“Miss Leigh, where should I put this pumpkin?” Isabel asked from the deck where she stood holding a pumpkin almost as big as her tiny body. “Quick, it’s getting heavy.” The pumpkin started to slip out of the girl’s fingers.
Rushing toward her, she caught the pumpkin before it could hit the deck. That was one mess she didn’t want to have to clean up before the adoption caseworker arrived that evening. Butterflies developed in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her evening appointment. Friday night, sharing stories of their past with Logan, she’d almost forgotten about her home visit that evening, but that morning, it had been the first thought she’d had upon opening her eyes. She wanted to make a good impression...needed to.
“What about the lights?” Dylan asked again as Leigh positioned the pumpkin, carved face out, on the top step.
Maybe involving kids this age in decorating the yard hadn’t been such a great idea. She should have at least waited until a day when Ashley could help. But she’d really wanted Michelle Bennett to see her home decorated for the season. At least she hoped celebrating Halloween would be seen as a positive thing. She scanned the yard. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, after all. Well, it was too late now. There was no way she could tell these eager-to-help children to stop decorating.
“Miss Leigh, help!” Melissa yelled before the vinyl fabric swallowed her and she disappeared in the rolls of the inflated coffin.
“I got it,” said a man with a deep voice to her left.
Turning, she saw Logan run through the gate to Melissa’s aid. A memory of their hands intertwined flashed in her mind and she felt her cheeks grow warm despite the violent cool breeze.
He couldn’t make a home with her—with anyone—unless he got his child back. She had to accept that.
“Thanks,” Melissa said, admiring her rescuer. “You saved me.”
Great, the girl believed in fairy tales already. “Thank you, Logan,” Leigh said, taking Melissa out of his arms and setting her on the lawn. “Why don’t you go help Dylan with those lights?” she said to the child.
“I’d rather help Mr. Walters.”
Who wouldn’t? The dreamy look on Melissa’s face made Leigh wonder if that was how she looked at Logan when he wasn’t paying attention. “Go.” Leigh pointed across the yard.
“Okay.” Melissa reluctantly went to help the little boy with the tangled lights.
“Were you out of your mind trying to do this with a group of four-year-olds?” Logan asked, surveying the disaster.
“Probably, certainly in hindsight it looks that way. A few more full-size hands would definitely be appreciated,” Leigh said with a laugh.
“I’ve got one if that helps.”
“Shouldn’t you be trying to write with that one hand?” Not that she didn’t want his help. It was just that she was very aware that she was getting too close to him for her own good. The man had said he couldn’t build a home with her. It made her growing attraction to him more than inconvenient. She didn’t want to put herself through the pain of another man she cared for walking out on her. He’d as good as told her he would.
Working together on his book was going to be exceedingly difficult for her after his admission the other night.
“I’ve done quite a bit today already and you’re not available tonight, so I can always work on it again later.” He scanned the yard, rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue fleece jacket. “Where can I start?”
“Well, if you’re sure...the spikes for that coffin should be in the box in the garage, just around the corner.”
“Great.”
While she waited, she sat on the inflatable decoration to prevent it from flying into the backyard of the bed-and-breakfast and watched as Dylan, Melissa and Isabel untangled the pumpkin lights and began draping them over the fence. Exactly where Neil had hung them year after year. “Looks great, guys.”
“Here they are,” Logan said, returning with the four plastic spikes.
“Perfect. If you want to just make sure this thing doesn’t blow away, I’ll secure it to the ground.” She accepted his hand for help up and couldn’t help noticing how warm and strong it felt wrapped around her cold one. She’d experienced the same feelings Friday night when his reassuring touch had given her the courage to tell him about her past. Letting go of his hand, she took the first spike and pushed it through the loop in the fabric and into the grass.
“So, big plans for tonight?”
Logan’s question caught her off guard and she hesitated. Yes, huge plans...none of which she wanted to reveal. “Um...just meeting with a friend.” She’d spoken to Michelle twice on the phone...okay...maybe friend was a stretch, but she suspected at the end of this emotional process, she would be able to call the woman a close acquaintance at least.
“A boyfriend?” Dylan asked from behind her.
Where had he come from? Leigh drove the last spike in the ground and ruffled the boy’s hair. “No. Not a boyfriend.”
“That’s good,” the little boy and the man said simultaneously.
Leigh’s surprised expression met Logan’s sheepish one.
“Guess I’m not the only one who has a crush on Miss Leigh,” he whispered.
That would be wonderful, she thought, if he hadn’t confessed that he wouldn’t let himself act on his feelings.
* * *
LEIGH PACED HER living room, checking everything for the hundredth time. The children’s toys were sorted and neatly placed in stacking bins along the toy shelf. Their books and puzzles were lined up according to size on the small plastic bookshelf. All of their cups and plates were still sitting in the dish rack on the kitchen counter. They were dry already, but she’d read somewhere that allowing dishes to dry on their own was a more sanitary approach to cleaning and she wanted to display her knowledge, however small, to Michelle.
She sniffed the air. Was the smell of the floor cleanser too strong? Maybe she should put away the dishes. She bit her lip; the nervous flutter in her stomach persisted. What if this woman found something she didn’t like? Her house was comfortable, but it was far from big. But it was definitely safe...childproof...security gate at the top of the stairs leading to the unfinished basement, outlet covers, dead bolt on the front door, kitchen cabinet and door stoppers. Was she missing something?
She heard a car pull into her driveway and said a silent prayer as she watched a young woman in a dark coat, belted at the waist, a bright yellow scarf wrapped around her neck, make her way to the front door. Leigh quickly released the living-room curtain and hurried to the door.
With a shaking hand, she unlocked the dead bolt and forced a smile before opening the front door. On the other side, the woman was scanning the decorated yard. “Hi. Ms. Bennett?”
“Leigh, a pleasure to meet you,” the woman said. “Great decorations—your day-care children helped?”
Leigh laughed. “How could you tell?” She moved back to let the woman in, offering to take her coat.
“What a beautiful home you have,” she said, handing Leigh her coat.
Leigh’s gaze immediately fell to the tiny bulge visible under the woman’s loose-fitting top above her dress pants. Undeniably, the beginning of a baby bump. Some days it honestly felt like everyone was pregnant...everyone but her. She pushed away a slight pang of jealousy as she said, “Thank you.”
“And I must say, so far, I’m impressed with the neighborhood and Brookhollow in general. This is the first time I’ve been here.”
“Thank you, yes, Brookhollow is an amazing place to live...and raise a family,” she added, leading the way into the kitchen. “Would you like tea, coffee?” she asked, as the woman made notes on the state of the home.
“Tea would be great, thank you. Where’s the best place to set up?” she asked.
“The living room is pro
bably the most comfortable or the sitting room out front.”
A few moments later, tea in hand, she joined Michelle in the sitting room, where the social worker had opened her briefcase and removed the necessary paperwork. Placing their tea on the table, Leigh took a seat in her favorite armchair, across from the person who held her fate in her decision.
But Michelle’s face was pale as she rummaged in her purse.
“You okay?”
She sighed. “Yes...I’m sorry. This is embarrassing...but I’m nauseous and I can’t find my soda crackers...”
Leigh offered a sympathetic smile. She may not have been able to carry a baby to term, but she’d always been pregnant just long enough to experience the nausea. “Just a sec.”
When she returned, she handed her a bag of Cheerios. “Try these.”
“Cheerios?”
“They work like a charm.”
Michelle took the bag and tossed a handful into her mouth. “Thank you. Pretty soon, I won’t be conducting these home visits...it can get a little uncomfortable. I hope you are okay with my insistence on being the one to meet with you today—I just felt we had a great rapport.”
“It’s fine, really.” What choice did she have? She wanted this adoption process to go smoothly and she would rather continue communicating with Michelle than to start over with a stranger.
“Should we begin?” she asked.
“Yes, please.” Leigh leaned forward in her chair, folding her shaking hands over her knees. The mix of emotions erupting inside her was almost too much. This had to go well.
“Well, first, I’d love to hear about your own childhood. I’ve read your application, but I’d love to know more. Your parents are missionaries?”
“Yes, my father is a doctor and he was working with Doctors Without Borders in New York immediately after his residency at New York University Hospital. He’s always known that he wanted to work abroad in countries where the medical care was less than adequate. That’s also how my parents met. My mother was assigned to the same group on her first trip to South Africa as an administration assistant. I was born here in Brookhollow, but only barely. I arrived three days early and my parents were on their way back from Bosnia when she went into labor on the flight.”
Michelle’s eyes widened. “Oh no! How terrifying.”
“Luckily, they were only an hour outside Newark.”
“That was lucky,” Michelle said with a nod. “I can only imagine how awful it would be to deliver a baby on a plane—for everyone,” she added with a laugh. “And you are an only child?” She scanned her file. “After a scare like that, I can’t say I blame them for stopping at one.”
“Yes. Actually I’m not sure my parents ever really planned to have any children. I just sort of happened.”
“So, then you accompanied them on these mission trips around the world?”
“My first station was when I was less than six months old. As soon as the doctors said I was old enough to receive the travel vaccinations, my parents returned to the field.”
“Wow, that’s a unique childhood.”
From Michelle’s tone, Leigh couldn’t decide if she meant good unique or bad unique, and she was unable to read the notes the woman made on the application form on her lap, so she remained silent. Michelle leafed through the papers in her file. “And at fifteen, you moved in with your grandmother?”
“Yes. My parents decided that I should go to high school with my cousins and friends here. I’d been homeschooled by my mom while we traveled.”
“And how was attending a regular school?” she tossed another handful of Cheerios into her mouth.
“Honestly? Boring,” Leigh said with a laugh. “My mother had been teaching me curriculum far above my grade level, so the classes weren’t challenging enough, but I did graduate top of the class my senior year and the socializing was exactly what I’d been missing.” She never would have experienced normal teenage stuff had her parents not made the decision they had. She never would have attended prom...or met Neil and fallen in love. She’d missed her parents, but their relationship hadn’t been typical from the start. They’d never felt as much like a family unit, as a team that functioned well together.
“And living with your grandmother? How was that?”
“Wonderful. We’re a lot alike, and by then my grandfather had passed away, so it was just us. We lived in her two-bedroom apartment above her bakery on Main Street. I worked there every day before and after school.”
“I thought I smelled baked goods coming from your kitchen.” Michelle looked hopeful.
“I made a pumpkin-spiced loaf this afternoon. Would you like a piece?” If baked goods were the way to securing a high score on Michelle’s placement analysis, she had nothing to worry about.
“Definitely, maybe before we do the house tour. Shall we move on with the rest of the questions first?”
Leigh nodded, taking a sip of her tea.
“Your marital status...” She scanned the application.
“Divorced.”
“Right, for four years now?”
“Almost five.” They were coming up on the anniversary of the divorce the following week. Each year, despite her best efforts to forget what day it was, the reminder was the first thing that popped into her mind upon waking, every October twenty-third. She couldn’t help feeling a little sad on the anniversary of their divorce, but each year it got a little easier.
“And he is...still living here in Brookhollow?”
“With his new wife and two children.”
The woman studied her. “In a town this size, I imagine that can be difficult. But you’ve learned to accept that and move on?”
Leigh took a moment to respond. Had she? She felt fine...most days. Sure, running into Neil and his new family wasn’t the most pleasant situation, especially when Angela seemed to always be pregnant, but the intense pain she’d felt at one time had subsided over the years to more of a dull disappointment and a feeling of loss over what could have been.
Of course, she was still hiding from the woman at every opportunity. Did that mean she hadn’t moved on?
Finally she said, “I don’t think anyone ever fully recovers from a failed marriage, but I think I’ve had enough time to move past the hurt. It certainly doesn’t affect my day-to-day life and as they say, time heals.”
Michelle seemed satisfied with her response and nodded. “With regards to raising a child, do you think you would like to raise your own children the way your parents did? Or will you be staying in Brookhollow?”
“As much as I learned from traveling, I feel that I missed out on a lot. I believe children need stability. Brookhollow is home and always will be, so other than vacations, I can’t see home being anywhere else but here.”
“That’s important, as you have decided to go with an open adoption, which means the birth mother will have certain accessibility rights to the child. We hesitate to place children in this type of adoption with families where there’s a potential to relocate.”
“I understand.” Moving was not an option and that was fine with her. She didn’t want to be anywhere else. She sympathized with Logan’s dilemma. If he lost his court case, he’d be forced to move.
“What about your parents’ discipline style? Were they lenient or authoritative, and would you say you would model their example?”
“My mom was the disciplinarian in our home—wherever it was at the moment—as my father was usually far too exhausted after fourteen-to sixteen-hour shifts at the medical clinics. Punishments usually included housework or loss of privileges. Not that there were many of those to begin with. A television was a luxury in most places. My parents didn’t believe in physical discipline and neither do I. I can definitely see myself mirroring my mother’s techniques for sure. She always made sur
e I knew right from wrong and that there were consequences to my decisions and actions.”
Her parents had never left any doubt in her mind that she was loved and cared for, including how they approached raising her to be the best person she could be. They were good people, probably better than most, given their selfless nature and career choice, and she liked to believe their charity and kindness had been passed along to her.
Michelle’s expression was unreadable as she studied her in silence. Crap, had she said something wrong? “Michelle?”
The woman cleared her throat. “Sorry. I...uh...” She swallowed hard and coughed again. Setting the file aside, she took a sip of her tea. “It’s just that every time I meet with adoptive parents, they always seem so confident, so sure.”
Wow, if only this woman could hear the doubts that plagued her. She was glad they weren’t showing, however.
“They have everything planned. They are ready.”
“Well, in my case, I’ve been trying for so long, I am ready.”
“I wish I was as confident.”
“You still have time...you will be.” When had the roles changed?
Michelle shook her head, picking up the file. “Sorry for the minor meltdown. Let’s get back to you,” she said with a laugh. “So far, everything sounds great. Um...let’s talk about relationships. On your application you stated you were adopting alone. Is that still the case?”
“Yes. There is no one significant in my life.” An image of Logan flashed in her mind and she frowned. Logan wasn’t significant. He was...what? The only man in a long time she’d felt a genuine connection with, the first person in a long time she thought might truly understand some of the things she was dealing with and going through... The only man ever to get her heart racing with a simple look or touch? Okay, maybe he was significant, but he was also not offering her a future.
“Well, that’s certainly not a problem for the process. I just want you to keep in mind the type of relationships you will have going forward. You will be a family with this child, and your future decisions about who you bring into your lives will affect the child, as well. The way you think of relationships and men will change...and so will your availability—both physically and emotionally. We find in situations like this that the parent and the child form a bond in the years they are alone and it often creates a situation where the new parent feels a bit like an outsider. How would you deal with a situation like that?” she asked, pen poised above her paper.
Falling for Leigh Page 10
