Lonestar Angel (17 page)

“In a few minutes.” She lifted her face to the cooling breeze. “Thanks for calling my mother today.” The generosity of his action still touched her. He’d seen her problem and had moved to help. She stared into the darkness. “I dread Saturday, though.”

“I’ll be with you. She sounded very nice, Eden. I’m not just saying that.”

“Was that her husband who answered the phone?” It was too much to hope that the man was her father. She didn’t even remember his name anymore, if she’d ever known it.

“I assume so. Seemed like a stand-up guy. He was as excited as she was.”

Excited
. Could they really want to see her that badly?

“What do you remember about your father?”

She glanced at him. Was he a mind reader too? “Not much. He came to see me about three or four times a year. They always fought, and he would slam out of the house without even telling me good-bye. I’m not sure why he ever bothered to come. He hardly noticed me.”

Another light caught her eye. A car came up the drive, then stopped in front of the ranch house. A man and woman got out and approached the front door. The door to the house opened, and light framed Allie’s figure. She gestured toward the bunkhouse. The man and woman turned to look, then started toward them.

“Looks like they’re coming back here.” Clay stood and stretched. “They’d better hurry. The rain is about to let loose any second.”

He’d barely gotten the words out before the clouds opened up. The deluge was worthy of Noah’s flood. Eden had never seen rain fall so hard and fast. The couple raced for the steps and arrived gasping and soaking wet.

“Let me get some towels,” Eden said.

A basket of towels was just inside the door where she’d left them after dinner. She reached inside the screen door and snagged two. While the couple dried off, she took their measure. The woman had short dark hair in a stylishly layered cut. Large dark eyes. Dressed in Ann Taylor and a pair of red leather shoes. The man wore a navy suit and a crisp white shirt. His blond hair was plastered to his head. Both of them appeared to be in their late twenties.

The man handed the towel back to her. “Much obliged.” He straightened his jacket and turned a smile on them. “I’m Tyler Rivers. This is my wife, Christine. We’re here to see Paige.”

“We’re her parents.”

“Her parents.”
It was clear from Christine’s tone that she was laying claim to the little girl. And that she loved her.

“The camp prefers to let the girls adjust before visits with their foster parents,” Clay put in. “We were told they needed to be here two weeks before there was a visit.”

Tyler nodded. “Of course. But it’s her birthday tomorrow, and we brought her a gift. Mr. Bailey said it would be all right to see her for a few minutes and give her the present. I have to fly out of town on business tomorrow, and we really wanted her to have her gift.”

“If Rick said it was okay, then we’re fine with it. Come inside.” Clay held open the door for them.

The wave of protectiveness rising in Eden’s chest alarmed her. These two were no threat. Was it because she didn’t want any of the girls to be attached to someone other than herself? How totally selfish. If she had her way, none of the children would have to go through the abandonment issues she’d experienced. Of course she wanted Paige to be loved. She wanted them all to be cherished.

In the living room, the young girls looked up from their game of Chutes and Ladders. Zeke and Della had brought over their girls too, and there were several different games in progress. Della got up when the couple entered the room and lifted a brow in Eden’s direction.

“Mommy!” Paige screamed. She leaped up and ran to throw her arms around Christine.

“Paige’s foster parents,” Eden said to Della and Zeke.

The woman knelt and picked her up. “I’ve missed you, honey. Are you having a good time?”

Paige nodded. “I peed the bed last night,” she said with great solemnity.

“Oh dear.”

“She peed on me!” India said, her voice indignant. “But she couldn’t help it, I guess.”

Christine’s lips twitched. “I can see that would be upsetting,” she said.

“How about a kiss for your daddy?” Tyler asked. When Paige reached for him, he took her into his arms and she kissed him with real affection.

Eden glanced at Clay and saw the same raw jealousy in his eyes that she felt. What if Paige was Brianna? Paige had been left by two men in a Walmart. It would rip this family apart to find out she didn’t belong to them. The living room still held the aroma of popped corn. Clay picked up the litter of Popsicle sticks and corn kernels.

“We can’t let Paige’s birthday go unnoticed tomorrow.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Her dimples flashed. “Cupcakes. I’ll bake them and you can ice them.”

“I’m game if you are.” Anything to keep that delight in her face.

He followed her to the kitchen, where she rummaged through the cupboards and found cake mix, a cupcake pan, and liners. Within minutes the cupcakes were in the oven and he put some decaf on to brew.

“I want to show you something,” she said, exiting the room.

When she returned a few moments later, she held a tattered photo album. She sat at the table and he pulled out a chair and sat beside her. Even before she opened it, he knew it was pictures of Brianna. He’d probably seen them and, most likely, had copies himself. But when she flipped it open, he was faced with one he didn’t remember. In the photo Brianna was peering over the top of his shoulder. She wore a pink ribbon in her thick blond hair.

“That was her first smile,” Eden said. “Remember?”

He ran his fingers over the slick surface of the protective sheet. “I didn’t see it. She wasn’t facing me.”

She pointed to Brianna’s left cheek. “This is what I wanted to show you. See that dimple? Madeline has dimples.”

“Do babies always keep their dimples?”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

The next picture was one with Brianna and Eden. She wore the pendant he’d been carrying around in his pocket, and he put his fingers around it. Maybe now was the time to ask her to wear it again. To consider building their family unit new and fresh.

The phone rang, and she jumped to grab it. “This is Eden.” Her smile faded and her fingers went white. “Who is this?”

He leaped up and grabbed the phone. “Who is this?”

An electronic hissing filled his ear, then the dial tone came on. He replaced the phone onto the hook. “Who was it?”

Her laugh was nervous. “I’m probably just skittish. It was likely a wrong number. No one answered.”

But the fear in her eyes told him she didn’t believe that. And he didn’t either.

In the morning Eden’s vapors of the night before vanished with the scent of fresh coffee. She poured a cup, then eyed the components of her big project. The ingredients were assembled on the counter. She ticked them off her list: asparagus, chicken, curry powder, snow peas, coconut milk, carrots, onions, jasmine rice. This couldn’t be too hard, could it? India and Madeline had begged to help—in fact, all five girls had wanted to help—so Eden compromised by allowing two to help with this trial recipe. The other three would get to help her bake cookies this afternoon.

She studied the recipe. What could she have the girls do that didn’t involve a knife? “I need the water and rice measured,” she said.

“Me, me!” India shouted, jumping up and down in her chair at the table.

“No, me!” Madeline said, shoving India off the chair.

The little girl hit the black-and-white tile floor but didn’t cry. Madeline ran to Eden and snatched the plastic measuring cup from her hand before Eden could reprimand her.

Eden frowned at Madeline. “India gets to measure the rice because you pushed her, Madeline.”

The little blonde’s face puckered. “But I want to help,” she wailed. “She always gets to do things instead of me.”

“You can measure the water.”

“That’s just water.” She folded her arms across her chest, and her lip stuck out. “You like India better than me.”

“That’s not true. I love you both equally. But you can’t shove, honey.” She put a bowl in front of India. “Measure out two cups of rice,” she said. She helped the little girl hold the bag.

“Your turn, Madeline,” she said, heading toward the faucet.

“I’m not going to help. She can do it.” Madeline slid off the chair and rushed for the back door. Her tear-filled eyes glared at Eden before she focused on the door and began to yank on the knob.

Eden paused. Her first real challenge of discipline. What did she do? “Stop right there, Madeline,” she said. She grabbed the little girl’s arm and marched her back to the table. Madeline resisted, but Eden lifted her onto the chair. “Time-out. You sit there for five minutes.” She walked back to the stove and set the timer. “When this timer goes off, you can get down.”

“You’re mean,” Madeline said, her voice hiccupping in sobs. “I’m going to tell Mr. Clay.”

“How do you think Mr. Clay will like the way you’re acting?” Eden turned back in time to prevent India from spilling the rest of the rice onto the floor. She was beginning to wish she’d done this job by herself.

Clay stepped into the kitchen from the front room. “Did I hear my name?”

Madeline burst into noisy sobs. “She spanked me,” she wailed.

Clay’s gaze shot to Eden, and she shook her head. He walked to the table. “I don’t think so, Madeline. Did you disobey Miss Eden?”

The little girl buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “You like India better too.”

“What’s this all about?” Clay asked.

“She knocked India off the chair in a dispute over who got to measure the rice. So I gave her a time-out.”

He pulled out a chair beside Madeline. “You don’t think you deserve a time-out for shoving India?”

Madeline raised her head. “I wanted to help.” She swiped the back of her hand across her face.

“Did Miss Eden spank you? This is your chance to tell me the truth, Madeline. What did we learn in devotions the other night about lying?”

“That lying is as bad as murder,” she whispered, staring at her hands.

“So what do you want to tell me?”

Madeline shot Eden a resentful glare. “She
wanted
to spank me.”

Eden bit her lip to keep from smiling. Though the situation wasn’t really funny, Madeline was determined not to take any blame. The situation was eye-opening. So this was what parenting was all about. It would have been easier to give in, to let her get by with rudeness and talking back. But it wouldn’t have taught her anything.

“But Miss Eden didn’t, did she?” Clay’s voice was gentle.

Madeline looked at the table and not at Clay. “No.”

“I’m proud of you for telling the truth. But you need to apologize to Miss Eden for lying about her. And you need to tell India you’re sorry you shoved her.”

“I won’t!” The little girl folded her arms across her chest.

Eden marveled at how well Clay was handling this. As if he’d dealt with five-year-old girls every day. Where did he get that calm firmness? She wanted to tell him not to press Madeline for an apology, but it wasn’t the right thing to do. No child should talk back the way she’d done. Just because she was pained that the children had to be in foster care didn’t relieve her of the duty to make sure the girls knew right from wrong.

“Then you’ll have to go to your room and stay there all morning.”

“What about lunch?”

“You can have it when you come out. That is, when you’re ready to say you’re sorry.”

“I’m not ever saying sorry. I’m always the one who has to say sorry, even when it’s not my fault!” Madeline’s sobs grew wilder.

Eden took a step toward the child, but Clay held up a warning hand and shook his head. She couldn’t help a flare of resentment even though she knew her compassion wasn’t appropriate right now. How did he know when to be firm and when to back down? She could see where couples might have arguments over discipline, because she was ready to interfere. Madeline’s sobs broke her heart. The little girl had been through so much.

She remembered feeling alone and unloved in foster care herself. And maybe just a bit of those feelings were what had catapulted her into full-blown anger with God when Brianna was taken. She thought she deserved better from him, to make up for the things she’d endured. But God hadn’t given her any special favors. Just as Clay wasn’t giving Madeline a license to disobey.