Leaving Enchantment

Up until that time, her grandmother had been Devon’s mentor and inspiration. But no longer. Devon had moved to Albuquerque and now the two women rarely spoke.

Kim’s sympathies lay one-hundred percent with Lydia. If the older midwife had done something wrong, she must have had a darn good reason. Lydia would have made sure that baby went to a good home. A good family. If she’d bent a few rules to make that happen, so what?

Devon wouldn’t be so quick to judge, Kim thought, if she knew what it was like to be a child who didn’t have a family. Or anyplace to call home.

THE NEXT MORNING Lydia Kane resisted the urge to stay in bed. She’d dealt with pain, disappointment and loss many times in her seventy-three years. None had been a reason to neglect her work before and they weren’t now, either.

She arrived at The Birth Place fifteen minutes before her appointment with a new couple who’d been referred by an ex-patient. This was their first baby, and Lydia didn’t know if she was up to dealing with their excitement, their enthusiasm…their naiveté.

Bringing a new child into this world was a marvelous voyage. That was how Lydia normally felt. But after last night it seemed as if her heart had been replaced with a lead facsimile. The melancholy would fade, she knew from experience. The sense of having failed would not.

She stopped by one of the many collages of photos on display at the birth center. So many tiny faces, proud parents, excited siblings. If only the Davidsons could be among them. Closing her eyes, she composed the picture. Steve standing at the back, a proud hand on Sammy’s shoulder, the other wrapped around his wife, who would be holding a bundled baby to her chest.

That’s how last night should have ended.

If only… If only…

Lydia turned from the wall and continued to her office, to the sanctuary of her leather chair and old oak desk.

Was there anything she could have done? Any sign she’d missed? It didn’t matter that she’d relived every step of the delivery a dozen times last night, and a dozen more this morning. Lydia knew it would take a while for her mind to accept this latest defeat.

Losing a baby happened so rarely. But when the sad circumstance occurred, she was always reminded of the first time she’d lost a baby, her own baby, when she was only sixteen.

She’d been so young…too young. Giving her daughter up for adoption had seemed the best option at the time—at least according to her father. Lydia’s mother had been dead by then. The child will be happier with a real family, her father had said. And Lydia had prayed for the baby’s sake that he was right.

But in her heart, she’d known that she’d let her baby down. She’d devoted her life to mothers and babies ever since. But for all the good she knew that she’d done, cases like the Davidsons made her wonder if the sacrifices she’d made had been worth it after all.

Especially when she considered her own children, the two she’d had after she’d married Ken. Her devotion to her profession had come at a cost, paid in part, she was afraid, by the son she never saw in New York City and the daughter in San Francisco who only visited sporadically.

Then this past autumn, her second failure as a midwife had been exposed when Hope Tanner came back to town. And now Lydia no longer sat as a member of the board of the birth center she’d founded.

She’d given up everything for The Birth Place. Now she was nothing but an employee. Life could be so ironic.

Noticing Kim Sherman’s closed door, Lydia forgot her troubles for a moment. She had no doubt that the accountant had arrived at work at the usual time, despite the long hours she’d put in yesterday.

Kim had been so kind last night. Lydia wondered why the young woman couldn’t show that side of her personality more often. It was no secret around here that most people found her abrasive. Her comments were usually brisk and often critical. No one could meet her expectations, it seemed. Even Parker Reynolds, the chief administrator, admitted she was hard to take. But he refused to let her go.

“We need someone like her,” he’d told Lydia. “She’s renegotiated all our insurance contracts at much better terms. And she’s implementing incredible improvements to our billing system.”

Lydia changed her trajectory and headed to that firmly closed door.

“Come in.”

Lydia was struck by how young Kim appeared, surrounded by the stacks of computer printouts on her desk. The petite woman was only twenty-five, unmarried and so pretty. She should be enjoying her youth, not spending every waking hour alone with her numbers. She should revel in her fresh beauty, instead of hiding it behind dowdy sweaters and dark-framed glasses.

“Lydia!” Startled, Kim stood, sending her pen and a sheet of paper to the floor. “Oh!” She gathered the items and returned them to her desk. Waving at the only free seat in the room, she waited until Lydia was comfortable before returning to her own chair.

“Kim, I want to thank you for last night.”

“Oh, that was…anyone would have… I mean, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Kim. But what about you? Working so late last night, then in to the office early this morning. You have to make time for a social life, you know. Not to mention a decent night’s sleep.”

Kim surveyed the stacks of paper, her expression bordering on the defensive. Lydia had often wondered at the total absence of anything personal in this office. No framed photos or cute magnets. Even Kim’s coffee mug was serviceable white ceramic.

Something had to be done about this girl. And Lydia thought she had just the idea.

“I’ve come to ask you a favor, Kim.”

The accountant perked up, as if nothing could have pleased her more.

“At the last board meeting the directors approved a fund-raising event. Parker wants to call it the Mother and Child Reunion, which is a wonderful name, I think. It will be a huge event. We’d like to invite as many of the women who delivered at our center—and their husbands, of course—as we can find. Also, any adult children who were born here will be welcome, too.”

“Lydia. That will be a huge guest list.”

“We won’t be able to track them all down. And many will have moved and be unable to attend. At any rate, the board wants us to cap the list at two hundred.”

“Will you be inviting all the staff?”

“Naturally. And board members, too.” Would her granddaughter come? Devon had attended all business meetings since her appointment. But she might consider this function more social in nature.

“Well, we certainly could use some extra money around here.”

“Yes, we could. Which leads me to that favor I told you I was going to ask. Parker already handles our annual SIDS fund-raiser, so I hate to put another event on his shoulders, too. Would you consider taking on the responsibility?”

“Of course.” She seemed insulted that Lydia might have entertained any doubt. “I’d be pleased to do it.”

“I don’t want you doing all the work. Just the organizing. All the staff will pitch in, including me.” This would force Kim to interact with her co-workers. Hopefully, over time, some of them would begin to appreciate the young woman’s more appealing characteristics—as Lydia did. “This project should be a team effort.”

“Oh, don’t worry about giving me too much to do. I love to be busy. And I’m a very efficient time manager.”

Yes. Maybe too efficient.

“I promise you, this will be the birth center’s most successful fund-raising event, ever,” Kim continued.

Mindful of her upcoming appointment, Lydia stood. “Let’s talk more about this later.” On her way out the door, Lydia glanced back at the accountant. Already her head was bent over her papers.

Lydia hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. If Kim took on this project without allowing anyone to help, she’d just isolate herself further. Still, even if handing Kim responsibility for the fund-raiser had been a mistake, it wouldn’t be the worst one Lydia had ever made.

NOLAN STARED AT THE LAWYER, certain the woman had read incorrectly.

“Executor of the will, I can understand. But Mary and Steve wouldn’t have named me guardian of their daughter. That would be Steve’s mom, Irene Davidson.”

Only fifty-five, Irene was healthy and active. Judging from her home and the car she drove, she had plenty of money, too. Nolan knew she didn’t have to work.

Irene had what was needed to raise her granddaughter—time and financial resources. Two things that were lacking in Nolan’s life right now.

He’d stretched his credit to the max when he’d bought the Bulletin from Charley Graziano several years ago. Between that mortgage and the one for his condo, he had precious little spare cash.

And even less time. Running a newspaper was rewarding but very time-consuming. Then there were all his volunteer commitments.

Yeah, money and time were huge concerns. But the biggest problem of all was this: he and Sammy didn’t even know each other.

“When was that will drawn up?”

The lawyer stated a date about six months after Nolan and Mary’s mother’s funeral. Which made the whole setup even less logical.

He and Mary had said some pretty unforgivable things to each other the day they’d laid their mother to rest. Why would she have turned around, only months later, and done something like this?

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“There’s no mistake, Nolan. You are Sammy’s legal guardian. She’s still staying with the Saramagos. I suggest you pick her up and get her settled before the funeral.”

HALF AN HOUR LATER, Nolan was still in shock as he stopped his Explorer in front of the Saramagos’ pale pink adobe house. He thought back two days, to the night of Mary’s death and Steve’s accident. After leaving the hospital he’d driven straight to Irene’s. He’d woken her from a deep sleep, sat her on her floral-patterned living room sofa and told her about Mary, the baby, Steve.

She’d reacted with total silence.

He’d repeated the story, adding details this time, getting up to pace, then collapsing into a chair. He’d rubbed the stubble on his face, watching Irene’s face turn blanker and blanker.

“I’ll make coffee.” He’d been in the kitchen, searching for a filter cone, when she’d started to scream.

That had woken Sammy, asleep in the spare room. As he’d assumed, Mary and Steve had dropped her off on their way to The Birth Center.

The little girl had wandered into the kitchen wearing something soft and pink. “Has Mommy had my baby sister yet?” she asked him.

Irene wasn’t screaming anymore, but sobbing loudly. Nolan had been stunned by Sammy’s question.

Explaining to Sammy what had happened was even harder than telling Irene. The little girl didn’t seem to believe him at first. He’d returned to the living room to try to deal with Irene. Unable to calm her down, he’d phoned her doctor.

Teresa Saramago’s number had been listed by the phone as one of Irene’s emergency contacts, and he’d called her, too. Apparently she had a daughter the same age as Sammy and did some occasional baby-sitting. She agreed to take in the child while he drove Irene to the hospital.

Hard to believe that had happened just two nights ago. Nolan turned off the ignition and sat for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

There was a little girl inside that house for whom he was about to become solely responsible. Nolan wasn’t married, or engaged, he didn’t even have a steady girlfriend. Thirty might be a little old to be living a footloose kind of lifestyle, but it suited him and the demands of his profession.

He wanted to restart his vehicle and drive the hell out of there. Instead, he got out slowly, his reporter’s eye ticking off details as he approached the home. A tricycle tipped over near the front step. A red plastic pail tucked into the shrubbery under the front window. Kids lived here, all right. Including, for the moment, his niece.

If only he could leave her here. It was a cowardly thought, but expressed his feelings on the matter exactly.

Nolan stopped in front of the freshly stained wooden door of the well-maintained home. A good mother lived here. She had kids of her own. She’d probably make a perfect surrogate parent for Sammy.

If only he had Steve’s mother for support. But Irene had been checked into the hospital and prescribed sedatives. She was still there now. Her friend and neighbor, Mabel Judson, was planning to pick her up tomorrow and keep her at her house until after the funerals. “For as long as she needs,” Mabel had said when they’d talked on the phone this morning.

It seemed that as well as inheriting a kid, he was getting his sister’s mother-in-law, too. A package deal he could have happily lived without.

Nolan let his knuckles fall against the door. Right away it opened. Teresa Saramago was visibly pregnant, carrying a toddler in her arms. She seemed tired and relieved to see him.

Two little girls stood behind the woman in the hall. One of them had Steve’s big eyes, Mary’s curly hair.

“Thanks for looking after Sammy,” Nolan began.

“We were glad to help,” the mother of two, soon to be three, replied. “I wish we could keep her longer, but I’m due myself in a few weeks.”

He nodded. “I understand.” He wondered if the woman had any idea how panicked he felt right now. How totally unprepared he was for this much responsibility. He felt awkward, standing in the hall, with the mother and two little girls watching him expectantly. What was he supposed to do? Tentatively he held out his hand to his niece.

Sammy started to cry.

“Sammy, you have to go with your uncle now,” the woman prompted gently. “You can visit again, soon.”

Sammy kept crying and Nolan cringed. This was impossible. Sammy wanted to stay here. He wanted Sammy to stay here.

The woman frowned slightly. She set down her toddler, in order to give Sammy a hug, then shot him a look charged with expectation.

He scooped Sammy into his arms, and she stiffened, turning her face away from his. Adjusting his grip awkwardly, he gave another quick thanks to Teresa, then hustled back to his car. As he bent to put his niece in the front passenger seat, the woman shouted from her doorway.

“She’s too little to sit in the front—because of the airbags. Put her in the back.”

Hell. He should’ve known that. He’d read articles about airbag injuries to children under the age of twelve. So he settled Sammy in the center of the back seat, making sure to tighten the lap belt securely.

He was in the driver’s seat, engine started, ready to head to his condo, when he realized he still hadn’t spoken a word to the little girl. He swiveled to face her.

“I’m your Uncle Nolan, Sammy. You probably don’t remember me, but I came to visit you the day after you were born. I bought you a teddy bear.”

“The white one?”

Damned if he could remember the color. “Um, I think so.”

Her head dropped, and she didn’t say anything else. He watched her a moment, then sighed and drove off. Which of them, he wondered, was the most terrified right now?

CHAPTER FOUR

TWO WEEKS LATER, Nolan’s spirits weren’t any higher. He’d buried his sister, his brother-in-law, his nephew. He grieved for them in the lonely hours of the night, but his days were crammed with activity. Looking after Sammy, meeting with the lawyers, then Steve’s accountant. He’d opened an estate bank account and had begun to deal with the financial aftermath of this mind-numbing tragedy.

Unfortunately, his sister’s family hadn’t been financially stable. They owed a lot on their expensive home and car. And Steve had just taken out an operating loan for his new business.

Add onto that the medical bill he’d just discovered this morning at their house and the whole situation turned very grim. Once the dust settled, Nolan was afraid there would be no nest egg for Sammy and her future education.

Nolan buckled his niece into the back seat of the Explorer and set off for The Birth Place. He might as well take care of this latest problem right away. According to the invoice he’d found, his sister’s account was already several months in arrears.

So far, most of Steve and Mary’s creditors had been sympathetic. They had an account with the dry cleaners, the dealership where they serviced their vehicle and several other local businesses. Nolan had met with most of them in the past two days. Everyone had been very kind, assuring him they were happy to wait until the assets had cleared probate before receiving their money.

He’d left Sammy at the Bulletin while he’d gone on those appointments, but poor Toni was already strained with the extra work he’d piled on her. Today he’d decided he just couldn’t expect her to add child care to her job list—even though she professed herself more than willing to help him out. She was too valuable an employee to abuse in that way. Besides, she wasn’t exactly young anymore.

Nolan pulled into the parking lot of The Birth Place. Steve and Mary owed this place more money than all the bills he’d dealt with so far combined. Still, he hoped the accountant here would be as sympathetic to his situation as the other creditors had been.

A MERE TWO WEEKS HAD PASSED since Lydia had put her in charge of the Mother and Child Reunion and already Kim had a venue booked, invitations designed and most of the guest list compiled. A few days ago, Lydia had taken her to lunch. Kim had run through her ideas and Lydia had approved every last one of them.

“Who have you got helping you so far?” she’d asked.

Kim had been vague in her reply. Didn’t Lydia think she was capable of handling the project on her own? Well, Kim was certainly going to show her.

A rap at Kim’s office door distracted her. Trish Linden apologized immediately for the interruption. “I know you’re busy, but someone would like to see you.”

People didn’t come to see Kim. Kim dealt with all her business over the phone. She frowned at Trish, but before she could ask for more details, Trish had backed out and a tall sandy-haired man strode into the room.

A little girl trailed behind him. Huge, sad eyes. Red, pursed lips. Her denim overalls were stained with something orange and her hair was a tangled mess. In her arms she carried The Giving Tree, a Shel Silverstein book.

The man smiled, a full-wattage grin that showcased great teeth and bright, intelligent eyes. He could have been a young college professor with his slightly rumpled jacket and curly hair worn a little too long. The look might be appealing to some women, but Kim didn’t trust the charm the man displayed so easily.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Isn’t it obvious that you are? We don’t have an appointment, do we?”

His eyes widened. She could tell she’d surprised him with her rudeness, but she didn’t care. She’d been hired to work with numbers, not clients.

“I won’t take much of your time. I didn’t realize I needed to phone ahead.”

He tried his smile again, but it faded rapidly when she didn’t return it.

“Look, I’ll phone ahead next time, okay? But since I’m here and I’ve already interrupted your very important work…”

She didn’t allow herself to react to the slightly sarcastic tone in his voice.

“We might as well settle this thing, don’t you think?”

“And what thing would that be?”

A ghost of his charming smile returned, and she knew he was going to ask for some sort of concession. He must have brought his daughter along in a sympathy bid. Those tactics disgusted her.

“I have an outstanding invoice to discuss. I’m Nolan McKinnon, by the way. This is my niece, Sammy.”

His introduction startled her. “The editor of the Arroyo County Bulletin?” She’d been a subscriber for years—ever since she’d read the final report of the private investigator she’d hired with her first paycheck after college. That report had led her from Denver to Enchantment. It was through the classified section of the Bulletin that she’d found this job.

She still read the weekly paper with enjoyment—in particular Mr. McKinnon’s editorials. In fact, she’d become addicted to his editorials.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

He didn’t continue, and suddenly she realized she hadn’t introduced herself. “I’m Kim Sherman.” She stood to shake his hand. Almost grudging, she added, “I think that teen drop-in center was a real good idea.”

He’d spearheaded the organization to start the teen center. And even though she wasn’t intending to stay in Enchantment much longer, she’d made a generous contribution—anonymously, of course. She wished that when she’d been in her teens she’d had access to a place like that. A safe meeting ground where kids could gather to chat, do homework and play sports. The Enchantment Teen Center even had counselors available.

“Thank you.”

The smile he gave her this time wasn’t the charming one. This one was genuine.

“But you’re not here to discuss the teen center.”

“Afraid not.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. The invoice was stamped with The Birth Place logo.

Kim held out her hand for the paper. On closer examination, she caught her breath. The name in the left corner was Mary Davidson, the mother Lydia had lost two weeks ago.

“I don’t want to keep you,” he continued. “I just hoped we could settle this. You see, I’m Mary’s brother and the executor of her and Steve’s estate. Until their assets pass probate, I’m afraid I don’t have the funds to cover this.”

Kim looked at the little girl again. Was this the Davidson’s daughter, then, not Mr. McKinnon’s? She remembered Lydia mentioning that name, Sammy. Now the child’s quiet demeanor struck Kim in a very intense, personal way. She not only saw, she felt the sorrow in the little girl’s expression.

For a moment Kim was six again. The neighbor from the apartment down the hall was at her door. A police officer stood behind her, his hat in his hands.

Your mother is gone, Kim. You’ll have to come with us.

It had been a long time ago, but Kim hadn’t forgotten the overwhelming pain of a child whose world had crashed around her.

Kim had the oddest, most inappropriate impulse. She wanted to hug the little girl, to crush her to her chest.

“I’ve been trying to put my sister and brother-in-law’s affairs in order. I found your invoice in a stack of unpaid bills. It seems their account is over ninety days delinquent, but that can’t be right.”

She ignored him, looked back at the girl. “That book was one of my favorites when I was little.”

Sammy edged closer to Kim’s desk. “Do you keep stuff in those drawers?”

Opening the one at the top, Kim found a blue marker and a pad of notepaper. “Would you like these, Sammy?”

The little girl nodded. “I like making pictures.”

“Would you like to make one now? How about you go sit in one of the chairs beside that nice lady who walked you in here?” If she and Nolan McKinnon were about to start haggling over the Davidsons’ invoice, she didn’t want Sammy to witness the scene.

She glanced at the uncle. “Trish will keep a close watch on her.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Kim walked the little girl back to reception and stopped to talk with Trish. As she’d expected, the receptionist was only too pleased to help.

Back in her own office, Kim resolved to regain control of the situation. Realizing Nolan McKinnon was the editor of the Bulletin, then identifying the little girl as Mary and Steve Davidson’s daughter had thrown her a little. But her hands were almost steady once more.

“Okay.” Kim sat down and leaned over her desk. “We can discuss your business now.”

Nolan gave her another smile. The sincere kind. “Wow.”

“Pardon me?”

“Sammy must really like you. She doesn’t speak as much in a day to me as she did to you right now. I suppose you’re one of those people who is just naturally good with kids.”