Missionary Daddy (11 page)

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“Not even close. But I don’t want to lose you to a psycho, either.”

“Chicago holds no appeal right now. Everything I’m interested in is here in Chestnut Grove.”

Unaware he’d been holding his breath, Eric released a sigh. A man could read a lot into a statement like that. And Eric wanted to believe she meant him.

Okay, so he was falling and falling fast. He’d known this would happen if he spent much time with Sam Harcourt. Hadn’t he begun to fall in love with her a year ago?

But she was the one with all the decisions to make. He wasn’t about to ask her to give up a successful career for him. Even if she was discontent with modeling now, she might change her mind. He had to be ready for that to happen.

He leaned back against the spindle-backed chair and pointed at her plate. “Are you going to eat the rest of that steak or not?”

Splayed fingers pressed her midsection. “I’m stuffed. Do you want it?”

“My motto is never waste good steak.” He took her plate, sliding the meat onto his.

“I don’t know when I’ve eaten so much, but everything tasted really good.”

He caught a hint of something in her voice and looked up. “You’re not feeling guilty, are you? About eating, I mean.”

She shook her head, pale hair moving over the shoulders of her overalls. “No.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She admitted, “Maybe a little, but the point is I’m eating, and the more I fight the voices in my head with the scriptures you gave me, the less I hear them.”

He sliced a strip of beef and stabbed it with a fork. “I think that’s a praise God, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. Every day I ask Him for the grace to deal with the problem and every day I see improvement.” She gnawed at her lip again. “I only wish we could help Gina in the same way.”

“Have you talked to her again?”

“A couple of times. She won’t let me go near the eating issue. But it’s there, waiting to take her health and maybe her life. It scares me so badly.”

The worry on her face was real. Sam knew, far better than he did, the kind of danger Gina faced.

“I’m praying for her every day,” Eric said. “Praying for a door to open so we can help.” Sometimes prayer didn’t seem like enough, but he knew God had a lot more power than he ever would.

He polished off the last of Sam’s leftover and pushed back his plate. “Man, that was good. Now if the maid would only show up and wash the dishes.”

Sam’s chair scraped against the tile floor. “I’ll do them.”

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Guests don’t do dishes.”

“Says who?”

“Says my mama who would have my hide if she knew.”

Sam’s eyes twinkled like silver lights. “Who’s going to tell her?”

With a laugh, Eric started gathering the few dishes. “Not me.”

As they worked side by side, Sam said, “Tell me about your family. They must be great.”

“The best.” Turning the taps, he ran water in the sink. “Big, rambunctious, loving.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“Two sisters, two brothers. Mom and Dad, of course, and I still have three of my grandparents, plus a host of aunts and uncles.”

“Five kids?”

“Yep. I’m the baby boy.”

“You miss them?” She reached under the cabinet for dishwashing liquid and squirted a healthy amount into the rushing water. White, airy bubbles filled the room with a lemony fragrance.

“Sure, but not like I once did. After working in Thailand and Africa for so many years, the kids there became my family. But Mom and the siblings came here to Virginia when I first moved in. And I always try to get home for major holidays. That’s a wild and crazy time if ever there was one.”

“Knowing you, I can believe that.” Her lips curved a tiny bit. “Harcourt holidays have always been so…correct.”

The sad admission touched Eric. Sam had no idea what she’d missed.

“When I was a little girl, I watched those Christmas specials about big, loving families and wished mine was like that.”

Maybe she did know what she’d missed.

From what she’d told him, relationships within the Harcourt family had improved greatly in the last couple of years, but a childhood of cool detachment couldn’t be erased.

“When you have your own kids, you can do it your way,” he said. “Wild and crazy or calm and correct. Whatever you choose.”

“What about you? What would you choose?”

“The same kind of childhood I had,” he said. “We didn’t have a lot of money or stuff, but we had love and laughter and each other.”

The truth of that statement hit him between the eyes. He’d often resented being the kid who ran a paper route and mowed lawns to pay for his school clothes, but Sam’s situation opened his eyes to how blessed he’d always been.

“They sound terrific.” He heard the pensive note. “I would love to have a family like that.”

“I was a very blessed boy, though I didn’t know it then. Someday, I’ll do it all over again. Ten or twelve kids, a big yard, a rambling old house in the country, ten horses, eighteen dogs, twenty-seven cats, the works.”

She giggled. “Ten or twelve kids!”

He laughed, too. “Maybe not that many, but as many as my wife will agree to. Matunde and Amani are just the start. Life is more fun with a houseful of kids and noise.”

“So you’re planning on getting married someday?”

Hands dripping suds, he tapped Sam’s nose and said, “Gotta have a wife to have all those kids.”

According to the African government, he needed a wife now, a worry that he didn’t share with Sam. The adoption committee continued to balk at his single status even though he’d cared for an orphanage full of children by himself for several years.

He looked at the beautiful woman drying his dishes. Emotion bubbled up inside him like suds in the sink. Something was happening between them. He was certain of that, though it was too early to know where it would lead. Still, he’d had Sam in his heart for more than a year. He couldn’t help but wonder.

“Sam?” he started.

She took a dish from the sink and placed it in the drainer. “What? You look serious.”

“I am. Very.” He turned toward her and waited, trying to read her feelings. She gazed back, waiting, too. And he decided now was a good time to find out if they were traveling in the same direction.

He took her shoulders and very slowly pulled her to him.

“Sam?”

“You said that already.”

He gave a little laugh. “I want to kiss you.”

Her bow mouth lifted, and she surprised him by saying, “It’s about time.”

So he did. And the sweet emotion flowing out of her gave him the courage he needed.

“I care about you, Sam,” he said, lips grazing hers.

She touched his cheek, and he didn’t even mind the warm dampness from the dishes. “I know. I feel the same.”

With a relieved sigh, he kissed her again, all the while his mind raced.

It would take a unique woman to be his wife and a mother to his children. Most women wouldn’t be willing. Would Sam?

K
ids. He wanted kids. Lots of them.

The familiar feeling of despair, as heavy as an elephant, pushed down on Sam as she rifled through her closet in search of the perfect outfit to wear to the Cavanaughs’ baby dedication. No matter what she did or where she went, Sam couldn’t seem to escape the constant reminder of children.

Since the lunch date at Eric’s house, she had thought of little else. And now the baby dedication. In truth, she was falling in love with Eric Pellegrino. And he wanted kids. Not just the two he was adopting, but biological children, as well. Who didn’t?

She wanted the same thing.

With a sad sigh, she plopped down on the bed in her newly renovated suite. Mother and Dad had gone overboard, as usual, but the result was lovely. Surrounded by blues and creams, her mask collection decorated one wall and set the tone of the entire room. She’d added other pieces from her travels, giving the suite an exotic feel that she loved. The African ceremonial mask, procured by her driver, was now her favorite. Every time she gazed at the carved mahogany face, she remembered that beautiful day with Eric and his children.

The thought hurt. Eric and his children. He was made to be a dad, not to one or two but to as many as he chose. Eric would be a great dad, the kind of father every child should have.

Back in the enormous walk-in closet, she pressed the button and set the clothes racks into rotation. Plastic crinkled as the bag-encased outfits slowly spun past.

The kiss had changed everything. He cared for her. She cared for him. Their relationship was moving forward normally. Only she knew there was something abnormal that could ruin everything.

Maybe it was time to go back to her doctor and find out for sure. Dr. Smythe had said there was a chance she could conceive if she kept her weight up and took care of herself. An outside chance, but at this point, hope was all she had. But she was also afraid. What if the verdict erased that ray of hope forever?

A pale silver-blue dress caught her attention. Eric always commented when she wore blue. She pulled the dress from the rack and held it up, feeling ashamed not to even remember buying the expensive garment. How many things did she own that had been bought on a whim, never to be thought of again?

Taking great pains to look her best, Sam turned this way and that in the mirror. She’d put on a few pounds since coming back to Chestnut Grove. And that alone brought on a quivery, anxious sensation and a barrage of negative thoughts. She shouldn’t have eaten the steak at Eric’s. If she had time, she’d get on the treadmill for a couple more hours.

Fighting off the obsession with a prayer and a determined mind, she dressed and went downstairs to await Eric. After lunch the other day, he’d asked her to attend baby Joseph Cavanaugh’s dedication with him. The entire congregation of Chestnut Grove Community had been invited, so she’d agreed.

Ben Cavanaugh had helped renovate this room, and she’d become acquainted with his wife, Leah, at church. A sprite of a woman with more energy than the famous bunny, Leah Cavanaugh had gone out of her way to make Sam feel comfortable among her new Christian friends. How could she not attend her baby boy’s special day?

At the sight of Eric’s vehicle coming down the drive, Sam’s heart somersaulted. Amused by her own behavior, she shook her head and gave a wry chuckle. One minute, he scared her to pieces with his talk of kids and the next she couldn’t wait to see him.

Giddy as a teenager she went out to meet her missionary.

The church was, as expected, packed. Most of Eric’s colleagues from the agency were in attendance, as well as a large contingent of church parishioners. Already up front, Ben and Leah Cavanaugh with their daughter, Olivia, and new son waited with Reverend Fraser. Above his clerical collar, the kindly, well-loved minister glowed with happiness at the occasion. Everyone knew Reverend Fraser enjoyed baby dedications.

Program in hand, Eric gazed around at the now-familiar faces. He’d expected to see Ben’s brother, Eli, at his side, but the pediatrician was conspicuously missing. Eric hoped everything was all right with Rachel. She was still on bed rest, battling preeclampsia.

“Where would you like to sit?” he murmured against Sam’s flower-scented ear.

She pointed, a simple, elegant movement that sent one silver bracelet sliding along her wrist.

“Is that a space behind the Nobles? Next to Anne and Caleb?”

Tall and dark Andrew Noble, the philanthropist, sat with his fiancée, Miranda, and her son, Daniel. During the time Ross and Andrew had worked to unravel Daniel’s adoption records, Eric had gained great respect for both men. Andrew might be a rich man born with a silver spoon, but he’d dedicated his life to helping others. Another reason for Eric to regret his stereotypical attitude toward all the rich.

Fingers against the silky material at Sam’s back, he guided her down the aisle and squeezed in beside Anne and Caleb.

Eric and Sam exchanged smiles, nods and murmured hellos all around them. Soft music began to play, and then a hush moved over the sanctuary as Reverend Fraser stepped forward to begin the service.

“Today is the day that Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. And today we have a very good reason to rejoice.”

He paused to smile at the bundle in Leah’s arms. She and daughter Olivia beamed back while Ben looked nervous and uncomfortable in a suit and tie. Eric felt for him.

“Today,” the pastor went on, “we have the privilege and joy of witnessing the public dedication of Joseph Cavanaugh. Following the example of devout parents of the Bible, Ben and Leah have expressed their desire to present Joseph to the Lord. This dedication doesn’t require a sacrifice like Abraham’s who was willing to place his son on an altar or even that of Hannah who dedicated her child to serve in the temple. However, it is a solemn commitment to properly care for that which God has given.

“I have had the pleasure of counseling with Ben and Leah about the responsibility of parents to raise their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. We’ve spent a number of hours searching the scripture in preparation, not just for today’s service, but to better equip them for the crucial work of Godly parenting. It’s my determination that both Ben and Leah and big sister, Olivia, are sincere in their desire to provide Joseph with a loving, Christ-centered upbringing.”

The minister continued with the service, reading scriptures that focused on child rearing. Eric’s mind wandered, though not far. Before his death, Butu, Amani and Matunde’s father, had dedicated his sons, comforted by his new faith that God would provide for the boys he was leaving behind. Eric felt that responsibility and embraced it. The service had been simpler than this one, and attended by only a handful of believers, including Eric. Butu had raised tiny Matunde high over his head as an offering to God. Then he’d repeated the offering and a heartfelt prayer with three-year-old Amani, though Butu’s arms trembled with weakness from the ravages of disease.

Emotion clogged the back of Eric’s throat. Today’s dedication was beautiful, and someday he’d dedicate his other children in a similar manner, but the service in Africa was imprinted on his heart like a brand.

Sentimental tears gathered in Sam’s eyes. She blinked rapidly to disperse them and save her makeup. The heartfelt ceremony of love moved her deeply. Up front, Leah and Ben repeated vows as solemn and as precious as wedding vows. Olivia, a nine-year-old bundle of energy dressed in lavender satin, looked prouder than anyone. A loving, perfect family made even better by the addition of a son.

Without conscious decision, Sam leaned closer to Eric, his sturdy, strong shoulder a good place to lean. He glanced at her, winked and took her hand.

Sam’s heart tap-danced. Holding hands with Eric felt right as together they watched the Cavanaugh family dedicate their child, their lives to the service of the Lord.

She wanted this. More than the Style campaign. More than another trip to Paris. More than anything. She wanted a family like Leah and Ben’s. She wanted a husband and a baby. She wanted Eric.

“Jesus,” Reverend Fraser was saying, “demonstrated His acceptance and love for the little children when He said, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.’ And He took them up in His arms, put His hands upon them, and blessed them.”

He took the baby from Leah’s arms and held him toward the congregation. “Let us pray.”

The kindly pastor prayed a sweet prayer of blessing over Joseph and his family. When he finished, the parents moved to a small lace-covered table to light a symbolic candle.

To add to the sweetness of the moment, Olivia stepped up to the microphone and began to sing. In her pure child’s voice, she warbled, “Jesus Loves the Little Children” accompanied only by an unseen acoustic guitar.

And this time Sam didn’t even try to hold back the sentimental tears.

When the precious ceremony ended, Pastor Fraser, all smiles, announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that Chestnut Grove Community Church presents little Joseph Cavanaugh and his family with a dedication certificate marking this holy occasion.”

Scott Crosby came forward with the certificate.

During his presentation, the assistant pastor whispered something to Leah. Her wide smile grew even wider.

After the closing prayer, the effervescent Leah, with Joseph held tightly in her arms, spoke into her daughter’s microphone. “Thank you all for coming. Ben and I are thrilled to have you here and we know you’ll be as excited as we are to hear some wonderful news. You may have noticed that Ben’s brother Eli is not here. Well…” She paused dramatically.

Her husband laughed. “What my wife is trying to say is this—Eli and Rachel are at the hospital. Rachel has just given birth to my long-awaited niece, Madeline.”

Leah fairly danced up and down. “And they are both perfectly fine!”

Applause broke out and the excited buzz of voices filled the sanctuary. This was indeed good news after a long, difficult pregnancy that had threatened the life of both Rachel and her baby.

As the lighthearted crowd dismissed to the fellowship hall for a reception, Eric and Sam remained in the pew. Her hand tenderly enfolded by Eric’s much larger one, Sam was reluctant to ever move.

“Nice ceremony,” Eric murmured.

“Not a reporter in sight.”

“Actually, there is one.”

Sam’s eyes widened and she glanced around. “Where’s the back door?”

“Don’t worry. I brought my Groucho glasses.” He patted his pocket. “You can wear them if you want.”

“I have my own, thanks.” When he laughed as she’d intended, Sam went on. “Are there really reporters here?”

“Only one, and he’s a good guy.” He nodded toward the foyer where Jared Kierney and his lovely red-haired wife, Meg, stood talking to Andrew Noble. Zach Fletcher and Pilar, his expectant wife and Eric’s co-worker, joined them. From their intent expressions, the conversation was serious.

Sam found Andrew Noble to be an interesting though rather mysterious man. She’d heard rumors that he was involved in some sort of clandestine rescue operations, but those stories had never been substantiated. Still, his dark looks and suave demeanor turned many heads.

But only one man turned Sam’s head. And she was reluctant to ever let go of his hand.

The Kierneys’ identical twin boys, dressed in matching suits, played a controlled game of touch tag with Miranda’s son, Daniel, while the adults chatted. Sam fully expected the three little boys to break loose any minute and cause a commotion. From all indications, the boys had sat still as long as they could.

“I think those little guys are about to explode.”

Eric rose and pulled her up, still holding her hand. “What say we go rescue them?”

“How?”

“Cake. All boys love cake.” He patted his very flat stomach and for once she didn’t think of her own. “Even big boys.”

Together they maneuvered through the mass of humanity toward the Kierneys but the twins had dashed off toward the reception, their mother in hot pursuit.

“You’ve got your hands full,” Sam said to Jared.

“Tell me about it.” The reporter gazed fondly after his little family. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Sam kept her smile in place. The tender ceremony had aroused so many emotions: joy, sorrow, tenderness. She didn’t know a person could be happy and sad at the same time, but she was.

Eric tugged on her hand. “Are we going for that cake or not?”

“Better hurry before my boys wipe it out.” Jared grinned, falling into step beside them.

Inside the fellowship hall, an impromptu receiving line formed in front of the Cavanaughs. Some wise soul had pushed chairs together so the little family could sit and be admired. With a motherly smile, Leah placed baby Joseph in Olivia’s arms.

As Sam and Eric approached to offer their congratulations, someone asked who the baby was named for.

Leah said, “Joseph is a biblical name. It means, ‘God will increase.’” She slid a sly grin toward her husband. “So I’m thinking he and Olivia are only the beginning.”

Ben laughed. “There’s no more room in the house.”

“Ah, but you’re a carpenter,” Leah teased. “We can build on.”

During the loving exchange, Sam watched Eric instead of the Cavanaughs and saw yearning in his eyes. Was that same longing present on her face? A longing that would likely never be fulfilled?

She shook away the thought, determined to rejoice in the Cavanaughs’ special day. Resolute, she stooped to look at the new baby. In the back of her mind, she wondered if Ben would resent her presence. After all, a Harcourt was to blame for his current dilemma of discovering a birth family he hadn’t known existed.

“Your brother is very handsome, Olivia,” she said to the little girl.

“Thank you.” Olivia gazed down at her sleeping brother. “Sometimes he stinks, and he cries too much, but I like him. Mom says we might adopt some more kids sometime. I’m adopted,” she said with candor.