He understood what she was getting at. She could see it in the way the corner of his lips tucked in. “Pastors don’t have perfect pasts, and neither do pastors’ wives. No one would expect you to be perfect.” He brushed away the tear that had fallen onto her cheek. “Any mistakes we make can be used by God to help others. Think of the young pregnant women you could advise. They’d listen to you because you’ve been there. Think of the women who might be considering an affair. They’d listen to you because you’ve been there.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” After everything she’d done, she had a whole arsenal of personal experience at her disposal. Maybe God could use it somehow.
“You could have a real ministry to young women. If you wanted to, that is.”
His words from earlier came back and washed over her like a mountain spring. I love you, Linn. Did he really mean the words? She was afraid to believe it.
As if sensing her doubts, he cupped his hands around her face. “Did I mention I love you?”
Her knees trembled, and she drank in the love that poured from his eyes. She’d only said “I love you” to one other man, but she knew now she hadn’t even known then what love was. Looking into Adam’s eyes, she could say it now, with full understanding. “I love you, too, Adam. With all my heart.”
He pulled her closer, and his lips met hers. Like a breath from heaven, it sent a shiver through her.
When they parted, she remembered what he said earlier. Breathless from the kiss, she asked the question. “You said you came for three reasons.” His lips cocked up on one side, and she thought how absolutely adorable he looked.
“That’s right. I have a quiz for you.”
She groaned. “A quiz?”
“Patience, Miss Caldwell, I think you’ll pass this one with flying colors. OK, here goes.” He looped his arms around her waist and set his forehead against hers. “A man and woman are in love with each another but have never gone on a date. The man asks the woman out. Does she: a) tell him she has to wash her hair, b) tell him she doesn’t like dates, or c) accept the offer and kiss his socks off?
Linn couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “C?”
His eyes lit like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.”
Linn wrapped her arms around his neck. “Looks to me like we have two winners,” she whispered before her lips met his.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Paula found a space alongside the rows of parallel-parked cars and squeezed her car in between two others. A few minutes later she was invited into Louise’s house by a nurse and walked into the bedroom with the vase of flowers she’d picked up on the way. “Hello, Louise.”
Louise’s eyes opened, and her head rolled toward Paula. “Hello, dear. It’s good to see you again.” Her voice sounded scratchier than it had on the phone when Paula had asked if she could stop by.
Paula set the flowers on the bedside table and picked up the thermos of water. “Would you like a drink?”
When Louise nodded, Paula helped her sit up enough to sip, then put the thermos back on the table.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome. I appreciate your letting me come over again.”
“I was worried about you after you left last time. You seemed shaken.”
Paula swallowed. “I really appreciate how honest you were with me. I’ve come to tell you I won’t be running the follow-up story on Faith. I’m not even sure why you told me everything. You didn’t seem eager to have the story broadcast, yet why else would you have told me?”
Louise got a faraway look in her eyes. “As I reach the end of my life, I’m finding that I view things differently. I was no longer afraid of being shamed or ridiculed or punished so much as I was afraid of dying with answers people needed. That’s why I told you the truth.”
“Are you disappointed I won’t be doing the story?”
“Honey, I just did what I felt was right, and I’ve done my part now. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan were over awhile back and we talked. It was—hard. But now that they know, I feel it’s as resolved as it can be. There’s no need for any of this to go further.”
“I think you’re right about that.”
In the other room she heard the front door open and close.
“Brought you something, Mom,” a male voice called.
A man stepped into the room, holding a sack in his hand. But Paula could only focus on his face. Their eyes met at the same time.
“Stan,” Paula said. What was the station’s new information technologist doing here? Then she recalled what Stan had just called Louise. Mom.
Stan’s hand fell as his eyes widened. “Hi, Paula.” A pink tide swept up his neck.
“Here, Mom, your favorite bagels.” He leaned over and kissed her.
Louise patted his cheek. “You’re such a good boy. I’ll have one after dinner.” She cocked her head toward Paula. “I didn’t realize the two of you had met.”
Confused, Paula looked at Stan. Didn’t his mother know he worked with her? Suddenly a string of suspicions marched through her mind. Stan was Louise’s protective son who’d refused to let Paula interview her. Stan had recently been hired at WMAQ. She’d received threats concerning the story and had her notes disappear from her computer.
“Can I speak with you a moment?” Stan asked her.
Paula tore her eyes from Stan and tried to smile at Louise. “It’s time for me to be going anyway. It was nice to see you again, Louise.”
“Stop by anytime.”
Paula exited the room, feeling Stan’s presence behind her. When she heard the bedroom door click shut, she pivoted swiftly. “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”
“Look, Paula,” he began nervously. “I swear I would never have hurt you. I was only trying to protect my mom.”
Despite her anger she couldn’t even look Stan in the eye and believe him capable of anything hurtful. “You threatened me.”
“I know, I—I’m sorry. I hated to do it, but my mom. You don’t know what she went through after burying that baby. She grieved like it was her own child. She planted flowers out back every spring . . . like she was trying to pay penance for what she’d done. But all she did was save a baby no one wanted. It wasn’t her fault the other baby died.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to do what you did.”
His shoulders fell two inches. “I know.”
“You threw a rock through my window and scared the snot out of me.”
His gaze fell to her feet. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back.”
She huffed. “The money is hardly the issue. You stole my file, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” He tugged at his shirt cuff. “Look—I can’t take back what I did. All I can do is say I’m sorry.”
The words were painfully familiar. She knew all too well about regret.
“I was only trying to protect my mom. She’s been there for me every step of my life, and I’m going to be there for her until she takes her last breath.”
His tone softened her.
“I could probably have you arrested, you know.”
He put his hands in his pockets. The light from the table lamp highlighted the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. “I know. But I’m asking that you don’t. For Mom’s sake.”
“Is this the only reason you took a job at the station?”
“Yes.”
“So you have no reason to stay there now.”
“Are you ever going to air the story?” he asked boldly.
Paula gave a quiet laugh. “You have a lot of nerve. And not that I have to tell you, but no, I will never tell your mom’s story.”
“Then I have no reason to stay at the station.”
Paula released her breath and narrowed her gaze on Stan. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and, for your mother’s sake, not say anything about this. But if I ever hear another—”
r /> “You won’t.” He lifted his hand in a pledge. “Not ever again. Promise.”
She turned to go, but as she opened the door, he called to her.
“Thank you, Paula.”
She looked at him over her shoulder and nodded before leaving.
* * *
David’s legs wobbled like a rickety rail as he walked up the porch steps. Was he ready for this? Would seeing her be more than he could handle?
He lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. When it swung open, a dark-haired man gave a half smile and shook his hand. “I’m Steve Morgan. You must be David.”
“Nice to meet you.” David stepped inside, letting his gaze travel around the house. He could take three steps in any direction and be in a different room. If he listed this house, he’d use phrases like “cozy cottage” or “charming bungalow.”
A woman rounded the corner. “Hi, I’m Deb.” She wiped her hands on her jeans before shaking his hand. “Faith’s having breakfast; I thought it would give us a chance to talk for a minute.”
David pushed back his impatience. A few minutes wouldn’t matter one way or another. They invited him to have a seat, and when he did, his eyes focused on three photos of Faith hanging on the wall. Her eyes stood out most of all. They were a familiar shade of green and almond shaped, just like Paula had said. They twinkled when she smiled.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen her photo?” Deb asked.
“Yes.” David couldn’t even identify the emotions that were spreading through him as he stared at his daughter. Though her eyes favored him, her lips were all Paula—full and pink and capable of a heartbreaking pout.
“We weren’t sure how much you knew about Faith,” Steve said. “You’d mentioned that you and Paula were—uh—weren’t on speaking terms.”
David tore his eyes from the photos and met Steve’s eyes. They were guarded, and David couldn’t blame him.
Steve continued. “Faith doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. She knows she’s going to be meeting a friend of ours, but she doesn’t know you’re her—birth father.”
A weight sunk to the bottom of David’s stomach and anchored there.
“She’s only three,” Deb said. “And we feel it would be confusing for her.”
“We will tell her the truth eventually,” Steve added. “But we think it’s best to wait awhile.” Firmness framed his words.
“I understand.” David was so eager to see Faith, he was willing to go along with about anything.
“This is awkward for all of us,” Steve said. “We can’t help but feel a little threatened by your appearance, and our attorney was against our having you over. But considering your position, we think we’re doing the right thing.”
David recognized the fear in Deb and Steve’s eyes and saw that they were putting their hearts on the line by letting him meet Faith.
“Daddy, wook!” Faith sped into the room with an uneven gait, her legs carrying her as fast as they could. She climbed into Steve’s embrace and held up a piece of Pop Tart. “It’s a puppy. See the tail and the ears?”
David couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was as cute as a button, with two curly pigtails and cheeks that gave her a baby-faced look.
“Did you make that?” Steve asked.
She nodded, her pigtails bobbing up and down.
“Honey,” Deb said, “this is our friend Mr. David. Can you say hello?”
Faith tucked her head into the crook of Steve’s neck, turning her face to peek at David. “Hewo.”
He’d never cherished a word so much. “Hello, Faith.” His throat almost closed up, but he forced himself to speak, not wanting to end the first conversation with his daughter. “I used to make shapes with my toast when I was a little boy. I’d bite off chunks until I made a boat or a fish.”
“I have a fish.” She slid the Pop Tart into her mouth and nibbled off a piece.
“You do? What kind is it?”
She leaned back and looked at Steve with questioning eyes. He answered for her. “It’s a goldfish.”
“His name is Jonah,” Faith said.
David breathed a laugh. “Does he remind you of the Bible story?”
She nodded and finished off the last of her Pop Tart. “Can I show him Jonah?”
Deb’s eyebrows darted up, and she looked at her husband.
“Sure, princess,” Steve said.
Faith scooted off Steve’s lap, and David followed her. The bedroom was tiny, but the lavender walls and frilly bedspread resembled a life-size dollhouse. The fishbowl sat atop the dresser.
“Wanna feed him?” She got a can of fish food from the bureau drawer and handed it to him.
“How much do I put in?”
She held her forefinger and thumb together. “Just a tiny pinch, see? If you feed him too much, he’ll die.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s what happened to Fwipper.”
“Flipper?”
“I put all the food in the water,” she said gravely.
“The whole can?”
She nodded.
David heard movement behind him and knew both Steve and Deb were standing in the doorway. He gathered a pinch of the flakes and held it up for Faith to see. “Like this?”
“Just right.”
He dropped the flakes into the bowl, and Jonah started feeding off them.
Faith saw her parents and walked to Steve, putting her arms up to be held. He swept her up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her legs dangle from her dad’s grip.
Her dad.
David rejected the words mentally for the pain it caused him. Even though he couldn’t dispute Steve was every definition of the word dad to Faith, it drove a stake in his heart to think of the man that way.
David closed the fish-food container and set it on the bureau. “Looks like you take good care of your fish, Faith. Jonah seems very happy.”
When Faith didn’t say anything, Deb answered for her. “We’ve only had him for a few weeks, but she feeds him every day without being told, don’t you, honey?”
Faith leaned back in Steve’s arms. “Can I watch cartoons?”
Steve traded a glance with Deb. “Sure, go ahead.”
Faith wriggled down and limped away, her long, pink floral shirt swaying with the movement.
David took a deep breath. It was bittersweet, this first meeting with his little girl. Faith was everything he thought she’d be . . . and more. It felt as if a missing piece of his heart had been put into place, and now it was whole again.
She was bright and sweet and well-adjusted. She was being taught to live for God. She was being cared for and loved.
But she was not his.
“She likes you,” Deb said.
Did she know he needed to hear that? How the father in him yearned to have his daughter’s approval? His throat tightened, and he couldn’t speak for fear he’d lose control.
“She doesn’t just take to anyone like that,” Deb said. “I couldn’t believe when she asked to show you Jonah.”
“Or let you feed him,” Steve said. “That’s the highlight of her day.”
A strange mixture of joy and pain blended together in his heart. His emotions needed release. David walked toward the door, knowing he needed to leave now. He cleared his throat. “I really appreciate your letting me meet her,” he said when they approached the front door. He wanted to tell them what a great job they were doing. He wanted to ask if he could see her again. But his throat had closed.
“You’re welcome,” Steve said.
“Faith,” Deb called into the living room. “Say good-bye to Mr. David.”
“Bye, Mr. David.” Her sweet voice carried to his ears, and he wished he could catch it in his hands and tuck it into his pocket for later.
“Bye, Faith.” David turned before the Morgans could see the dampness in his eyes. “Thank you again,” he said over his shoulder.
Somehow David made it to the privacy of the car. H
e started the rental and backed out of the drive. He made it three blocks to a rundown shell of an old gas station before he pulled over and let the feelings out.
* * *
The padded Manila envelope sat on the coffee table where David put it when he reached home. He fixed himself a roast-beef sandwich with a side of deli potato salad and ate alone at the kitchen island while going through the stack of junk mail and bills. Now, sitting in his recliner, he opened the Wall Street Journal and tried to ignore the package.
But instead of focusing on the paper, his thoughts turned to Faith, as they had so often over the days since he met her. He wished now that he’d asked for a picture or two. So many times he toyed with the idea of getting custody. He teased himself with thoughts of raising her in Jackson, of taking her to see the Jackson Moose hockey team or to Music in the Hole on the Fourth of July.
But the fantasies always spun out in the end, and he knew deep in his soul why that was. The Morgans were good parents, the only parents Faith knew, and she belonged with them.
The thought made him ache a hundred different ways, but it didn’t change the reality of the situation. He did want to be part of Faith’s life, and he hoped the Morgans wouldn’t have a problem with that. He knew he could probably win visitation rights, but didn’t think he would have to resort to that. He wondered if Paula was having the same thoughts as he. Had she seen Faith since they argued? Had the Morgans told her he came by?
He received e-mails from her faithfully. The first few he deleted without reading, but slowly his anger faded away. In its place was a lonely depression. He’d been coming home to an empty house for over three months, but it was different now because his relationship with Paula was severed.
Her e-mails were eating away at his resolve to stay angry. When she e-mailed the weekend before, saying she’d like to come home, he responded Don’t. It was all he wrote. He couldn’t have told her he’d be in Chicago visiting their daughter. He hadn’t even told the Morgans yet for fear they’d say no if they had too much time to consider it.