One Perfect Spring

by Irene Hannon

  If she was taken aback by his news, she gave no indication of it.

  “That must mean you decided to follow through on my suggestion.” She lifted her cup of coffee and took a sip, hand steady, voice calm.

  “Yes. I got the answer a lot faster than I expected. My birth mother was in the registry.”

  “Is that right?” Slowly she set her cup back in the saucer. “Have you spoken with her?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to talk with you first. I know you encouraged me to do this, but somehow it feels disloyal to you and dad. You were wonderful parents, and you’re still the best mother in the world. I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you or make you think I have any feelings for my birth mother beyond curiosity. The only reason I’m even considering contacting her is to get answers to some of the questions that have always bothered me.”

  “Keith.” His mother leaned forward, grasped his hand, and locked gazes with him. “Everything I said to you a few weeks ago stands. Your father and I knew your traumatic early years continued to haunt you at some subliminal level. We often discussed it. And we agreed that connecting with your birth mother, finding out more about those years, might resolve some of your issues and give you a sense of closure. We always wanted what was best for you.”

  She gave his fingers a fierce squeeze. “As for hurting me—don’t you worry about that. I know in my heart how much you love me, and I also know no one can ever take my place in your life. I support you in this 100 percent.”

  Blinking, he let out a slow breath. “You’re the best, you know that?”

  She gave a soft laugh. “Hardly. Your dad and I made plenty of errors along the way while we were learning to be parents—but you turned out fine despite our blunders.”

  “I can’t think of a single mistake.”

  “Spoken like the loving and dutiful son you are.” She picked up her cup again. “Let’s have a toast, shall we? To closure, peace of mind, and a bright future.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” He lifted his own cup, clinked it with hers, and took a sip of coffee.

  “So now that you’ve gotten that off your mind and I have your full attention, let’s talk about Claire. I’m picking up some strong electricity between the two of you. Is my ESP still working?”

  He grinned. “Close enough.”

  She gave a satisfied nod. “Excellent. Maybe I’ll get those grandchildren that have been on my mind sooner than I expected.”

  Keith didn’t respond. It was way too premature to have that discussion.

  In truth, though, his mother’s prediction could very well come to pass . . . perhaps later rather than sooner, however, given Claire’s caution. Once burned, twice shy, and all that.

  But even if she tested his patience to the limits, he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Because as far as he could tell, Claire Summers was a woman worth waiting for.

  24

  “Am I interrupting anything?”

  Keith swiveled away from his computer. David stood on the threshold of his office, a file folder in hand. “Nothing that can’t wait. What’s up?”

  As his boss strolled in and sank into a chair across from his desk, Keith studied him.

  The man’s hair was as silver as ever. The age- and sun-induced creases on his face hadn’t diminished one iota. The slight wince as he sat suggested the arthritis that occasionally plagued him had flared up.

  But he looked ten years younger than he had a few weeks ago, and there was a new spring in his step.

  The metamorphosis had to be due to Maureen.

  His boss must be falling for her. Fast. And it was having a positive impact on his whole demeanor.

  He could relate.

  “We’ve had a call about taking over a project from a builder that’s about to file bankruptcy. The details are in here.” He slid the folder across the desk. “Would you go over the numbers, evaluate whether we might be able to salvage this at a profit?”

  “Sure. You want me to do a site visit too?”

  “If the financials merit it. I’ll take a trip out there too, if your research suggests it’s warranted.”

  “Where’s the project?” He started to open the file.

  “Kansas City.”

  His hand froze.

  Kansas City?

  Where his birth mother lived?

  Talk about a coincidence.

  Or was it?

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” He flipped open the file and pretended to examine the documents inside, though the numbers were a blur. “I’ll get on this right away. Would next week be soon enough for my visit, if it comes to that?”

  “Sure. Just keep me updated.” David rose. “Will you be able to make Maureen’s birthday party on Saturday?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. I’ve already given Claire my RSVP. By the way, I got a very nice thank-you note from Maureen yesterday.”

  “That sounds like her.” A smitten smile played at his lips.

  Yeah. His boss was going down for the third time.

  “She gave me far too much credit, though. Finding the woman at St. Columba was a fluke.”

  “Fluke or not, you got better results than her PI did.”

  “I worked cheaper too.”

  “True.” Grinning, David walked to the door. “I’ve got a busy Friday, but if you’re ready to talk about this bankruptcy project by tomorrow, don’t hesitate to grab me between meetings.”

  “I won’t.”

  Once his boss disappeared, he refocused on the file. He had plenty of work to keep him busy well into the evening already . . . but this was now top priority. Because if his due diligence warranted a trip west, that might give him the push he needed to make the call he’d been putting off all week.

  And if it didn’t . . .

  He’d still make the call—but he wouldn’t rush things.

  Decision made, he shut his door, saved the document he’d been working on when David came in, and settled in to do some serious number crunching.

  “Parties are so much fun, Mom!” Haley examined the pack of balloons and the rolls of crepe paper they’d purchased on the way home from school. “Do you think Dr. Chandler is excited?”

  Claire dumped the contents of the ice maker into a plastic bag, secured it with a twister, and stowed it in the freezer. Making extra ice rather than buying it the day of the party would save a couple of bucks she could put toward the pork steaks she was planning to grill—not to mention the ingredients for the side dishes.

  “Absolutely.” She smiled at her daughter, back in fighting form now that the ear infection had cleared up, and tested the potatoes she was boiling for potato salad. Almost done.

  “I wish she could have had a chance to meet her son, though. That would have been a better present than a party.” Haley rested her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm. “When I asked Mr. McMillan to try and find him, I wanted it to be a happy surprise, not a sad one.”

  Claire slid into the chair beside her daughter and smoothed the fine wisps of hair back from her forehead. “I know it didn’t turn out the way any of us expected, but she did find out all about her son. That made her happy. She even has pictures of him now. If it hadn’t been for your letter, she’d always have wondered about him.”

  “I guess.” Haley played with the package of balloons, her expression pensive. “It’s kind of strange how sometimes when we pray for one thing, God gives us something different. It might not be what we wanted, but it can be just as good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I prayed that Mr. McMillan would find Dr. Chandler’s son. And he did—or Keith did. It’s really sad he got killed in the war . . . but other good stuff happened because we tried to find him. You and me got to meet Keith, and Dr. Chandler got to meet Mr. McMillan. Now everybody’s happier. Dr. Chandler smiles all the time, and you laugh and sing more. Those lines between your eyes are even going away. I think maybe that’s what God had planned a
ll along.”

  Claire pulled her daughter into a hug. “You are one smart little girl, you know that?”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re my mom.”

  “Nope. Because it’s true.” She ruffled her hair and stood. “Now why don’t you finish that birthday card you’re making for Dr. Chandler while I set the barbecue grill up on the deck so it’s all ready for Saturday?”

  “Okay.” Haley picked up one of the colored pencils on the table and went back to her artwork.

  As Claire turned down the potatoes and retrieved the grill from the garage, she mulled over Haley’s insights. Not bad for an eleven-year-old.

  And the little girl’s wisdom had implications beyond the present situation. God’s ways might often be difficult to understand, but it seemed—usually in hindsight—that even negative experiences could have positive results.

  Like her marriage to Brett.

  Had she not made a mistake in judgment with him, the little girl who graced her life with love and light and laughter wouldn’t be sitting at her kitchen table right now.

  Perhaps good came from most things, but the benefits were only visible from a distance.

  After stepping through the door Keith had fixed, Claire slid it closed behind her and set the small barbecue grill on the deck. The fragrance from the lilac bush was growing faint now that the blooms had peaked.

  But it lingered in her heart—along with a new, more positive perspective . . . and a bright and shining hope.

  Keith tapped the stack of papers for the bankruptcy project into a neat pile, slid them back into his file folder, and checked his watch.

  Eight o’clock.

  This was the latest he’d stayed at the office in weeks.

  The time had been well spent, however. Based on his review of the spreadsheets and reports David had passed on to him, a trip to Kansas City was more than justified.

  Meaning there were no more excuses to delay a call to his birth mother.

  His pulse picked up as he stowed the file in his credenza. After locking it, he pulled the adoption registry letter from his briefcase. The envelope was getting dog-eared from being carried around for the past week, but the sheet of paper he pulled out was still pristine.

  After spreading it flat on the desk in front of him, he reached for his phone.

  Stopped.

  Closed his eyes.

  Though he’d been remiss in his relationship with God, and daily prayer was a habit he needed to cultivate, the entreaty he sent heavenward flowed straight from the heart.

  Lord, you’ve led me to this place for a reason. I believe you want me to do this. Give me the strength to carry through and to put my trust in you that all will turn out well.

  Then, clamping his fingers around the handset, he took a steadying breath and punched in the number the registry had provided.

  After two rings, a man answered.

  “Is this the correct number for Laura Matthews?” The question came out clipped and taut.

  “Yes. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Keith Watson.”

  A beat of silence passed.

  “Please hold a moment.”

  Much more than a moment passed as he waited.

  After thirty seconds, he wiped his damp palm on his slacks.

  Maybe his birth mother didn’t want to talk with him after all.

  Maybe she’d filled that form out years ago and had had a change of heart.

  Maybe she—

  “Keith?” The female voice was breathless. Tear-laced. “This is Laura Matthews. I’m so glad you called. I’d given up ever . . .” Her voice broke, and in the background he could hear a soothing baritone, though the words were indistinguishable.

  He waited her out, jaw clamped. He would not let her emotional response to his call affect him. He did not intend to feel anything for this woman. He just wanted answers.

  “I’m sorry.” She was back, sounding shakier than before. “It’s just that it’s been so long. When I got the notice from the adoption registry, I could hardly believe it. I wanted to call right away, but Dennis—my husband—convinced me to wait. He said you might just want to know my name and didn’t intend to get in touch. I’m so glad you did.”

  The ball was in his court.

  He cleared his throat. “I almost didn’t. But there are questions that have bothered me for a long time, and I’d like some answers. I’m going to be in your area next week on business, and I hoped we might be able to get together.”

  “Of course. Anytime. Would you like to come to my house?”

  “No.” His answer was swift and sure. No way was he venturing onto her turf. He wanted a neutral place where they could meet on equal terms. “I’d prefer a coffee shop or café. Even a park.”

  “All right. Where in town will you be staying?”

  He found the address of the job site and read it off. “That’s where I’ll be working, and I’ll stay nearby. I’m not familiar with Kansas City, and I haven’t booked a hotel yet.”

  “Why don’t I meet you in the lobby of your hotel, assuming it has a coffee shop? You can let me know where after you make your reservations. If that doesn’t work, I’ll find a spot nearby. Starbucks is everywhere.”

  Fine with him if she wanted to travel to where he was. That would make things easier.

  “That works for me. I’ll be in touch tomorrow once my travel arrangements are set.” His tone was businesslike, impersonal. Probably not what she’d hoped to hear.

  Too bad.

  “That sounds fine. I’ll wait for your call. And Keith . . . thank you for following up. It means a lot to me.”

  He didn’t return the sentiment. “I’ll be in touch. Good-bye.”

  With a trembling finger, he pressed the switch hook, severing the connection.

  For a full minute, he sat unmoving, giving his pounding heart a chance to slow down. When it finally did, he picked up the phone again and tapped in Claire’s number.

  Haley answered.

  “Hi, Keith. Guess what we’re doing?”

  The youngster’s innocent exuberance helped restore his equilibrium. “I haven’t a clue, kiddo. What?”

  “Getting ready for Dr. Chandler’s birthday party. Mom’s cooking and I’m making a card. We have a bunch of balloons to blow up too.”

  “Sounds like you two ladies are busy. Do you think your mom might have a minute to talk to me?”

  “Oh, sure. She always likes to talk to you. She says a phone call from you is better than chocolate. Hang on a sec.”

  He was still smiling when she picked up. “So I’m better than chocolate, huh?”

  She huffed out a breath. “I need to begin teaching that girl the rules of the dating game—starting with the one about looking too eager. A lot of men take women who are too accessible for granted.”

  “Not this man.”

  “Nice to know. What’s up?”

  The corners of his mouth flattened. “I made the call.”

  “Oh, Keith. Hang on.” He heard the sliding door open. Close. “I moved outside. I wish I was there to give you a hug.”

  “I think you stole my line from the day you called me on your lunch break at school. But yeah . . . I wish you were too.”

  “How did it go?”

  He filled her in on the KC job and his promise to his birth mother that he’d call back and set up a meeting. “We haven’t picked a date yet, but by this time next week, it will be history.”

  “Did she sound . . . receptive?”

  “More than.”

  “That’s good, then. You’re more likely to get the answers you’re looking for if she’s cooperative. Did you find out anything else on the phone?”

  He swiveled around in his chair and gazed at the screen saver on his computer, but the predictable, balanced design didn’t soothe him as much as usual. “She’s married. Her husband answered.”

  “Did he sound . . . normal?”

  “Very. So did she.”<
br />
  The bitter thread that wove through his words surprised him—and didn’t get past Claire.

  “That seems to bother you.” Her tone was cautious.

  He rose, suddenly restless, and began to pace. “It’s just not what I expected, I guess. I mean, she was into drugs. She served time in a federal prison. She tried to commit suicide. None of that suggests stability or a normal life.”

  “But that was thirty years ago. Some people do learn from their mistakes and make big changes in their lives. It’s possible she’s one of them.”

  He stopped beside the window and stared into the night, dredging up a painful truth from the darkest corner of his heart. “You know . . . I’m ashamed to admit this, but I think part of me didn’t want her to change. That way, I could get my answers and write her off. I wouldn’t have to think a whole lot about forgiveness, or feel too guilty about carrying a grudge. But it’s harder when people have remorse—and I got the feeling she’s carrying around a boatload of it.”

  “I understand your dilemma. Forgiveness can be a very tough struggle. Maybe once you meet her, though, you’ll see things differently.”

  “Maybe.” But he wasn’t holding his breath.

  “Will you call me again tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. I might be bending your ear a lot until I get past this.”

  “I’m available any time. You’re still coming to Maureen’s party, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  The sound of a sliding door came over the line, followed by Haley’s muffled voice. “Mom, can you help with the rabbit I’m trying to draw? It looks like a dopey dog.”

  “I’ll be right in.”

  “Go ahead and help your daughter. Thanks for listening.”

  “Always. In fact, I’ll do more than that. I’ll pray about this every day.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  And as he rang off, gathered up his briefcase and computer, and turned off the lights for the night, he hoped she would follow through on that pledge.

  Because in the days to come, he would need all the prayers he could get.