Читать книгу Prodigal Daughter - Patricia Davids - Страница 12

It was almost ten o’clock the next morning before Melissa worked up the nerve to call Richard McNeil. The level of candy in the clear glass bowl Amy always kept on hand had dropped significantly and a pile of discarded foil wrappers littered the desktop.

Thinking about putting her baby up for adoption was one thing. Actually making the call to tell Richard to start the process was a whole different story. Her mind said this was the right thing to do, but her heart seemed bent on arguing.

“One small step at a time, girl,” she murmured as she grasped the receiver and held it to her ear. With her free hand, she punched in the numbers she had memorized, then she wadded the silver wrappers into a ball and tossed them into the trash can.

When she told Richard about her decision, would he think she was throwing her baby away?

His secretary answered on the second ring and put Melissa through to him.

“Richard McNeil speaking.” His voice came across sounding curt and professional. Her courage wavered.

“Richard, this is Melissa Hamilton.”

“Melissa, how are you today?”

“Honestly? I’m frightened, confused, nervous and about to expire from an overdose of chocolate kisses,” she said in a rush. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Would it make you feel better to know that is how most people feel when they have to call an attorney?”

She heard his amusement and she relaxed a little. “At least I’m not calling from jail.”

“Always a good sign in my books.”

“I wanted to let you know that I’ve made up my mind.”

“And?”

“I want you to help me find this child a good home.” She winced inwardly at her choice of words. This wasn’t like finding someone to take in a stray puppy.

“Melissa, are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Tell me what I need to do.” If only she could feel as sure as she sounded.

“I’ll get the paperwork started. Have you thought about what type of adoption you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want an open adoption, where you choose and meet the adoptive parents and remain in limited contact with the child? Or would you rather not know anything about the family?”

“Open sounds better, doesn’t it?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I guess I’ll have to think about that. What else do I need to know?”

“As I told you, I have a friend who is an adoption attorney. I’ll have him put together some information for you and then we can go over it after you’ve had a chance to read it and think about it. After that, we’ll form an adoption plan. If you want to meet the prospective parents, I’ll set up some interviews.”

“That sounds good.” With Richard to help her, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“I’ll draft a letter to Dean to let him know what you’re planning. He won’t be able to relinquish his rights until after the baby is born. You understand that you can’t, either. Nothing will be final until the baby arrives.”

“I understand that.”

“Good. There is something else I’d like to discuss. You mentioned that you don’t want to move back home. Do you still feel that way?”

“Absolutely. I’ve talked to my mother and she understands how I feel.”

“In that case, I have an offer for you to consider. My sister and her family recently had a fire at their home. While their house is being renovated, they’re staying with me. To make a long story short, Angela is working a lot of overtime and Dave is spending his free time trying to get their house repaired. That leaves the girls with me or on their own. My sister has been thinking about hiring someone to help with the housework and entertain the girls when she can’t get home. Would you be interested in the job? She can’t pay much, but you would get free room and board. You would have a bedroom and a bath to yourself. Are you interested?”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“Let’s call it a temporary solution to several problems. My sister needs help and you need a place to stay. It won’t be for more than five or six weeks, but that should give you time to find a place of your own.”

“That’s very kind of you, Richard.”

“This isn’t kindness. It’s a business offer. Unless, of course, you really like sleeping on Amy’s couch. In that case, I’m sure Angela can find someone else to help.”

Melissa gave the cream-colored divan a sour glance. It was pretty, but as a bed, it didn’t quite make the grade. “If you’re sure this is a job and not charity, I accept your offer. When do I start?”

“I could help you move in tomorrow. Would that be too soon?”

“Not at all. Tomorrow will be fine.”

“Good. I think you’ll like the girls. Samantha is twelve and Lauren is eight. They’re old enough that they don’t need a lot of supervision, but they’re still too young to leave alone for any length of time.”

Something in his voice made her question him further. “I get the feeling there is something you aren’t telling me.”

“The girls have had some trouble adjusting since the fire, especially Samantha. Usually she is as happy as a lark, but since the fire, she has been unhappy and withdrawn. I’m hoping that having someone new in the house will help take her mind off of things.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along. I come from a big family, remember?”

“I remember. I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon. What time works for you?”

“I think I can have my duffel bag packed by four.”

“So, I won’t need to rent a moving van?”

“No, not this time.”

“Great. My back was aching at the thought.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She chuckled as she hung up the phone. In spite of her current situation, Richard always seemed to make her smile. But then, he always had been able to make her laugh.

Melissa pulled open the glass door to Betty’s Bakeshoppe a few minutes before two that afternoon and was instantly surrounded by the mouthwatering smells of cinnamon rolls, aromatic coffee and baked apples. The shop was more than a coffee house. Over the past twenty years Betty and her daughters had expanded the bakery into a restaurant area and had added a small used bookstore at one end. Betty’s Bakeshoppe now took up three connecting shops along the downtown street. But it was Betty’s excellent cooking and the convenient location across from the Hamilton Media building that made it a prime meeting place for employees and downtown business people.

Looking around, Melissa saw several faces she recognized from the paper. The Saturday-afternoon lunch crowd was long gone, but there were still a few customers lingering over their desserts. She spied her mother seated at a table by the window in the corner, where shelves made a partial wall between the eatery and the bookstore.

A petite woman, Nora Hamilton might have been mistaken for one of her own children if not for the strands of silver in her shoulder-length blond hair. She was dressed simply in a belted red dress with a wide white collar and white trim on the short sleeves.

Nora’s face brightened when she caught sight of her daughter, but not before Melissa noticed how tired her mother looked. Guilt gnawed at Melissa’s conscience. She was responsible for adding to her mother’s already heavy worries.

Threading her way between the tables, Melissa watched her mother rise. An instant later she found herself gathered in a warm embrace, one she returned fiercely as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She had missed her family more than she realized.

Nora was the first to draw back. “I’m so glad you came. Let me look at you.”

“Mom, I’m fine.” Melissa wiped the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand and submitted to her mother’s scrutiny.

“I believe it now that I see you with my own eyes. You had us all worried.”

They took their seats and Melissa glanced around the room to avoid looking at her mother. Embarrassment made the sudden silence painful. Instead of talking about herself, she sought a neutral subject. “I’ve always liked coming to the Bakeshoppe.”

“I remember how you would beg your father to meet us here for lunch when you were little.”

“I thought it was the coolest place. I’d never been to any other store where the drapes were painted on the windows. I see they still have that rug painted on the old wood floor in front of the cash register.”

“Remember how you used to stand on it and hop on and off? You told me you could make it fly.”

“Mom, I think I must have been four then.”

Nora smiled softly as she looked back in time. “It always made your father chuckle. Time goes by too fast.”

“Then I grew up and made Dad mad all the time.”

“Not all the time, dear.”

“More times than not.”

“You went through a very difficult time after Jennifer died. We knew that but we couldn’t seem to help you.”

Talking about Jennifer was the last thing Melissa wanted to do. Fortunately, Justine, Betty’s daughter, came up to the table with her order pad in hand. “Mrs. Hamilton, it’s nice to see you. How is Mr. Hamilton? We’ve been keeping him in our prayers.”

“He’s doing better, Justine. Thank you for asking.” Nora glanced toward the kitchen. “Is your mother here?”

“No, she had to leave early today. Melissa, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been out of town, but I’m back now.”

“What can I get for you ladies? Our special today is apple pie.”

After ordering a slice of pie and a cup of tea, Melissa waited until Justine served them and then moved away. Before she could decide how to bring up the subject that hung in the air between them like an elephant in the middle of the room, her mother reached across the table and laid a hand on Melissa’s arm.

“I want you to know that I understand what you’re feeling, Melissa. I faced the same thing when I was pregnant with Jeremy.”

“I couldn’t believe it when Amy told me Jeremy wasn’t Dad’s son. How? I mean, who was his father?”

“His name was Paul Anderson and we were engaged to be married. We were young and careless. We were in love, and we thought nothing else mattered. Then he died in a motorcycle accident. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. A few months later, I met your father.”

“Did he know?”

“Not at first. It took a lot of courage to tell him, but I knew it was the right thing to do.”

Melissa wanted to ask her mother another question, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. She picked up her spoon and began to stir her tea, but couldn’t contain her troubling thoughts. “Was that the only reason you married Daddy? For the sake of the baby?”

“Melissa, look at me,” Nora said softly.

Melissa raised her eyes and met her mother’s unflinching gaze.

“I fell deeply in love with your father, and I have thanked God every day of my life that He sent Wallace to me. Never doubt that.”

Melissa had always believed her parents loved each other. It was good to know that that part of her life hadn’t been a sham. She looked down at her teacup again. “Did you ever think about giving Jeremy up for adoption?”

“Of course I thought about it. I prayed about it, and I wavered back and forth, but in the end I knew it wasn’t what God wanted for me. Are you thinking about adoption?”

“Yes. I’ve already spoken to Richard McNeil. He is going to help me find a family. In a way, it’s a relief to have finally made a decision.” Melissa forked a bite of sweet, tart apples and featherlight crust into her mouth.

Nora’s eyes filled with sadness. “I can’t tell you what to do, sweetheart, but please give this a lot of thought and prayer. God has a plan for all of us, even if we can’t see it. It would be hard to raise a child alone, but I would help all I could. I know your father will feel the same way. This is, after all, our first grandchild.”

It was hard for Melissa to swallow her food past the lump that pushed up in her throat. “I’m sorry, but I’m not like you. I don’t have what it takes to be a mother. I don’t have patience or good sense. This child will be better off with someone who wants a kid. Besides, I’m not so sure that Daddy will want anything to do with this baby.”

“You’re judging him harshly, Melissa. It will be a shock for him, but he’ll come around. You’ll see.”

“You always believe the best of people.”

“And I’m rarely disappointed. What about the baby’s father? Will he help?”

Melissa pushed her pie aside. “He doesn’t want either of us. We didn’t fit into his big plans.”

“I wish I could ease your heartache, Melissa. Things look bleak now, but God heals all wounds. Have faith, honey, and give it some time.”