Chapter 7

“See, Monica? George and Martha are going to be married just like you and Daddy.” Devon pointed to the two geese that were leading the gaggle from the bird barn down to a sunny spot by the pond.

The weather had been mild for the last week with the above-freezing temperatures and sunny days melting much, but not all of the snow from the storm. The reprieve from winter wasn’t going to last, though. Forecasters were calling for a major drop in temperature with stormy weather predicted for the next few days.

The twins had become fixated on the idea of marriage ever since she and Luke told their families of their plan. She glanced down at the simple diamond on her finger and shook her head. It still felt like a dream.

They’d set Christmas Eve as the wedding date. She’d been afraid they were moving too quickly, but Luke had insisted he didn’t want to wait. He said he was uncomfortable having a woman who was not his wife share his bed with his kids around—even if they were engaged—and it didn’t feel right to leave the children with a sitter while he spent the night at Monica’s home. After two weeks of nothing more than stolen kisses, she had to agree: the sooner the better. As it was, the wedding was still a couple of weeks away and she wasn’t sure her vibrator was going to withstand the very active fantasy life she’d created since they had made love.

Monica followed the twins down to the pond where they were preparing to officiate at another mock wedding for George and Martha. She had to admit, the arrival of the new goose had been good for the gander. He seemed calmer now, less irritable, happier even—if it was possible to ascribe those characteristics to a bird.

In many ways, she felt the same way. While she’d initially worried that her attraction to Luke might have had more to do with his relationship with his children than as a man—he was a wonderful father—her doubts were erased after their night together. Luke was a passionate and considerate lover, making sure her desires were satisfied, as well as his own. When the sun had risen in the morning, she’d known beyond a shadow of a doubt she was in love and wanted to share the rest of her life with him.

She wasn’t naive. She knew his children were part of the reason she’d fallen for him, but being a father was a large measure of the man he was. She felt privileged that he cared so much for her that he wanted to include her in his family.

Of course her friends in California thought she’d lost her mind. They didn’t know the woman who desperately wanted children—she’d kept to herself her infertility and bitterness over Jeff’s rejection of her for it. All they saw was an independent woman giving up a successful career as a financial planner in lovely, temperate Monterey to become mom to six kids in New York State—and doing it in winter, no less.

Her own family was much more supportive—smug in fact. If Monica didn’t know better, she’d think her mother’s hip replacement had been a devious plot to bring her and Luke together.

Devon and Derrick had finished their ceremony and were looking for something else to do. She glanced at her watch. It was almost time for the other children to arrive from school. “Let’s get some snacks ready,” she called out as she followed them back to the yard.

A gray sedan was parked in the driveway, and a very pregnant young woman was struggling to get out.

“Hello,” Monica said, hurrying over to the woman. “Can I help you?”

“No, no, no.” The woman sighed heavily as she shimmied around to get her feet on the ground. “Thank you. I can manage. It won’t be much longer, thank goodness.” When she’d straightened and pushed closed the car door, she turned and smiled.

She appeared to be in her late twenties, with short blonde hair. She was wheezing slightly from the exertion of getting out of the car. Her bulky winter coat looked as if it belonged to a man, and she wore very practical snow boots on her feet. “You must be Monica Stevens,” she said. “I’m Lydia Burkholder. I’m with Social Services.”

“Oh,” Monica said, surprised. “I didn’t realize we were due for an inspection. Usually someone calls first, but no matter. Come on in.”

“I’m not here to inspect the daycare,” the woman said. “I’m here about Derrick and Devon Donovan.”

Monica glanced toward the tire swing. Luke and her mother had convinced her to leave it up and, despite her reservations, she’d agreed. The twins were given very strict guidelines about how they were to use the swing and, fortunately, at this moment they seemed to be following them. Derrick was sedately pushing Devon, but she knew their exuberance could escalate at any moment, and there could be a repeat of the flying incident if she didn’t keep an eye on them.

“Of course,” Monica said. “Derrick is doing just fine since the fall. There hasn’t been any sign of concussion.”

“You misunderstand, Ms. Stevens.”

“Monica, please.”

“Monica.” She nodded. “Please call me Lydia. I’m here about the adoption.”

“I don’t understand,” Monica said.

Lydia expelled a long sigh. “Would you mind if we went inside and sat down? I find it difficult to stand for any length of time.”

“No, of course not.” She called the twins to come inside and set them up with a snack in the kitchen while Lydia sat down on the sofa in the sitting room. She declined Monica’s offer of tea, but accepted a glass of water.

“Okay, I think you’d better explain the situation to me,” Monica said. “Why would you be here about the twin’s adoption? Is this some sort of follow-up?”

Lydia placed the glass on the end table and folded her hands across her ample middle. “I understand congratulations are in order. You and the children’s father are going to be married.”

“Yes.” Monica was surprised by the conversation’s change of direction. “Christmas Eve.”

“That’s pretty quick, isn’t it?”

Monica shrugged. “We didn’t see any reason to wait.”

Lydia sighed.

“Is there a problem with that?” Monica was perplexed.

“It depends on the reason for your marriage,” she said and shifted her bulk on the sofa, seeking a more comfortable position. The effort seemed to exhaust her.

A chill swept down Monica. Why would someone from social services be asking about her reason for marrying Luke? “What are you talking about?”

“People get married for all sorts of reasons, don’t they?” She waited, but when Monica didn’t comment she continued. “I’m not suggesting you’re doing anything illegal. However, you should be aware that your marriage will not necessarily guarantee that Mr. Donovan will retain custody of the two boys.”

“Wait a second!” Monica leapt to her feet. “Why wouldn’t he keep custody of Devon and Derrick. He’s their father.”

“Not legally. The adoption was never completed. That’s my job, to review all the information and determine whether or not remaining with Mr. Donovan is in the best interest of the boys.”

“He’s a great father,” Monica said.

“Who already has four children to care for. As I told Mr. Donovan: that would be a big challenge for a two-parent family never mind a single parent with a full-time job.”

“You’ve talked to Luke about this?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t understand.” Monica’s head was aching. “Why was the adoption not completed?”

“That’s a very good question. The Donovan adoption was among a number of files I inherited from my predecessor. While I’ve been able to close the others, this one is more difficult. There are a number of, shall we say, irregularities.”

“How so?” Monica was fascinated by the wave passing under the skin of Lydia’s belly. If their current situation wasn’t so distressing, she’d ask her how it felt to have a life inside of her.

“For starters, there’s usually a ton of paperwork associated with international adoptions. But for Devon and Derrick I have no documentation whatsoever, nothing to indicate where they actually came from or even when and how they arrived in this country.”

“Are you suggesting Luke’s done something wrong?”

Lydia shook her head. “Not necessarily. I’m just trying to get this file closed before my maternity leave. I don’t want my replacement to have to face the same mess I had coming into this office.”

Monica glanced at the woman. She had to be due very soon. “So you’ll be making your recommendation shortly?”

“I’d like to get this wrapped up before Christmas.”

Christmas? Luke wanted them married by Christmas.

“Your purpose in coming here today is what, exactly?” Monica asked.

“To meet you, of course. To try to gauge what sort of environment your marriage will create for the children—”

The cold chill of anxiety returned. “The other children? Their adoptions?”

“Are not in jeopardy,” Lydia said quickly. “They have all been officially completed and we have no reason to question their validity or the quality of care being provided by their father.”

“But not Derrick and Devon?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“So what you’re really saying is you think our marriage is nothing more than an attempt to get you to recommend that the adoption proceed.” Is this really happening?

“I am concerned that Mr. Donovan may have misinterpreted my comments to believe that is the case. You have to admit, your marriage is very sudden. How long have you known each other? A month? Two? I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t investigate every aspect of this case.”

The thundering on the front porch heralded the arrival of the children from school. Monica dutifully introduced them to Lydia, and then they all went into the kitchen to join Devon and Derrick for snacks. When they were finished, Lydia said goodbye to the children and Monica walked her to her car.

“You’re very good with them,” Lydia said. “But then, I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. Both you and your mother have excellent reputations as childcare providers.”

“You just don’t think I would make a good mother,” Monica said.

“On the contrary, I think you’d make an excellent mother. I can see how much you care for those kids. I’m just not convinced about the wife part. Marriage can be tough at the best of times. If your motive for marrying Mr. Donovan is to keep his family together, I wonder if it will be enough to sustain you through the rough patches.”

****

Monica held herself together long enough to watch the sedan turn onto the road and disappear from sight. Her motive for marrying Luke had nothing to do with keeping the family together. She loved him, but did he feel the same way?

She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to flow down her cheeks. She gasped as great sobs of despair wracked her body. It couldn’t be true. She replayed their time together. Luke had never actually said he loved her. He’d said he was crazy about her. He’d said he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d said he wanted to spend his life with her. But that he loved her? No, never.

Was he really no different from her ex-husband? Jeff had only wanted her as a vessel to bear his children. Did Luke want her solely as a mother for his? What was wrong with her that a man couldn’t want her for herself?

“Monica?”

She hastily wiped away the tears and turned toward Kate, standing on the porch. “Yes, sweetie?” Her voice was raspy.

“I need some help with my math homework. Can you come in now that your friend has gone?”

She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’ll be right there.” She watched Kate go back into the house and bent to pick up a fistful of snow. She pressed it against her eyes, hoping the cold would reduce some of the puffiness.

She was numb. Somehow she was going to have to get through the next few hours with the kids—and seeing Luke. She wouldn’t ask them to stay for dinner tonight. She’d plead a headache to get rid of them and then, when she was alone and could think more clearly, she’d figure out what to do.