DESPITE HAVING NO reason to expect things would go wrong during the social worker’s interview with Hailey and Hannah, Chelsea’s nerves were buzzing like electrical lines in the fog.
“You’re going to pace a path in this rug,” Gabe advised. “Not that either the current owner nor I would care. Just saying.”
“It’s nerve-racking.”
“Obviously. You sure threw a curveball there. Adoption is quite a jump from considering trying to become a permanent foster mother.”
“Not as much a jump as it seems. The friend who gave me those foster care statistics warned me against getting too involved with the girls. Or letting them get too involved with me, because they’d start seeing me as a mother figure, which in turn would make them feel the loss so much harder when they moved on. Which can happen several times a year.”
“Hard to get your feet under you when the ground keeps shifting.”
“Exactly. I was trying to walk a line between being just the library lady and a friend and mentor. Like yours was in New York.”
The absurdity of that comparison almost had him laughing, but Gabe knew that she was dead serious.
“That’s a difficult line.” The one thing that the two situations had in common was that Carter and he had blurred their line from his very first year at Harborstone.
“It’s been getting narrower and blurrier every day. It took the fire and seeing what their lives really were, what they might never be, perhaps until they aged out of the system at eighteen. And even by then, they could be so messed up, the entire rest of their lives could be affected.”
“Possibly. But it wouldn’t be your fault.”
“Wouldn’t it?” She stopped pacing in front of him. “Answer me this... If you were driving across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, and you saw someone standing there looking as if they were going to jump, would you just drive on by and risk the chance of them jumping, or stop and try to help?”
“I’d call 911.” When her eyes narrowed, he lifted his hands. “And okay, although I see where you’re going, of course I’d stop. After I called 911. Because first responders are professionals. They know what to do.”
“That argument isn’t going to work for me, because what the admittedly overworked and underpaid professionals can do under these circumstances is shuffle kids around from home to home to home. It’s not their fault, because they can only work with what they have and I looked on their website and they’re trying a lot of outreach to prospective foster parents. But even if they get more, you and I both know that the opioid epidemic, which doesn’t appear to be going to disappear anytime soon, will only increase demand for homes. For beds. Meanwhile, two innocent young children might spend over half their lives without parents, stuck in a never-ending revolving door. And the most important reason I want to adopt them is that I love them.”
“I can’t deny you didn’t have a strong point before you got to the close. I also can’t think of anyone who’d be a better mom. Despite your attempt to walk that tightrope, it’s obvious that the kids have bonded with you. You’ve even managed to put cracks in Hannah’s protective shell.”
“So have you.”
“Even if that’s true, it’s a moot point. Because I’m not going to be here to deal with future problems. Not that you asked for my advice, but I say go for it.”
“Thank you.” She blew out a breath, surprising him with her obvious relief. “I had serious doubts I’d ever have kids,” she admitted. She shook her head. “I don’t know why I keep telling you these things I never tell anyone else.”
“Maybe because I’m a safe sounding board because I’m not sticking around that long and I sure as hell don’t have any reason to tell anyone.”
“I will admit that from what I’ve seen from friends, raising children isn’t easy. And it’s serious. The past days have proven that it’s going to be tricky balancing work and life as a single mom. But my hours are more flexible than most, and as you said, I have a strong support system, like your mom who thought of the day camp and welcomed Hailey into her home, your dad who pulled the strings to get them in the camp, and Brianna, who gave you all those recipes so you can make the kids a special breakfast.”
“That’s the easy part. I told you my mom taught us all to cook.”
“You also opened up your house, and not just as some sort of temporary hostel. By teaching Hannah chess and sitting through Hailey’s seemingly never-ending fashion show, you made it feel like a home to them. That’s made a big difference.”
Since he had no answer, other than point out, yet again, that his part in the girls’ care would last only a few more weeks, Gabe didn’t say anything at all.
AFTER THE MEETING with the girls, Mrs. Douglas left to pick up another child she’d just received notification about.
It had gone through Gabe’s mind as they’d waited for the social worker to come back downstairs that the girls’ presence hadn’t affected his work. While he’d set himself a tight deadline, he couldn’t work on the faering 24/7. He could continue to help out with the girls. Like taking them to the park. Or crabbing off the pier, like his dad and grandfather had done with him. Hailey had enjoyed her time at the farm, and he’d bet Hannah would too, although she might not readily admit it.
The idea was sounding better and better, until he remembered what Chelsea’s friend had told her about being careful about bonding. What if they started thinking of him as a potential father? Chelsea might be in for the long-term, but he was leaving before the swallows and Canada geese.
He’d have to try to keep his distance.
“Good luck with that,” he muttered.
THE NEXT WEEKS WERE, hands down, the happiest of Chelsea’s life. She’d always known that having her family disintegrate like a sandcastle at high tide had left a hole inside her that she’d never expected to ever fully fill. Unlike her mother, who’d simply faded away until she’d finally died, Chelsea had, as she’d told Gabriel, chosen to be happy. She’d learned to fill her time with friends, civic activities, and ambitious projects like the reading adventurers to always keep active, never giving those cold dark shadows a chance to catch up with her.
She’d found once she handed Farrah more responsibility, the librarian was proving to be exactly what the town, the library and Chelsea needed. Farrah’s first idea was to set up little free libraries around the county, where people could “take a book, leave a book.” Not only had she gotten the entire community involved in the idea, to build enthusiasm she’d devised a competition with various categories of designs. The most popular design was, unsurprisingly, Victorian buildings. But there were also whimsical ones, like the bright red Snoopy doghouse outside Cameron Montgomery’s veterinarian office, the Cat in the Hat’s tall red-and-white-striped hat and, almost earning its own category, the large fish-shaped box Bert had set out at his café.
It did not escape Chelsea’s attention that Bert had sought Lillian Henderson’s advice on his project, which had apparently required many meetings. Including one where they’d supposedly been discussing which books to stock the wooden fish with over lunch at the Lake Quinault Lodge. Some enterprising Honeymoon Harborite had taken a photo of them together and not only sent it to the Facebook page, but also to the Honeymoon Harbor Herald, where it had ended up on the “Around the Town” page. Which had her thinking back on Bert’s mention of having stood Lillian up for the winter dance, before she’d met the man who’d become her husband. Seth’s parents, along with Gloria Wells and Michael Mannion, had already demonstrated that romance wasn’t just for the young. Why shouldn’t Bert and Lillian—him in his early seventies, her in her late sixties—have a second chance at love?
It hadn’t originally been easy giving up control, but while picking up Hailey at the Christmas tree farm, when she’d asked Sarah for advice on how to juggle both family and work, the most important thing Gabriel’s mother had told her was learning to prioritize and delegate. “No one expects you to be Wonder Woman, dear,” she’d advised.
Chelsea thought about that all the way home, as Hailey chattered on and on about the two Australian shepherd mixes Mulder and Scully, and how she’d loved to have a dog of her own “more than anything!” The next day Chelsea had told Farrah, the assistants and volunteers that she’d be taking some time off this summer for personal reasons, but would certainly be taking part in the adventurers’ program.
“Why can’t I come to Mr. Mannion’s brewery?” Hannah had complained. The more comfortable she’d become, the more she’d started challenging authority. Which either meant that she was beginning to feel more comfortable now that the girls had been told Chelsea was on the list to begin her foster parent classes in September. Or, perhaps, she was pushing to see if Chelsea’s love had limits. If she’d someday decide that kids were too much trouble and send them away. Which wasn’t going to happen, but Chelsea had, nevertheless, made a series of appointments for all three of them, each by themselves, then in joint sessions, with a counselor in Sequim to help ease the transition.
“Because you have to be fourteen years old. Which you’re not.”
“Gabriel is Quinn’s brother. That should count for something,” she complained, looking directly at him.
“Sorry, kiddo,” Gabriel said. “Quinn’s always been a stickler for rules. And you wouldn’t want Aiden to have to arrest his own big brother for breaking liquor laws.”
“No. But it’s still not fair,” she huffed.
“We can take Gabriel’s shiny new motorhome down to Oregon and tour Tillamook,” Chelsea suggested. He had, indeed, decided that there was no point in having a list if you didn’t work through all the items, and although she found the motorhome to be an extravagant waste of money, they’d taken it to various places along the rugged Washington Coast, and once to Long Beach for the SandSations sandcastle competition where, after some practice here at the cove with the proper tools, they’d taken second place in the amateur category. “That’s supposed to be fun.”
“It’s a cheese factory.”
“You like cheese.”
“Yeah. Some cheese. But I don’t need to see it being made.”
As she’d hoped, Gabriel’s Viking boat proved to be the most popular with the adventurers. She’d already had them read selected stories about the Vikings, and, by the time the boat shop came up on the itinerary, Gabriel had just finished the red canvas sail. While it wasn’t yet ready to go in the water, he did invite all the adventurers to watch its maiden voyage at the Labor Day wooden boat festival.
“It’s not really going to be her maiden voyage, is it?” Chelsea asked the night after that adventure.
“That’s always been the plan,” he reminded her. “But if you want, we can take it out here on the lake before the festival.”
“The girls would love it,” she said.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. Hannah, especially, after all the time she’s spent at the shop.”
“She’s sincerely interested in the faering. But I suspect she’s also got a bit of a crush on the boat builder.”
“Does she? Is there anything I should do?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing. I looked it up and it’s a normal part of adolescence. The more she gets to know you, the sooner it’ll wear off.”
“Familiarity breeds contempt?”
“Not contempt. But she’s got you on a pedestal, and eventually, it’s going to crumble.”
“Well, hell, that makes me feel a lot better.”
She laughed and patted his cheek. “Meet me in the motorhome at midnight, and I’ll make you feel a whole lot better.”
“You’re on. That’s turning out to be my best investment ever.”
He wasn’t going to get any argument from her on that count. Chelsea thought of the foster mom who could nearly climax merely by walking on the beach, and hoped she wouldn’t get to the point where she’d have an orgasm every time she followed a motorhome, which, since that happened to be every day in summer, would be exhausting.