Lost and Found Faith Page 3

  “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Oliver hanging on to him. I’ve been trying for weeks and getting nowhere. Maybe it’s just me he can’t stand.”

  Ruby cackled. “You? Well, if that ain’t the silliest thing I’ve ever heard! Everybody loves you.”

  “Oliver doesn’t. I’m worried, Ruby. I want to adopt him more than anything in this world, but maybe the social worker has a point. Maybe it’s not fair for me to move forward if he’s not able to attach to me.”

  “Nonsense.” Ruby’s fingers tightened over Maggie’s. “Didn’t nobody else want that child before you stepped up. Only three foster homes left open in this whole county, not counting mine, and not one of them would take a preschooler who’s not potty-trained. That baby needs you. He’ll figure that out sooner or later.”

  Maggie nodded. Her throat was too thick with tears to speak. Ruby always had a way of cutting to the heart of things.

  “He’s putting you through your paces, but you’ll connect with him sooner or later because you ain’t gonna give up. You got plenty of gumption, like all my kids. You make me proud, every one of you.”

  Maggie squeezed her foster mother’s thin fingers. Ruby lavished love and approval on her kids as generously as she lavished butter on her homemade bread.

  “You’re right, Ruby. I’m not going to give up.”

  “Good.” The older woman scooted back her chair to retrieve a white bakery box from the chipped countertop. “I expect you’d best get to work before Angelo has one of his fits. Before you do, you can drop these peanut butter cookies you brought home off at Neil’s house as a thank-you for rescuing Oliver. And then, once you’ve got him good and buttered up, sit him down and ask him exactly what he did that made Oliver take to him so. Maybe it’s something you can copy.”

  Maggie shook her head, alarmed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Neil seems like a very private person. I think I’ve intruded on his life enough for one day. Don’t you?”

  “Not if you’re bringing him cookies.” Ruby nudged the box in Maggie’s direction. “Any man who lives by himself is always glad to get something good to eat.” She cut the younger woman a meaningful glance. “In case you didn’t happen to notice, Neil ain’t married.”

  Maggie sighed. Ruby was a relentless matchmaker, always angling to find somebody special for her beloved fosterlings. She hadn’t succeeded yet; their family histories were so full of hurt that each of them was cautious in relationships.

  That hadn’t stopped Ruby from trying.

  “Not interested.”

  “Why not? Ain’t he handsome enough?”

  Maggie’s memory presented her with a picture of Neil walking down the red clay mountain path, a little boy cradled in his arms. “Well, sure. I guess. But I’m not looking.”

  “None of you children are,” Ruby retorted. “That’s why I’m looking for you. I’d like to see all of you settled down with families of your own before I go to glory.”

  “Well, you’re wasting your time on me.” Maggie patted her mom’s hand. “I plan to be a strong, single mom, just like you.”

  Ruby made a face. “You can do a sight better than that. I ain’t nothing special.”

  I ain’t nothing special.

  Those were some of the first words Ruby Sawyer had said to Maggie when she’d arrived at Sweet Springs Farm as a twelve-year-old, hard-to-place foster child.

  They’d been standing in this very kitchen. Maggie had just been thrown out of her latest home when the scrupulously neat foster mom had discovered Maggie’s secret cache of hoarded food in the back of the bedroom closet, swarming with bugs.

  On the drive over, her frustrated social worker had made herself very clear. This placement was Maggie’s last chance. If she didn’t stop stealing food, her next stop would be the group home four counties over, and no kid in her right mind wanted to go there.

  The trouble was, Maggie didn’t think she could stop. She’d gone hungry too many times, and now she never felt safe unless she had a stockpile of food tucked away. So she’d ducked her head and resigned herself to going to the group home sooner rather than later.

  Her caseworker had marched her into the old farmhouse kitchen. Ruby had stood, smoothed the faded apron tied around her skinny waist and adjusted her smudged bifocals. In typical Ruby fashion, she hadn’t wasted time passing pleasantries. She’d brushed aside the social worker’s introductions and gotten down to business.

  “Baby, you been lots of places, I know. Likely some folks have treated you bad, but that ain’t gonna happen here. I ain’t nothing special, but I never lie. I’ll never give up on you, neither. Long story short, you’re my girl now, Maggie Byrne, and I’m going to love you as long as I’m breathing. You got my word on that.”

  Such simple words spoken by a scrawny old lady she’d never seen before in her life. Still, something about the no-nonsense note in Ruby’s voice had made the aching knot in the pit of Maggie’s stomach unravel. To Maggie’s embarrassment, she’d started to ugly cry right there in the shabby kitchen.

  Maggie hadn’t cried for years, and she never let people touch her. But she hadn’t protested when Ruby had gathered her into a hard hug.

  The woman had smelled like chocolate cake and sun-dried laundry, and she’d gently rubbed Maggie’s heaving back. “That’s right, child. Let it all out and be done with it. Old Ruby’s got you now. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

  Maggie still remembered how safe she’d felt in Ruby’s embrace. That feeling was exactly what she wanted to give to Oliver. And she’d find some way to do that, sooner or later, because she’d had the best possible teacher.

  “I think you’re very special, Ruby. All of us do.”

  A soft, maternal warmth sparkled in Ruby’s faded hazel eyes. “And that right there’s the joy of my life, baby girl. All right, we’ve sat here jawing long enough! Here.” Ruby pushed the bakery box into Maggie’s hands. “Give Neil my best, you hear? And don’t forget. Feed him one of these cookies before you start asking him questions. That’ll soften him up just fine.”

  While she spoke, Ruby opened the screen door and hustled Maggie toward the steps with a firm hand on the small of her back. “Now, get on with you, and I’ll see you this evening.”

  The screen door slammed. Maggie found herself standing in the backyard, Ruby’s chickens and milk goat watching her hopefully from behind their wooden fences.

  “I’ve just been railroaded,” she observed aloud.

  She didn’t want to go back to the cabin.

  She’d found a lot to like about Neil. He was kind and gentle with Oliver, and yet he had a stern fierceness about him when it came to doing the right thing. Maggie admired that; she really did. Maybe a little too much.

  Because back on the trail when she’d made her silly quip about the past, there’d been something in Neil’s eyes that had sent up warning flares deep in her stomach. This man’s pain, whatever it was, ran deep. Maggie knew firsthand what that kind of pain did to people, how it caused them to hurt others, even when they honestly didn’t mean to. She did her best to help people, sure, but except for her foster family, she’d learned to keep her heart carefully guarded from them, too. She cultivated light, breezy friendships, but that was it.

  There was nothing breezy about Neil Hamilton.

  And yet somehow he’d managed to connect with Oliver in a way Maggie couldn’t. Her mind flicked to the concerned look on Mrs. Darnell’s face during her last home visit, to her carefully worded warnings about what this lack of attachment might mean for Oliver’s adoption if it continued. She’d suggested that the child might be more open to bonding with a father figure, that a two-parent family might be the wiser option.

  There weren’t any two-parent foster families available right now, though, and anyway, Maggie wasn’t going to give up. She’d find some way to connect with the little boy.


  But maybe she should ask Neil a few questions. At this point, she needed all the help she could get, and she owed it to Oliver not to leave any stone unturned.

  Maggie drew in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Okay, God. I’m going to give this a try. Please help me find some way to get this man to talk to me and show me whatever it is about him that spoke to Oliver. Amen.

  She started up the trail leading to the cabin, tucking the bakery box carefully under one arm. Ruby had a good point about the cookies. Maggie had used them to smooth over more than one ticklish situation.

  She sure hoped Neil had a sweet tooth.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, Neil. All the summer school positions are filled.” Principal Audrey Aniston’s voice came clearly through the speaker on the phone Neil had propped on his desk.

  His heart sank to his shoes. “Again, I’m really sorry about missing our meeting. There was—”

  “—an emergency. I know. That has nothing to do with my decision not to put you on the roster.”

  “Then I don’t understand. When I took this job, you agreed that I’d have a standing position on the summer school staff.”

  “I know. That’s what our meeting today was for—to explain why I feel it’s necessary to adjust that.”

  “Explain it now.” A tinkling chime of electronic music made Neil glance around the room, puzzled. What was that noise? He refocused his attention on the conversation. He had to get this straightened out. Immediately.

  The veteran educator cleared her throat. “I’d prefer to have this conversation face-to-face.”

  That didn’t sound encouraging. The chime trilled again, but he ignored it. “In that case, I can reschedule for any time this week that works for you.”

  “That’s the problem.” Neil heard planner pages flipping. “My schedule’s jam-packed for the next few weeks. I don’t—” The principal paused as the chiming started again, followed by a series of thumps coming from the front porch. “Neil, is somebody at your door?”

  So that was what all that noise was. A doorbell. He hadn’t even realized this ancient cabin had a doorbell. “I guess so. Hold on a second.”

  He scooped up his phone, walked through the living room and opened the door.

  The cool wind that always blew off the hazy blue-green mountains rushed into the living room, scattering his papers and wafting in an unexpected aroma of peanut butter cookies. The woman from this morning stood on the porch, her red hair tousled by the breeze, a glossy white box clutched in her hands.

  Her bright smile hit him like a second rush of unsettling air. “Hi! Remember me? Maggie Byrne, Oliver’s mom. Do you have a minute to talk? Oh—sorry!” She gestured to the phone in his hand. “Am I interrupting?”

  Principal Aniston answered before he could. “Maggie? Audrey here. I’ve been meaning to call you. Those chocolate mint cupcakes you made for my secretary’s retirement party were divine. Thank you so much!”

  Maggie’s face lit up, and she leaned closer to the phone. “You’re welcome, Audrey! I’m working on the sugar-free cake recipes for your sister’s sixtieth birthday bash, too. I’ll have the samples ready for you to try on Thursday, just like we planned.”

  “You’re an absolute doll, Maggie! Lisa’s so sick of her diabetic diet. The woman’s impossible to buy for, but a birthday cake from Angelo’s she could actually eat? She’ll love it!”

  Maggie’s laugh reminded Neil of the stubborn bird that warbled joyfully outside his bedroom window at dawn each morning. “Lisa was our best customer before Dr. Maynard put her on that diet.” She glanced at Neil. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hijack your conversation with Mr. Hamilton.”

  “Oh, no. We’re done,” Principal Aniston assured her. “I’ll give you a call in a couple weeks, Neil, and we’ll set up a meeting.”

  He couldn’t wait that long. He thought fast. “Why don’t I come by the bakery on Thursday? We can talk while you taste those cakes.” He wasn’t crazy about having this discussion in a public place, but he couldn’t afford to be picky.

  He needed to get to the bottom of this.

  “You want to meet at Angelo’s? I don’t know...”

  Maggie shot him a sharp look, then leaned back toward the phone. “That’s a great idea, Audrey! It never hurts to have a second opinion.”

  There was a short silence on the other end of the phone. “I guess it would be good to go ahead and get this dealt with. Be at Angelo’s on Thursday at one o’clock. We’ll have a short sit-down. And, Neil? Be nice to Maggie, okay? She’s a real gem.”

  Maggie’s musical laugh bubbled again. “Thanks, Audrey.”

  “Anytime, sweet girl.” There was a click as the call disconnected.

  “Sorry about butting in.” Cute dimples dented Maggie’s cheeks on either side of an apologetic smile. “Audrey and I are old friends. May I come in?”

  “Oh.” He blinked. “Sure.” He stepped back from the doorway, and she looked around the small living room with interest.

  “I haven’t been inside this cabin since I helped Ruby clean it after Mrs. Carter moved to Arizona to live with her daughter. You’ve been here a couple of months, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, now that you’re on summer break, you’ll have time to get the rest of your stuff unpacked and really make the space your own.”

  Neil scanned the room, puzzled. What was she talking about? He’d already unpacked everything that mattered. He’d dispatched with that chore his first evening here.

  It hadn’t taken long. All the necessary furniture had come with the rental. This room offered a leather sofa, a matching recliner, a desk and two floor-to-ceiling bookcases bracketing a river-stone fireplace. Except for repositioning the writing desk away from a big window that looked out over the mountains—too distracting—he hadn’t seen much point in rearranging. He’d unboxed his reference books, plugged in his laptop and considered himself settled.

  “Oh, look! Rover’s here!” Maggie crouched, wiggling her fingers at the orange stray who’d wandered in from the bedroom. The cat scampered to her and arched his back against her stroking hand. “Ruby’s been worrying, you little stinker!”

  “This cat belongs to Mrs. Sawyer?” Good, Neil told himself sternly. He did not need a cat.

  He didn’t.

  “Oh, no.” Maggie smiled up at him. “Rover’s a free spirit. He just appeared at the farm one day, and he comes and goes as he pleases. Ruby wondered why he hasn’t shown up to eat for the last few days.” The cat crossed the room to rub against Neil’s slacks, and Maggie rose to her feet. “You’re welcome to keep him. He’ll be good company for you.”

  Neil started to tell her that she could take the cat right back home with her. He didn’t need company, and even if he did, he wouldn’t choose a cat. He wasn’t a cat kind of guy.

  For some reason, all he said was “Isn’t Rover a dog’s name?”

  Maggie laughed. “Maybe, but it shouldn’t be. Cats rove around a lot more than dogs do.” She shrugged. “Of course, now that he’s yours, you can call him whatever you want.”

  Rover finished depositing a scattering of orange cat hair on Neil’s khaki slacks and slunk back out of the room. He watched the animal go with a feeling of vague bewilderment. Like it or not, apparently he now owned a cat.

  He turned his attention back to Maggie. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I hope so, but first, let’s have a few of these cookies.” She waggled the bakery box. “Why don’t I go grab some plates? We’ll have a snack and talk for a few minutes before I go back to work.”

  She headed into the kitchen, leaving Neil behind in the living room. He heard her opening and shutting cupboard doors.

  “Where do you keep your dishes?” she called.

  This was getting out of han
d. No matter how cute this woman was, she still had to respect a man’s boundaries. Neil strode to the kitchen doorway.

  Maggie was on tiptoe, peeking in a cabinet. It, like most of the cupboards, was completely empty. She glanced at him over one shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You really haven’t moved in yet, have you? Or don’t you own any plates?”

  “I own plates.” He opened the deep drawer nearest the stove, and Maggie inspected its contents with frank interest. Two plain white cereal bowls were nested together, two clear glasses were laid side by side, and two matching plates were stacked neatly on top of each other.

  “Very efficient.” Maggie spoke brightly, but the gentle kindness in her voice made his toes curl.

  Plainly, she pitied a man who had only two plates to his name. She’d feel even sorrier for him if she knew that was one plate more than he actually needed.

  That hadn’t always been the case. He’d donated most of his and Laura’s household items when he’d moved, including the huge, mismatched set of dishes they’d used when they’d hosted their frequent backyard barbecues and potluck dinners. He’d kept only what he absolutely needed, and he hadn’t needed much.

  He’d never considered what his solitary life must look like to other people. Pretty pathetic, he supposed, especially to a woman who threw cheerful friendliness around like confetti.

  She set the plates on the small square table, after bumping the drawer closed with her hip. Then she pulled out a chair.

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Sit.”

  He stayed where he was, trying to get his bearings. Being around Maggie reminded him of walking into bright sunshine after spending hours hunched over books in the quiet dimness of a library. He felt off-balance and a little blinded.

  The woman was unsettling.

  “Come on,” she coaxed. “I don’t bite. And look what I brought!” She lifted the lid on the shiny box. Inside were a half dozen big cookies, each bearing a crisscross design, sparkling with grains of sugar. The aroma drifting out was incredible—rich and peanut buttery. Neil’s stomach promptly reminded him he’d forgotten to eat lunch. Again.