Return to Paradise

by Carol Grace

  "Hey," he said, gathering her gently in his arms. "Be patient. We've been waiting almost a year. You can wait another hour or two."

  "A year? I've been waiting all my life."

  He smiled indulgently, and turned her in the direction of the window. "Look at that weather. It's going to take longer than they thought."

  "Do you think it's dangerous?" she asked, her forehead puckering in alarm.

  "Not if they drive slowly, which they obviously are." She shivered despite the warmth of the blazing fire in the hearth and he held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Don't you have something to do to get ready?"

  "Ready? I've been ready for eleven months. As soon as we filled out the forms I started working on the room."

  She'd painted, papered, carpeted and decorated the former guest room where she'd once stayed. The chest of drawers was full, the old rocker in the corner sanded and varnished.

  "As I remember, you couldn't wait to get out of your wedding dress and into your old painting shirt."

  "You didn't mind, did you?" she asked, clasping his hands in hers. "You don't think I married you just to get a baby, do you? Because I would have married you anyway. You are all I really need in this world. As much as I love children, I love you more." She looped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers for a deep, solemn kiss.

  Reluctantly Christine broke away and ran her hands down the broad planes of Parker's chest, reveling in the solid strength of him, both physical and emotional. Knowing she owed her happy present and her bright future to him.

  "I should do something. Something useful."

  Something to keep her mind off of the impending arrival and the weather.

  "Bake something," he suggested.

  "I did. It's in the oven."

  "Read something."

  "I can't concentrate."

  He shook his head in mock despair. "Come out to the barn with me. Sarah's out there."

  She shook her head. "What if they call? I might miss them. You go ahead. I'll stay here and pace in front of the window."

  "Good girl." He patted her on the shoulder. "Somebody has to do it."

  With a fond backward glance he grabbed his jacket and left her there, doing what she had to do. He was sincere when he said somebody had to do it. He was just as nervous as she was about the new arrival, but he couldn't show it. Not in front of her. If she weren't watching for the car, he'd be there glued to the window, gnawing on his fingernails.

  The barn smelled of hay and animals grateful to be in out of the cold. Sarah was brushing her prize Angora goat until the pure white wool lay thick and straight. She looked up when her father came through the side door.

  "She's looking good," Parker said, pulling up a milking stool and sitting next to his daughter.

  "I thought you didn't like goats," she said, tilting her head in his direction.

  "I didn't. Until I met Rocky here," he said, running his hand over her silky fleece.

  "Her name is not Rocky. Her name is Blanche. Okay, so I thought she was a he at first. I had a lot to learn about goats."

  "You and me both," her father confessed.

  "What about babies?" she asked, holding a handful of grain under Blanche's nose. Her tone was casual, but he noticed an anxious look in her deep blue eyes.

  "Well, let's see. As I remember, they're a lot like goats. At least, you were. And you're the only one I've ever had." He tousled her hair and she smiled to herself.

  "How do you mean?"

  "Well, Blanche here was born with lots of hair and so were you."

  "I was?"

  "Yep, beautiful hair, just as soft as hers." He nodded at the goat.

  "Goats can run and jump four hours after they're born," she noted with a sideways glance at her father.

  "Oh, yeah? Well that's where they're different. You couldn't run or jump right away, but you could smile when you were six weeks old. And wrap your hand around my finger. And say Dada."

  Her eyes widened. "Did I really?"

  He nodded. "You were the smartest and the cutest baby I ever saw."

  She turned her head, but not before he saw her blink back a tear. "But was I good?"

  "Good? You were the best baby there ever was. You never cried, except when you had good reason."

  "What about..."

  "Baby Jane? She's got a lot to live up to, being your little sister. Christine's counting on you teaching her everything you know. About horses, sheep, goats, math, history, poetry... everything. This place is going to be yours one day, you know, yours and hers and whoever else comes along."

  "Does Pop know about that?"

  "He's the one who suggested it."

  "But you always said..."

  "I was always wrong. I didn't realize how much you loved this place and how much you belong here. Not till you came home. When I sent you away to school I thought it was the best place for you. But it wasn't. And I'm real sorry about that."

  She shrugged off his apology. "Then Baby Jane can stay home. You won't send her away to school?"

  "Not unless she wants to go. Everybody's different. Maybe she'll want to raise rabbits instead of goats. Maybe she'll want to play the violin instead of making goat cheese."

  "She can play her violin while I'm milking my goats. They love music. It increases productivity," she said solemnly.

  "You've got it all figured out," Parker said with a fond smile. Then he stood and cocked his ear. "Did you hear a car?"

  Sarah gasped, tossed her brush to one side and together they ran back to the house through the softly falling snow.

  Christine was holding the door open for them, her face pale except for the red spots on her cheekbones. Parker put one arm around her and the other around Sarah. Pop had heard the car and come hobbling from his room. All eyes were on the dark red sedan parked in the driveway and the woman who got out of the driver's side and came around to open the passenger door. Parker and Christine and Sarah melted together as one.

  "What if they forgot her?" Sarah asked anxiously.

  "What if she has no hair?" her father teased.

  "What if she is a he?" Christine wondered.

  Exchanging worried looks, they hurried down the stairs Christine had swept twice that day already.

  "Sorry we're late," the first woman said.

  "It's the weather," said the other, carefully holding a baby—their baby—in her arms.

  Christine thought her lungs would burst, thought her legs would collapse, thought she'd faint dead away if they didn't show her, give her that baby now.

  But the social services lady held on to the baby until they were all in the living room, seated on their couch. A hush fell over the room, broken only by a log crackling in the fireplace. Parker almost expected to hear a drum roll. The social worker unwrapped the baby and handed her to Christine.

  They counted her toes, they examined her tiny ears, they oohed and aahed and pronounced her a perfect baby. She seemed to be equally pleased with them, bestowing her calm gaze on each in turn as if to say, "Yes, you'll do nicely. And by the way, when is dinner?"

  Christine shifted the baby in her arms and reached for Parker's hand.

  "This is the happiest day of my life," she said.

  "You said that on our wedding day," he reminded her.

  "I didn't think it could get any better," she said, remembering that same living room full of guests, the flowers and her white satin dress. "But it did."

  "I've got a feeling," Parker said, "that you're going to say the same thing next year."

  "And the year after that," Sarah predicted, counting her baby sister's tiny toes once more.

  And she was right.

  * * * *

  If you enjoyed RETURN TO PARADISE you will want to read LONELY MILLIONAIRE ….(also available as an e-book)

  Dear Mr. Lonely....Mandy Clayton never answered personal ads, but this was one she couldn't resist and now she was falling for a guy she'd never met.

&n
bsp; Adam Gray was not interested in a mail-order romance, but he was willing to write some love letters for his friend. Then he had to go "check out" the bride to be. Off he went on an undercover job at Mandy's Bed and Breakfast in a small California beach town. Adam was a good guy who always played by the rules, but one look at Mandy and he couldn't help it - he wanted her for himself! He wasn't there to romance his best friend's fiancee. He knew that. It would be wrong... He knew that too.

  Carol Grace was born with wanderlust. She was raised in Illinois but longed to go other places so she spent her junior year in college at the Sorbonne in Paris. After grad school in L.A. she went to San Francisco to work at the public TV station where she met her future husband.

  At KQED she was the switchboard operator and did on-the-air promos (in French) for her idol, Julia Child, thus proving to her parents that French was a useful major after all.

  She left TV and went on board the hospital ship Hope for 3 voyages — Guinea, Nicaragua, and Tunisia. Then after finally marrying, she and her husband went to Algeria and Iran to work. They loved the excitement of living abroad but eventually came back to California to raise their two children in their mountain-top home overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Carol says that writing is another way of making life exciting.

  Table of Contents

  Return to Paradise

  Midpoint