Chapter Eleven
“You have an extra spring in your step,” Gloria remarked with an approving smile when Sara arrived at the Angel House. She waved Sara back toward the kitchen, where the aroma of fresh coffee lingered.
“Must be because my husband and I are adopting a baby.” Sara bit her lip then, deciding not to share the details of the situation. She and Gloria had become friendly but weren’t quite friends.
“Congratulations! What a lucky baby.” Gloria handed Sara a steaming cup of coffee. She supposed one perk of not being pregnant was that, unlike Gentry, she could drink as much of it as she wanted. “When will it be final?”
“The baby is due in May.” Sara sipped the hearty brew while vivid images arose on a swell of emotion: swaddling an infant and taking long summer strolls amid leafy trees and flower beds, stretching a blanket out by the lake on a sunny day, and blowing raspberry kisses on her baby’s belly while birds flew about overhead. These visions and more had bombarded her thoughts for the past few days, filling her heart with love for a child she couldn’t wait to meet. “I’m counting the days.”
The creases around Gloria’s eyes deepened as her maternal face conveyed friendly compassion. “I hope everything goes smoothly.”
Her cautionary tone sounded too familiar. Hunter, her family, and even Colby had reacted with the same hesitant optimism. No one but Gentry and her took this adoption at face value. “I’m sure it will. The birth mother is young, healthy, and committed to giving us her child.”
Gloria fiddled with the silver cross dangling around her neck. “I’m sure that’s true, dear. Ignore me. I’ve been working in the system too long not to become a little cynical.”
“Oh?” Sara finished her coffee and set the mug in the dishwasher. “I didn’t know you dealt with adoption here.”
“Only indirectly. Sometimes we’re privy to situations affecting the women here at the center. Once, we were working with an indigent who knew her infant would be better off with another family. We met the foster couple that we assumed was a shoo-in for the adoption, but the paternal grandmother surfaced in the eleventh hour, and ultimately the court sided with her. Devastating for the couple.”
The coffee Sara had been enjoying now burned in her gut. What if Smith resurfaced? Maybe she should revisit the idea of Hunter tracking him down. But how do you track someone down without a full name . . . or even a real name? Then again, seeking him out would be inviting trouble. Sara breathed a sigh of relief that Gentry didn’t know Smith, then shuddered from admitting that ugly, selfish truth. “That’s very sad, but I don’t think I’ll face anything like that.”
“Of course not!” Gloria said, glancing at her watch.
“In fact, I’ve been so moved by this place I convinced my husband to consider being foster parents. We’re working through the requirements, so it’s possible I’ll be taking care of two kids by summer.”
Hunter had grumbled about taking on more responsibility before they mastered life with one child. Sara knew that, when it came to having kids, the best way to go about it was to dive in the deep end. Families and love and all the fun chaos that came from those bonds couldn’t be planned or scheduled or controlled.
Gloria’s proud smile filled Sara with contentment. “The system can always use more special people like you, Sara.”
“I’m not so special.” She’d never been particularly comfortable accepting compliments.
“I beg to differ,” Gloria said, her index finger raised high.
“Well, thank you.” She stood there steeped in an awkward silence, then remembered what she’d brought for Ty. She dug into her purse to pull out a box of straws. “On another note, I read that these help kids with speech difficulties to strengthen the tongue and other muscles. It’d be great if Ty would start drinking at the table from a cup with a straw instead of the sippy.”
Gloria took the box with a funny look in her eye. “That’s very enterprising. I’ll find a way to gently encourage Pam to try. And speaking of Pam, I’d better get her and Jolinda moving. Also, we have a brand-new resident, Meg, but she’s likely to stay in her room this morning. She’s been through a bit of domestic abuse and isn’t comfortable mixing with strangers yet.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to keep Ty quiet and out of the bedroom area.” Sara couldn’t help the tiny grin that came from knowing that, in minutes, she’d have Ty to herself. An hour or more with him would distract her from concerns about Hunter’s recent quietude.
At first, she’d been glad that Leslie and Gentry had reiterated some of her own concerns about Bethany the other night, but she’d come to regret their interference. Hunter had withdrawn in the nicest, politest way a man could withdraw from his wife. So subtle that no one else would notice. No one but her, and she couldn’t even point to any one thing he did or didn’t do, or did or didn’t say. She simply felt the rupture in her bones. Now, a new thread of worry stitched through her thoughts: could all her attempts to pull Hunter close end up pushing him away?
Her musings were interrupted by Gloria, Jolinda, and Pam, who were putting on jackets and saying goodbye.
“Oh, Sara, I almost forgot. My son, Ian, just returned from Guatemala and is planning to stop by today.” Gloria’s face beamed. “Don’t be alarmed if he shows up. We should be back in about an hour. If he comes before then, maybe he can wait on the patio with an iced tea or something.”
“I hope I get the chance to meet him.” Sara waved them off.
Once the women left, Ty stood in his footie pajamas, staring at the front door. She’d yet to see his tiny face erupt with emotion, but she suspected his mom’s periodic absences confused and troubled him. To brighten his mood, Sara started humming the old Sesame Street theme song she remembered and went about the routine she’d established when watching him.
She’d worn comfortable slacks and shoes so she could settle herself on the floor with ease. Still humming, she piled a couple of books on her left and brought two puzzles out of the toy box. Ty toddled closer. His placid eyes and pouty little mouth remained enigmatic. He didn’t smile or clap or trot around, showing off like some toddlers. She wondered if he had feelings about her at all, or if, like her husband, he kept his emotions tightly guarded.
Determined to get him talking, she announced, “I’m going to read now. If you want to see the pictures, come sit by me.”
She opened the First 100 Words board book and began pointing at the images on every page, saying each aloud. Within seconds, Ty had plopped down on her right. When he wriggled, his diaper crinkled beneath his pj’s. Such a cute little sound.
She wanted to shower him with affection and giggles to see if that would provoke any laughter, but he was not hers, nor did he give any sign that he’d welcome that kind of attention.
He pointed at the image near the bottom of the page. “Duck.”
“Yes, yellow duck. Very good, Ty. You are smart.” She risked patting his hair. His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. She turned the page. “Red tomato.”
They continued reading the pages until a knock at the door interrupted them. She made a happy face at Ty, assuming that Ian had arrived. “A visitor!”
Ty didn’t seem to care. Sara lugged herself up and headed for the door, not quite reaching it before a heavier knock sounded.
“Sorry!” she called as she swung the door open.
She sensed trouble immediately. A rail-thin man with a receding hairline stood before her, pulsing with frenetic energy. She had to tip her head to meet his gaze, which was so penetrating it made her step back. “Ian?”
He frowned. “Who’s Ian?”
“I’m sorry. I was expecting someone.” Damn, she’d assumed it was Ian instead of following protocol before opening the door. Little Ty was only several yards from her. She tried to pull the door tight behind her as she stepped forward. “May I help you?”
“Yeah. I’m here for Meg.”
The name didn’t register for a second until she remembered Gloria telling her about the new resident. The one with an abusive partner. This guy’s face twitched, and he clenched his fists. Think, Sara. Think.
She forced a bright smile.
“Sure. Please wait here while I get her.” She turned her back on him, hoping to step inside and lock the door. Unfortunately, he threw his hand out to prevent the door from closing.
“No need to close the door.” His voice was thick with suspicion.
“Sorry. It’s a rule.” She held her most winning smile in place and tried, again, to close the door. This time he jammed his foot in its way.
“Hey, lady, fuck your rules.” He cocked his head.
The edge in his voice and confidence of his stance set her back. “Please move your foot or I’ll call the cops.”
Sara reached into her back pocket for her phone and realized, too late, it was still in her purse on the coffee table in the living room. The man must’ve noticed the moment of panic in her expression, because he pushed the door open, calling out, “Meg! Get your ass down here now.”
He stuck out his arm, effectively pushing Sara against the wall, and in two quick strides, he’d come inside. He headed back toward the stairs. “Meg, goddamn it. Where are you?”
Sara’s attention was split between protecting Ty from this man and worrying for Meg. “You must leave!” She tried to grasp for his arm, but he shrugged her off and glared.
Upstairs, a door closed. His head snapped toward it just before he took the steps two at a time.
Sara dashed to the living room to call 9-1-1 and scooped up Ty, hearing the man banging on the bedroom door and snarling at Meg. She whisked Ty downstairs to Gloria’s room while telling the emergency operator about the break-in. Although she was advised to stay with Ty in the basement behind a locked door, the nonstop banging and yelling upstairs tugged at her. Meg must be terrified. What kind of coward did it make Sara if she sat by and let this go on?
“Ty, time for hide-and-seek. You stay here. Don’t move. Don’t open the door. No sounds, okay.” She backed out of the room, staring into his eyes, pleading with him to listen. He didn’t move from his spot on the chair, so she closed Gloria’s door and ran up to the living room.
At the top of the stairs, she saw the man yanking Meg, a petite, middle-aged brunette with spiky hair, by the arm. His grip was so tight his fingertips were red. Meg struggled to get free, but her feet found no purchase on the carpet. The wiry man had the strength of someone twice his size.
“The cops are on their way. Let her go and leave before you add aggravated assault and kidnapping to the trespassing charge,” Sara pleaded.
“I’m not kidnapping,” he spat. “I’m bringing my wife home.”
“She obviously doesn’t want to go home.”
He pulled Meg up against his side. “Yeah, she does.” He turned and spoke right into Meg’s ear. “Tell her, babe. Tell her how you want to come home.”
Sara snapped when he uttered the same endearment Hunter called her. She launched herself up the steps without a plan and didn’t see his backhand coming.
It struck her face with enough force to twist her neck and send her sideways against the wall. She collapsed, partly in shock and partly from pain, cradling her jaw and the spot on her temple that had connected with the doorjamb. No blood . . . no gash or split lip. Thank God for small miracles.
Meg started crying, adopting a submissive posture now, but fortunately, approaching sirens pierced the air. The man released Meg and growled, “I’ll be back,” before he turned and spat at Sara. “Bitch, you better mind your own business next time.”
He bolted out the door before the cops arrived. Sara went to Meg, who was visibly shaken. “Did he hurt you?”
Meg shook her head, mumbling apologies, unable to make eye contact with Sara.
“It’s not your fault. We’re okay. We’re both okay.” Sara awkwardly patted Meg’s back, unsure of what to say. She wished Gloria were there, or that she’d had any training on how to handle this situation. “The cops will be here any second. It’s going to be fine.”
Would it, though? She doubted this was the first domestic abuse report on file for this couple. How could Meg get a fresh start? And how many women suffered this kind of treatment at the hands of men who’d once vowed to love and respect them? Maybe if she pressed charges, too, he’d back down from Meg . . . or would that make it worse?
When the cops arrived, they came in through the open door. Sara relayed her account and then left Meg to give them her husband’s name and address. She took advantage of that free moment to rush downstairs to find Ty.
The cops and lights and squawking walkie-talkies might give him nightmares, or flashbacks to his life on and off the streets. Hard to tell. She needed to go back upstairs and sign off on whatever paperwork the cops might need. She’d have to make it seem like an adventure so he wouldn’t be traumatized.
“Ty, guess what? Some nice policemen are here to make sure we are safe and happy. Let’s go see their fancy cars and lights.” She held out her hand, needing to hold on to him even if he didn’t need her.
He took it without any fanfare and followed her upstairs. Only two cops remained, and as Sara finalized things with them and Meg, Ian showed up. She guessed him to be about thirty years old. Tall and lean with striking green eyes. His mop of wavy, chocolate-colored hair curled around his ears and jaw. That jaw hadn’t seen a razor for two or three days, and his blue jeans were so worn they were nearly white in the knees.
He stopped in the entry and stared at her, his curious gaze taking in the scene before dipping to Ty. “Is everything all right here?”
Sara waved off the officers. “Ian, I presume?”
Meg quickly ducked back upstairs to her room.
“Yeah. I’m just here to see my mom.” His gaze then landed on Ty, whose lovely saucer eyes stared at the strange man.
Sara doubted the tyke had many male influences in his life, a thought that sank in her heart like a stone to the bottom of a lake.
“I just got back from Guatemala.” Ian scratched his neck, eyes assessing her. “You don’t look like the typical resident.”
“I’m a volunteer.” She felt Ty’s hand clasp her pants. Her heart clenched from the realization that he must trust her.
Ian stepped just close enough to get a better look at her face. “You’ve been hurt.”
“It’s fine.” Everything was fine now, she thought, glancing at the little boy by her side.
“I’m an EMT. Why don’t you let me make that call?” He had an easy smile. In fact, now that she could let her guard down, she could see that he was quite nice-looking beneath his scruff and unkempt clothing. “It looks like you got hit or hit your head?”
“Both.” She gently brushed her fingers against the goose egg on her forehead.
“Any vision problems or loss of consciousness?”
“No.”
“Dizziness, nausea, ringing in your ears?”
“No. Honestly, it wasn’t pleasant, but I’m okay. I’m just glad Meg and Ty are safe.”
“Understood. But ice and ibuprofen are your friends today.” He then crouched to Ty’s level. “Hey, buddy. Is this nice lady taking care of you?”
Ty stared at him in silence and barely nodded. Sara cleared her throat to spare him Ian’s questioning gaze. “Sara. My name is Sara Cabot.”
Ian stood and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Determined to normalize things quickly for Ty, she changed the subject. “So, Guatemala? What were you doing there?”
“I volunteer with Relief Corps, helping with disaster preparedness and other activities.”
“How interesting.” She’d read about those organizations but had never met someone who’d been willing to upend his own life in order to serve others in disaster areas. Talk about rewarding. It made her little attempts at helping others seem wimpy.
“It can be.”
Sara looked at him, trying to picture him cleaned up. He wasn’t much older than Gentry. He had an affable demeanor, a caring heart, and piercingly beautiful eyes. This was the kind of person that might give Gentry a broader perspective on life. Unlike “Smith,” this was a guy to admire.
“Are you single?” she blurted before she thought better of it.
His eyes widened. Then a quick glance at her left hand made him frown. “You’re not. Maybe that bump on your head is more serious than you think.”
“Oh no, not for me.” She waved her hands in embarrassment. “My sister-in-law. She’s twenty-six, and—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Thanks, but I have a girlfriend . . . at least I do for now.” He rubbed his cheek in a shy manner, shrugging. “I’m gone for stretches of time, and it’s hard for her.”
“I can imagine.” Sara thought about how she struggled to deal with Hunter’s work commitments. At least he came home every night. Then again, Ian was saving lives, whereas Hunter was just saving pennies. “Maybe when the right girl comes along, you’ll stick closer to home.”
A generous smile stretched across his face. “Funny, that’s kinda what she’s been hinting.”
“Ah,” Sara replied, feeling lighter despite her bruised face. “We women are strange that way. We like our men to be close by.”
“I guess we guys should be more grateful.” He grinned while rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, if you’re feeling okay, perhaps I should also go check on Meg.”
“Yes. That’s a good idea. She’s pretty shaken.”
Ian nodded and directed his gaze to Ty. “Be good, buddy.” Then he wandered upstairs in search of Meg.
Sara acted as if nothing had happened, for Ty’s sake. She settled back on the floor and picked up another book, but her thoughts strayed to Meg’s life, then to Ian. Maybe Sara could arrange an accidental meeting between him and Gentry. Unlike Ian’s current girlfriend, her sister-in-law might enjoy traveling with him come summer.
She frowned, wondering if she was looking for a way to remove Gentry from the scene until she and Hunter had time to bond with the baby. That didn’t sit well, but honestly, adventure and intrigue with a hot humanitarian might be exactly what Gentry needed. And right now, playing matchmaker held more appeal than thinking about Meg’s husband, or how she’d explain her bruises to Hunter.
“I don’t want you going back there again, Sara.” Hunter’s big hands cupped her face. “Dammit, I want to kill that man.”
She laid her hands over his. “I’m fine. I get to come home to you and this house and all of the beautiful things in our life. But Meg and the women like her . . . they’re the ones we should be thinking of. The ones who need our help.”
“So let’s help in ways that don’t put you in danger.”
“I’m not in danger.” She knew he’d overreact. He always did when it came to things he couldn’t control. “Not really.”
“He could’ve pulled a gun or a knife. Anything could’ve happened.” He crushed her against his chest, hugging her like she might disappear if he let go. Speaking over her head, he said, “I sympathize with those women, but we can’t save them all or solve all of their problems. And we certainly can’t risk your safety to do so. Promise me, Sara. Promise me you won’t go back there.”
“Hunter, I have to go back. They need my help. Ty needs me.”
“I need you.” He eased her away far enough to look in her eyes. “I need you, Sara. That man you described doesn’t sound like he’ll give up and go away. Next time he comes back, he’ll be locked and loaded. If something worse were to happen—God, I can’t even think of it. Don’t my feelings count here? What if the roles were reversed?”
Seeing Hunter so unsettled didn’t happen often. Maybe never. He made a good point, too. But she couldn’t turn her back on the Angel House or on Ty. Not when she was finally making progress with him. “I’m sorry you’re so upset, but I honestly think he won’t come back. There’s a restraining order now, in addition to the charges. The cops will drive by more often. Call Gloria and ask her. Historically, it’s been a peaceful house.”
“And yet here you sit with a lump on your head and a bruise on your cheek.”
“Exactly. What are the chances it would happen again?” She grinned, hoping the childish logic might persuade him.
“Zero, if you don’t return. I mean it, Sara. Find another way to help the community.” And then, as if realizing his dictatorial tone was out of line, he added, “Please.”
She sucked her lips inward, thinking. His concern clawed at her conscience. She didn’t want to torment him, yet she couldn’t walk away from those women or Ty.
Hunter tugged her against his chest again. “I love you, Sara. Don’t scare me this way again.”
He kissed her head, and the guilt rippled all the way to her toes. How could he not see that he was asking her to give up something that made her feel like she was making a difference in the world?
“Please don’t ask me to stop volunteering there. I’m improving lives. I’ve taken control over something in my life for a change, and that matters to me. You, of all people, should understand the importance of that.”
He released her and sat back, head tipped, and tapped her breastbone right near her heart. “Or maybe you’re getting too fixated on that little boy.”
“That’s insulting. I’m not fixated.”
“Aren’t you? You’re putting his welfare above your own. Above ours.” He shrugged. “Does that sound healthy?”
“This isn’t just about helping Ty. Pam, Joan, Jolinda, and now Meg rely on me to help with job applications and interview skills. They’re getting their lives together. I’m giving them confidence.” She crossed her arms, unhappy at having to defend herself like a child. “I’ve bent for you and your family a lot, Hunter. For years. But not on this. I get to decide how I spend my time while you’re at work.”
She didn’t add “which is often,” even though she thought it.
“I see.” He stared at the carpet for a moment. Finally, he stood and started walking away.
“Hunter . . .”
He stopped, glancing over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Before you complain about me and my ‘obsession’ again, remember that CTC doesn’t put me in danger, and it benefits us both. You can’t say the same about the Angel House.”
He left the room before she could reply, and she heard him call out, “Put some ice on your forehead,” before his office door clicked shut.
She threw herself back against the sofa cushions. No matter how good their intentions, they kept hurting each other. If Gentry had been home to witness this argument, she might think twice about her offer. Sara would have to tread lightly while proving to Hunter that he wasn’t the only person in this marriage whose personal goals mattered.