“Canceled. That was the interfering part.” Nonna looked only slightly abashed. “You’ll still get a wonderful honeymoon. It’s just the destination that’ll be different.”
Lacey stared at Nonna and then at Vito. “Italy?” she asked faintly. “I’ve never been out of the country.”
“And that’s why your brother had to check into whether you had a passport. You do. Some trip to Canada that didn’t materialize?” Nonna waved her hand as if the details didn’t matter.
Lacey looked at Vito. “Italy.”
“Together.” A smile spread across his face. “I’ve never been, either.”
“And that’s why you need two weeks,” Nonna said firmly. “Everything’s all arranged. The guesthouse, Charlie, reservations in Italia.”
Lacey looked up to see Buck, Charlie, Susan and Sam all crowded together, looking at them, coming over to congratulate them on their changed honeymoon schedule and destination. It looked like everyone had been in on the surprise. Even Charlie knew that he and Wolfie would get to spend a little longer at the dog rescue farm with Xavier.
A regular clinking and ringing sound came, the traditional instruction to kiss. Vito pulled Lacey into his arms and kissed her tenderly, then held her against his chest.
“Is this what it’s going to be like to be married to you?” he rumbled into her ear. “Surprises and adventures?”
“Enough to keep you on your toes.” She laughed up at him as he pulled her closer, and then looked beyond, to the clear blue sky. Vito was amazing, and life with him and Charlie was going to be an adventure.
But she knew deep inside that none of this was a surprise to her heavenly father, who’d orchestrated all of it and would guide them through the rest of their days.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this book, pick up these other
RESCUE RIVER stories
from Lee Tobin McClain!
ENGAGED TO THE SINGLE MOM
HIS SECRET CHILD
SMALL-TOWN NANNY
THE SOLDIER AND THE SINGLE MOM
Available now from Love Inspired!
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Keep reading for an excerpt from REUNITING HIS FAMILY by Jean C. Gordon.
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Dear Reader,
Thank you for coming with me on another visit to Rescue River! Lacey has been a part of the Rescue River community from the beginning. Most recently, she was part of Buck and Gina’s story, when she reluctantly provided shelter to the struggling single mom. Once everyone else found happiness, it was only fair that Lacey should find love, too...and Vito, the romantic Italian, seemed like just the right man to bring out Lacey’s tender side.
Both Vito and Lacey carry scars and baggage from the past. Don’t we all? Fortunately, our heavenly father forgives our mistakes and leads us to be new creations in Christ. He can even soften a heart of stone.
Visit my website, www.leetobinmcclain.com, and sign up for my newsletter to keep track of all the news from Rescue River.
Wishing you a happy summer filled with many books!
Lee
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Reuniting His Family
by Jean C. Gordon
Chapter One
Rhys Maddox looked across the small room at his broken dream. The dream he’d shattered. His boys stood in the doorway with a woman who wasn’t their mother. Owen was a miniature copy of himself. Dylan had so many of his mother’s features, it made his heart bleed.
“Mr. Maddox?”
He looked at Renee Delacroix, the Essex County Child Protection Services’ worker he’d been sitting with.
“This is Suzanne Hill, Owen and Dylan’s foster mother,” she said.
Rhys strangled the shudder that began when the word foster formed on Ms. Delacroix’s lips. Those memories were behind him and would be behind his boys soon, too. He stood and offered the woman his hand, glad for the opportunity to break away from Ms. Delacroix’s scrutiny and the knowledge that she stood between him and his sons.
“Mrs. Hill,” he said, warmed by her wholesome freshness, a contrast to Ms. Delacroix’s glacial beauty. “It’s good to meet you in person.”
“Suzi, please,” she said, smiling.
“Suzi, then.”
Today’s half hour with the Child Services’ worker was his second meeting with Ms. Delacroix since he’d come to Paradox Lake to claim his sons. Yet they were still Mr. Maddox and Ms. Delacroix.
He released Suzi’s hand. “May I?” he asked, glancing from Dylan to Owen, uncertain what he was asking for.
Suzi looked over his shoulder toward the table where he’d been sitting.
Ms. Delacroix must have given the okay.
He ruffled nine-year-old Owen’s hair. “How’s it going, buddy?”
They’d both grown since he’d seen them this spring at their mother’s funeral. His gut ached. He’d missed so much the past five years.
Owen threw his arms around Rhys, almost knocking him over in excitement.
“Daddy, I’m so glad you’re home. You’re not going to have to go back again like you did after Mommy’s...” The rest of Owen’s words were muffled against Rhys’s chest.
He rested his head on his older son’s. “No.” Never.
No way was he going to let anything get between him and his responsibility to his family again. He set Owen back and looked into his face. “I’m so proud of you, helping your mom and taking care of Dylan for me. Mrs. Hill sent me your soccer game pictures and one of your winning Pinewood Derby car. And I kept all of the Bible verses that you and Dylan memorized in Sunday school and wrote out for me.”
“Coach Josh helped me with the car. I painted it like your old Charger. This year, you and me can make one and win first prize instead of second.”
Rhys’s throat clogged. “Sure thing.” He lifted his hands from Owen’s shoulders and squatted in front of his younger son. “How about you, Dylan? Want to go get some ice cream with Daddy?”
“No.” The six-and-a-half-year-old shook his head emphatically. “You’re a bad man. My friend Tyler said so. His mommy told him.”
Dylan’s words hit him harder than Owen’s near tackle. Dylan had been only a toddler when Rhys had been sent to Dannemora Correctional Facility for his part as the getaway driver in a bank robbery. The little guy didn’t remember the four of them as a family, the home they’d had in Albany. But Gwen had b
rought both of the boys to Dannemora to see him as often as she could manage.
“Dylan. This is Daddy. It’ll be fun.” Owen jumped to his defense, filling Rhys with regret for all of the times his older son and Gwen had had to cover for him because he hadn’t been there, due to his pride, bad choices and plain stupidity.
“No, I don’t have to go. Ms. Delacroix said so. Right, Mrs. Hill?”
Rhys followed Dylan’s gaze from him to Suzi and caught her look of pity before she hid it. He stood and spun around, glaring at Renee Delacroix. She looked barely old enough to be out of college. She was an intern, and she had the authority to keep his son from him? He fisted his hands.
Ms. Delacroix avoided his glare and fixed her gaze on his fists. “Dylan expressed some reluctance to go with you today. I assured him that he didn’t have to if he didn’t feel secure.”
Security was one of the many things he’d failed to provide his family. His anger seeped out, combating his rigid stance.
“Transitioning can be more difficult for some children,” she said.
Transitioning? Rhys worked his jaw. He was Dylan’s father. He wanted to take his sons for a soft-serve ice-cream cone, with supervision, of course. The plan had been for Mrs. Hill to take the boys and meet him at the ice-cream stand on Paradox Lake, near her home and the house he’d rented.
Ms. Delacroix pushed away from the table and walked over to stand next to Rhys, facing Dylan. A faint aroma, sweet and floral, tickled his senses. Was it her shampoo? He eyed her black hair pulled back in some kind of fancy braid with a few wispy curls escaping around her face. He knew she couldn’t be as young as she looked. When she’d introduced herself, she’d said she was a graduate student interning with the county. She’d mentioned mission work she’d done with children in Haiti before coming to work in Social Services.
“Dylan, if I go with your daddy to get ice cream, do you want to come or do you want to stay with Mrs. Hill?” Ms. Delacroix asked.
While he waited for his son to answer, Rhys followed one of her curls along the curve of her cheek. He curled his lip against the bitter tang in his mouth. What had gotten into him, besides having been incarcerated with 2,500 men for the past five years? He was here for Dylan and Owen, to make them a family again. Not to be distracted by and wonder about Renee Delacroix.
Dylan wrapped his arms around his foster mother’s leg. “I want to go home with Mrs. Hill.”
Home. With a woman Dylan had only known for a matter of months. This wasn’t the dream that had kept him going since Gwen’s death, while he was waiting for his appeal and release.
“I want to go with you, Dad.” Owen’s voice pulled him from the dark place he was headed.
“You still can,” Ms. Delacroix said. “I can come and drive you back to the Hills’ house afterward.”
“Would that be all right with you, Dad?”
“More than all right.” He’d take whatever he could get when it came to spending time with his sons.
Rhys nodded to Ms. Delacroix. “I know it’s part of your job, but thanks for going out of your way.” He scuffed the toe of his work boot on the floor. The drive from Elizabethtown, where the Social Services’ office was located, to Paradox Lake and back would take her more than an hour. “I mean, having to take Owen home afterward and coming back here.”
“It’s no problem.” A true smile spread across her face, the first the all-business lady had given him. “I live near Paradox Lake. You can wait here with Mrs. Hill while I go back to my office and wrap things up so we can go.”
“Sure.” He’d been waiting five years to be with his boys. What were a few more minutes?
* * *
“Go ahead and sit.” Renee’s hand accidentally brushed Rhys Maddox’s biceps as she motioned toward a couch and chairs near the table. The rock-hard resistance unsettled her. She rushed out into the hall. Let him think I’m hurrying to get back for the visitation, not to get away from him.
Maybe she was too much of a newbie at this work but everything about Rhys Maddox unsettled her—from his record and conviction, to his tall, dark, imposing stature, to his icy-blue eyes that had thawed only when he spoke to Owen and Dylan. Especially his eyes. They weren’t just cold. They were devoid of light.
Renee crossed her arms to counteract a shiver. She was authorized to oversee supervised visits and knew how overloaded the Maddox family’s caseworker was. It wasn’t as if she was to decide whether or not to place his children with him. But she hated taking on responsibilities she wasn’t sure she was qualified to handle, making decisions like the ones she’d had to make in Haiti because the mission had been so understaffed. A week from Monday—the start of her new job as a Building Bridges’ facilitator for the Christian Action Coalition—couldn’t come soon enough. There she’d be working primarily with kids in child care and after-school programs, helping them adjust to changed family situations—divorce, death of a parent, a parent marrying or remarrying.
Renee checked with the caseworker to see if she wanted to handle the visit herself. It was Rhys Maddox’s first visit. And receiving the “no” answer she’d expected, Renee headed to her office. She scanned her desk to make sure anything that should be secured in the file cabinets was tucked away and walked back to the visitation room.
Renee heard the rumble of Rhys’s voice as she approached the doorway, but couldn’t make out his words.
“Ready?” she asked as she stepped inside. Her cheery greeting bounced off the tense silence in the room. Owen sat next to his father, tapping his foot on the floor as if he couldn’t wait to go. Dylan had curled up on Suzi’s lap in a chair, his face buried in his foster mother’s shoulder. Their father was soldier-straight on the couch, his hands clamped on his thighs.
“I asked him how his reading was coming. Gwen...” Rhys paused to swallow. “My wife had told me how excited Dylan was about starting to recognize words, that it looked like he was going to be a reader like she was. She read everything.”
“Yeah,” Owen piped up. “Dylan’s really good at reading. I had some trouble with it at my old school, but Mrs. Bradshaw helped me last year.”
Rhys’s gaze flickered between his sons. He pinched his lower lip and released it as if he was going to say something. But he didn’t.
Renee filed a mental reminder to note in the records that, with his father gone, Owen may have adopted a protective, man-of-the-family stance with his mother and brother that he was extending to his father now. Rhys’s stony expression implied that could cause conflict between Rhys and Owen. Both her earlier interview with Rhys and talking with him today had given her the distinct impression that he was a man who would protect his own, who wouldn’t welcome outside assistance, maybe not even from his eldest son.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go for ice cream?” Suzi lifted Dylan and placed him on the floor between her legs. “I’ll come.”
The little boy shook his head. Suzi gave her and Rhys a look that said I tried.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mrs. Hill. ’Bye, Dylan,” Renee said.
“’Bye, son.”
Rhys’s tone had no inflection, as if he were afraid the boy would detect any emotion as he spoke. Emotion that had far too much of an impact on Renee. Despite her training and all her work with disrupted families in Haiti, she still had a hard time comprehending a child wanting to shut out a parent or parent shutting out a child, even if there was a good reason. Her frame of reference always came back to her big, boisterous, loving family.
Dylan took Suzi’s hand. “’Bye,” he said, not looking at either her or Rhys.
Rhys cleared his throat. “Owen says there’s a stand on the lake that serves soft ice cream. He’d like to go there.”
“I know the one. My family and I go there all the time.”
Rhys rose and Owen hopped off the couch.
>
“Do you have kids, Ms. Delacroix?” Owen asked as she led them from the room toward the back door.
“No, but I have two brothers—one’s my twin—and three sisters, three nieces, a nephew and another niece or nephew on the way.”
“Wow! I have only Dylan...and my dad. But Mrs. Hill’s mother told me she would be my grandmother ’cause I don’t have any grandmas or any grandpas.”
Rhys locked his jaw and pushed the door so it swung open hard, almost banging against the brick wall of the building. He held himself back until they were out and almost down the sidewalk before exiting.
“My dad doesn’t have any parents. He had parents, but he doesn’t know them. He had foster parents like the Hills. Lots of them.”
Renee nodded. That information had been in Rhys’s records.
“My mom’s parents don’t like us.”
Rhys caught up with them.
“But we don’t care about that, do we, Dad?”
From the fire in his father’s eyes, the man might care. She knew Gwen Maddox had been estranged from her parents. Renee’s brother-in-law, Connor Donnelly, pastor at the Hazardtown Community Church, had called Gwen’s parents to inform them of her death and funeral, and they’d practically hung up on him. When he’d said the boys were being placed in temporary foster care, their grandmother had started to say something but their grandfather had cut her off, telling Connor, “Foster care was good enough for their father. It’s good enough for them.”
“I’ve got you and Dylan.” Rhys wrapped his arm around his son and squeezed his shoulder. “What more could I want?”
“Mom.”
Rhys sucked in a breath. “Your mother.”
Owen looked over the parking lot. “Which car is yours, Dad?”
“I have a pickup. For work.”
At their earlier interview, he’d said he was looking for construction or electrical work but hadn’t found anything. Had Rhys heard something since then? He hadn’t said anything today.
The Soldier's Secret Child Page 19
