Chapter 8

Monica shivered as she stood on the stoop to Luke’s colonial-style home. She was drenched from the cold rain, but hadn’t summoned the courage to announce her presence. The prediction that falling temperatures would create icy conditions later in the day had been enough to keep the school buses off the roads. Luke had opted to stay home with his children, telling her to rest and recover from her headache.

If only it was that simple.

Unable to sleep, she’d replayed every conversation she’d had with Luke against the background of Lydia Burkholder’s visit. It would be bad enough if he was marrying her solely to save his family, but what if there was something nefarious about the adoption of Devon and Derrick? He’d said they were from Eurasia, but seemed to gloss over the details of how he’d come to bring them home.

She sneezed. This is stupid. She’d catch pneumonia if she stood out here much longer. The only way she was going to know the truth was to talk to him. She lifted the brass knocker and allowed it to fall heavily against the door.

She caught her breath when Luke opened the door. She’d never seen him dressed so casually before, and he looked incredibly sexy in an old tee-shirt, well-worn jeans, and bare feet. The day-old reddish stubble on his face only added to the sense of intimacy. He was holding a steaming mug of coffee, which he quickly put down on a side-table so he could pull her into the house and into his arms.

“Monica, what are you doing out in the rain? You’re soaking wet. Come in. Warm up.”

For a few precious seconds, she allowed her head to rest against his chest while she closed her eyes. Please, let it not be true.

He bent to kiss her, but she turned her face and stepped away. If he kissed her she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

“Let me take your coat and get you some dry clothes.”

After shrugging out of the sopping jacket, she handed it to him to hang on a hook. While he jogged upstairs to get her a warm shirt, she listened to the drip, drip, drip of water droplets falling from her jacket onto the floor.

“Here you are,” he said, handing her a sweatshirt. “You can change in the washroom, if you’d like.”

Monica stepped into the hallway and looked around at the homey collection of photographs and children’s art tacked up on the walls. It was odd she’d never been in Luke’s home before. She was supposed to marry him in a few weeks and, presumably, this was where they’d live. “Where are the children?”

“I put on a movie for them. I can stop it. They’d love to see you.”

“No, that’s okay. Maybe later.”

After changing into the sweatshirt, she wandered into the kitchen. Luke handed her a mug of coffee. “Are you feeling better?” he asked. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep very well last night.” She stiffened as he came behind her and began to massage her shoulders. “Please stop.”

He moved to stand in front of her. “Is something wrong? It’s not like you to keep quiet if something’s bugging you.”

“I had a visitor yesterday. Lydia Burkholder from Social Services.”

“Ah.” He nodded his head as if he finally understood what was going on. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

She rounded the table and took the seat across from his. She wanted to see him, but be far enough away he couldn’t touch her. She couldn’t think straight when he touched her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t formally adopted Devon and Derrick?” She kept her tone at a whisper in case the children were near.

“It’s okay, they’re upstairs,” he said. “They can’t hear us, and we’ll hear them if they come down.” He sighed heavily. “You’re right. I should have told you, but the simple truth is, I just forgot.”

“How do you just forget that you haven’t adopted your sons?” She was incredulous.

“It was a complicated adoption. We were in the middle of it when Beth died. All my attention was focused on helping my kids get through that. I always intended to get back to the adoption. I just hadn’t done it yet.”

It didn’t make sense. He’d said he brought the twins home as babies and his wife had died a few years ago. They’d have had the twins for almost two years before her death. “Why isn’t there any documentation about where they came from or how they got to America?”

“There is documentation. It’s just caught up in a jurisdictional quagmire,” he said.

Convenient.

“It’s a time and place I try not to think about.” His eyes clouded and his mouth was set in a firm line. “The aid agency Beth and I worked with asked me to go to Eurasia for one last mission. It was a major screw up, to say the least.” He shuddered. “Bad intelligence all ’round.”

His voice had become rough. “I’d been in a village in Eurasia for only a few days when we received word that insurgents were in the area and they were heading our way. But the news was old. There wasn’t time to do a proper evacuation. I was trying to help the nuns organize the orphans to go hide in the mountains, but there were these two babies...”

“Derrick and Devon.”

Luke nodded. “There was no way the nuns could take care of them away from the village and we knew—or at least we were pretty sure—that the insurgents weren’t interested in harming Westerners. Sister Beatrice thrust the boys into my arms and begged me to take them to America, to give them a good life.”

“Did they get away? The nuns and the children?” She was almost afraid to ask.

His face had gone gray. “No. I hid the boys so when the insurgents came into the village I was the only one there. They didn’t bother with me. They chased the others into the mountains and massacred them all. I could hear their screams as I drove away. I still hear them some nights.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she reached across the table to clasp Luke’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked down at their hands and smiled weakly. “I brought the boys home on an emergency military transport. I knew Beth would welcome them, and she did. Before we could adopt them, however, we had to ensure they really were orphans and not just separated from their families. It was so chaotic over there.”

“That’s what took all the time,” she said, understanding.

“Yeah. The aid agency, the state department, a bunch of other organizations were involved. It was just before Beth’s aneurism that we got the okay to proceed.” He looked up. “I have no idea which of these agencies has the documentation Ms. Burkholder is looking for, but I have no doubt it exists.”

She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Luke was an honorable man. But the missing documentation was only one of Lydia Burkholder’s concerns with the adoption. There was also their marriage. She knew she shouldn’t allow the woman to play to her fears, but she needed to know the truth.

“She also thinks you’re marrying me so the twins will have both a mother and father.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He looked surprised. “Isn’t that best for every child?”

Monica pulled her hands back. “Just because a family doesn’t have two parents doesn’t mean it’s bad for the kids. Look at my family. My dad died when Cathy and I were really young, and Mom did just fine. We all know families with a mother and father that are definitely not happy.”

“True, but that’s not us. Look how well we get along. I’m crazy about you. The kids love you.”

“The kids love me, but do you?”

“What?” Confusion clouded his face.

“It’s a different kind of love, between a man and a woman. I want to know if you feel that for me.” Monica could feel her dreams slipping away when he didn’t immediately respond, but she strengthened her resolve and took a leap of faith. “I feel it for you. I love you, Luke. I’m in love with you.”

Confusion had changed to panic, and he stared back at her as if she was speaking a foreign language.

She had her answer and, as her heart broke into a million pieces, a wave of inevitability washed over her. Maybe tomorrow she’d rant and rave at the unfairness of it all, like she’d done when her marriage to Jeff had ended, but for now she wasn’t angry. She was just very sad for what she’d almost had and lost.

She twisted the diamond ring off her finger, placed it on the table between them, and rose to leave. “I’m sorry.”

Monica hoped the end of their engagement wouldn’t jeopardize Luke’s chances to adopt Derrick and Devon. She’d talk to Lydia, try to convince her that keeping the Donovans together was the right thing to do. But regardless of what happened, she couldn’t marry someone who didn’t want her for herself. She’d been down that road before and, despite his contention that they were good together, it would inevitably lead to heartbreak.

She grabbed her jacket from the hook and wrapped it around her shoulders, bracing herself to return out into the freezing rain. As she closed the door, she could hear him calling her name, asking her to wait. But she couldn’t go back.