by Sharon Swan
That was the same sunny summer day she’d seen Dev Devlin for the very first time, she couldn’t help but recall, and even to her pre-adolescent eyes, he’d been a memorable sight when she’d passed him on the sidewalk just doors down from the Heartbreaker Saloon. She’d never expected him, or any teenage boy, to notice her.
Yet he had, giving her a slow smile as their eyes met for a brief moment—a smile she’d done her best to return in her own shy fashion. Then he’d continued on his way, swaggering just a bit in his threadbare T-shirt and battered jeans, and she’d thought that maybe she’d made an acquaintance in town, if not a real friend.
But that was before her young ears had picked up on some pointed comments about the local “bad boy.”
“That Devlin kid,” a longtime Jester resident had contended within Amanda’s hearing, “is primed to go down the same road as the rest of his shiftless family.”
“Any girl who gets involved with him is just plain looking for trouble,” someone else had said.
Having spent most of her brief life being a “good girl” in an effort to please the father she adored, Amanda had taken those comments to heart and given the bad boy a wide berth. Only after she’d returned to Jester as a full-grown woman had she felt ready to take on the man Dev Devlin had become.
The undeniable truth that she’d done it, had taken on both him and his rowdy saloon, made it ever harder to consider selling out to him now. Could she really give in? Amanda wondered yet again.
Yes, she finally decided, releasing a long breath. She not only could do it, she would do it…if the fate of four children depended on it.
Which it just might, Amanda told herself as she swung her gray compact into the parking lot of the brown brick building housing the local division of Child and Family Services. She’d know soon enough what had to be done, she more than suspected. The fact that she still hadn’t shared the news about her sisters and brothers with anyone besides Dev Devlin by no means meant that she’d considered for even one minute backing off on her plan to do everything possible to further her chances of being allowed to provide a home for her newfound relatives.
With that goal still firmly in mind, she straightened the fitted jacket of her cream-colored wool suit and tried to look every inch the competent and responsible woman as she entered a small reception area. There, she met the Pine Run attorney who had stunned her down to her toes when he’d phoned her after being somewhat surprised himself to learn that she existed.
“Pleased to meet you, my dear,” Clarence Whipple told her in the courtly fashion of a silver-haired man probably close to seventy. Short of stature and built along thin lines, he wore a three-piece, pin-striped suit with comfortable ease, as though he’d been born into the legal profession. “I know this must be a very important day for you.”
“It is,” Amanda agreed as they shook hands.
Clarence pulled a small envelope from his well-worn briefcase. “I have the school photos and newspaper article that initially led me to you. I thought you would like to have them.” He gave the sealed envelope to Amanda. “I also took the liberty of including a recent snapshot of your half siblings, one of several I came across.”
She put the envelope in her shoulder bag. “That was very kind of you. I know I must have sounded astonished when you first called me.”
“Yes, you could say that,” he murmured with a trace of wry humor before his expression settled into more serious lines. “I was pleased to be able to tell you about the children, even though I also had the regrettable task of conveying the information that your father had passed away—and under somewhat, er, unfortunate circumstances.”
Yes, those circumstances had definitely been unfortunate, Amanda thought. She had to appreciate Clarence Whipple’s tact in giving the matter no more than a mere mention now. “How difficult do you think it will be for me to get custody?”
The lawyer met her gaze. “I can only say that, on one hand, your being the closest relative still living will work in your favor. On the other hand, a drawback is the fact that you’re single, and placement with a married couple is usually preferred. I believe the outcome will depend on whether we can convince the authorities that putting the children in your care is the most satisfactory solution for them.”
Amanda nodded. “Before things get started, can you tell me more about what their mother was like?” It was something she’d found herself wondering about more than once during the last several days, since she only had the barest memories of the woman who had become her father’s second wife. A tall, full-figured blonde with a ready smile for visitors to Jester Savings and Loan was how Amanda remembered Rita Winslow.
“She applied for a position in my office soon after returning to Montana,” Clarence said. “My first impression was that Rita had changed from the young, and I suppose I have to say somewhat flighty, woman I recalled from her earlier days in Pine Run. Rather than skirting the issue, as some might have been inclined to do, she was forthright about the details of her life in Minnesota and how she’d become a widow there. When she went on to candidly admit that she needed a job to support her children, I decided to take her on for a probationary period to see how things went. As it happened, she turned out to be a good worker, and I came to like her more than enough to be both shocked and saddened by the accident that took her life.”
“Thank goodness the children weren’t with her in the car,” Amanda had to say, having already learned during the initial phone conversation with the lawyer that Rita had been on her way to pick them up at a baby-sitter’s house after work when she’d apparently hit an icy patch in the road.
“Mr. McFadden is ready to see you now,” the young brunette acting as receptionist told them. “His office is just down the hall, first door on the right.”
They followed directions, and in a matter of seconds Amanda met Haynes McFadden, supervisor of the local division. The long and lean man with a balding head rimmed by sandy hair in turn introduced a middle-aged woman occupying one of the visitor’s chairs set in front of a modern oak desk. “This is Louise Pearson, one of our longtime and most dedicated employees. Mrs. Pearson is currently handling the Bradley case.”
That name got Amanda’s attention in a hurry. Although they’d never met face-to-face before, she knew that Louise Pearson was no stranger to Jester. In fact, she’d been the social worker involved in the case of a baby left in the Brimming Cup coffee shop shortly after Amanda’s good friend Shelly Dupree—now Shelly O’Rourke with her recent marriage—had become one of the big jackpot winners. Although the episode had ended happily with the mother’s eventual return to claim her child, Amanda had no trouble recalling how Louise had been described as a person to be reckoned with.
As if to prove it, the woman with dark brown hair well-threaded with gray and pulled back in a neat bun, rose to her feet and squared sturdily built shoulders covered by a plain navy suit. Her sharp hazel eyes met Amanda’s gaze head-on.
“I have the children waiting to meet you in another room,” Louise said, her tone brisk. “I’ve already explained the relationship to them, but I’m sure they still have questions. It might be better if you took a few minutes to get acquainted before we come back here for a more private discussion of the details of your situation.”
Well, this was it, Amanda thought. She drew in a steadying breath. “All right.”
“I’ll wait for you here,” Clarence told her as he lowered himself into a visitor’s chair. Again he was being tactful, and Amanda had to be grateful one more time. It would be hard enough, she suspected, to keep her composure without an audience around.
At a gestured invitation, Amanda followed Louise across the room toward a side door. The older woman paused with one hand on the knob and glanced back at Amanda. “Before we go in, I think it would be wise to get something straight. The bottom line with me is that I want what’s best for these children.”
Recognizing the truth underscoring that straightforward statement,
Amanda replied, “So do I.”
Louise studied her for a moment. “I’m glad to find we agree on that.” And with those words, she opened the door.
Stepping through it, Amanda found herself in a narrow conference room. At its center stood an oval-shaped oak table currently covered with a variety of coloring books and crayons, and seated around it were the children who had already made a permanent place for themselves in Amanda’s mind.
Now, watching as four pairs of brown eyes stared back at her—eyes so much like her father’s…and like her own—Amanda felt the impact of that sight hit her straight in the heart. Her sisters and brothers, she thought. On the day each was born, they had become a part of her, and she a part of them.
“Hello,” she said, summoning the brightest smile she could.
It won her a smile in turn from the smallest person in the room, a little charmer with a chubby-cheeked face framed by tiny golden curls. In contrast, the other children, all with hair as short, blond and curly as their youngest sibling, merely continued to stare.
Louise formally introduced them, although Amanda already knew the basics regarding their names and ages. Seven-year-old Liza was the eldest. Like her younger brothers, Caleb and Patrick, she was as slender as a reed. Only eighteen-month-old Betsy was more round than slim. All were dressed in a colorful mix of well-worn cotton pants and long-sleeved T-shirts.
Amanda pulled out a padded oak chair and took a seat next to Liza, who held Betsy in her lap. “I’m so happy to meet you.” She let her gaze connect with each of the children as she looked around the table. “I’m Amanda, your—” she had to swallow against a sudden tightness before she got it out “—big sister.”
“Amadaba,” Betsy said, offering another smile.
“I guess it is quite a mouthful,” Amanda admitted with a slight curve of her lips. “How about if you all call me Mandy?” No one except her parents had ever used that name, but at the moment it seemed undeniably right.
“Mandeee!” Betsy declared, clapping her tiny hands.
“Yes, you’ve got it,” Amanda told the pint-size girl.
“She’s very smart,” Liza offered in a small voice that nonetheless held more than a hint of pride.
Amanda nodded. “I don’t doubt that for a minute. In fact, I wouldn’t be a bit amazed if you’re all smart.”
“Why?” That question came from five-year-old Caleb, who sat across the table.
“Because our father was a very smart man.” Which was no more than pure fact, Amanda reflected with assurance. It would have been surprising if anyone had ever contended that Sherman Bradley was less than intelligent. No, whatever his weaknesses had been, they couldn’t be blamed on any lack of brainpower.
“So we got the same daddy,” Patrick, the youngest boy at four, summed up with a solemn look. “And now he’s in heaven, with my mommy.”
Tears pricked at Amanda’s eyes, but she refused to give in to them. These children, she told herself, didn’t need any more tears in their lives. What they needed was someone to love them.
And she did. There was simply no question about that. The sheer truth was that she’d fallen head over heels at her very first sight of them. “I know you’ve all been through a bad time, but there are better things ahead.”
“Like what?” Caleb wanted to know, a small glint of what might have been hope gleaming in his gaze.
Amanda knew she had to pick her words carefully. She couldn’t tell them they would have a home with her. Not yet. “Well, for one thing, you get to live in Montana.” It was as enthusiastic a statement as she could make it. “You know, not too far west of where we are now there are mountains so tall they almost seem to touch the sky, and rivers that run so fast the fish don’t even have to swim—the water just pushes them along.”
Both boys smiled at that while Betsy clapped again. Only Liza continued to fix Amanda with a wary stare.
“Do cowboys live there?” Caleb asked, seeming to be the most curious of the group.
“Not only there, but all over this state,” Amanda told him. “They wear wide-brimmed hats with straight-legged jeans and shirts with shiny snaps down the front.” All of which described the Western-style clothing the Heartbreaker Saloon’s owner favored.
Abruptly an image formed in Amanda’s mind, one she ousted in the next breath. She didn’t want to think about Dev Devlin and the fact that he’d probably waste little time in tracking her down when she returned to Jester. He’d no doubt be champing at the bit to learn if she was going to let him make her an offer for her property. And she was, she knew, if it would mean keeping these children out of a foster home run by strangers.
“I wanna be a cowboy,” Patrick said, regaining her attention.
“Me be cabboy!” Betsy tossed in.
Amanda had to laugh. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t all be cowboys—and cowgirls.” She looked at Liza. “Would you like to be high on a horse’s back riding herd on a bunch of cattle?”
The girl shook her head, her expression still sober. “That’s just make-believe.”
“Not necessarily,” Louise countered in a soft tone, entering the conversation from where she stood near the door. The social worker didn’t look quite as formidable when she spoke to the eldest Bradley child. “Sometimes make-believe can come true.”
Although Liza said nothing in response, she looked far from ready to agree with that concept.
Louise redirected her gaze toward Amanda, and once again her voice turned brisk. “I think it’s time to let the children color some more pictures while we talk.”
No, it’s too soon for me to leave them, Amanda wanted to say. And didn’t. Rising, she again smiled down at her newfound relatives. “Goodbye for now,” she said.
“Bye-bye,” Betsy offered with a little wave.
Amanda’s smiled slipped as she struggled for her composure. Then she waved in return and headed for the door Louise held open for her. All she could think was that, no matter what it took, she had to convince the authorities that she was the right choice to care for four orphaned children. Somehow, she had to do that.
She had to.
DEV FIGURED he was pushing things when he walked into Ex-Libris the following morning, but the plain truth was that he’d had a hard time telling himself to wait at least a couple of days after Amanda returned from Pine Run before he learned how she’d made out. After their earlier conversation, he was just too optimistic to hold back.
With any luck, he thought, she’d tell him that her plan to gain custody was proceeding smoothly enough that all she needed was a hefty contribution to her bank account to seal the deal. Yeah, if good fortune was on his side, it wouldn’t be long until he’d be expanding his business while she relocated hers, and everyone would come out a winner.
Dev glanced around him, not much surprised to find the bookstore empty. It was still early, at least by Main Street standards. More than a few storeowners would just be starting their day. The Ex-Libris’s owner had to be around somewhere, though, he reflected as he walked toward a small sitting area at the rear of the store. And, sure enough, that’s where he found her, seated on one of a pair of burgundy leather love seats. Today she wore another of her tailored blouses with pleated wool trousers and was gazing down at something she held in one hand. As far as he could make out, it was a small photograph.
“Good morning,” he said as he came to a halt inches from a low, bowlegged mahogany table covered with a lacey white cloth. It wasn’t yet loaded with the homemade pastries Gwen Tanner would probably be delivering soon. Gwen was another Big Draw lottery winner and no longer needed to sell her baked goods to supplement the income coming in from her boarding house, but he’d heard that she continued to supply the bookstore, anyway.
Certainly Amanda Bradley looked as though she could use something to tempt her appetite and maybe perk her up a bit. No, a lot, Dev amended on closer inspection. For the second time in less than a week, she seemed to bear little resemblance to the stu
bborn female who’d regularly raked him over the coals.
“Good morning,” she replied, finally returning his greeting as she glanced up at him. She set the snapshot she’d been holding down on the table.
Dev got a better gander at it as he eased himself into one of the twin burgundy chairs that matched the love seats. Four curly-haired, towheaded kids grinned at the camera in a scene that featured a small Christmas tree in the background along with a few presents that looked freshly unwrapped. Apparently the kids hadn’t gotten a lot from Santa on that particular Christmas morning, but they looked happy enough with what they had. One thing for sure, their expressions were a lot more enthusiastic than Amanda’s.
“Things didn’t go well in Pine Run,” he said, deciding to cut to the chase as he stacked an ankle on a denim-clad knee and reached up to thumb back his Stetson.
“No.” She let out a thin sigh. “I tried everything I could think of to make them see the advantages of placing the children with me, but…”
“But they didn’t go for it,” he finished when her voice drifted off.
“And I don’t for the life of me know what I could have done differently.” All at once she raised a small fist and slapped it down on a plump cushion, displaying a hint of the temper he was more familiar with. “Oh, they were impressed that I owned a home, free and clear. They also appreciated the fact that I had a buyer not only ready but eager to purchase another piece of property, which would increase my immediate income.” The last came out with a wry twist of her lips and a meaningful look aimed his way. “But in the end they felt my sisters and brothers needed, and I quote, ‘a more stable environment than a single caretaker could provide.”’
“That’s a tough one,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“And then—” She leaned her head against the back of the love seat and studied the high ceiling. “And then they went on to say that the children would be placed into permanent foster care. All except the youngest, they told me oh-so-reasonably. Betsy’s only eighteen months old, so she would mostly likely be put up for adoption.”
