Minor Adjustments (7 page)

“You read my thoughts.” Devon accepted the licorice and offered some to Ryan. Then he took a few for himself. “Do you mind? I could use a little energy boost.”

“Have as much as you want.”

The licorice seemed to keep Ryan happy while the path led them under a timid, drizzling waterfall. It was Stella’s favorite part of the hike. She wanted to carve it out of the mountain and relocate it to her back patio.

Ryan’s little fingers reached out to touch the tumbling drops. Then he leaned forward, trying to catch the water in his mouth.

Devon pulled him back. “Yeah, that’s probably not the best water to drink.”

Five minutes later came the plea, “I need to pee.”

Devon turned back to Stella and winked. “Finally, something I can handle.”

She laughed.

When Ryan complained of being tired ten minutes after that, Devon hefted him to his shoulders. Stella followed behind, admiring his strength and patience. They trudged along for a few more minutes until Devon stopped abruptly. He pointed. “What are those?”

“They’re called stairs.”

“Very funny,” Devon said. “There’s over a hundred of them.”

“I know. It’s the last part of the hike. They’ll take us up to the Katoomba scenic railway.”

“You’re serious.”

“Unless you can fly, up we go,” Stella said, noticing his sweat-soaked t-shirt. “I can carry Ryan for a while if you’d like.”

He shook his head and started forward, mumbling something about her questioning his manhood.

Stella pretended not to hear. “You have to admit this bushwalk is beautiful.”

More grumbling came as he trudged up the stairs.

She tried again. “You’ll thank me for this someday.”

“Hear that, Ryan? Someday we’re going to thank her for getting us tired, thirsty, hungry, and hot, and then making us climb the longest staircase I’ve ever seen.”

Ryan giggled. “Giddy-up, horsey.”

Quickening her steps to get around them, Stella lifted her camera to her face. “Look like you’re having fun.”

Ryan grinned and Devon made a face. A few pictures and over a hundred stairs later, they finally arrived at the top and entered the visitors’ center. Stella held back a chuckle when Devon lowered Ryan to the floor and stood directly under one of the air-conditioning vents, raising his face to the cool air.

“Just so you know, Stella, that was not a short, little hike. Ask Ryan. He’ll agree with me.”

“Did you have fun, Ryan?” Stella asked.

Nodding, Ryan said, “Can we go down the stairs now?”

Stella directed a triumphant look at Devon. “See? Ryan’s fine. He’s not complaining.”

“That’s because he had a horse.”

Stella laughed.

When Devon had finally cooled down, they took a ride on the Katoomba scenic railway. It was short, but with a 50-degree slope, it was also the world’s steepest railway incline, originally used to bring coal and kerosene shale from the mines. Anything involving history always fascinated Stella.

“That wasn’t very long,” said Ryan. “Can we go again?”

Stella clasped his hand and swung it back and forth. “Maybe another day.”

“Okay,” said Devon. “Maybe that was worth the hike. Maybe.”

“Oh, come on, admit it. You loved it all—even the hike.”

Brown eyes met hers, and Devon smiled. “Maybe. But not the stairs. I definitely did not love those.”

During the drive back to Sydney, Stella stopped at an overlook of a rock formation called The Three Sisters. With the Blue Mountains for a backdrop, it was picturesque, and Stella couldn’t resist showing it to Devon.

“Why does he have paint all over him?” Ryan’s voice sounded loud above the prattle of other tourists.

A painted, almost naked Aborigine was sitting on the ground, playing a didgeridoo. Stella hoped the man hadn’t heard Ryan. “That’s the way they dress where he’s from,” she said quietly.

“They don’t brush their hair either?” Ryan studied the man’s tightly curled, black, bushy hair, then took a step forward to get a closer look. “What’s he doing?”

Stella tugged on his hand, hoping to draw him away from the man, but Ryan pulled free and walked over to him. “What’s that?” He pointed to the long, cylindrical, almost cone-shaped instrument the man held.

Stella turned to Devon. “Are you going to just stand there or do something?”

“What do you want me to do? I don’t think Ryan’s offending the guy. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s made a friend.”

Sure enough, Ryan plopped down on the ground next to the man. The Aborigine demonstrated how to blow into the didgeridoo before letting Ryan have a try. Stella cringed and started forward, but Devon’s hand on her harm halted her progress.

“Really? You’re going to let him blow into some stranger’s instrument?” she asked.

“Yep.” Devon smiled, watching as Ryan tried, but failed, to make a sound come out. The man demonstrated again and Ryan gave it another try, blowing harder. A whisper of a sound echoed through the canister and Ryan’s dimple appeared.

Stella rolled her eyes, pulled her camera from her bag and snapped a picture. If Devon was going to let Ryan blow on a filthy wooden instrument, the least she could do was capture the memory. The man smiled at Ryan and offered his hand. Ryan pumped it up and down before bouncing back to Stella. “Did you see? I played it all by myself!”

“You’re brilliant,” Stella said as she led him to the other side of the overlook. Over her shoulder, Stella saw Devon walk up to the Aborigine, nod, and drop a wad of cash in a cup near the man’s side.

It was a simple act but one that left an imprint on Stella’s heart. A scared imprint. She didn’t want to care about Devon any more than she already did. Becoming too attached would be pure stupidity. Things were already complicated enough.

When Devon rejoined them, Stella pushed her concerns aside and pointed out three burnt orange and yellow rock formations situated side by side on the edge of a cliff. They looked like the tops of three melting ice cream cones.

“They’re called The Three Sisters,” Stella explained. “And that bluish haze hovering above the trees in the background is caused by oil from the eucalyptus trees. That’s how the Blue Mountains got their name.”

“It’s beautiful.” Devon scooped up Ryan so he could get a better look.

Stella asked someone to take their picture before they headed back to the car. During the drive back, Ryan fell asleep almost immediately, and Stella wished she could do the same. It had been a long but wonderful day.

As they neared the hotel, reality descended. Another day gone. Now Stella only had a few days left to convince Devon to sign the guardian papers. Could she do it? Would he listen? Would he care?

Devon had been so quiet since they left the overlook. What was he thinking?

“I had fun today,” Stella said.

He glanced in her direction. “Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for being such a good sport and letting me show you a little more of our country.”

“Thanks for being our tour guide again. You really do have a beautiful and unique home.”

“So do you.”

“You’ve been to America?”

“Once. Lindsay used to go on and on about it. And after hearing all her stories about the time she spent with your family, she convinced me to take a short holiday there a few years ago, right after I’d graduated.”

“You went to Oregon?”

Stella nodded. “And Washington and California. We flew into Seattle and made our way down the coast. My favorite place was Yosemite. I loved all the redwoods.”

“Lindsay went with you?”

“No. Another girlfriend of mine went with me. We called it our final holiday before we started working. Lindsay wanted me to look up your family while I was there and stop by.”

“Did you?”

Stella shook her head. “But we did take a detour through your hometown—so I could tell Lindsay I went there. And she was right. It’s a beautiful place. Do you miss it?”

“I do, but mostly I miss my family. Chicago’s my home now.”

“You like it there?”

“It’s not Oregon, but it’s nice enough. I could do without the frigid winters, though.”

“Why Chicago if it’s so far from your family?”

“I got a job there after college. When I decided to start up my own company, the people I knew and trusted lived there, so it was easier to stay rather than move back home and start over.”

The sun hesitated over the horizon, and Stella wished she could call it back. Time was slipping by too quickly. “Thank you for putting your life on hold for a couple of weeks. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

“Actually, it’s been surprisingly easy. I’m beginning to think I’m dispensable now.”

“That’s good. Maybe we’ll see you back here at some point then.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Stella could feel his eyes on her. One look and she got all warm and tingly. Weak and pathetic.

Well, it was time for that to end. Time to be strong. For Ryan. With only a few days left until Devon’s flight, it was now or never. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Ryan.”

Silence. The air turned stuffy, even the supposedly fresh air blowing in through the vents. Rubber hitting asphalt and a purring motor suddenly sounded deafening.

Talk, Devon. Say something. Anything. Get mad at me for breaking my promise if you want. Don’t just sit there. That’s worse than anything.

“Stella, we’ve already had that conversation. You promised not to bring it up again.”

“I know, but there are some things you need to know.”

“What things?”

The rearview mirror showed Ryan stirring in his sleep. “Not now. It’s been a long day and we’re almost to your hotel. Do you think your friend Colleen might be able to watch Ryan tomorrow afternoon so we can talk? I’ll even make you a meat pie.”

Devon sighed and returned his attention to the passing scenery. “If she doesn’t have plans, I’m sure she’d love to. I’ll ask.”

It was an odd experience to leave Ryan with Colleen and board the train alone. It felt wrong, in a way. Like a part of Devon was missing. He tried to shrug the feeling away and focus on the buildings darting by, but the feeling held tight. In three days Devon would leave Ryan behind, and as much as he hated to admit it, the thought brought an increasing amount of gloom.

He’d miss the kid.

He’d even miss Stella. In an almost infuriating way, she’d wriggled into his thoughts and maybe even his heart. At times she could be so maddening that he wanted to shake her. But then there were those other times, Stella’s charming and endearing times, when she spouted off interesting and random facts, played and talked with Ryan, or made Devon feel . . . what? Encouraged? Inspired? Whatever it was, Devon liked it. He liked her.

Why?

Was it because she lived on the other side of the world? Out of his reach? Was this a case of liking what he couldn’t have?

Maybe.

Or maybe not. Stella was different—the kind of different that made him excited to see her, even though he knew she’d pressure him to become Ryan’s guardian again. He was like a mouse lured to the cheese in a mousetrap. Only worse, because he knew it was a trap. Pitiful.

But Devon would stand his ground. As difficult as it would be to say no and walk away, he knew his life back in Chicago could not incorporate a child—nor a long-distance relationship. For whatever reason, Lindsay had wanted Devon to be part of her son’s life, so he would. He would offer financial support, even promise to visit and call as often as he could. He’d make Ryan a priority in his life.

Just not the chief priority.

Great. Devon hadn’t even talked to Stella and already he felt guilty.

He stepped from the train and slowly walked to her apartment, stopping on her front porch. The door stared at him ominously, but he knocked anyway.

Stella opened the door and her bright blue eyes looked at him beneath the rim of a baseball cap. In her jeans and T-shirt, she looked informal and athletic. Gorgeous.

Devon stifled the urge to turn and run.

“G’day,” she greeted him. “Thanks for coming.”

Yeah. Like a lamb to the slaughter. “Thanks for feeding me.”

“Don’t thank me yet—you may not like what I made.”

“I’m not really picky when I’m starving.”

Stella laughed. “And on that flattering note . . .” She opened the door wider and waved him inside.

Curious to see the place she called home, Devon followed. The apartment was small and simple: tan walls, a blue couch, white kitchen cabinets. It was the patio off the kitchen that drew his attention. With stone pavers and a variety of potted plants and flowers, it felt like a mini oasis. A small table and two cushy chairs made it the perfect place to relax.

“This is nice,” Devon said, walking outside.

“Ta,” she said. “Someday I’ll move somewhere with an actual garden, but for now, this works for me. Do you want to experience my favorite part?”

“Experience?”

“Hold on.” Stella disappeared inside and returned with a small container. “Hold out your hand.”

He obeyed, and she dumped what looked like Kosher salt into his palm. “What’s that?”

“Sugar. Now hold up your hand and don’t move or say anything.” She whistled up to a tree that towered over the patio.

“You’re making me nervous,” Devon said. “Did you just turn me into some sort of bait?”

“Shhhh,” she said.

A small, parrot-type bird flew from the tree and landed on his wrist, pecking at the white crystals. Another bird soon followed. Talk about awesome. “You have trained parrots?”

Stella laughed. “No. They’re wild. And they’re larakeets, not parrots.”

“You’re telling me that wild birds fly from the trees and eat out of your hand?”

“Welcome to Australia.”

“This place keeps getting better and better.”

While they ate, Stella kept the conversation light. She didn’t eat much, but Devon devoured the food. The meat pies were incredible—nothing like the potpies back in the States. He wondered if licking his plate would be too uncouth. “I wish I could take all Australian food back with me.”

“You obviously haven’t tasted Vegemite yet.”

“What’s Vegemite?”

“It’s a spread we put on sandwiches and toast. Something most Americans hate. I have some inside if you want to try it.”

“Bring it on. I haven’t tasted anything here that isn’t great.”

Stella shrugged and went back inside. A few minutes later she handed him a slice of bread with black paste spread across the top. “Bon appétit.”

Devon took a big bite and immediately wished he hadn’t. It reminded him of the time he’d stolen a beef bouillon cube from his mom’s pantry, thinking it was a treat. He’d bit right into it, even chewed it once or twice before realizing it wasn’t candy—at least not a candy he’d eat on purpose. Vegemite had a similar taste, only worse. There were no words for the bitter, salty paste. Disgusting didn’t do it justice.

Not caring if Stella thought him rude, Devon spit it into a napkin. “Okay, I obviously spoke too soon. That stuff is horrible.” He gulped down the rest of his water.

Stella laughed. “You’re definitely American.”

“You really like that stuff?” She couldn’t possibly. It was revolting.

“Yeah.” She started collecting their plates and glasses.

“Here, let me take those,” Devon said, pushing his chair back.

“It’s all right, I got it.” Stella stumbled over Devon’s chair leg and deposited her unfinished meat pie on the front of her shirt.

Devon bit back a laugh. “You should have eaten all your lunch like a good girl.”

Looking like she wanted to throw the plate at him, Stella said, “How nice of you to pin the blame on me. It was your chair I tripped over, after all.”

“Maybe you should have watched where you were going.”

With a glare, Stella said, “I’ll be right back.”

Devon followed her inside, and while he waited, he rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. Under the sink, there was a bottle of soap, so he added some before turning it on. There. What girl could stay mad at a guy who did the dishes? Helping himself to another handful of sugar, he walked back out to the patio and whistled for the birds.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” Stella said, sinking down onto a chair.

“It’s the least I could do after such a terrific meal.”

“I couldn’t let you leave Australia without tasting meat pies.”

“Or Vegemite,” Devon reminded her, pulling out the other chair. “Although I’m not about to thank you for that one.”

“Hey, Ryan loves it too. In fact, you should take some back with you—” She winced. “I’m sorry. I keep doing that, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do.” And Devon was tired of it—more than tired. He’d made it more than clear that he wouldn’t become Ryan’s guardian. Couldn’t. It was time for her to stop assuming. Time to accept the situation for what it was. Lindsay had chosen wrong, and Stella needed to deal with that and focus on finding Ryan a good home with two great parents. He deserved nothing less.

Devon settled back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Why don’t you just tell me whatever it is you want to say. Then I can tell you once and for all that I can’t become Ryan’s guardian.”

Her expression solemn, Stella nodded. “If you don’t take Ryan, our state government will become his guardian and will be responsible to find him carers.” She paused. “And they’ll start with Ryan’s nearest relatives.”

At least she was finally being open with him. “And his nearest relatives are . . . ?”

“Lindsay’s parents. George and Betty Caldwell.”

“And that’s bad because . . . ?”

“Because they aren’t nice people, Devon,” she said. “They’re religious and devout Catholics, but they’re also cold, strict, and unfeeling. Sounds contradictory, I know, but I really don’t think there’s a speck of love in either one of them. That’s why Lindsay hated religion so much.”

“Have you met them?”

“A few times. Lindsay used to tell me stories about her life with them. Although they never physically hurt her, they yelled a lot and berated her—even in front of me. Lindsay was raised to think of herself as ugly, brainless, clumsy, and annoying.

“In middle grade, she heard about a foreign-exchange program offered through her school. She jumped at the chance and somehow managed to convince her parents to let her go. Lindsay described those nine months with your family as the best ones of her life. Your mother treated her with love and kindness, and your sister was a great friend who taught her about hair, makeup, and clothes.

“And you—well, Lindsay said you’d smile and say hi. That you told her she was smart when she came to you with a math question, and that she was talented when she drew you a picture to say thanks. She said you opened doors for her and told her that ladies were always first. She called you her prince, you know.

“Although we grew up in the same town, we didn’t really become friends until the tenth grade. I found her crying in the bathroom one day after some guy she went out with had slapped her around. She didn’t think much of herself, which was why she picked losers. She said they were all she was good enough for.

“After graduation, she ran away from home and got a waitressing job in Sydney. We kept in touch, and a few years later I found out she was pregnant. At the time, I thought it was the worst thing that could have happened to her—another setback. But I was wrong. Ryan transformed her. Lindsay stopped dating, found a decent job, and became . . . almost confident. She used to say that her baby would have the best mother in the world.” Stella choked on the last words and fell silent.

Which was good because Devon wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more. He hadn’t known what Lindsay’s life had been like, what struggles she’d had to face. Nor had he known that a few kind words spoken so long ago would have meant so much. A one-time comment of, “you’re smart,” shouldn’t be a highlight of someone’s life. Devon should’ve made more of an effort to befriend her back then.

If only he’d known.

“And Lindsay
was
the best mother,” Stella continued. “When Ryan was born, she started working part-time from home, and with a little help from the government, she got by okay. She doted on Ryan and showered him with love, affection, and compliments. The first time Lindsay held him in her arms, she called him her handsome and brilliant little man. I know, because I was there.

“She was over one time and Ryan spilled his milk. Lindsay immediately tipped her own glass over and said something like, ‘How fun! You are the best game-inventor!’ He giggled, and for the next couple of months, until the ‘game’ got old, Lindsay constantly cleaned up spilled drinks. I told her she was crazy, but she said that her son would never hear a negative word from her. Ever. And I’m sure he never did.”

No more, please no more.
Devon wished he’d never come. He wanted to forget everything or somehow make Stella take it all back. Erase. Delete. Strikethrough. Whatever it took, he wanted it gone.

There had to be another alternative. Some other way. “If you know all this about the Caldwells, why can’t you get Ryan placed somewhere else, with parents who can give him the kind of home he deserves? You’ve got to have some connections.”

Stella shook her head. “You don’t understand. If the Caldwells want to take and raise Ryan, there’s not much I can do to stop them. Sure, I can take them to court and challenge the placement, but I can’t prove anything. On paper they’re the perfect choice. All I have are a bunch of secondhand stories from a deceased friend. It would be their word against mine, and you have to know how those types of cases play out.”

“So what you’re saying is that if I don’t become Ryan’s guardian, he’ll end up with the Caldwells?”

“Unless they, like you, don’t want him.”

“What are the chances of that happening?”

“To be honest, they don’t even know they have a grandson. Lindsay would die all over again if she thought they’d ever meet.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s because I don’t have an answer. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Devon let out a breath. This was too much to take in. Too much pressure. “So why me? Why not you? I get that Lindsay thought I was a nice person, but that was ten years ago. You were her best friend and already knew and loved Ryan. Why did you let her list my name?”

“Ironically, Lindsay didn’t choose me for the same reasons you say you can’t take Ryan. I work full-time and I’m single. She couldn’t see me making the situation work, and she didn’t want Ryan being raised by a nanny or a care center. She also wanted Ryan to be part of an extended family, which I don’t have.”

Devon clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t prepared for this.

“Listen.” Stella leaned across the table and covered his hand with hers. “Lindsay promised me she would contact you before she passed away. I’m not sure why she didn’t, but I do know she felt right about choosing you. She knew you came from a wonderful family, and I’m sure she assumed you still lived near them. Maybe she even thought you were married.”

Unseen walls closed in around Devon. The humid air felt hot and sticky. Thick. “Why didn’t she pick my sister then? Emily’s married, she’s a stay-at-home-mom, and she has a couple of kids. She would have been a way better choice.”

“She wanted you.”

“But she hardly knew me! I don’t get it.” Devon stood and paced the small patio, wishing now it was bigger. The arguments he’d come prepared with were no longer valid. He’d been broadsided. Stella had known all of this from the get-go and kept it from him, choosing to dump it on him three days before his scheduled flight home. Why?

The answer came in an instant. She’d wanted Devon to get to know Ryan and care about him. She wanted him to feel responsible. Because if he cared, he couldn’t possibly let Ryan go to the Caldwells.

Which left only one choice.

Him.

Devon was thrust back to the ninth grade when Nancy, the prettiest girl in school, had flirted with him. He’d felt flattered, even a little arrogant. But then he found out she’d only acted that way to make his best friend jealous. It had been his first real and painful experience with manipulation—but it was nothing to what Stella had done.

“Exactly why did you want me to take Ryan for two weeks?” Devon’s eyes dared her to be honest.

With a pleading look, she said, “I needed you to come to love Ryan the way I do—to care about the outcome of his life.”

“And you think his life will be that much better with me?” Devon almost shouted the words.

“Yes,” Stella said, her voice shaking. “I do.”