Authors: Linda Goodnight
The social worker blinked, uncomprehending. “I’m sorry?”
Creed dropped her hand, which Haley thought he’d held a tad too long in the first place, and gestured to Rose Petal, asleep in the swing. “I found her.”
“Oh, that’s right. I remember now. We met at the church.” High heels tapping on wood floors that needed waxing, Miss Plymouth walked to Rose Petal’s swing. “She looks wonderful, Haley. You’re truly a godsend for these children.”
When she bent down to stroke the baby’s head, the social worker’s straight skirt showed a very nice figure above smooth legs made shapelier by the three-inch pumps. Wearing a baggy shirt and shorts she’d tossed on at 6:00 a.m., Haley experienced a nasty twinge of jealousy.
The distraction was exactly what she needed to get her other, more painful emotions in check. “Thank you. She’s a wonderful baby. A blessing to me, too.”
“Good. A healthy, happy baby is easy to place.” Miss Plymouth straightened. “If the authorities don’t find her birth mother in the next few weeks, we’re moving forward with the paperwork.”
Haley swallowed a new lump. “That’s great. She needs a permanent family as soon as possible.”
“I agree. We already have several worthy applications.”
Creed, who’d been listening with a tense expression, spoke up. “They have to be perfect.”
“Pardon?”
“The mother’s note. She asked us to find the perfect couple for Rose.”
“We’ll do our best.” The social worker turned to the waiting ten-year-old. “Ready, Thomas? Your mother is eager to have you home. We have a long drive.”
Thomas nodded and picked up the secondhand suitcase he’d carried into too many foster placements. Creed and Haley gathered his other meager personal effects while he clung to the birdhouse and Creed’s gift bag. The entourage trekked down the blooming path of round stones toward Miss Plymouth’s car, a gleaming maroon Jetta.
Thomas paused next to a stand of lavender. “Can I pick some flowers for Mama?”
The knot in Haley’s throat tightened. “Of course you can. Lavender is my favorite. She’ll love the smell.”
She helped him snap a few of the showy stems and bundled them into a bouquet while Creed and Miss Plymouth loaded Thomas’s belongings into the back of her car. Haley could hear their voices but couldn’t make out the conversation.
She wanted to delay the departure as long as possible, but common sense prevailed. She helped Thomas buckle into his seat, gave him one last hug and watched while Creed did the same. Then she stood at Creed’s side waving until the Jetta disappeared from sight.
“You okay?”
She whirled and begun the trudge back to the house. “Yes.”
No.
Creed followed. A part of Haley wanted him to leave. She didn’t want to break down in front of him.
He caught her from the back, hooked her elbow with his powerful hand and pulled her around. “I’m not.”
“He was a foster child, Creed. That’s the way life is.”
And it stinks. It stinks so bad.
His mouth hardened. “Easy come, easy go?”
“Foster care is not a permanent arrangement. I knew that from the start. So do the children.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not attached after all these months.”
“I can’t afford to be.”
Let Creed think the worst of her. What did she care? He was nothing but a meddling egomaniac who pushed every warning button she’d developed the hard way—from painful experience.
She sniffed back the rush of emotion. Lump in her chest and heavy-hearted, she hurried away from him. He needed to leave, to go back to his helicopter. She hadn’t wanted him here to witness these first few minutes without Thomas in the first place.
Circling the house, she ventured into the garden. Always the garden waited, ready to soothe her soul. She fell to her knees, hoping Creed hadn’t followed. She jabbed the trowel into the dirt, then viciously tore at the weeds with her bare hands.
Tears threatened to slip from behind her eyelids. She dug harder. “Stupid weeds. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
She felt his approach, saw the flash of black clothes from her peripheral vision but kept digging.
A dark hand stopped her savage assault. He’d gone down on his knees beside her in the garden, a black-clad presence among the color and green.
“You have a right to be sad.”
Her carefully erected armor slipped. The arrow pierce of loss shot straight through to her heart. “Thomas needs his mother. He will be fine.”
“But will you?”
“Yes!” She yanked her hand away. Bits of loose dirt flew. “Don’t push, Creed. I’m not unfeeling. I just know that nothing good lasts.”
“You did your job and now you can forget about him? Is that it?”
Sitting back on her heels, she bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying. “I will never forget him. Never.”
“Me, either.” And then he did the strangest thing. Right there on his knees between more lavender and the calla lilies, he gently took her in his arms. “I need this even if you don’t.”
Oh, she needed it all right. Badly. Like a thirsty plant, she soaked up the gentle rain that was Creed Carter, her bewildering, unpredictable flyboy.
“You were an amazing mother to him, Haley. Amazing, loving. Everything he needed.”
The tears came then, quiet, soaking tears of loss and grief and sorrow. She wanted to hate Creed for making her feel this way. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and held on tight to the only anchor in her private storm.
She had always been the strong one. When had she last been comforted? When had she ever been?
Creed held her for a while, silent and strong, letting her release the pain, letting her use him for a wailing wall. She felt his breath against her hair, the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath her ear and the steady, comforting up and down of a manly hand against her back.
When her storm of tears lessened, he shifted to wipe her face with the heels of his hands. “In the movies guys have handkerchiefs.”
A tremulous smile quivered on her lips. She sniffled. “In the movies, the girl is beautiful and doesn’t get red eyes and a blotchy face.”
“We must be in a movie.”
While she pondered the remark, head tilted, he swallowed, the ghost of a smile crooking his gorgeous face. She could look at him all day, but it was the heart of the man that held her captive.
“Don’t say it,” he muttered, eyelids going droopy.
“What?” She licked lips puffy from crying and dry as a new gourd.
“Don’t tell me not to kiss you.”
She opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again to say one single word. “Okay.”
If her answer surprised him, he didn’t let on. The truth was, she could kiss a guy she liked, even if he made his living in the air, even if she knew he wouldn’t stick around. She didn’t have to give her heart away. She didn’t have to get hurt. She was smarter than that.
Then he kissed her.
Like a rose petal brushing her skin, his lips touched, inquired and settled in. He held her, cradled her, caressed her with such warmth and tenderness that her throat ached. She wanted to stay in this garden spot forever, with her troublesome thoughts suspended and the spring sun glowing around them in a fairy light.
She’d known he’d be good at kissing. She hadn’t known his sweetness would move her to tears.
A gypsy breeze tickled her skin. As if to comfort or to complement, the flowers and bushes gave forth their precious gifts of fragrance. Lilac and mint blended with the lavender on her hands and at her feet.
She knew then that she would always associate the smell of lavender with this morning—the morning Thomas went away and the day she let Creed Carter into her heart.
Chapter Ten
C
reed stopped at the train depot for a look at the newly printed brochures Miss Evelyn had picked up from the printer. With a gnatlike worry that all the ads in the world would be useless if the pilot couldn’t fly, he approved the slick, colorful flyer. “Looks great, Miss Evelyn.”
“I think so, too. By this afternoon, every business in town will have these in their display rack. Want some for your office?”
“Sure. I can always hope my customers will pass them on to others.”
She handed him a thick stack. “I haven’t seen you much lately? You must be really busy. How are Haley and the baby?”
The question caught him off guard. Did people consider them a couple? “Okay. The baby’s growing.” And before he could stop himself, he whipped out his cell phone. “Want to see a picture?”
He scrolled through the photos, his heart pinching when Thomas’s grin jumped out at him. Miss Evelyn didn’t miss anything in the small town, so he wasn’t surprised to learn she knew about his departure. “I wish that child well. Smart as a whip, he is. Now, where’s that Rosy? Ah, there she is. Look at her.”
Pride glowed inside Creed. “Beautiful, isn’t she? She rolled over a couple of days ago. One minute she was on her back, the next thing she was on her belly. See? I snapped a picture.”
Miss Evelyn
oohed
over the photos as he scrolled through them, aware that he’d taken far more than he realized. Haley was in there, too. A lot. He’d snapped her in the garden in gloves and surrounded by flowers, the same sweet-smelling purple blooms that stuck in his head from the day he’d kissed her. Lavender, she’d told him. He’d photographed her singing to Rose on the back porch and snapped her hanging a birdhouse in a tall oak. Painting, too, her tongue between her front teeth.
By the time he left the train depot, Haley filled his head. He was falling for her, no question about that. She was not the kind of woman he’d ever expected to want to hang out with, much less love, but he was getting there fast. The trouble was, she pushed him away at every turn.
Take yesterday for instance, when he’d kissed her in the garden. He’d intended to comfort her, to take her mind off Thomas, but something incredible had happened. A lightbulb went off in his head. Haley was special. Big-time special.
She’d kissed him back and felt so right in his arms that he’d felt certain she returned his feelings.
Not that she’d said anything. She’d kissed him, hugged his neck, swiped her arm across her teary face and handed him a trowel. He hadn’t been dressed for the occasion, but he dug a few weeds to please her.
Creed smiled at the memory and turned his Jeep toward the heliport and a waiting tour.
His cell phone vibrated. A glance at the caller ID revealed his dad was calling.
Slowing the Jeep, he pressed the speakerphone. Talking while driving on mountain roads wasn’t the smartest thing a man could do.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“How you feeling, son? Any more sick spells?”
Creed’s sweet mood soured. “Not really. Nothing I can put my finger on.”
He’d had some vague symptoms and the pesky headache. Last night, he might have run a fever, but he hadn’t passed out.
“Any news from Dr. Ron?”
“He sent the tests to the Medical Arts Lab in Fayetteville. We should hear something in a few days.”
“Too bad Whisper Falls is not big enough to have a hospital.”
“Or for Dr. Ron to have more than basic lab equipment.”
“He wouldn’t have time to run it. His patients keep him busy.”
A buzz of silence came across the line. For a minute, Creed thought he’d dropped the call. Then his dad said, “I’ve made some inquiries.”
Creed’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “About?”
“Your birth parents.”
A weird charge of adrenaline, whether from apprehension or interest, had Creed pulling to the side of the road. He put the Jeep in park but left the motor idling. “Did you learn anything?”
“The lawyer who helped us adopt you said he’d do some digging. He recalled a few facts but couldn’t share them without permission.”
“Permission from the other family?”
“Right. Or from the courts if you want to make the effort to have the records unsealed.”
His heart thumped painfully. “I don’t know.”
What if there was some deep dark skeleton in his biological closet? What if they were murderers? Or worse, what if they simply hadn’t wanted to be saddled with a kid?
“The decision is yours. I told the attorney that for now, we’re only requesting medical history, not personal information.”
Creed blew out a breath, loosening his grip on the wheel. “That works for me. I’ll worry about the other later.”
“Don’t worry about it at all, son. God’s got a plan. Everything will work out for the best if you put your future in His hands.”
Creed knew that. He believed in God’s will with all his heart. Hadn’t he preached the same song to Haley? Funny how easy his words had flowed, how arrogant he’d been. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he was struggling not to worry.
“Pray for me, Dad? I don’t want to stop flying.”
“I will. I am.”
“Does Mom know?”
“You asked me not to say anything, but she knows you’re battling a problem. She says she can feel when something is wrong.”
Tenderness welled in Creed. “She always knew, even when I was a kid.”
“That’s your mother. Now, how about dinner again this weekend? Make both of you feel better.”
A day basking in his parents’ love and enjoying Mom’s cooking sounded great. “What if I bring a date?”
His dad laughed. “It’s about time you made me a grandfather.”
“She’s only a date, Dad.”
A very special hippie chick whom I might be falling in love with.
“First one you ever brought home to Mama.”
Oh. Yeah. He guessed she was.
* * *
Dinner at Creed’s family home proved to be wonderful. Haley had worried about the event for two days, had fretted about meeting with his parents’ approval, had wondered if the words
white trash
were emblazoned on her forehead. But Kathy and Larry Carter were two of the most welcoming people she’d ever met.
The perfect buffer, of course, had been the baby. Rose Petal had been her usual adorable self. Grandma Carter was there, too. For that one day, Haley had absorbed the concept of family. A loving, laughing, sometimes silly bunch of people who didn’t scream at each other, didn’t slip off in the night to avoid paying the rent or move every few months. A family that was stable.
Creed had no idea how lucky he was.
When he had driven her home and kissed her good-night—more than once—she’d felt like Cinderella. The soft, spring evening was beautiful, so they’d put Rose Petal in her bassinet and returned to the porch to enjoy the stars and quiet night air.
“They like you,” he’d said, holding her hand while the sweet fragrance of pink dianthus danced with fairy feet on the wind in front of her house.
“I like them, too. You are lucky to have them for parents.” The darkness surrounded them, broken only by the buttery wash of yellow moon and a vast scatter of vivid silver stars. The air was cool and soft, moist and clean.
“I am blessed.” His face was solemn and she knew he thought about his adoption, about being placed in the “perfect” family.
Haley stroked her fingers down his arm. His muscles tensed and the hairs stood up. She affected him, a lovely power for a woman to have.
“Do you ever feel weird to think you have other parents somewhere?”
“Never did before, but lately I have. Mom and Dad are the best. I wouldn’t change the life I’ve had with them for anything.”
“They were so sweet to Rose. Your mother offered to knit some winter things for her.” The thought made her sad. Rose would be in her new home by then.
“I was thinking about something tonight.” Creed shifted, his face cast in intriguing shadows.
Haley wanted to touch his jaw, his mouth, his hair. She wanted him to hold her.
“Me, too. Your mother’s Mississippi mud cake.”
His mouth curved. “Mom wasn’t too happy when I passed up my favorite cake. Thanks for not saying anything.”
“I promised not to.” Honesty was a point of pride for Haley. Her mother had seldom been honest about anything, but Haley’s faith had sent her on a different path. “Now, what were you thinking about, besides the cake you didn’t eat?”
Smiling, Creed took her by the upper arms and drew her closer until they shared breathing space. He kissed her on the nose. She kissed him on the chin. All this kissing was...nice.
“Rose,” he murmured when she was lulled by his nearness. “I don’t want her to go to a stranger.”
She slid her arms around his waist, resting her hands loosely at his back. “Me, either.”
He cupped her face, fingers threaded through her hair. “She could stay with you. Permanently.”
Some of the romance faded from the atmosphere. She shook her head, difficult with Creed gripping her face. “Not in the plan.”
“Whose plan? Yours or God’s?”
She started to pull away. “Don’t preach at me. You know how I feel about this. We’ve talked before.”
Creed held on, pulling her closer. “Don’t go.”
“Don’t push me about this.”
“Okay. I’m done. Forget it.” He tugged. “Now come back here.”
She went, and even though she enjoyed his kisses and smiled at his silly teasing, his request had opened up a Pandora’s box inside her head that wouldn’t disappear.
* * *
Creed’s mind was a jumble as he flew over Whisper Falls. Last night with Haley had been great and then she’d shot down his idea. Time was running out for Rose, and Haley didn’t seem to care. Either that or she didn’t have the courage to deal with it. The woman was messing with his head.
A fine sheen of perspiration gathered on his palms. He rested his hand on the cyclic stick, making slight adjustments to the rotors spinning above him. The familiar
chop-chop
usually soothed, but not today.
Every time he started the helicopter rotors turning, Creed suffered an attack of guilt. What if he got sick? What if he passed out? What if he hurt someone?
He was watching his diet as well as the calendar waiting for his test results. Some days he wondered if he should shut down his business until he knew. Doc didn’t seem to think that was necessary, but Creed sweated blood on every tour. Flying had lost that exuberant feeling of freedom.
Today, he’d flown honeymooners over Whisper Falls. They were so engrossed in each other that he, thankfully, didn’t need to give his usual spiel. He had so many things on his mind that he wasn’t up to cheerful chatter.
Haley. Rose. Diabetes. Birth family. Grandma’s knee.
Last night had nearly sealed his fate with Haley. She was fun. She liked his family. They liked her. Grandma adored her and told him if he missed the boat with Haley, she’d disinherit him. They’d both laughed, considering Granddad had given him the farm when he graduated from high school and he’d already inherited. But he’d kissed Grandma’s cheek and told her to pray. What else could he say?
Just when things were going well—or so he thought—Haley had axed his great idea. How could he let himself fall in love with a woman who’d reject a baby, especially Rose?
Haley claimed he was obsessing over Rose because of his own background, that he was projecting his feelings of abandonment. He didn’t know about all that nonsense, but he did know Rose needed stability and a loving home with people she knew. She’d bonded with Haley. Her happy little eyes followed Haley’s every move.
Then there was the issue of his own future. A future that might see an end to his beloved flying career.
He banked the chopper to the right and down into a burgeoning green valley.
The world was beautiful, but his life was spinning out of control.
* * *
The last person on earth Haley wanted to see arrived on Sunday: her mother.
She had just returned from church where Rose had spit up all over her lacy dress and fussed throughout the sermon. Haley had a headache, smelled like vomit and wanted nothing more than to take a shower and a nap.
But there on her porch in the white wicker chair surrounded by blooms and butterflies was Mona Placer, cigarette in hand, blowing smoke rings.
“’Bout time you showed up.”
With a heavy heart, Haley trudged up the path. “Hello, Mona. What are you doing here?”
Since she could remember, her mother had insisted on being called Mona, never Mom or Mother. She claimed having a kid made her feel old and unattractive. So from the time Haley could remember, Mona had told people they were sisters.
“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Mona took a deep drag on the cigarette, smoke seeping out her nose and the corners of her mouth. Her cherry-red lipstick left a permanent stain on the brown filter. “Don’t I even get a hug?”
“The baby isn’t well. I’d rather she wasn’t around the smoke.”
Mona’s eyes focused on the carrier dangling from Haley’s side. “When did you have a kid? Didn’t I teach you anything?”
“She’s a foster baby, Mona. I told you about that.”
“Oh, yeah. Seems I remember something about it. Not my way to make a few extra bucks, but whatever keeps the lights on.” She peered down into the carrier at the drowsy baby. “What’s wrong with her? Is she contagious, because I just got over a nasty head cold.”
Hackles raised at the suggestion that she took in foster children for the money, Haley wanted to say yes, Rose has smallpox. With everything in her, she wanted to give her mother a reason to leave. “I’m not sure. She was fussy in church.”
Mona’s nostrils flared, conveying her long-held opinion that church was for wimps and snobs who looked down on the rest of the world. She took another drag of the cigarette, then crushed it out on Haley’s antique milk can planter.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in? I’ve driven halfway across the world to see my daughter. The least she can do is fix me some lunch.”
Haley felt smaller than she had in years, reverting back to those days of moving around, of lost jobs, of her mother’s self-focus.