A Baby by Easter (8 page)

Susannah couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. The thought of this big, accomplished, well-respected man avoiding a little white cat made her giggle. She could
not imagine him prowling the streets, calling the cat and enduring all manner of indignities from Mrs. Murphy.

“Now that you know my mistakes, let's go inside. I'd like to eat some of that food before it's gone,” David said with a hint of a grin in his eyes.

He walked around the car to open Susannah's door and help her out. She was very conscious of David's helping hand under her elbow.

She walked up the sidewalk with David and Darla, mentally steeling herself for what was to come. This was one reason why she'd refused to go to church with Connie; she feared people would start asking questions that she didn't want to answer.

But no one asked her a thing. David introduced her by name as their friend, and that seemed to be enough for people. Everyone she spoke to welcomed her and invited her to enjoy herself. And she did.

It was only later, when Susannah was seated in a pew beside David that she began to feel self-conscious as the speaker, Rick Green, talked about God's love.

“It was my privilege to teach these people that nothing they've done could erase the love of God,” he said confidently. “Nothing.”

He spoke at length about conditions along the river and the many trials he endured in his work. His pictures were a graphic testimony to his endurance. But Susannah kept hearing her mother's voice screaming condemnation.

It's your fault. It's your fault.

As always, a punch of pain accompanied the words and she squeezed her eyes closed to brace against it.

The social worker had insisted the deaths of her sisters, Cara and Misty, weren't her fault. But even after
all these years, in the recesses of her heart, Susannah couldn't rid herself of the guilt that dogged her.

It
was
her fault. She
should
have been there.

She was a failure.

A hand pressed against hers, warm, comforting.

She opened her eyes and found David staring at her, concern in his gaze.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

She dredged up a smile and nodded as she eased her fingers from his, forcing herself to pretend a calm she didn't feel. Why did his touch affect her so deeply?

After several moments of scrutiny he finally returned his attention to the speaker, but he kept giving her little sideways looks, as if he thought she might faint or do something equally inappropriate.

“Hear me tonight,” Rick Green said softly. “There is nothing God wouldn't do for you. In fact, He's already done it by sending His son to die for you. All you have to do is accept His love.”

By the time the meeting broke up, Susannah had regained her equilibrium. She was able to tease Darla and smile at David who still looked concerned. Connie and Wade joined them.

“You must have loved your trip down to the Amazon, judging by those amazing pictures,” Susannah said to Wade.

“We did,” Wade agreed. “Especially the piranhas.” He held up a threatening hand and began tickling the back of Darla's neck. In a fit of giggles, she wiggled away.

“You know, we never did get to finish that trip because of Dad's heart attack,” David mused. “We should go back sometime.”

“I second that.” A tall, lean man with sandy blond hair exchanged a complicated handshake with the other
two men, hugged Connie and Darla and then held out a hand to Susannah. “I'm Jared Hornby,” he said.

“Oh. I've heard a lot about you.” Susannah shook his hand. She could see the easy camaraderie between the three men. “Darla shared some information, too,” she added.

“Aw, kiddo! Can't you ever keep a secret,” Jared asked Darla and grinned when she said, “No.”

“I'm not putting money in that basket. I just don't agree with raising money to feed kids who live in this country.” A shrill voice broke through their conversation, carrying from the foyer into the sanctuary. “Did you see the pictures of those children in the Amazon, how poor they are? It seems criminal to me that in this country of plenty, we give our hard-earned money to people who have social assistance and all kinds of government handouts. If they won't look after their own children, then the government can take over. Not a dime should go to that Mary's Kids Foundation.”

“Uh-oh,” Connie murmured. Mary's Kids was one of the charities she'd recently set up with a friend to help kids on the streets of Tucson. “I'll go—”

“I'm afraid I have to disagree with you there, Mrs. Beesom.” David's voice carried clearly, his tone calm. “Needy kids are needy wherever they are, whether in Tucson or the Amazon. We should be ashamed that we've let American children get to the point where they are so desperate to eat that they have to rob and steal. It's disgraceful that in America a child isn't cared for by the whole community.”

Susannah moved with the rest toward the foyer. She couldn't help admiring David's casual stance. There was no hint of anger in his voice or manner, though she saw a flicker of golden fire in the depths of his eyes.

“Disgraceful? Well, that's just silly. They have mothers and fathers,” Mrs. Beesom blustered.

“That isn't the point,” he said quietly. “The point is that there are children hurting around the world. It's our God-given responsibility to do whatever we can to alleviate the hurt of children whenever we can, no matter where they live.”

“But—”

David wasn't finished.

“Thank God Connie Abbot has taken it upon herself to show God's love to the children of Tucson, just as this gentleman has been showing love to those he meets in the Amazon. We should all be doing more to support both of them.”

After a couple of coughs and a few murmured amens, the foyer quickly cleared, but not before people dropped donations into both baskets.

Susannah followed Connie and Wade outside. The group paused in the parking lot.

“Look guys, I'm so sorry,” Connie murmured, her embarrassment obvious. “I had no idea that would happen. I should have removed everything about Mary's Kids from the bulletin board.”

“Don't be silly, Connie,” David said. “She should have thought first.”

“I'm sure David saw it as an opportunity to try and educate narrow-minded people rather than let their bigotry go unchallenged, didn't you, old man?” Jared slapped him on the back. “You always were a defender of the weak.”

“I'm not a saint.” David brushed away the praise. “What say we go out for coffee? I'm buying.”

“But I don't drink coffee, Davy,” Darla complained.

Everyone burst out laughing. David assured his sister
they'd find her something to drink. As they drove to the coffee house, Susannah couldn't help but replay the scene in her mind.

She'd always seen David as cool and distant. But his defense of Connie's charity tonight showed her a new side. She assumed he thought her stupid, beneath him. But the truth was, he had never verbally condemned or judged her. Maybe she was misreading him, and shutting him out without giving him a chance to show who he really was.

David was great with Darla—understanding and gentle. He went out of his way to empathize with his sister's issues. He was exactly the kind of man who could listen and then help you figure out the next step. Connie was a great friend, but Susannah was sure that if she told her the plans she had to adopt her baby, Connie would try to change her mind. Susannah needed another confidant, someone who could advise her about adoption. Someone who wouldn't try to sway her, who would listen and even help

Tonight, David had shown he could empathize.

Tomorrow, Susannah would find out if he would help her.

“S
urprise!”

On Saturday evening, David stared at the array of food on his kitchen counter and was dumbfounded.

He'd never expected this when he'd called to ask Susannah if she and Darla wanted to join him and the boys for dinner.

“I thought a barbeque might be more fun for your little brothers than being stuck in a stuffy restaurant.” Susannah's cheeks burned a hot pink. But whether from effort or something else, he couldn't tell.

“We made a dinner,” Darla told him, beaming with pride.

“You certainly did.” He glanced at his three little brothers who were eyeing the fixings for a wonderful grilled meal with huge eyes. “But I'm sure they'd rather go out, wouldn't you, guys?” he teased.

“No way.” Their team had won the hockey game and they were high on excitement. “Can we have both a burger and a hot dog?” the eldest asked in awe. “And some of the other stuff?”

“If you can find room after all that junk food you ate.” He told them to wash up, then went out to the patio.

David couldn't remember the last time he'd worked so hard over a grill—nor the last time he'd heard so much laughter in his backyard.

Nor had he ever seen Susannah so happy. She insisted on dashing around, making sure everyone had enough to eat until David finally ordered her to sit down and enjoy her own meal.

She had a way with the boys. She didn't duck their questions about her baby, or try to change the subject. She answered honestly and they seemed to appreciate that. In fact, David was gratified to see them ask her to remain at the table while they cleared the dishes. He stacked the dishwasher himself, so he could listen in on their conversation.

“Boy, David, Susannah's sure pretty. What happened to her husband?” Caden, the eldest, asked.

“He died, I think.” David wasn't sure he wanted to reveal more about Susannah without her permission. “Thanks for pitching in, guys.”

“It was nothing.” Charles, the youngest, peered out the window where Darla and Susannah sat together on the deck swing. “Does she live here?”

“No. She comes over to watch Darla when I can't be here,” he explained.

“Darla's different than the last time we saw her,” Cory said. “She doesn't look so sad. And she didn't yell even once.”

“Yeah. She's fun,” Caden agreed. “And she's pretty now.”

Like she wasn't before? David choked back his brotherly ire and picked up the platter of cookies Susannah had left on the top of the fridge.

“We've barely got enough time to eat these before I have
to get you home,” he said as he shepherded them outside. “Your mom said no later than eight, remember?”

They grumbled but devoured the cookies as they asked Darla about the butterfly exhibit. To David's surprise, his sister knew a lot about it and was able to clearly explain what she and Susannah had seen.

“I won't be more than half an hour,” he told Susannah before leaving. “The boys' place isn't too far away.”

“We'll be here,” Susannah promised. She hugged each of the boys, then handed Caden a bag. “Extra cookies in case you want a snack tomorrow. And there might be some fudge brownies in there, too,” she added with a wink.

“Really?” Caden's eyes widened. “Thanks a lot.”

David shooed them out to the car, but stopped when Susannah's hand pressed his arm.

“They're not allergic or anything, are they?” she asked.

“To chocolate?” He grinned. “More like addicted. Thanks for doing that. It was very thoughtful. They don't get treats like that very often.”

“It was mostly Darla,” she said. “I just helped.”

He thought about that as he took the boys home. It seemed Susannah “just helped” everyone. He knew from Wade that Susannah took over meals when their housekeeper had the day off. Which was a good thing because Connie, for all her achievements, was no cook.

Susannah “just helped” Darla take swimming lessons, with the result that Darla had zipped through the first four levels and was almost done with the fifth. She'd “just helped” his little brothers enjoy a wonderful barbecue in a homey atmosphere, gently urging them out of their shells, until all three boys had lost their shyness.

Susannah Wells was quite a woman.

David pulled into the garage and waited for the door to close.

He liked her. He really liked her. Susannah didn't pretend to be someone else. She didn't seem to bear a grudge, though she had plenty of reason to. She was honest with Darla, yet wonderfully calm and soothing.

Like a sister.

Only David didn't think of Susannah as a sister.

Careful.

He found her inside, staring into space.

“Oh, you're back,” she said, startled, as if she'd been deep in thought. “Darla's upstairs having a bath.”

“Good. She was pretty sticky from all the cookies.” Something was going on. He could see it in her eyes. “Do you—”

“Could I talk to you?” she blurted. “Confidentially, as a lawyer?”

“Okay,” he said cautiously.

“I'll pay you and everything,” she promised, “but I don't want what I say to leave this room.” A desperate look washed over her delicate features, as if she'd been brooding over something and finally felt driven to bring it to light.

“As your lawyer, I'm forbidden to release anything you tell me to anyone else,” he assured her. “Would you like some tea while we talk?” He had to do something to try to ease her discomfort. The uncertainty in her voice touched him. He wanted to help her, to ease the strain in her lovely eyes. He wanted to give her some of the joy she so freely encouraged in others.

“Yes. Please.” Susannah waited until he'd made the tea and set everything on the table in front of them.

“Talk to me, Susannah. Please? I promise I'll try to help,” he said when silence continued to reign.

“I need to know how to give up my baby for adoption.”

The question hit him squarely in the gut.

Give away her child?

David forced his face to remain neutral, but inside his brain churned with questions.

“I can't keep it, that's for sure.” She twisted her fingers together, staring at them as if she hoped to find answers there.

“Do you have someone in mind? Connie and Wade?” he guessed.

“No!” Susannah stared at him. “You can't tell them about this. Not a word.”

“I'm not going to say anything to anyone, Susannah. I promise. Relax.” He laid his hands over hers to help her calm down. “It's just—this is a bit of a surprise. I don't understand. Maybe you could explain some more?”

“No.” She yanked her hands away and jumped to her feet. “I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll figure things out. But please, don't tell Connie.”

“Susannah.” David saw a myriad of conflicting emotions on her face. He could tell she was really struggling with her decision, with her feelings. “As your lawyer, I
can't
talk to Connie or anyone else. That's the law.” He rose, touched her shoulder. “I really want to help you. But in order to give you the best advice I can, I need to know more about what's driving your decision.”

She frowned, her uncertainty obvious. His heart gave a lurch as he watched her struggle to find some trust.

“Let's just talk. No decisions, no judging—just talking,” he coaxed quietly. “You don't have to decide anything right now. But I'd like to know what you're thinking and feeling. This is a big decision.”

He found himself holding his breath. Would she trust him?

“I know exactly how big it is,” she said. Finally she sat down. “I've been fighting it for a while. But I think the best thing for my baby would be for me to find a good family to raise it.”

So now he was going to arrange an adoption?

So much for not getting involved, buddy.

With grim determination, David shut down the voice in his head. The truth was he was already involved in Susannah's life way more than he'd ever imagined he'd be. Over the past few weeks he'd caught himself watching to be sure she drank the freshly squeezed juice with which he'd insisted Mrs. Peters stock the fridge, and that she'd sampled the variety of organic fruit he kept buying at the health food store. He'd even checked the house for repairs that needed doing so she wouldn't trip on something, or hurt herself.

If he had to, David could recite every detail Darla had ever mentioned about Susannah's baby. Yeah, he wasn't getting involved.

“I would prefer if the adopters didn't know about my mistakes.” The words emerged in a quiet, painful whisper.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Now tell me why.”

“Why?” She gave a half laugh, chewed on her bottom lip then looked directly at him. “Because my past is not the kind of fairy-tale reading a child needs.”

“I meant why do you want to have someone adopt your baby?” he clarified.

“Isn't it obvious?” She frowned at him. “I can't be the kind of mother this baby needs.”

“Why not?” he asked, pouring tea for both of them.

“I shouldn't even be a mother,” she whispered.

“And yet you will be.”

“I know.” She nodded soberly. “But I can't provide the best environment for a child.” Her eyes brimmed with shame.

“You're not a criminal. You haven't hurt anyone. You like kids and you're good with people.” He shook his head. “I don't understand what possibly disqualifies you as a mother.”

“Look around, David,” she said, a tinge of bitterness edging her voice. “Look at what your parents provided for you and Darla. I'll bet your mother stayed home to care for you, didn't she?”

“Actually she was a partner in my father's firm.” David smiled at the cascade of memories. “Best litigator I've ever known. But she would not do wills or family law. Absolutely refused.”

“Oh.” Susannah swallowed. “Well, anyway, I meant your parents provided a home and income for their children. They had a reputation that covered you.”

“You have a bad reputation?” he asked, half in jest.

Susannah's eyes, dark and swirling with secrets, met his. After a moment she nodded. “Did Connie ever tell you about our foster home?” She glanced away, focusing on something outside the window.

“A little. How much she was loved, cared for. How much she appreciated what they did for her. That kind of thing. Why?” He didn't understand where this was going.

“I was sent to that foster home after a house fire—which was my fault.” Susannah straightened. Her shoulders went back. Her jaw tightened. “Do you know where I was when the fire started?”

David gave a grim shake of his head.

“I snuck into a theater,” she said, her voice brimming
with unshed tears. “I ran away. My—mother was at home. She got badly burned in that fire, because of me.”

Years of past misery now darkened her gorgeous eyes to green-black shadows. Pain oozed from her. David wanted to help but he didn't know the words to dissolve this kind of agony. It had festered too long.

“Susannah—”

“There's another reason I can't keep my baby.” Susannah dragged her hand away from his and tucked it under her.

“What is that?” David asked, longing to hold her, to ease her obvious distress.

“My mother was not a good mother. I might be like her.”

David wanted to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of it. But Susannah's face made it clear how serious she was.

“You are not like her, Susannah,” he said, certain of that truth.

“I don't drink, but maybe—”

He shook his head and continued shaking it as she listed other faults she thought she might have inherited.

“No way.”

“How can you say that?” A hint of defiance colored her voice. “You barely know me.”

“I actually know you quite well, Susannah Wells.” He smiled at her blink of surprise. “You are sweet and gentle with Darla when she's acting her worst. You go out of your way to make three boys you don't even know the most fantastic barbecue. You listen when I whine and complain and you never stop looking for opportunities to help anyone who needs a hand.” He touched her cheek. “You'll make a wonderful mother.”

She was silent a long time, head bent as she thought about it. But when she lifted her golden head and looked at him, David knew she hadn't heard him, not in her heart where the insecurities had taken root.

“You don't know what kind of mother I'll be, and neither do I. And I'm not going to risk the life of my baby. My track record isn't good. I'm not worthy of motherhood and I won't risk my baby.” She gathered her jacket. “So are you going to help me figure out how to do an adoption, or should I find someone else?”

David rose, determined to make her see herself the way others saw her.

“In the past you made some bad choices, Susannah,” he said seriously. “Maybe partly because of what you were told and partly because you were afraid to expect better of yourself.”

“So?” Her long hair twisted up on the top of her head lent her a quiet dignity, its sheen a golden crown under the kitchen lights.

“I wish you could believe that your past doesn't determine your future. I wish you could let go of all those feelings of unworthiness,” he told her, letting his soul speak. “You have so much inside you to give. You just need to trust God to help you and give yourself another chance.”

“God isn't going to be bothered with me.”

“God is bothered with everyone,” he assured her quietly.

“And what if I blow that chance? I've done it a hundred times before. What happens to my baby then?” she challenged him. Then she cleared her voice. “Are you going to help me with this adoption or not?”

“Of course I'll help you. After all you've done for us, I would feel ashamed not to. You're the best thing I
could ever have wished for Darla.” He bent and brushed his lips against her silky cheek, surprised by the rush of longing he felt to make her world better. “Thank you.”