There was a knock at the door, and she sighed. She needed time alone, a chance to sort through the foster home files and maybe find a placement for Amanda that would last longer than a few months. One where she would fit in, maybe even find some happiness.
Kathy moved easily across her office and opened the door to find a man standing there, a man she’d never seen before. He was young—early thirties, maybe—dressed in expensive slacks and a slightly rumpled, button-down shirt. “May I help you?”
The man shifted his position awkwardly and glanced back at the front door. Then he met her eyes and forced a smile. “Uh…yeah, I guess. I’m looking for Kathy Garrett.”
If this was a potential foster applicant, Kathy wished one of the clerks had helped him. Make me more patient, Lord. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”
The man squirmed again, and Kathy had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t about a foster application. He was nice looking, a little over six feet tall, good build. But his eyes were shadowy and they seemed to bear a reservoir of pain or anger, some deeply intense emotion that Kathy couldn’t quite read.
“I…my name is Ben Stovall. I’m from Cleveland, visiting for the day.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I need to talk to you. In private, if possible.”
Kathy thought about the myriad of cases that needed her attention. “I’m sorry I’m very—”
Talk to him, daughter.
The voice was so clear she wondered if the man had heard it, too. Fine, God. I’ll talk to him. She opened the door and motioned to a chair near her desk. “I have a few minutes. Come in.”
“Thanks.” The man didn’t hesitate. “I’ll keep it brief. I know you’re busy.”
She glanced at her desk and smiled, the weary feeling lifting a bit. “Just a little.”
When they were both seated, the man ran his hands along his pant legs and drew a deep breath. “Seven years ago my wife moved to Woodland and had a baby.” The man must have seen her puzzled expression because he hurried to explain. “We weren’t married at the time. I thought she was out of the country on an exchange student program.” He stared at his hands a moment, then his eyes met hers again. “I didn’t know about the baby until…until recently.”
“Mr. Stovall, I’d like to help you, but if your wife had an open adoption, the paperwork can be found by filing a request at the county courthouse. If it was closed—”
“It was.” There was desperation in his eyes now, as if she held information that he absolutely had to have. “I already checked.”
“Well, then I’m sorry I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” Except get back to work so some of these kids have a safe house to sleep in tonight. Please, Lord, make him leave so I can get on with my day.
“Actually, I think there is something.” He bit his lower lip and leaned over his knees. “I spoke yesterday with Nancy Taylor; she was the woman my wife lived with before the baby was born…”
Nancy Taylor. Nancy Taylor…The name ran through Kathy’s mind a handful of times. She recognized it from somewhere, but with the number of cases she saw each day the connection might have been any one of a hundred possibilities. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. I’m sorry, I—”
“Wait!” He held up his hand. “Forgive me for interrupting you, Ms. Garrett, but my wife’s name was Maggie Johnson at the time. According to Nancy, you were the one who arranged the adoption. She said she thought you…”
“I what?”
“You were a believer.”
Listen to him, Kathy.
The holy request came gentler this time, and Kathy leaned back in her chair. Where was this going? “Yes…I’m a Christian.”
The man exhaled as though he’d been holding his breath. “See…my wife and I are believers, too. And right now she’s…” He let his head fall a few inches and for a moment he seemed too overwhelmed to speak. His focus remained on his hands as he cleared his throat. “She’s in a psychiatric hospital. They’re treating her for depression.”
The pieces were still not coming together. “Does she regret the adoption, Mr. Stovall? Is that what you’re saying?”
The man rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. “I don’t know; we haven’t talked since she was admitted. But Mrs. Taylor seems to think I need to find out about the baby—the girl, actually, since she’d be seven now—and make sure she’s okay. At least then I could tell Maggie she’d made the right decision.”
A wave of compassion came over Kathy, and she resisted the urge to walk around her desk and take the man’s hands in hers. He was here for that? To give his hurting wife some small ray of hope? Something to assure her that her unknown child was doing well and that adoption had been the kindest thing she could have done at the time?
Kathy pushed aside her emotions. Rules were not meant to be played with. It was a state-run agency after all, and adoption files could not be pulled without her having to account for her reason in doing so.
She sighed softly “Sir, I’m very sorry about your wife. But I’m not at liberty to check the files of closed adoptions.”
The man drew a deep breath and stood to leave. “Okay then. I guess I did everything I could.”
He shook Kathy’s hand and left the office without any further request. Kathy watched him go, sitting motionless in her chair, her eyes glued to the door. Something about the man’s request didn’t sit right.
Seven years ago…seven years ago…
Kathy had the unnerving feeling that she’d just missed a God-given opportunity. Her mind raced backward in time, trying to make sense of her overwhelming desire to catch the man before he left the building.
Seven years…
Then it hit her. Kathy caught her breath sharply. Seven years ago…there was only one little girl she could clearly remember having been given up for adoption at about that time. But it couldn’t be…
Kathy worked thousands of cases from Cincinnati and the surrounding suburbs. There might have been a dozen baby girls given up for adoption that year. Still…what if it was her? What if this Maggie Johnson, Maggie Stovall, now receiving treatment for depression was actually…
Kathy was on her feet, pushing around her desk and tearing down the hallway, then out into the parking lot. Frantically she looked around and she saw him, about to climb into a Pathfinder. “Mr. Stovall!”
Her feet carried her quickly to where he stood. Breathless, she met his questioning gaze and smiled. “If you can come back in for a minute, there’s something I’d like to look into.”
Minutes later they were both seated at her desk again, Mr. Stovall staring strangely at her, waiting for her to explain.
“Sorry about that, but I just thought of something, and I didn’t want you to leave before I could check it out.” Be calm, Kathy. Oh dear Lord, could it be that these are the people? Could it possibly be that this man sitting here is the answer to my prayers?
Suddenly she wanted to know more about him, his wife, and everything that made up their lives. “Do you have other children, Mr. Stovall?”
The man angled his head and his eyes bore an expression that was just short of hope. “No. We…we haven’t been able to.”
A vision filled Kathy’s mind, images of this man and his wife healed and whole taking Amanda into their home and loving her for a lifetime. Just as quickly, Kathy chided herself for romanticizing the situation. The woman was in a mental hospital, after all, and probably wasn’t even Amanda’s mother. Still, it was worth pursuing if only she could justify looking up the file. She pictured Amanda’s teary eyes last night, heard again her small voice hoping and praying that somewhere her real mom was thinking about her.
A child’s life was at stake here. That was justification enough.
“Mr. Stovall, I’m going to see if there’s a way to check the file. Wait here a minute, will you?”
The man’s eyes implored her again. “Listen, you don’t know me, but I wouldn’t be here right now if I di
dn’t believe God Himself had sent me. Please…” He swallowed hard, again nearly overcome by emotion. “Please look it up for me. Tell me she’s well adjusted and enjoying life, tell me she has a wonderful family here or somewhere else. Just tell me something, so I can finally understand all the missing pieces.”
Kathy frowned. “Missing pieces?”
“It’s a long story. Just please, please look it up.”
She refused to promise him anything. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Adoption records were all in computerized files now, so Kathy knew it wouldn’t take long to find what she was looking for. Alone in the dimly lit archives room she found the correct screen. Under “birth mother” she typed in, Maggie Johnson; date: 1991. Then she clicked the search button, and three seconds later she had her answer: No matches for that search. Disappointment rocked her back in her chair and brought tears to her eyes.
Lord, I wanted her to be the one.
Keep searching, My daughter…
The prompting made no sense. Maggie Johnson—whoever she was—obviously hadn’t given her baby up for adoption in Cincinnati. Kathy thought of how disappointed the man in her office would be. Maybe he had his facts wrong or maybe his wife hadn’t given a baby away. Or if she had…
Kathy let out a shout and her hand flew to her mouth. That was it! Of course! There was no reason Maggie had to use her real name. Kathy frowned, trying to remember. What was the name of the woman Ben Stovall had mentioned, the woman his wife had stayed with?
Tanner…Trumbell…Taylor! There it was. This Maggie woman had been living with a family named Taylor.
Without hesitating, Kathy typed in two words: M-a-g-g-i-e T-a-y-1-o-r. Maggie Taylor. The name was suddenly very familiar. An hourglass appeared indicating the search was underway. Seconds passed.
Come on, give me something. Please, God…
Suddenly a file appeared. As Kathy scanned the information she felt herself sliding off the chair, falling to her knees on the cold linoleum flooring.
It was her; it had to be. The woman Amanda had been praying about for years. It was all coming back now; the frightened girl living with the Taylors, saying all the right words, making them believe she wanted nothing more than to give her baby up for adoption. Kathy remembered a scene from seven years ago and it hit her as strongly as if she’d been slapped in the face.
The young mother had not wanted to let go of her baby.
It had been at the hospital, the day Maggie delivered. She’d been sad, despondent even. Kathy choked back her tears and closed her eyes as the memory grew clearer. She could see the images clearly in her mind…
Kathy had approached the girl and asked her if she was sure. “You don’t have to do this, Maggie,” she remembered saying. “Adoption isn’t for everyone.” But the girl had gritted her teeth with determination and promised that this was the choice she needed to make.
Kathy’s tears fell freely now and she wondered why she hadn’t pushed the girl for more answers. Certainly if she interviewed a birth mother now and found her ambivalent, she would ask a host of questions. If only she’d had it to do over again, she would ask Maggie why she hadn’t felt up to keeping the baby herself.
God, I’ve made a terrible mistake. Everything that’s happened to Amanda…all of it could have been avoided if only I’d been more aware, more thorough with her mother. A thick sob worked its way up from her heart and echoed against the particleboard in the archives room. What have I done, Lord? How different Amanda’s life would have been if only I’d talked her mother out of the adoption. And what of Maggie, Lord? Is she beyond caring? Does she even wonder about her little girl?
Kathy remembered the well-dressed, clearly distraught man waiting in her office. They were childless, after all. Was he the baby’s father? If so, then Amanda was their only child. A child who had nearly died from abuse while waiting year after year for someone to give her a home.
Trust with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
A rush of peace passed over Kathy, and she felt physically comforted by the Holy Spirit. Amanda’s life had been miserable, but maybe…
Trust Me, daughter.
Kathy exhaled. She wiped her eyes with her sweater sleeve and worked herself back to a sitting position. Closing out the computer screen, it was all she could do to stop the accusations that threatened to consume her. If only…
Trust Me.
Kathy closed her eyes. Lord, I want to trust You. Really, I do. But all these years. What if—
Trust.
Okay, give me wisdom then, God. Wisdom and strength to go back in there and face that man with the truth about Amanda Joy.
Fifteen minutes had passed, and Ben was getting restless. Maybe it was a crazy idea. First Nancy Taylor, then the old man at the diner. How could they possibly know what God wanted from him? Here he sat, in some tiny social services office, wasting the time of an obviously busy woman over an adoption that was sealed from the public. Ms. Garrett had been clear on the matter: The records were not available.
He scanned her desk for a piece of paper. He’d just write her a note, explain that he’d left town, and thank her for her help. He spotted a notepad, but as he reached out, she returned. The tearstained look on her face made Ben’s breath catch in his throat.
“I found her, Mr. Stovall.”
Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. What? She’d found her? The child? Maggie’s daughter?
The social worker sat back in her desk chair and faced him squarely. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. She paused, then tried again. “She lives very near here.”
Until that moment it had been easy for Ben to blame Maggie, to find fault with her for sleeping with John McFadden and giving a baby up for adoption without ever saying anything about it. Ben’s attention had been mainly on the way Maggie had betrayed him. But now…now there was a living, breathing child involved, and not just any child. This little girl was the daughter of the woman who still meant more to him than he could admit or understand. Maggie’s flesh and blood.
His eyes were wet, and Ben hung his head, unable to speak. Maggie girl, you have a child. A daughter. After all these years… If only she were here beside him, holding his hand, hearing this news with him. I’ve found your little girl, Maggie… He closed his eyes for a moment. Dear God, what does it all mean?
He swallowed, trying to squeeze words through a throat thick with emotion. “She’s…she’s okay, then? Adopted by a family somewhere nearby?”
Kathy Garrett shook her head and brought her clasped hands up to her chin. “Her name is Amanda…she’s living with me, Mr. Stovall.”
Ben’s thoughts were instantly jumbled. Amanda…Amanda…The name seemed to work its way into his heart. So it was true. Maggie’s daughter was alive and well and growing up. Her name was Amanda.
“You mean, you adopted her? I thought…Nancy Taylor told me you were the social worker, not the adoptive—”
“No.” The social worker closed her eyes, and Ben wondered if perhaps she were praying. “I’ve been Amanda’s social worker from the beginning.” She hesitated. “Mr. Stovall, normally it is not ethical to give out information about a private adoption. But I’ve prayed about this situation for years and I believe with all my heart that God would have me tell you about Amanda.”
Ben sat up, suddenly alert. What was there to tell? Had something happened to the girl? Feelings of love—amazingly strong and protective—assaulted Ben until his heart seemed to lodge tightly in his throat. “What about her?”
Ms. Garrett sighed. “It’s a long story. To begin with, Amanda was adopted by a childless couple—the Brownells. They were not well off, but they were kind and loving and good parents for Amanda.”
Ben couldn’t stop himself. “Were? They were? Isn’t she with them anymore?”
The sadness in Ms. Garrett’s eyes pierced Ben with deep concern. “They died, Mr. Stovall. When Amanda was five. It was an awful ice
storm, and best we can tell they were headed to the school to find Amanda. A branch fell on their car moments after they left home.” She paused. “They were both killed.”
Ben settled heavily back into his seat, his heart breaking for Maggie’s little girl. What an awful thing for her to have suffered through. The death of her adoptive parents, and at an age when they would have been everything in the world to her. He crossed his arms against the pit that had formed in his stomach. “Amanda went to live with you then, is that it?”
“No.” Ms. Garrett’s expression grew dark. “The Brownells had no extended family Amanda was made a ward of the state and put back into the Social Services system.”
Ben frowned, trying to sort through it all. “But she’s with you now…”
Fresh tears filled Ms. Garrett’s eyes. “She’s lived with us off and on since her adoptive parents’ deaths. She’s been in several foster homes for the most part. The last one…”
Her voice trailed off and she covered her eyes with her fingers. As she did, panic rose in Ben. What happened to Amanda? “Was there trouble?” Maybe the girl was violent or given to tantrums. Or worse.
Ben couldn’t bring himself to imagine anything worse. Please…no…Not Maggie’s little girl.
The social worker lowered her fingers and the pain in her eyes was almost more than Ben could bear. “Amanda was beaten, Mr. Stovall. She nearly died.”
The words hit his heart squarely, but that impact was nothing compared to the rage that suddenly pulsed through his body The state had assigned Maggie’s seven-year-old daughter to a foster parent, to be cared for and nurtured, and that monster had nearly beaten the girl to death?
Ms. Garrett sighed. “Amanda’s been with us since being released from the hospital.”
No, God, it can’t be true. He hung his head and imagined a child so young and helpless hurt to the point of…
In that heartbeat, Ben knew with every fiber in his being that he had to see this child, had to hold her in his arms if only one time, and love her the way Maggie surely would have loved her if she’d ever had the chance. She was Maggie’s daughter.