Lost and Found Faith Page 8

  Ruby leaned over to rummage through the box. “No more pictures,” she announced after a second. “Just a lot of degrees. Master of this, master of that. Lots of awards, too. Neil’s a real smart fellow, looks like, and people think right highly of him.”

  “We shouldn’t be nosy, Ruby. This stuff is personal. If he wanted people to see it, he’d have it out on the shelves, now, wouldn’t he?” Maggie took the photo from her foster mom’s hand. She put it back into the box, tucking the flaps back the way they’d been before Ruby had meddled with them.

  “You’re right,” Ruby agreed, an odd note in her voice. “He sure don’t want nobody to see these things. Seems like he don’t even want to see them himself.”

  “They must not matter much to him, then. Come on, Ruby. If we’re going, we should go.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Ruby shook her head sadly as Maggie held the door open for her. “People keep things like this out of sight for one of two reasons, child. Either they don’t mean anything or they mean way too much.”

  “Well, whichever, it’s none of our business, Ruby.” She ushered the older woman through the door and closed it softly. As Ruby started down the steps, Maggie paused to peek through the porch window one last time.

  The pair hadn’t stirred. They slept on in the soft lamplight, snuggled under the multicolored blanket with the honeyed walls of the old cabin around them.

  It was a cozy scene, but it had felt a lot cozier inside. Standing out here looking in, not so much.

  “Do you really think this will help Oliver, Ruby?” Maggie asked as she started down the steps.

  Her foster mom smiled. “I already told you, honey. This ain’t really about Oliver. Now let’s go home and get some shut-eye. Morning’ll be along before we know it, and you’ll need to be fresh for your talk with Ellen Darnell.”

  Maggie sighed. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Telling the skeptical social worker Oliver had finally attached to somebody—but not Maggie—that wouldn’t be pleasant.

  Ruby patted Maggie’s knee. “Don’t you fret. God’s got this, and it’s going to be real interesting to see how He works it all out. Oliver will be just fine here with Neil.”

  “All right.” As Maggie started the engine, she glanced back at the cabin one last time. In spite of the harrowing night she’d had, her lips curved up into a smile.

  Spotlighted in the gleam of the headlights, Neil’s keys dangled from the doorknob.

  Chapter Six

  Something patted Neil’s nose. He drowsily lifted an eyelid to discover a pair of wide blue eyes inches from his.

  “Whoa!” Neil sat up in the recliner, nearly toppling Oliver out of his lap. The little boy grabbed Neil’s T-shirt to steady himself and grinned.

  “Whoa!” he agreed. He tilted his head back and belly laughed. “Whoa!” Oliver repeated as soon as he could speak. This was followed by another peal of laughter.

  “Well, at least you’re happier this morning.” Neil tried to collect his sleep-fuddled wits. Memories of the previous night trickled back. Oliver screaming. Maggie crying on his sofa. And then her comment about God that had made him close his eyes.

  He must have fallen asleep. That was weird. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just drifted off like that. He’d slept well, too. He felt energized and alert.

  He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, either.

  He scanned the sun-dappled living room, doing a status check. The clock said it was 6:00 a.m., and Maggie was nowhere in sight.

  Since there was a toddler sitting on his lap, that last bit was the most concerning.

  The desk lamp was still burning. Everything else was undisturbed except for an afghan puddled on his knees behind Oliver.

  “Where’s your mom?” he wondered aloud.

  Oliver’s smile faded and he stuck his thumb in his mouth. He sucked industriously, his eyes studying Neil’s face.

  Neil studied him back. One of the boy’s cheeks was flushed, likely from pressing against Neil’s chest for hours, and his wispy brown hair was standing up all over his head.

  “Nice hair, kid,” Neil said. “You look like you stuck your finger in an electrical outlet.”

  Oliver’s eyes lit back up. He didn’t answer, but around the thumb in his mouth, he offered Neil another cheesy grin. Neil found himself grinning back.

  The kid was seriously cute, but Neil had no clue how to take care of a toddler at 6:00 a.m. Or any other time of day, for that matter.

  “It’s okay.” He said the words aloud, reassuring himself as much as Oliver. “Your mom’ll probably show up anytime now—bringing breakfast, unless I miss my guess. We just have to hang on until she gets here.”

  After thinking for a few minutes, Neil remembered a toy he’d bought for Rover on his last trip to the supermarket, a plastic ball enclosing a fuzzy mouse that squeaked when you rolled it. There was probably some rule about letting kids play with pet toys, but he hadn’t taken it out of the package yet, so at least there weren’t any cat germs on it. He unwrapped the ball and rolled it toward Oliver.

  The child was instantly entranced and rolled it back. Neil returned it, hoping the impromptu game would hold the kid’s attention until Maggie showed up. He didn’t think it would be long.

  It wasn’t. She knocked on the door at 6:30 a.m. on the nose and walked in without waiting for an invitation, juggling a diaper bag, a plastic box and a big thermos.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake. I brought blueberry muffins. And diapers because I’m sure Oliver needs one by now.” There was no mistaking the relief in Maggie’s voice. Apparently, Neil hadn’t been the only one with doubts about his toddler-wrangling capabilities.

  But, hey, he’d managed all right, hadn’t he?

  In typical Maggie fashion, she made herself at home, walking past him into his kitchen to set down her box and the thermos. She turned and smiled brightly. “Hiya, handsome!”

  Neil’s eyebrows hit his hairline—about the time it dawned on him that she was talking to Oliver.

  Of course.

  Fortunately, Maggie was too focused on the child to notice. “How about we get you freshened up? Then we’ll sit with Neil and have some breakfast together. If that’s all right with you,” she added, glancing apologetically at him. “I couldn’t blame you if it wasn’t. Sorry for leaving him here overnight. That was Ruby’s idea. She walked over to check on Oliver, and she thought it best not to wake either of you up. I hope he wasn’t any trouble. I worried about it all night.”

  Neil didn’t doubt that. Maggie didn’t seem quite as perky and self-assured as usual, and there were purple shadows under her eyes.

  “He didn’t wake up once.” Neither had Neil, something he still couldn’t quite believe. “Blueberry muffins sound great, don’t they, buddy?”

  Oliver was watching Maggie with an uncertain expression on his face, and he’d grabbed a handful of Neil’s T-shirt. Her smile faltered.

  Neil’s professional instincts stirred. Take charge, be nice and act like there’s no question that the student will cooperate. Over the years, Neil had given that advice to dozens of greenhorn teachers. Most of the time, it worked.

  “Okay, it’s a deal. You get cleaned up while I wash my face. Then we’ll eat.” He loosened Oliver’s fingers and stood.

  Maggie fumbled in her bag for a clean diaper, her gaze fixed hopefully on Oliver. Neil stretched casually, keeping one eye on the kid. Oliver looked from Maggie to him and back. He had one hand resting against Neil’s sweatpants, but he hadn’t clenched on. Neil took that as a good sign.

  “You guys can use my bedroom. Hurry up, ’cause I’m starving. Aren’t you, Oliver?”

  He didn’t respond, his eyes on Maggie, who smiled at him. “We’ll be real quick, won’t we, sweetie? Then we’ll have our muffins!”

  “So
unds like a plan.” As Neil moved toward the bathroom, Oliver’s eyes widened with panic. The little boy took a quick step after him, looking as if he were tuning up to cry. “Go on,” Neil said mildly. “Can’t have dirty diapers at the breakfast table. ’Cause, seriously, buddy—whoa!”

  Oliver’s puckered face relaxed slightly. “Whoa!” he agreed softly.

  “That’s right.” Neil had made it to the bathroom doorway. “Whoa! Right, Maggie?”

  The woman was a quick study. “Whoa!” she agreed enthusiastically.

  Oliver chuckled. “Whoa!” he repeated. Maggie laughed, and the little boy giggled again as Neil quickly shut the bathroom door.

  Success.

  He leaned against the thick wooden door, trying to hear, braced for screaming. He heard nothing but Maggie’s musical voice murmuring something he couldn’t quite make out. Then Oliver laughed again, louder.

  “Whoa!”

  Neil grinned. Looked like they’d pulled it off.

  At the sink, he twisted the old-fashioned faucet. Removing his glasses, he splashed his face with the icy well water. When he reached for the towel, his eye caught on his reflection.

  His hair was standing up on end like Oliver’s, and he needed a shave—badly. His eyes weren’t as shadowed as usual, though, and there were some unexpected crinkles in their corners. Friendly-looking crinkles.

  Laugh crinkles.

  Neil leaned in close to the mirror. For the first time in years, the man looking back at him seemed...familiar. Felt familiar, too, the way a man felt when he’d turned the corner after a long, nasty bout with the flu. As if he were finally himself again.

  He blinked. He didn’t have time to figure this out now. Maggie would probably need to head to work soon.

  Neil felt a twinge of disappointment at the thought, but he squashed it and yanked a pair of not-so-dirty jeans out of the hamper. He started rummaging for a different shirt, but then he paused, looking down at the dried splotch of baby drool on his chest. He snapped the hamper lid shut.

  Wouldn’t kill him to wear this one a little longer.

  * * *

  When Neil came into the kitchen, he’d changed into jeans, but he was barefoot and his hair was tousled. Maggie’s heart did an impromptu somersault. The man looked disgustingly handsome for first thing in the morning. She, on the other hand, had winced when she’d caught sight of herself in the bedroom mirror. Her long night of tossing and turning hadn’t been kind.

  “We’re all ready,” she told him. “Grab some mugs, and I’ll pour us some coffee.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her a half smile, then opened a cupboard to reveal mugs upended on a bare shelf. Two. Exactly.

  Maggie shook her head. She was used to Ruby’s friendly kitchen, stocked with plenty of mismatched plates and cups for whatever company might happen along. Since Neil obviously had other ideas, today she’d brought along some paper plates and a sippy cup.

  She set a muffin and milk in front of Oliver, who was crouched on his knees in the kitchen chair. The little boy waited until Neil sat down, then dived into his breakfast with a happy explosion of crumbs.

  Maggie smiled. In spite of last night’s chaos, it had been a promising morning. For the first time ever, Oliver had allowed her to change his diaper without any fuss. He’d kept saying whoa and giggling. Maggie had no idea what that was all about, and she didn’t care. Instead of screaming, Oliver was interacting with her and making eye contact. It was a big step forward.

  All that fretting she’d done last night had been a waste of time. She should’ve learned by now to trust God—and Ruby. Leaving Oliver here with Neil had been exactly the right thing to do.

  “Thanks,” Neil said as she set his steaming coffee in front of him.

  “Thank you,” Maggie said sincerely. “I really appreciate your help.”

  “It was no problem.” Neil broke his muffin open to add a smear of butter.

  Maggie studied him as she nibbled. Oliver wasn’t the only one who looked better this morning. Neil looked strangely refreshed for a guy who’d spent the night dozing in a chair. Apparently, Ruby had been right on all counts. As usual.

  He caught her eye and spoke around a mouthful of muffin. “Good.”

  Maggie smiled. She loved to see that gleam of happy appreciation in somebody’s eye. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  Neil followed the bite of muffin with coffee. “How’d you learn to cook so well?”

  “Trial and error, mostly,” she admitted. “Ruby let me destroy her kitchen about once a week when I was a teenager. Eventually I got the hang of it. Of course, when I went to work for Angelo, I learned a lot from him, too.”

  “You never went to cooking school or anything?”

  “No.” She tried not to feel defensive. After all, that surprise in his voice could be taken as a compliment. “There’s no culinary school close to Cedar Ridge, not that I ever wanted to go to one.”

  He considered her over the rim of his mug. “Why not? You seem to love cooking so much. I’d think you’d want to learn all you could.”

  “I do. But what I want to learn, they don’t teach in a classroom.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Of course he didn’t. She fumbled to find the right way to express how she felt. “The thing is, I don’t love cooking for the sake of cooking. I don’t want to frou-frou up a plate with artistic squiggles of sauce or serve three overpriced bites of something and call it a meal. I just enjoy fixing really good, everyday food for ordinary, hungry folks. There’s a difference.” She made a frustrated noise. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “I think I get what you’re saying. Your focus isn’t on the food itself. It’s on feeding the people.”

  That was it. “Exactly!”

  He considered her thoughtfully. Something in his expression made her feel oddly exposed, as if he were rummaging through her heart, sifting its contents. “Then I think you’re right. I doubt there’s anything a culinary school could teach you. One thing’s for sure. There’s no way they could improve on these muffins. You made the right choice.”

  “Well, that’s a first.” Maggie chuckled self-consciously. “I never thought I’d hear a teacher come out in favor of not going to school.”

  His smile mirrored hers. “I never have before,” he admitted. “But then again, I’ve never met anybody like you before.”

  Their gazes held for a second, and Maggie felt her cheeks going pink. She suddenly understood why kids like Oliver resisted eye contact.

  Looking into somebody else’s eyes could get awfully personal.

  She cleared her throat and stood. “I hate to rush off, but I have to stop by to see Oliver’s social worker before I go in to work. I need to get her up to speed about everything that’s been going on.”

  Neil rose to his feet, too. “Doesn’t sound like you’re looking forward to it.”

  “I’m not.” Maggie made a wry face. She glanced at Oliver, trying to choose her words carefully. “Mrs. Darnell had reservations about this situation from the beginning, and the trouble we’ve been having with attachment hasn’t helped. I’m concerned that when she hears about what’s happened with you, it’s going to make her even more doubtful that I’m the right placement.” She sighed. “Who knows? Maybe she’s right.”

  “She isn’t.” The quiet certainty in his voice made her cheeks warm even more. “You’re the right person, Maggie. For Oliver and, I expect, for a lot of other people, too. I have a feeling you do a lot more good in this town than you realize.”

  “Well, thanks. I’m sure you do, too.”

  Her compliment didn’t have quite the effect she’d hoped for. The warmth in his eyes ebbed. “Not really. I used to, maybe, before I came here. But lately, I’ve kind of...lost my touch.”

  The sad weariness on his face grabbed at Maggie’s heart an
d gave it a painful twist. He looked so discouraged. Without thinking, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

  “I’m sure you’ll find it again,” she said gently. She smiled. “I imagine you’re kind of an expert on that. Most lost things usually do turn up sooner or later, don’t they?”

  “Most do.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward, but his eyes remained sad. “But not all. I hope your meeting goes well.”

  She was being dismissed. Well, okay, then.

  “Thank you.” She turned to Oliver. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go play with the train in Mrs. Darnell’s playroom!”

  Maggie waited to see if her strategy would work. The electric train in the social services playroom was a huge favorite, and she’d figured it was her best chance at getting Oliver away from Neil without another meltdown.

  The child looked torn, but after a second, he clambered down from the chair. “Train,” he announced imperiously.

  “Have fun, buddy,” Neil said.

  Oliver ran over and gave Neil’s legs an enthusiastic hug, leaving a smear of muffin crumbs on the knee of his jeans. “Bye-bye!” The toddler headed for the door, deftly avoiding Maggie’s attempts to hold his hand.

  Her heart ached a little as she followed him out to the car, but she forced herself to focus on the positive. Oliver was leaving Neil without screaming. Score one for Maggie.

  Or the train. Whatever. She was counting it as a win, more evidence that progress was being made.

  She just hoped Mrs. Darnell agreed.

  Chapter Seven

  An hour later, in the Roane County Department of Social Services, Maggie described her disastrous night as honestly as she could. Mrs. Darnell tapped a pencil on her neat-as-a-pin desk as she listened while also watching Oliver through the big picture window that looked over the playroom.

  When Maggie finished, the middle-aged social worker leaned back in her ancient office chair and frowned. “Well, that’s concerning. Oliver can form bonds with people. He just doesn’t seem to be forming one with you.”