And for a while, through much of that spring, his life did indeed seem to chart a steadily upward course.
Then the Loms crossed the threshold of St. F.’s.
SIXTEEN
1
They arrived on a warm Saturday afternoon in early June. They seemed too young to be seeking to adopt a child. Mr. Lom was twenty-seven, his wife, Sara, was twenty-nine.
“Please call me Herb,” said Mr. Lom with a trace of the Southwest in his voice.
He had a round face, thick brown hair receding from his forehead, a thick, stubby mustache, and wire-rimmed glasses. He reminded Bill of Teddy Roosevelt. He half expected him to shout “Bully!” at any moment.
“Herbert Lom…” Bill said, musing aloud. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“There’s an actor with the very same name,” Herb said.
“That’s it.”
Bill remembered him now—Peter Sellers’s Inspector Clouseau had driven him mad.
“No relation, unfortunately.”
“I see. And you want to adopt one of our boys?”
Sara nodded excitedly. “Oh, yes! We want to start a family right away and we want to begin with a boy.”
She was tall, dark, and slim with short, deep brown hair, almost boyish in its cut, and luminous dark eyes. Her drawl was delightful.
Bill had gone over their applications before the interview. The couple had been married only a year; both were native Texans, both graduates of the University of Texas at Austin, although they’d graduated years apart. Herbert worked for one of the big oil companies; he had been transferred to the New York office recently. His salary was impressive. Both were practicing Catholics. Everything looked good.
Only their ages were against them.
Normally Bill would have rejected their application with a gentle explanatory letter advising them to give more time to their decision to adopt a child. But the details of Sara’s social and medical history, combined with the fact that the couple had not limited their request to an infant, prompted Bill to give them a second look.
“You say here that you’re interested in a boy between the ages of one and five,” Bill said.
That had surprised him. As a rule, what young childless couples wanted most was an infant.
They both nodded. Sara said, “Definitely.”
“Why not an infant?”
“We’re realists, Father Ryan,” Herb said. “We know the wait for a white newborn can be seven years. We simply don’t want to wait that long.”
“Plenty of couples do.”
Sara said, “We know. But I’m willing to bet that those couples can occupy themselves with tests and procedures and hopes that they’ll conceive their own child during the waiting period.” She glanced away. “We don’t have that hope.”
Bill glanced at the application again. According to a summary of Sara’s medical history, supplied by a Dr. Renquist in Houston, she had been struck by a car at age eleven and suffered a pelvic fracture with internal bleeding. During exploratory surgery they found a ruptured uterine artery and had to perform a hysterectomy to save her life. The matter-of-fact tone of the summary ignored the emotional impact of that kind of surgery on a child. Bill saw a girl growing through her teenage years as the only one in her crowd who didn’t get her period. A small thing in perspective, but he knew how kids don’t like to feel they’re on the outside looking in—at anything. Even if it involves a monthly mess and discomfort, they want to belong.
But more than that was the inescapable fact that Sara would never have a child of her own. He was moved by the finality of her condition.
“Are you sure you can handle a toddler or a preschooler?”
She smiled. “I’ve had years of on-the-job training.”
Sara’s family history was a definite plus. She was the oldest of six children—and all her siblings were boys. Bill knew that in that sort of family structure, a female first child becomes the second-string mother. Which meant that, although childless, Sara was already well experienced in the art of caring for children.
Bill was impressed with her. Over the years he had developed a sixth sense for adoption applicants. He could tell when a couple wanted a child merely to complete the family portrait, because having a child was expected of them, because everyone else had one, or because it looked good on a résumé: married with children.
And then there were the others, the special ones, the women in whom the nurturing drive was so strong that it went beyond instinct and became an imperative. These women could not feel complete, would not be a whole person until they had one, two, three children under their wings.
Sara struck Bill as the latter sort of woman. He wasn’t reading much off Herb—at worst he was a yuppie wannabe—but Sara radiated the need to nurture. It warmed the room.
“Very well,” he said. “I’m satisfied so far that you two have possibilities here. I think St. Francis can help you.”
They beamed at each other.
“Great!” Herb said.
“We’ll run a routine check on your references, of course, but in the meantime, I’ll let you look at some photos of the boys we have residing at St. Francis now. Later on—”
Suddenly Danny Gordon charged through the office. He had a rocket ship in his hand and he was making rocket noises as he roared it into orbit around Bill’s desk.
“Hiya, Father!” he shouted as he passed behind Bill at escape velocity. “You can be the Man in the Moon.”
Bill ran a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.
“You’ll be going on a real trip to the real moon if you don’t get back to the dorm this instant, young man.”
“Back to Earth!” Danny shouted.
As he careened around the desk he came face to face with the Loms.
“Whoa! Aliens!”
Sara turned her dark eyes his way and smiled at him. “What’s your name?”
The boy skidded to a halt and stared at her for a second, then went into orbit around her chair.
“Danny,” he said. “What’s yours?”
“Sara.” She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Danny.”
Danny stopped again, this time for a couple of seconds, but he wasn’t still. His feet were tapping and shuffling on the floor as he glanced from Sara’s hand to Bill. Bill nodded, encouraging him to do the polite thing. Finally Danny shrugged and shook her hand.
“How old are you, Danny?” she said, keeping a grip on his hand.
“Seven.”
“Has anyone ever told you what a handsome boy you are?”
“Sure. Lot of times.”
Sara laughed and Bill found the sound delightful, almost musical. And then he noticed something.
Danny was standing still.
Normally by now the boy would have pulled his hand free and been on his way around the room again, racing along the walls and caroming off the furniture. But he was simply standing there talking to her. Even his feet were still.
She asked him questions about rocket ships, about school, about playing, and he answered her. Danny Gordon was standing in one spot and carrying on a conversation. Amazing.
He watched them together for a few more minutes, then broke in.
“Excuse me, Danny, but aren’t you supposed to be tending to your chores in the dorm?”
Danny turned the full power of his big blue eyes on Bill.
“I want to stay here with Sara.”
“I’m glad that you do, and I’m sure Sara wants you to stay as well, but we’re in the middle of some grownup work here and I’m sure there’s some Danny work left to be done back in the dorm. So say good-bye and I’ll see you later.”
Danny turned back to Sara who smiled and gave him a little hug.
“Nice talking to you, Danny.”
Danny stared at her a moment, then walked—walked—out of the office.
As Bill stared after the boy in wonder, Sara turned to him.
“That’s the boy I want.”
/>
Bill shook off his amazement and focused on the young woman.
“He’s seven. I thought you were interested in an under-five child.”
“I thought I was too. But now after seeing Danny I’ve changed my mind.”
Bill glanced at Herb. “How do you feel about an older child?”
“What Sara wants, I want,” he said with a shrug.
“And I want to adopt Danny Gordon.”
“That’s out of the question,” Bill said abruptly.
The statement surprised him. He hadn’t intended to say anything like it. The words seemed to pop out of his mouth.
Herb Lom looked shocked; Sara appeared hurt.
“Why … why is that out of the question?” she said
“Because he’s hyperactive.”
“He looked like a normally active boy to me. And he was charming.”
“What you saw here was an aberration. Believe me, I have it on good authority from a number of specialists. Raising Danny will be a tremendously demanding, full-time job.”
“That’s true of raising any child,” Sara said, looking at him levelly. “And it’s a job I’m qualified to do.”
Bill would not argue with the first statement, and did not want to challenge the second. He tried an end run.
“Let me get out the pictures of the other boys we have here. If you look through them I’m sure you’ll—”
Sara was on her feet, a determined set to her mouth.
“I’m not interested in any other boys. I’m only interested in Danny now.” Her features softened. “I don’t think it’s very fair to let me meet such a lovely child and then tell me I’m not good enough for him.”
“I said nothing of the sort!”
“Then won’t you please reconsider?”
Bill opted to buy himself some time.
“Very well. I’ll think about it. But quite frankly, I do not think Danny should be anyone’s first child.”
“He won’t be,” she said with a sudden sunny smile. “I practically raised my three youngest brothers. And I want to raise Danny Gordon. And with your help I’m going to do just that.”
So saying, she took her husband’s arm and they strode from Bill’s office.
2
“You should have seen him this afternoon, Nick,” Bill said after Danny had rushed in and disrupted their weekly chess game again. “He was a totally different kid.”
Nick Quinn’s eyes followed the blur of motion around the room.
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“I kid you not. He shook hands with her and he suddenly became docile. If I believed in magic, that’s what I’d say it was.”
“I’ve heard of people who have that effect on animals.”
Immediately Bill felt himself bristle within. “Danny’s not an animal.”
“Of course he’s not. I was just drawing a parallel.” He scrutinized Bill. “A little touchy, aren’t we?”
“Not at all.” Then he thought about it. He’d been on edge since the Loms had left. Why? “Well, maybe a little.”
“Because someone might adopt him?”
Bill glanced at Nick. He’d grown to be a perceptive son of a B. True, Bill had been wondering whether the prospect of facing St. F.’s without Danny Gordon running around might influence his judgment, but …
“I don’t think that’s it, Nick. It’s possible, of course. After two years with Danny I feel as if we have a blood relationship, and it will cost me a piece of my heart to see him go, but this feels different.”
“You mean like it doesn’t feel right?”
Very perceptive, that Nick.
“Yes. Maybe I do mean just that.”
“Well, you did say you thought he had to go to an older couple. These two don’t sound as if they fit that particular criterion.”
“An older, experienced couple. They don’t fit that either.”
“Then that’s probably why it doesn’t feel right.”
“But Sara says she practically raised her brothers, and I believe her. That would give her credit in the experience column. And if Danny consistently responds to her the way he did this afternoon…”
“Then he wouldn’t be exactly hyperactive anymore, although quite frankly I can’t see anyone slowing that boy down for long.”
“You had to be there.”
Bill called Danny over and sat him on his lap.
“What did you think of that lady you met here today?”
Danny smiled. “She was niiiice.”
“How did you feel when you were holding her hand?”
The smile broadened as Danny’s eyes got a dreamy, faraway look. “Niiiice.”
“Can you tell me anything more?”
“Nope!”
And then he was off and running again.
“I gather she was a niiiice lady,” Nick said with a grin.
Bill shrugged. “Danny’s new word. But I think I’m going to put those two together once more.”
“To see if it happens again? Good move. Reproducibility is an indispensable factor in the scientific method.”
“This is not an experiment, Nick.”
Sometimes, though, Bill wished there were a scientific method for this adoption business. It had its protocols and procedures, checks and evaluations and waiting periods, all sorts of safety measures and protections for both the child and the adoptive parents. Yet plenty of times over the years Bill had found himself operating on instinct, flying by the seat of his pants.
Some instinct within him warned against this match, but he suspected the feeling might be fueled by an emotional attachment to this particular child. Finding a good home for Danny, that was what really mattered. And if this woman had some special rapport with the boy, then he had no right to turn her away.
“I just want to see them together again. Maybe it was some kind of freak accident. But if it wasn’t, if he responds to her that way again…”
“Then maybe you’ve found him a home. But if that comes about, I see another problem.”
“I can let go. I’ve had to do it before.” He’d let Nick go when the Quinns adopted him sixteen years ago. “I’ll do it again.”
“I had no doubts about that,” Nick said. “But you’re going to have to find a way to get him to leave you.”
Bill nodded. He’d already foreseen that problem. He figured he’d solve it when the time came.
3
Bill invited both the Loms back but Sara came alone—Herb was tied up at his office. She arrived the following Tuesday between school dismissal and the dinner hour.
“Have you reconsidered?” she asked brightly as she seated herself in his office.
She wore a white and yellow flower-print sundress that deepened her already dark complexion. Bill wondered if there might be a little Mexican blood mixing with the Texan flowing in her veins.
“I’m in the process of doing so, but I’d like to get into specifics with you about your experience in raising your younger brothers.”
They talked for about half an hour. Bill was impressed with Sara’s easy familiarity with the ins and outs of child rearing. But what came through more strongly than ever was her desire for a child, her need for one.
And then the inevitable occurred: Danny arrived.
He skidded to a halt when he saw her. A big smile, tiny white teeth—
“Hiya, Sara.”
She seemed to glow at the mention of her name.
“You remembered!”
“Course I did. I’m smart.”
“I’ll bet you are! What did you learn in school today?”
Once again Bill watched in amazement as Danny stood calmly before her with his hands clasped behind his back. No hand holding this time; no contact at all. Yet he stood still and answered all her questions, even going so far as to elaborate on his friends and some of the games he liked to play.
And Sara …
Bill saw the light in her eyes, the warmth in her expres
sion as she focused on Danny and made him the center of her world for those moments. He sensed the deep yearning within her and allowed himself the possibility that he had made a match—a miraculous one.
Danny turned to him.
“I like her. She’s niiiice.”
“Yes, Danny. Sara is very nice.”
“Can I live with her?”
The question took Bill by surprise. The title of an old song flashed through his brain: Am I That Easy to Forget? But he ignored the hurt and concentrated on Danny. He had to be very careful here.
“I don’t know, Danny. We’ll have to look into that.”
“Can I pleeease?”
“I don’t know yet, Danny. I’m not saying no and I’m not saying yes. There’s lots of things to be done before we come to that.”
“Can I visit, maybe?”
“We’ll look into that too. But Sara and her husband and I have many things to discuss first. So why don’t you get washed up for dinner and let us get to work.”
“Okay.” Hope shone like a beacon behind his eyes as he turned back to her. “See ya, Sara.”
She gave him a hug, then held him out to arms’ length.
“See ya, Danny.”
He trotted off down the hall.
“I think you’ve made a friend,” Bill told her.
“I think so too,” she said, smiling warmly. Then she gave Bill a level look. “But will that friend be allowed to become my son, Father Ryan?”
“If I’ve learned one thing in this job, Sara, it’s never to make a promise I’m not absolutely sure I can keep—not to the adult applicants, and certainly never to the boys. But we’re off to a good start. Let’s see where we can go from here.”
Her eyes widened, her voice was suddenly small and husky. “You mean you’ve reconsidered?”
When he nodded she lowered her face into her hands and began to sob. The sight of her tears moved Bill and confirmed his growing conviction that he was doing the best thing for Danny.
Only a tiny squeamish part of him remained unconvinced.
Reprisal Page 17
