Missionary Daddy (12 page)

“Which makes you a very special little girl.” Sam aimed a thumb toward Eric. “Eric is in the process of adopting two boys through the new international program at Tiny Blessings.”

“International adoption?” Leah asked with interest. “That might be something Ben and I could do some day.”

“
Someday
being the operative word,” Ben said. “We have our hands full right now.”

His eyes flickered in Sam’s direction and she saw her opportunity. Clearing her throat, she said, “Ben, at the risk of bad timing, I want to apologize.”

The carpenter frowned. “Apologize?”

“Yes. For the adoption records found in my home. My grandfather’s deceit.” The newspaper was filled with the ugliness, though Jared’s series concentrated on the human aspect. Lately, he’d been chronicling Ben’s story.

The new dad waved away the comment. “Not your fault. At least I know the truth now.”

“Ben’s planning a trip to Maryland to meet his birth family,” Leah offered as she absently stroked a finger over her baby’s dark fuzzy hair.

“Really?” Sam found the prospect intriguing. Maybe some good could come out of the latest revelations. “Have you been in contact with them?”

Ben nodded, but couldn’t get a word in before his wife broke in. “Jared’s series in the
Gazette
helped open up the lines of communication.”

“Did I hear someone mention my name?” Jared, accompanied by Ross and Kelly Van Zandt, wandered into the conversation.

“We were just talking about Tiny Blessings,” Eric said. “Any more ugly letters to the editor?”

Jared and the Van Zandts exchanged looks. “Not to the editor. To Kelly.”

Eric reacted with shocked anger. “At the agency?”

Ross’s nostrils flared. “At home. Without a stamp. Someone dropped the letter in our box as easy as you please. I’ve asked every neighbor if they saw anything suspicious.”

“Nothing?” Eric asked, worried, too.

Ross shook his head. “Things are heating up. Somebody either blames Kelly for something that occurred at the agency or they’re using her as a means to vent their anger. Either way, it ticks me off.”

Eric sympathized. He’d felt the same annoyance at the press for harassing Sam. And Ross had an added concern. No man would willingly stand by and watch his pregnant wife be tormented and threatened.

Controlled anger mixed with a healthy dose of worry darkened Ross’s already dark skin. “If I could get my hands on…”

“Ross,” Kelly said softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Please. This is a happy day. Don’t let some maniac spoil it.”

“I just don’t want anything happening to you.” Ross tenderly touched her round belly. “Or our baby.”

The love flowing between the young couple was clear for anyone to see. As happy as he was for his friends, Eric felt a tug of envy. He wanted this for himself.

Next to him Sam stood as if mesmerized by the pregnant Kelly and baby Joseph asleep in Olivia’s arms. Did she feel the same pull? The same yearning to take their relationship a step further?

He reached for her hand, intending to pull her to his side. But this time, Sam quickly squeezed his fingers, then turned him loose and stepped away.

The old insecurity rushed in with a vengeance. Was Sam intentionally putting distance between them? Was their sweet time together coming to an abrupt end?

“Ready for punch?” she asked, a little too brightly.

Punch? He studied her for a moment, confused by the sudden change in her behavior.

Since when had Sam become eager to take on empty calories? Moreover, she looked spooked, like a gazelle eager to run.

Had he missed something?

T
oday would change everything. One way or the other.

Sam placed a gentle kiss on Gabriel’s forehead and carefully eased him into his crib. His soft blond hair lay in damp curls against his forehead where he’d lain against her shoulder for so long. Ashley no longer rocked him, but when Sam babysat, she enjoyed holding the little body close. He wouldn’t be small much longer. She wanted to soak in his baby essence while she could.

Gabriel stirred, raised his head and thumped it once, twice, three times on the mattress. And then he collapsed like a rock. Sam stifled a laugh. He was such a cutie.

Tiptoeing, she left the room, closing the door with a soft snick.

As much as she loved Gabriel, he was a constant reminder of her own empty arms. Just like the baby dedication where she’d been surrounded by babies and children and pregnant women. Everywhere she looked, reminders of her childless state taunted her. And then there was Eric.

For a moment at the dedication, she’d considered breaking off their relationship. Though still undefined, she wasn’t a fool. They had strong feelings for each other, whether spoken or not. Afterward, she’d prayed long and hard. Ashley claimed to get direction by praying. Sam got exactly nothing.

In the end, she’d decided to do the one thing she’d avoided for too long. She’d made the appointment with Dr. Smythe for the tests that would reveal once and for always if she could ever bear a child.

She glanced at her watch, the diamond band sparkling beneath the hall lights.

Today was D-day. Doctor day. Dr. Smythe promised to call with the results of the half-dozen medical tests. Any time now.

Her cell phone chirped. Hurrying away from the baby’s door, she flipped the phone on. “Hello.”

“Samantha? Dr. Smythe.”

Her pulse kicked up. “What’s the verdict?” No use stalling.

“As I told you during the exam, I’d really rather you come into my office for these results.”

“Doctor, I appreciate your kindness, but whether here or in your office, the results are the same and I need to know now. Tell me. Can I have children?”

The pause gave Sam the answer before the physician spoke. “We don’t like to use the word
never,
but Sam, it’s unlikely you’ll ever conceive. The damage is done. Come into my office tomorrow and we’ll go over everything in detail.”

Sam didn’t need details. She only needed the facts.

Now inside her suite, she sat down on the bed, cradling the phone against an ear. Her heart hammered so hard, her sternum hurt. “How unlikely?”

Another pause. “At this point, very unlikely, but keep in mind, we’re making strides in this area every day.”

Sam rubbed shaky fingers over her eyes. She’d expected this, but hearing the verdict was hard. “What if I gain more weight? Will that help? Or maybe fertility treatments?”

“Sam.” Dr. Smythe’s voice gentled with compassion. “I’m sorry. Your internal organs can’t take the strain. And your endocrine system malfunctioned a long time ago. But this doesn’t mean you can never have a child. Today’s women have babies in many ways. Adoption, surrogacy.”

The kind doctor went on talking, offering counseling, urging Sam to stop by the office for more details, but Sam had already heard the most important information. Barring a miracle, she would never bear a child, the one thing she wanted most in life. She would never carry her husband’s baby beneath her heart.

Eric’s image flashed behind her burning eyes. For a little while she’d hoped. Eric had given her that.

Somehow she ended the call and then collapsed facedown across the silk duvet cover. She wanted to blame someone, but there was no one to blame but herself. God didn’t do this. She had.

She thought of Eric again and tears gathered. Was it wrong to go on seeing him, knowing she could never have children? Was it wrong to date any man without telling him up front that she was barren? But how could a woman openly share such a personal sorrow? And when was the right time? She couldn’t imagine telling a man on the first date. But wasn’t it unfair to wait until feelings grew? Like now, with Eric.

She wrestled with the dilemma and found no answer.

In the room down the hall, her nephew slept on, unmindful of his aunt’s despair. Little Gabriel, her sister’s baby. Sam loved him so much. She was certain she would have made a wonderful mother.

Chest near to bursting, she let the tears come. And in the midst of sorrow, she turned to her new source of strength. The Lord.

After a long time of tears and prayer and self-pity, Sam lay exhausted and quiet, staring at her mask collection in thought.

A place deep inside felt empty, and she recognized it as the place that should have someday nurtured a child. She placed her hand on her stomach and for once in her life hated the perfectly flat abs. Abs that would always be flat. Always.

Barren.
Such a terrible word.

And the question came again, more forceful this time.

What was she going to do about Eric?

Eric carefully hung up the telephone and stared unseeing at the photo collage on his office wall. His contact at the U.S. embassy had good news. The questions over Eric’s single status appeared to be resolved and it was only a matter of time until his dossier was approved and the boys could come to America.

But a nagging sense of unease wouldn’t let him go. International relations were fickle. Until Matunde and Amani landed at Richmond Airport, he wouldn’t breathe easy.

He picked up the framed picture perched on his desk amid the jumble of work-related folders and messages. Amani’s exuberant personality showed in his wide smile while Matunde stood shyly, head ducked in a timid grin. Eric’s heart swelled with love and ached to be with the little boys he considered his own.

He took the well-worn Bible from his desk and opened it to the familiar passage in Romans.

“As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit himself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.”

The verse had become his favorite long ago and now grew in meaning as he moved closer to adopting Matunde and Amani.

“The spirit of adoption,” he murmured, rubbing his fingers across the words. God had adopted mankind, loving and providing for them with the same love He showed his biological Son. Loving the boys the way he did, Eric understood how a father could love adopted children as much as he loved his biological children.

He understood some other things, too. When a single man decided to adopt, he was making a decision that could keep him single the rest of his life. Only a very special kind of woman would be willing to mother two sons that she had neither birthed nor chosen.

Was Sam that kind of woman? Sometimes he thought she might be. At others, like in that odd moment at the reception when she’d pulled away, he wondered if she only considered him a fun date until she was ready to return to the jet set.

Today, he’d asked her to meet him for lunch. She’d behaved oddly again, but after his usual round of teasing, she’d agreed. Now that they were better acquainted, he realized she was a people pleaser. Had she said yes only to avoid hurting his feelings?

“Eric?”

At the female voice, he glanced up, surprised to find Gina hovering in the doorway.

“Gina. Hi. Come in. I didn’t know you were working today.” Like several of the Youth Center teens, Gina occasionally volunteered at Tiny Blessings, though from her hollow eyes the girl needed to be home in bed.

“Anne asked me to bring you these files. She said you would need them for your next appointment.”

“I’d be lost without Anne,” he said. “She knows what I need before I do.”

With a wan smile, Gina placed the folders on his desk and turned to leave. Her shoulder blades protruded out and her arms hung like matchsticks from the sleeves of her T-shirt.

“Gina?”

Now at the door, she glanced back.

“Are you okay?”

Instantly, she straightened. Her chin shot up and a smile appeared. “Great.”

“That’s good.” Even though it was a lie. “If you need anything…” He let the thought dwindle, having no idea what to say to a girl who was starving herself to death.

“Thanks. But Anne shows me anything I need to know.”

That wasn’t at all what he meant and he suspected she knew as much. Reluctant to let her leave, he said, “Did you attend the Cavanaughs’ baby dedication?”

She nodded. “I went with my parents, but we had to leave early. Dad had to work.” Her dark-rimmed eyes brightened momentarily. “But didn’t I see you with Sam?”

No longer annoyed by the blatant matchmaking, Eric grinned. “Guilty. We had fun, too.”

“Cool. So did I.” Smiling, she left his office.

Eric scraped a hand over his face and leaned an elbow on the desk to say a prayer for the young girl. She was a great kid, with so much going for her. How did she get so messed up? And what was he supposed to do about it?

An hour later, the Simpkins had come and gone, pleased to have their police background clearances and agency approval to adopt a newborn. Eric crossed to the coffeepot to refill a long-empty cup. He was getting hungry but didn’t take the last maple doughnut. Not with Sam coming by soon.

Since the day he’d helped her escape the reporters, he’d wanted nothing more than to spend every extra moment with beautiful Sam. Today they were trying a new Chinese restaurant in the shopping center. Though he still didn’t think Sam ate enough, he would keep on feeding her. Afterward she was helping him choose decor for the boys’ bedroom.

He had a few things he’d brought from Africa and others he’d picked up here and there, but Sam’s opinion meant a lot. Maybe too much, all things considered.

He lifted the cup to his lips and sipped, wrestling with the question of Sam. Was he out of his mind for thinking they could be together? Some day he might go back to Africa to live. Or wherever the Lord called him. Sam wasn’t exactly the missionary type.

Sure, she’d enjoyed Africa. As a tourist, a volunteer for one day. She’d never lived day in and day out with the poverty, the dirt, the heat and the lack of modern conveniences.

A high-class fashion model accustomed to limos and spas would never give that up to follow a missionary into Third World countries and be a mother to his adopted kids. Would she?

But she cared about him. She’d said as much. And she wanted a big family, same as him. Still, there was something amiss with his beautiful Sam. A reluctance, a pulling back that puzzled him.

Suddenly, from the back of the agency came a loud thud. Something had fallen.

Coffee sloshed onto Eric’s shirt. He set the cup aside, ignoring the stain, and hurried toward the records room.

“Anne? Is everything all right back here?”

Anne met him in the long picture gallery, face pale. “Gina fainted.”

His pulse kick-started. Maybe this was the opportunity he and Sam had been praying for. “Call 9-1-1.”

With a prayer on his lips, Eric rushed into the room to find Gina on the floor. Her body jerked in mild convulsions.

“Gina.” He patted her sunken cheeks. “Gina.”

No response. He pressed two fingers into the gaunt flesh beneath her jaw. A thready pulse fluttered, fast, faint and erratic.

Anne returned, eyes wide and worried. “What do you suppose is wrong? She didn’t mention feeling sick.”

Grimly, Eric shook his head. “Gina’s been sick a long time. And it’s finally catching up with her.”

Anne knelt at Gina’s side and laid a trembling hand on the girl’s shoulder. “What is it? What does she have?”

“An eating disorder, I think. But she denies it.”

“Oh, my.” Anne’s fingers touched her surprised mouth. “Yes, I can see that. She never eats a bite when she’s here. And you know how we always have food everywhere.”

The food—bagels, doughnuts, cookies—were supposedly to make clients feel welcome, but the staff loved to munch, as well. He’d gained a few extra pounds himself.

“Is an ambulance on the way?”

“Yes. Shouldn’t we call her parents?”

Eric pushed up from the floor. “I’ll call if you’ll stay with her.”

“Is there anything we can do for her right now?”

Gina had begun to moan and toss her head from side to side.

“Pray.” And with that he hurried back to his office for the Sharpes’ telephone number, spoke to a stunned Mrs. Sharpe and asked her to meet them at the hospital in Richmond.

By the time Eric returned to the records room, shaken by the fear and distress in the woman’s voice, sirens wailed along Main Street. Going to the front door of the agency, he waved the paramedics inside, apprising them of the situation as they worked over the stricken teen.

In a matter of minutes, an IV dripped needed nourishment into Gina’s arm. Her eyes fluttered open. When she saw the commotion around her, she tried to sit up. Strong hands pressed her back down.

“Lie still, hon,” the EMT said as she pumped the bulb of a blood-pressure cuff, stethoscope already in her ears. “We’re taking good care of you.”

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Let me go home.”

The EMT glanced at Eric and shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. You need to have a checkup.”

“I called your mom, Gina. She’ll meet us there.”

“Where?” The frightened teen again struggled weakly to rise. “I’m okay. Really.”

Her voice was so weak, her breath came in short puffs, but she still wanted to deny the seriousness of her illness. Eric floundered. This kind of thing was way outside his experience.

And then the sweetest perfume wafted in behind him and Sam was at his elbow. With a huge sigh of relief, he stepped back.

“Thank the Lord you’re here,” he said, not even considering that others might find the statement curious. Sam would know what Gina needed more than anyone.

The tall, stately model took Gina’s hand and held on as the paramedics slipped an oxygen mask over her face, then rolled her to the ambulance.