed warmly.
The right family would emerge after Christmas.
Once she’d taken down the Christmas tree that Yevgeny had helped her put up this evening...and finally said goodbye to the baby...she would have plenty of time to reflect—and come to terms with how her life had been unexpectedly changed. And perhaps she would even follow Jo’s advice and attend grief counseling.
For now she would take it one day at a time.
In the meantime, she’d take photos—make an album for the baby to take with her to her new life. That way Holly would one day be able to look back and see where her life had started.
And Ella would be satisfied that she’d done everything she could for the baby.
Because Yevgeny was right: she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to be a mother. She was enough like his own mother to terrify him.
She was determined to choose someone better for Holly.
Seven
Seated behind the desk in her office, a legal pad open in front of her, Ella gazed sympathetically at the young, heavily pregnant woman on the other side of the desk. When Peggy had arrived to start work early this morning, she’d discovered a pregnant, tearful Pauline Patterson waiting in the lobby for the law offices to open. Taking in Pauline’s red-rimmed eyes, Ella could see why her paralegal had been worried about the young woman and why Peggy had wasted no time in summoning Ella back to work.
“You’re certain divorce is the course of action you want to take?” she asked Pauline.
“I can’t afford a lawyer, but my sister said if I didn’t retain one my husband would take me to the cleaners.”
A few more questions elicited the fact that Pauline Patterson’s sister seemed to have a lot of opinions about the marriage—yet some of the problems that were plaguing the couple didn’t sound insurmountable to Ella. Especially given the sadness in Pauline’s eyes when she spoke of leaving her husband.
Carefully Ella asked, “Have you tried couples counseling?”
Pauline shook her head. “No. My sister said I needed a lawyer—to show Ian I meant business.”
Ella ignored the sister’s views and explained, “Through the courts you’re entitled to six free sessions. I strongly recommend that you try counseling first.” Ella couldn’t stop herself from glancing down at Pauline’s swollen stomach. “It’s a good idea to exhaust all alternatives first. Divorce is stressful for everyone...and it can be very final. Sometimes there is no going back.”
Fear flared in Pauline’s eyes. “I still love Ian. I don’t really want to get a divorce—I want to sort this out. My sister says this is the best way to get his attention.”
“He’s not listening to you?”
“His friends are more important to him than me or the baby.” There was a doleful note in the young woman’s voice. “I miss my mother—she’s back in England. Now that I’m pregnant, I need help.” Tears rolled down Pauline’s cheeks.
“Have you told your husband you need more help—that you miss your mother?”
Pauline shook her head. “No. His mother and my mother both said we were too young to get married. I’ve been determined to prove them all wrong. To show everyone—even Ian—that I wasn’t too young.”
Ella asked a few more questions that revealed that money wasn’t a problem. Although both Pauline and Ian seemed to shop more than they should, Ian had a good job with prospects of another promotion soon. Nor, to Ella’s relief, was he verbally or physically abusive. It appeared this was a case of both of them needing to grow up quickly now that they had a baby on the way, and learning to talk and listen to each other better.
Coming to a decision, Ella said, “Before you go further down the road with a divorce, why don’t you talk to Ian about your unhappiness? I suggest that you both go to counseling and visit a budgeting service. If Ian refuses to go, I think you should take advantage of the sessions for yourself.”
Ella reached into a drawer for business cards for a couple of counselors who worked with the court, and another card for a local budgeting service.
She smiled at the young woman as she handed the cards to her. “Sometimes, when you spend more than you earn, financial worries can put a lot of pressure on a marriage—particularly if there’s a baby on the way. And if Ian is out with friends all hours of the night when you’re tired and pregnant, resentment can breed. These people may be able to help you. If they can’t, and you still feel certain that dissolving your marriage is the only way forward, come and see me again. We will put a plan into action.”
Pauline glanced down at the business cards she held. “You really think this will work?”
This was a question to which Ella never had a good enough answer. “There are no guarantees. But at least you will know in your heart that you tried everything before you decided that divorce was the only solution. And that will help you when you start the road to recovery. You’ll have fewer regrets.”
Over the years Ella had learned that often parties who consulted with her determined to secure a divorce wanted nothing more than to be pointed in the right direction to save their marriage. Not in all cases, but enough for her to know that six sessions of counseling were worth trying first.
As Pauline thanked her, tears of hope sparkling in her eyes, Ella’s lips curved up into a small smile, and she couldn’t help wondering what Yevgeny would say if he saw her now—hardly the hotshot lawyer out to destroy every marriage in town for an outrageous fee.
* * *
Yevgeny took in the tearstained face of the young woman exiting Ella’s office as he stood aside to let her pass. Then he entered Ella’s workspace, shut the door behind him—and pounced. “You’re doing her divorce?”
“That’s none of your business!”
Ella’s light brown eyes were cool. She stood behind the barrier of a highly polished wooden desk, clad in one of those black power suits he’d come to hate.
“She’s pregnant!” The angry words ripped from him.
“That doesn’t mean anything. There are times when divorce is the right thing—even for a pregnant woman.”
“And what about the baby’s father? What if it’s not the right thing for him?” Blood pounded in his head. Everything he’d come here to say had evaporated from his mind. Now he could only think about another divorce...another father deprived of his sons. His father. “What about the father’s rights?”
“Everything in a divorce is negotiated.”
“Not if the woman lies.” It was a snarl. “Not if she manipulates everything and everyone to get sole custody, and bars her husband from ever seeing the children...I mean, the child,” he corrected himself quickly, as he stalked to the front edge of the wooden desk. Ella still stood on the other side. She didn’t seem to have noticed his slip of tongue, as she watched him, unmoved. “Both father and child lose then. I ask you, is that right? Is it fair?”
“Yevgeny, it’s my job to make certain—”
“Your job is to be a divorce lawyer.”
“Family lawyer,” she corrected.
“You broker agreements, which keep boys from their fathers and wait like a vulture over a kill.”
“What?”
She drew herself up, which wasn’t much higher than his should
er, Yevgeny knew. Her eyes blazed gold fire at him across the expanse of the polished desk.
“I don’t do anything of the kind! Divorce is hard on everyone. It’s my job to make the arrangements workable after a marriage ends. And that means taking the children’s needs into consideration from the very beginning. Sure, the spouses are often furious with each other, but it’s part of my responsibility to make sure that the party I’m representing is aware that their children take priority. I don’t try to prevent the father’s access to his kids—unless there’s reason to do so. Violence. A history of abuse.” She shrugged. “My job is not always pleasant.”
“I’m not talking about instances of domestic violence.” Yevgeny refused to back down. “I’m talking about women who manipulate you—and the judge.” His voice was thick, his Russian accent pronounced. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to relax.
He’d arrived at Ella’s house earlier to visit Holly—and discovered Ella had abandoned the baby to return to work. He’d been outraged. He’d come here to tell Ella what he thought of her—not to be dragged into the past.
Her brow wrinkled. “Are we talking about a specific case here?”
He looked away. His stomach tightened. For a moment he could smell the long-forgotten musty smell of another legal office with its wooden-paneled walls and leather chairs. He could see the never-forgotten triumph in his mother’s smile as she rose to her feet to shake the lawyer’s hand. It had been three years until he’d seen his father again, and only because his mother had walked out of the fancy house his father paid a fortune to maintain, leaving her two sons alone in it. The housekeeper had called his father to advise that his mother had gone—she couldn’t have cared less.
When he looked back at Ella, her head was tipped to one side as she inspected him. The brown eyes no longer flamed, they’d warmed to the pale gold of honey behind her glasses. “Did you have a child taken from you in the past?”
He’d never heard that soft, sweet tone from her before.
My God. She felt pity for him! No one ever felt that kind of emotion for him. Never. It rocked Yevgeny. He shook his head in a jerky motion, rejecting the very idea. “This is not about me!”
