Child Wanted

A Mother’s Second Chance

Lindy Burnett can hardly believe it: she’s found her son. In the three years they’ve been separated, Lindy has thought of nothing else but her little boy. But Jerry doesn’t remember her—and he’s about to be adopted. His would-be father, schoolteacher Ethan Green, would do anything for the child—except give him up. Ethan has no idea of Lindy’s connection to the boy, but there is no denying the connection Ethan feels to her. His painful past makes him hesitant to trust her, but their mutual love for Jerry might be strong enough to help them find their way home...to each other.

“So, did y’all catch anything, Jerry?” Lindy asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said, “but Mr. Ethan said we’re going to get some Popsicles anyway.”

Her gaze moved from Jerry to Ethan, and he saw a hint of appreciation in her eyes that went straight to his heart.

“Yeah, sometimes those fish do play hide-and-seek,” she said, “but I’m hoping they won’t play so well the next time.”

“Me, too,” Jerry said, nibbling the end of his Popsicle.

“I got you a peach one,” Ethan said.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “But thank you.”

Jerry glanced at Ethan, and then watched Lindy as she tried hers. “Do you like it, Miss Lindy?”

She nodded. “I like this,” she said, giving him a tender smile. “I like this very much.”

Ethan watched her, eating his Popsicle and sitting beside his future son, and he knew she wasn’t just talking about the Popsicle. She, like Ethan, enjoyed the feeling of sitting on the porch with a little boy, spending time together on a beautiful early summer day.

And he found himself suddenly wondering if what she liked so much about this moment included him.

RENEE ANDREWS spends a lot of time in the gym. No, she isn’t working out. Her husband, a former All-American gymnast, owns a gym and coaches gymnastics. Renee is a kidney donor and actively supports organ donation. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband and bragging about their sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren. For more info on her books or on living donors, visit her website at reneeandrews.com.

Child Wanted

Renee Andrews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.

—Ephesians 4:32

This book is dedicated to the ladies who lunch: Connie, Gay, Linda and Marie. Life is so much better when I get to spend time with all of you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Jerry, this is Mr. Green.”

Ethan Green crouched to eye level with Jerry Flinn as Mrs. Yost, the social worker, introduced the four-year-old boy to the thirty-year-old man. “Hey, Jerry. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Talk about an understatement. Every day for the past three years, Ethan had prayed for the sandy-haired, freckle-faced child. He was fisting his hands in the fabric of his navy T-shirt as he edged backward, his eyes darting from the social worker to Ethan to the couple that ran the children’s home in this tiny town of Claremont, Alabama, where Jerry had been placed merely three days ago.

Ethan recognized the panic, the terror, pushing through his future son’s veins. He wanted to run. Or cry. Or both. But he also wanted to be tough. Be strong. Control the fear.

Ethan knew each of these emotions firsthand.

God, please help me know what to do, what to say, to gain his trust.

“Hey Jerry, I got some bread for you and your friends to give the geese.” Ethan held up the brown lunch sacks of stale bread that he’d purchased at one of the stores on the town square. He knew the twins belonging to Brodie and Savvy Evans, the couple that ran Willow’s Haven, weren’t technically Jerry’s “friends” yet, since he’d only met Rose and Daisy three days ago, but Ethan wanted him to know that they would be. It was important for Jerry to understand that he would have friends and that he now had people who cared about him in his life.

Like Ethan.

“You got bread for us?” Rose hurried toward Ethan with Daisy at her heels. If their names weren’t on their pink and yellow T-shirts, he’d have never been able to tell them apart.

“I sure did.” He handed a bag to each girl and then waited for the little boy to approach him. Instead of moving toward Ethan, however, Jerry merely watched Rose and Daisy dart past him, their laughter filling the air as the squawking geese began a rendition of follow the leader, or rather, follow the bread sacks. Rose flung a piece behind her, and several headed for it, then she and Daisy tossed more on the opposite side.

The geese waddled beyond the girls to get to the scattered pieces. And Jerry held his ground, red tennis shoes rooted in place and hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

“Jerry, I got a bag for you, too. Don’t you want to feed the geese?”

He looked at the girls and then the sack in Ethan’s hand. He slowly nodded.

Ethan said a quick prayer of thanks. “Okay then, here you go.” He extended the bag, but Jerry merely looked at it, still not budging.

“I’ll put the sack right here.” Ethan placed the paper bag on the concrete edge surrounding the three-tiered fountain that designated the center of Claremont’s town square. “And then I’m going to sit and watch you feed the geese, okay?”

Jerry’s gaze fixed on the bag.

Ethan walked away from the bread and sat on the opposite end of the park bench from the social worker. “You may want to get it soon—” he forced a little laugh “—or those geese may go after it without you.”

Daisy giggled from the other side of the fountain. “Yep, go on, Jerry. You need to get your bread and start feeding them before they eat all of ours!”

Jerry shot a glance toward the girls, surrounded by geese, then to his bag, and then to Ethan. Small shoulders lifted as he sought the courage to step toward the sack. Easing closer, he snagged it as if he thought Ethan planned to grab it first, before Jerry had a chance.

Maybe that was the type of thing he was used to, but that wasn’t the way things were—not anymore.

“Great.” Ethan gave him a thumbs-up. “Now you can feed those hungry geese.”

As if his words were an invitation, the geese transferred their focus from the girls to Jerry.

The little boy’s blue eyes widened, hinting at obvious fright at the onslaught of the noisy animals.

Ethan knew better than to rush toward the child, so he instead leaned forward on the park bench and spoke soothingly. “It’s okay, Jerry. Just toss a few pieces away from you. You can even throw some in the fountain if you want. They’ll probably get wet trying to get the bread.”

Undeniably frightened, Jerry plunged his fist into the bag, grabbed a handful of bread and flung it into the fountain. As predicted, the geese headed into the splashing water, dipping their heads beneath the surface and wiggling their backsides in an effort to get the sinking and bobbing bits of bread.

Rose and Daisy jumped up and down, clapping and laughing at the spectacle. But Jerry clamped his mouth together. Was he afraid to smile? Had he gotten in trouble for laughing or smiling in the past? He also kept peering toward Ethan and Brodie, the only men near the fountain, as though expecting some sort of reprimand for tossing the bread.

Ethan scrubbed a hand down his face, at a loss for how to handle the situation. As an eighth-grade English teacher, he interacted with adolescents on a daily basis and attempted to provide a fatherly example to the kids in his classes. But he’d never spent a lot of time with four-year-olds, particularly ones who had been so abused that they feared the majority of adults.

Which was exactly why Ethan wanted to adopt Jerry. Every little boy deserved a father he could count on, someone to care for him and protect him. Ethan could do that for Jerry. He wanted to. He’d prayed to be able to.

But, in all of his anticipation for how this first meeting would play out, he hadn’t considered the extent of the boy’s fear.

If Gil Flinn weren’t a dead man, Ethan would have a hard time fighting the impulse to make him pay for the trepidation in his little boy’s eyes. And if Melinda Sue Flinn weren’t behind bars for killing him, he’d let her know exactly what he thought of a mother who’d stand by and allow her husband to abuse their son.

“He’ll need time.” Mrs. Yost jotted another note on her tablet and then slid it in the large red bag that appeared to hold enough files for at least twenty children. “He’s been through so much, not only with what happened with his birth parents but also another upheaval with his first long-term placement in the system not working out.”

Ethan nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. He felt even more empathy toward the sad little boy.

“But the good news is,” she continued, “based on his past experience with other placements, he’ll adapt to his new surroundings within a few days. He’ll still be a little downhearted every now and then, but I believe, given everything I’ve learned about you, that you would understand what he’s feeling probably better than anyone else.”

Ethan’s jaw flexed involuntarily. She had no idea.

“The previous couple who wanted to adopt Jerry didn’t understand how to handle his disconnect with the family unit. Children who have been through that type of emotional trauma need extra care to build trust. We tried to convey that prior to them taking Jerry into their home, and they had felt certain that it would be a good situation, but—” her mouth curved down at the corners “—it was more difficult than they expected.”

Ethan didn’t think much more of the couple who’d turned the boy away than he did Jerry’s biological parents. But now wasn’t the time to judge. Now was the time to let Jerry know that all adults wouldn’t necessarily disappoint him. Or hurt him. “I understand what he needs. Someone who will love him unconditionally. Someone who will actually care.”

Rose and Daisy attempted to get Jerry to join them on the other side of the fountain. “Come over here.” Rose crooked a small finger. “Watch the way they follow the bread into the water. It’s so funny.”

Jerry took a timid step toward the girls, then tilted his head toward their parents, standing a few feet away, and froze.

“It’s okay, Jerry.” Brodie took his wife’s hand and led her away from the twins toward a wrought iron bench on the opposite side of the fountain. “You can play with Rose and Daisy. We’ll sit here and watch you feed the birds.”

Savvy shoved her shoulder into the side of his arm. “Geese, Brodie. They’re geese.” She laughed, and the girls joined in, their happy giggles filling the air.

Jerry blinked several times, watching the joy between the family, and then furrowed his brow. He squeezed his hand so hard around the top of the bag that his tiny knuckles turned white, then he dropped his head and dragged one shoe across the soft earth.

Ethan’s heart clenched in pain for the boy. And apparently the social worker’s did, too, because she whispered, “God, please help him.”

From the night he’d heard Jerry’s story on the news, Ethan had wanted the little boy. He knew what Jerry had gone through, and he knew what the child needed. Love. Time. Patience. Protection. Things that had never been given to Jerry before.

And things that had never been given to Ethan.

“Mr. Ethan, we’re out of bread.” Daisy darted toward the bench, and Rose followed.

He had one more sack. “I have another bag that y’all can share.”

Rose’s lower lip puckered. “But Jerry is out of bread, too, and that won’t be very much for all three of us.”

“Rose, don’t be greedy,” Brodie called from the other side of the fountain. “Say thank you.”

“I have two bags.”

Ethan didn’t recognize the soft, feminine voice, and when he turned to see who’d spoken, he was taken aback by the stunning woman walking toward the group.

She moved shyly and slowly, yet gracefully. She wore a white lace-trimmed blouse topped with a sheer pale pink cardigan and a long floral skirt that nearly reached her white sandals. Strawberry blond hair caught the afternoon sunlight and tumbled freely in red-gold waves past her shoulders.

Ethan waited to see if anyone would introduce the lady, but they all seemed as surprised by her appearance as he was.

“I have some bread that they can have,” she repeated. “If that’s okay.”

As she grew closer, Ethan noticed more details about the striking woman. Arched brows above thick lashes that surrounded vivid blue eyes. Sleek nose, high cheekbones, full lips. And a trickle of endearing pale copper freckles dotting the top of each cheek.

She had one of those faces you would see on a fashion magazine and know that a masterful hand had utilized an abundance of airbrush skills. But this woman hadn’t been airbrushed. In fact, other than a soft sheen of pink gloss on her lips, she didn’t appear to wear any makeup at all.

Honestly, he wouldn’t have thought anything could take his mind off his potential adoption, and he rarely paid attention to any woman after how badly he’d been burned in the past. But then again, he was a healthy, single, thirty-year-old man, and he appreciated a pretty woman when he saw one.

Pretty?

No.

Beautiful. Very beautiful.

And from the way she glanced away when their eyes met, she had no idea.

* * *

Lindy’s heart lodged in her throat, her skin bristled and, for a moment, she feared she’d go into shock in front of all the adults who seemed way too close. Too close to Lindy.

Too close to her son.

Jerry. He’d grown so much, but she felt certain those were the eyes she’d loved, the cheeks she’d kissed, the little mouth that curved up at the edges when she’d tickled him and he released those precious baby belly giggles that she’d adored.

He wasn’t smiling now. His eyes weren’t full of life. And he was no longer a baby.

Moreover, he looked...as lost as she felt.

Jerry.

Was this her son? And if he was, how would she ever explain why she’d been gone so long? How did you tell a four-year-old that his mommy never wanted to leave him? How would a four-year-old understand the difference in guilty...and innocent? How could he comprehend that, though a jury had been convinced she was a murderer, they had been so very terribly wrong?

A blond-haired girl with Daisy on her shirt ran toward Lindy. “Can I have one of your bags? Rose got the last one from Mr. Ethan.” She pointed to the man seated on the park bench nearest Lindy.

Even sitting down, he gave the appearance of tall, dark and—without a doubt—handsome. The kind of handsome that would make most women do a double take. Or simply stare. Lindy jerked her attention away from the man and back to the boy.

“That’s Mr. Ethan,” Daisy continued. “What’s your name?”

Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze from the little boy to the girl. “Lindy,” she managed, then, still getting accustomed to using her maiden name again, she added, “Lindy Burnett.”

“I like that name.” Daisy bobbed her head for emphasis and sent blond pigtails swinging.

“Thank you.” Lindy liked the name, too, much more than Melinda Sue Flinn, which would undoubtedly spark recognition. And, most likely, disdain.

“So, can I have one of your bags?” Daisy asked.

“Sure.” Lindy handed her the brown sack and then asked the little boy that she believed to be her son, “Do you need some more, too?”

He looked at her, his head tilting for a moment, then his attention turned to the adults gathered around the fountain. And he held his ground.

“He’s a little shy.” The guy on the nearest bench glanced toward Jerry. “Maybe you can put the bag on the edge by the fountain?”

Her chin wobbled and she felt instantly stung, but she reeled her emotions in and placed the bag where he’d indicated. Then she moved to a vacant park bench to watch the boy she’d dreamed of holding each and every day since he’d been taken from her arms.

Take the bag, sweetie. Come on, please.

She knew she couldn’t let this group know who she was, because they were certainly affiliated with the children’s home that currently had custody of Jerry. But she needed to connect with her son. Some way. Somehow.

And she had to get him back.

Jerry studied the bag from where he stood, but when an excited black goose with a bright red beak waddled toward it, he quickly put his small feet into action. When he reached the sack, Lindy leaned forward so that she was merely a few feet from the boy.

“Hey there.” She studied those clear blue eyes, remembered the first time they’d looked at her, when the nurse had held him close to her face in the delivery room and she’d felt a love like she’d never known before. A connection. A bond that couldn’t be separated by space, or time...or prison walls. “What’s your name?” She knew this was her little man, but she wanted to hear him say it, needed to verify what her heart had already confirmed.

He took the bag, held it for a moment as he looked at her, and then returned to the other side of the fountain to toss his bread.

What had happened to him since she’d been away?

Dear God, please. I need to know. Is he mine? Is that my Jerry?

Her features tight with emotion, she turned toward the man—Ethan—sitting on the adjacent bench and for the first time noticed the woman at the other end. It was easy to understand why she hadn’t noticed her before, with the way he captured attention. But Lindy didn’t want to notice the dark, wavy hair, the warm brown eyes that looked so kind, so appealing. Or the smile that seemed so sincere. She’d fallen prey to that kind of deception in the past and she wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.

So she focused on the woman. She looked to be mid-thirties, with pale blond hair, and was dressed in a crisp white blouse and navy slacks. She seemed intent on surveying the little boy now timidly tossing bread to the geese. She was, no doubt, the social worker assigned to the case.

That explained why she was here, but how did Ethan fit into Jerry’s world? And what about the couple with the two girls? Were they the ones she’d heard about, the “good home” that her son would have when the adoption went through?

Lindy could have asked several questions to try to put the pieces together, but instead she asked the one she most needed to know. “Is he okay?”

Ethan released an audible breath, his full lower lip rolling in before he answered, “He will be.” His head moved slowly up and down, affirming his resolve. He sounded so certain, so determined, that Lindy wondered how he could be that sure. Because she didn’t see any way Jerry would be okay without his mother.

And she would never be okay without her son.

The social worker glanced at her bag, then added, “He’s recently been placed at Willow’s Haven, the children’s home nearby, and he’s still adjusting to the new environment. His name is Jerry.”

Jerry. Adrenaline burned through her at the mere mention of his name. She’d found him. This was her little boy. Her son. Right here. Merely feet away after so many minutes, hours and days—three long years—staring at the walls of a four-by-eight cell and dreaming of seeing him again, longing to hold him again. But the odds were against her, and she had to maintain her composure to have any chance of spending time with him now.

The attorney’s words from this morning’s conversation echoed through her thoughts.

Your son’s adoption may have already been finalized, and if that’s the case, it’ll be even more difficult for you to obtain custody again through a reverse adoption, where the court basically reverses the decision and returns the child to his biological parent.

Lindy swallowed thickly, looked toward her little boy and silently prayed. Please, God, You know how much I need him in my life. And You know how much he needs me. “So is he—Can he be adopted?”

The woman placed a hand on her bulging red satchel. “That’s our goal. I’m Candace Yost, the social worker assigned to Jerry’s case. Yes, eventually he can be adopted. And I feel certain he’ll have his forever home this time.” She looked fondly toward Ethan.

A shiver of fear inched down Lindy’s spine as the man between Lindy and the social worker—and between Lindy and her son—turned toward her and displayed a smile that typically melted a female’s heart, the kind that had once melted Lindy’s.

Not anymore. The only male she cared about now was the four-year-old on the other side of the fountain.

“I’m Ethan Green,” he said, “and I want to adopt Jerry.”

She looked beyond this Ethan Green, who with a simple introduction had become her biggest adversary, and instead focused on Jerry, now feeding the geese. “I do, too.”

* * *

Lindy’s jolt at realizing her little boy was merely feet away had affected her ability to choose words wisely. She’d spoken the truth. She wanted to adopt Jerry. More precisely, she wanted to regain custody of her son. Thankfully, she hadn’t made that statement, or the looks of surprise on both their faces would more likely have been looks of horror.

“You...want to adopt Jerry?” Ethan’s question smacked Lindy with the same rousing force as the water from the fountain hit those determined geese. It woke her up and made her realize her error—and also caused her to look at the man who reminded her of the husband who’d hurt her so badly. The man who intended to adopt her child.

Her. Child.

She needed to rectify her mistake, or she might not get a chance to spend more time with Jerry and find a way to have him in her life again.

“I meant that I would also like to adopt a child.” She prayed they couldn’t hear the wobble in her voice brought on by this landslide of emotions. After quickly organizing her thoughts, she explained, “I—wouldn’t be able to adopt right now, though.”

The truth of that statement slammed her with the same intensity as Nika’s fists in the prison yard, when Lindy had mistakenly crossed paths with the inmate known as the Agitator. Or Gil’s fists on practically every night of their marriage.

Lindy pushed the horrid memories away and watched her son, so quiet and withdrawn, the way he’d always been when Gil was at home and he was afraid of his daddy’s temper. Even at just fourteen months, he’d known to be fearful of his father. But when it’d just been the two of them in the house, when he’d been alone with Lindy, he’d laughed, smiled, played.

Would he now be consumed by sadness forever?