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Special thanks and acknowledgment are given
to Arlene James for her contribution to the
A TINY BLESSINGS TALE miniseries.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“So,” Lori Sumner said, looking over her notes, “the official position of the agency is that marital status is secondary to placing the right child in the best home.”
Pilar Estes Fletcher smiled, her dark hair an inky froth of curls about her pretty face.
“Absolutely,” Pilar said, confirming Lori’s assessment. Lori made a note, adding this latest detail to the research she was compiling for a story assigned to her by her employer, The Richmond Gazette. Originally the series of new Tiny Blessings stories were to have been written by the newspaper’s star reporter, Jared Kierney. Unfortunately, a mining disaster in the far corner of the state had temporarily called Jared away. It seemed like a God-given opportunity to Lori, because, as a single woman with a strong desire for a family, she’d been thinking about the possibility of adopting a child herself, hence the focus of her story.
A sound at her back had Lori lifting her head. Pilar rose to her feet.
“Can I help you?”
Lori glanced over her shoulder. A girl stood behind her, a pink bundle clasped against her chest. Small in stature and dressed in jeans and an oversized T-shirt, the girl appeared to be little more than a child. Obviously of Hispanic extraction, she rocked nervously side to side before lurching forward.
“Her name is Lucia,” she announced in a thick, tear-clogged voice.
The next thing Lori knew, the girl bent and dropped the pink bundle into her arms! Notepad and ink pen scattered as Lori accepted the slight weight.
“I can’t keep her!” the girl exclaimed, before lapsing into Spanish.
Pilar came swiftly around the desk and the two conversed for several minutes, but Lori neither saw nor heard them, her entire attention centered on the bundle that now moved in her arms. A tiny fist appeared, poking out of a small, fluffy blanket. Gasping, Lori stared as that tiny fist waved, and the edge of the blanket fell away, revealing a perfect little face, reddened and scrunched. A baby. Brand-new from the looks of her.
Lori’s breath caught. She knew, knew, that God had brought her here today because of this infant, for this infant.
“Hello,” she crooned. “Hello, my darling. Hello.” Folding the delicate little body close, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank You, Lord. Oh, thank You.”
Lori rose to her feet as Ramon Estes strode into the understated luxury of the small waiting room, his long, purposeful strides lending an air of command to his demeanor.
Of Puerto Rican extraction and medium height and build, his face sculpted in aristocratic lines, the young attorney bore himself with grace, confidence and charm.
Confronted suddenly with the power of his presence, Lori wondered if it had been wise to come here on her own like this. From the instant that Yesenia Diaz had dropped her baby into Lori’s arms, Lori had been certain that God had brought little Lucia to her. She’d never dreamed that Yesenia might change her mind, and she could not accept the idea of fighting a custody challenge in court when this could so easily be resolved by simple logic. Why hire legal counsel when it was so obvious that she was the best mother for the baby she was trying to adopt? Determined to make Ramon Estes and his client see that, Lori sent up a silent prayer, unconsciously lifting her chin.
Ramon inclined his head as if accepting a challenge. Even the man’s thick, glossy black hair seemed tailored, from the meticulous side part to the neatly squared tips of his sideburns. Feeling unkempt and faded by comparison, Lori resisted the urge to smooth her plain brown hair and tug at the collar of the soft, mauve silk blouse that she wore with pleated gray slacks.
“Miss Sumner,” Estes said in greeting, his accent delicately flavored with Spanish. Lori smiled wanly in return as he swept a hand toward the door through which he had just entered. “This way, por favor.”
The Spanish, she felt sure, was a subtle but pointed reminder of the cultural divide between them, for she knew for a fact that Ramon was born in Virginia. He would soon learn that she had nothing but respect for the Latin culture with its strong work ethic, innate pride and emphasis on family. In fact, she counted several Hispanic friends among her most devout Christian brothers and sisters and even knew Ramon’s own family from church and the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.
Ramon himself was another matter entirely. Lori could not recall seeing him in church except for at his sister, Pilar’s, wedding last year. The two had formally met only days earlier, introduced by a mutual acquaintance at the Starlight Diner back in Chestnut Grove. Lori had learned then that her universe was threatening to come undone. While she had stood there thinking him the most attractive man in town, Ramon had baldly announced that baby Lucia’s birth mother, Yesenia Diaz, intended to stop the adoption and reclaim her child.
Ramon ushered Lori along a narrow hallway and past one closed door and another to a third. Slipping ahead of her, he thrust the door wide and stepped aside. Awareness shivered through Lori as she moved by him, her shoulder brushing lightly against his chest. He directed her to a seat, one of a pair of club chairs upholstered in soft tan leather and arranged in front of a neat, gleaming desk. As she sank into her chair, she placed her voluminous bag on the floor and glanced around.
Once a town house in an upper-class urban neighborhood of stately Richmond, Virginia, the gracious old building had been updated and divided into private offices. Opulent in the standard of a bygone era, with marble floors, dark, glossy woods and brass fittings, the place reminded Lori of her own apartment building in the suburban community of Chestnut Grove to the east.
The office was fairly small. All four walls, excepting the two bare windows, were lined with bookcases. A computer occupied a rectangular table abutting the desk, which held several small framed photos of Ramon’s parents, sister Pilar and brother-in-law, Zach, as well as his soon-to-be-adopted niece and nephew, who would shortly be joined by the child Pilar now carried. Ramon Estes was evidently a proud and caring son, brother and uncle. Lori took hope from that.
He walked around the desk and lowered himself into a comfortable brown leather chair. After adjusting his cuffs, he brought his hands together in the center of the desk and simply looked at her.
For a moment Lori could do nothing but look back, taking in the rugged contours of his face. Just short of rawboned with a high forehead, square jaw and chin, prominent cheekbones and a neat, slightly jutting brow over deeply set eyes, a nose neither too long nor short and lips neither too full nor spare, his was a compelling visage.
Lori fought the urge to smooth her hair again by tucking one side behind her ear. She was not here to impress anyone with her own bland looks; she was here to make Ramon Estes see reason, and through him, hopefully, his client. She opened her mouth and, without preamble, began to speak, laying out the first of her well-rehearsed arguments.
“I am twenty-seven years old.”
The black slashes of his eyebrows shot upward, telling her how very abrupt the statement had sounded. Grimacing inwardly, she watched him lean back into his chair and wave a languid hand, each movement controlled and calculated.
“And I am thirty-two. Now that we have established ages, I expect you will come to the point.”
Lori rolled her eyes. “The point is, I have a full decade on Yesenia Diaz. She is only a senior in high school, while I am a mature woman well established in my career as a reporter.”
Ramon fixed Lori with a gaze that, though intense, gave away nothing. “My abuela was but eighteen when she gave birth to my mother, and she turned out well. In fact, I know of no finer woman than my own mother.” He had made his point. Age would not be an issue in this; he would not allow it.
Words tumbled out of Lori’s mouth without forethought. “At least your grandmother was married to your abeulo,” she snapped, letting him know that she could claim a little Spanish, at least.
He tilted his head, retorting dryly, “Congratulations. I was unaware that you had married.”
“Of course I haven’t!”
“Then, I fail to see how Yesenia’s marital status applies. That was your implication, wasn’t it?”
Lori bit down on her tongue, determined to be more circumspect in her comments. “I—I only meant that at her young age your grandmother must have been especially grateful for the help of your grandfather.”
Ramon smiled that blinding white smile of his. “No doubt. As Yesenia is grateful for the help of her family.”
Lori caught her breath. “I—I thought they were unsupportive.”
“So did Yesenia. Otherwise she would not have acted so rashly in giving up her child. But such is not the case. The Reynaldas are most supportive.”
“I see.” Lori bit her lip.
He sat forward suddenly, brushing back the sides of his coat and bracing his elbows against the desktop. “How much do you know about Yesenia’s situation?”
“I—I know that she lives with her aunt and uncle.”
Ramon nodded. “Her aunt, Maria Reynalda, is the sister of Yesenia’s mother. Both of Yesenia’s parents and her baby brother were killed when the bus they were riding in took a curb too sharply and tumbled down a ravine in central Mexico. Yesenia was eleven years old. She lived essentially on the streets of her small village for some months, spending a night here, a night there, catching a meal with whatever neighbor could afford to share with her, until word of the tragedy made its way here to the Reynalda household in the U.S.”
Lori closed her eyes, horrified by what she was hearing. She, too, had been orphaned and at an age even younger than Yesenia, but at least the state had stepped in to make provision for her, such as it had been.
“I didn’t know how Yesenia came to be here or why,” Lori admitted softly. “There was no reason why I should. One moment I was talking to your sister and the next Yesenia thrust this perfect little darling into my arms. It seemed meant to be, ordained.”
In fact, when her editor had assigned her to take over the series of stories about the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency for the newspaper, Lori had been silently ambivalent. Tiny Blessings and the scandals revealed by the murder of its founder, Barnaby Harcourt, the previous year, were old news. Besides, the new series of personal stories was the brainchild of Jared Kierney, the unofficial star reporter at the Richmond Gazette, so he should have been the one sitting there interviewing Pilar when Yesenia had burst into the room. Instead, Jared had been called out of town to cover a major mining accident in the southwestern corner of the state, so it had been Lori there that day when Yesenia Diaz had interrupted her interview with Pilar to tearfully surrender her newborn infant.
Lori had been certain in that moment that God had put her in that place at that time for a reason. All of her life Lori had craved a family of her own, and after she’d impulsively blurted out her desire to adopt Lucia herself, Pilar had calmly laughed and turned the tables. Suddenly the reporter had been the one being interviewed!
Despite being single, within seventy-two hours Lori had been certified as a foster parent and taken her unofficial daughter home. In a twinkling, all the years that she’d spent in foster care had made sense. Adopting Lucia seemed fated by God, preordained—but apparently not to Ramon Estes.
He shrugged. “You were closest. It was that simple. Yesenia sought out Pilar because she felt she could trust her, and when she saw you there, she thought you must be a coworker.”
Lori shook her head. “I don’t believe it was nothing more than chance! Lucia belongs with me. I know it in my heart. And I can give her a good home.” She ticked off all the reasons this was so. “True, my apartment is small, but it’s more than comfortable for the two of us, and when she needs more room, I’m sure I’ll be able to afford it. My work hours are flexible. I have a wonderful sitter coming in.”
“She belongs with her mother,” Ramon stated flatly.
“But Lucia has been with me for three months! I am the only mother she’s ever known. I couldn’t love her more if I’d given birth to her myself!”
Ramon pressed his temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand as if she’d tried his patience. “No one doubts that, I’m sure, but the fact remains that you did not give birth to her, and the young woman who did deserves a chance to raise her daughter herself.”
“Yesenia isn’t even out of high school!”
“She’s in her last year, and the Reynaldas will see to it that she graduates. Many young mothers begin with less.”
Lori snatched a deep breath and steeled herself to make what seemed to her to be her best argument.
Pilar had apologetically confessed to Lori that Ramon had taken the custody case primarily because Yesenia was an illegal alien. Surely, despite the tragic circumstances that had brought her to this country, Yesenia did not want her status known.
“And if Yesenia is deported?” Lori asked, fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice. “What then?”
Ramon stiffened. “Are you threatening to turn her in to Immigration?”
“I’m only asking who would support her and her child if she has to return to Mexico? If the Reynaldas are her only family, would she leave Lucia behind with them?”
Ramon relaxed back into his chair again, adopting an insouciance that put Lori’s teeth on edge. “I wouldn’t pin my hopes on Yesenia being deported, if I were you. It’s already being addressed. Immigration issues are my specialty, you know, and I’m quite confident that the circumstances of Yesenia’s entry into this country will carry enough weight to overcome any technical illegality.”
Lori gulped, dismay sweeping over her. She wanted to doubt him, to believe that this was more bluff than sound assessment, but in her heart of hearts, she knew that he was very likely correct. And yet, she could not believe that Lucia’s appearance in her life was mere chance. She firmly believed that God had plans for His children. Surely His plan for Lori was not to break her heart!
“I love her,” she whispered, picturing Lucia’s tiny face.
“I would ask you to consider one more thing,” Ramon said, his voice taking on a surprising gentleness. “Lucia should not be deprived of her cultural identity.”
Lori narrowed her eyes. “And you think I would deprive her of that?”
He seemed a little taken aback by her vehemence. “Not purposefully, no, but—”
“For your information, Señor Estes,” she said cuttingly, “I have already taken great pains to educate myself about my daughter’s cultural heritage, including the language. No child of mine will ever lack for—”
He raised his hand beseechingly. “I apologize. I did not mean to imply that you were in any way—” He paused and swallowed uncomfortably, tugging once more at his cuffs before saying carefully, “—insensitive. I only meant that Lucia would naturally be surrounded by her own culture in the Reynalda home.”
“But that’s the very home Yesenia felt was all wrong for her child!” Lori pointed out. “I heard her say it myself. In English.”
“No, no. It was only that she could not find another solution at the time,” Ramon insisted.
He went on to explain that Yesenia had always felt as if she were a burden to her aunt and uncle, who had a large family of their own. She couldn’t help being aware that they had spent a good deal of money to bring her here to this country. When she’d found herself pregnant and abandoned by the father of her child, she’d been ashamed and had hid her pregnancy until the very end. As a result the Reynaldas had been in shock when the baby had arrived. Yesenia had misinterpreted their shock. She’d felt that she was a disappointment to them and had made the rash decision not to ask them to financially support her and her baby, too.
“In her mind, there was nothing else to do except give up her child,” Ramon explained, spreading his hands.
“But why take her back now?” Lori countered. “Lucia is happy with me. I can give her the love and security that Yesenia cannot.”
“But she can,” Ramon argued. “The Reynaldas never wanted Yesenia to place her child for adoption. It goes against everything they believe. Unfortunately, by the time they found out, she had already done it.”
“Surely it’s for the best.”
“The Reynaldas don’t think so, and neither does Yesenia now that she knows her family will gladly stand beside her and help her raise her child.”
“Then why wait so long to file her claim?” Lori demanded, desperately grasping at straws. “If it took the Reynaldas three months to convince her that she’d made a mistake, maybe she doesn’t want Lucia as much as you say!”
Ramon fixed her with an implacable look. “She stalled from concern for you, Miss Sumner. That’s what has taken her so long, her concern for you.”
“Me?” Lori replied weakly, more moved than she wanted to be.
Ramon Estes nodded, his expression softening. “My client is not insensitive to your plight.” His eyes seemed to say that he felt concern for her, as well.
Lori didn’t buy it for a moment. It was just a lawyer’s trick designed to win a point. Wasn’t it? If so, it was terribly effective. She collapsed against her chair with a gusty sigh.
“I am not insensitive to her plight, either, Mr. Estes, but I believe I can best provide Lucia with everything she needs.”
“And I believe that Lucia is better off with her real mother,” he replied simply.
What he did not say, what he did not need to say, was that as the biological mother, Yesenia surely had more claim to the child than Lori herself. Bereft, Lori rose to her feet, clutching her enormous bag beneath her arm.
“I suppose we’ll have to leave it to a higher power then.”
He spread his hands, also rising. “I fully expect the courts to side with my client, ma’am.”
“I wasn’t speaking of the courts, sir,” Lori said softly.
“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, I shall make my arguments at the court bench. You may make yours at an altar if you wish, but I still believe my client will win.”
“We’ll see,” Lori whispered, turning toward the door. She kept her head high as she walked away from him, but she made her way downstairs to the first floor with eyes clouded by tears.
She’d never expected to identify so strongly with Yesenia’s situation. Yet, Lori believed wholeheartedly that God had brought Lucia to her for a reason. What could that reason be if not, at long last, to provide her with the family she had always wanted?
Upon reaching the foyer, she hurried out onto the sidewalk and then up the street to her car. With summer waning and September only three days away, the air felt soft with just a hint of the chill to come. Tossing her soft leather bag inside, she dropped down behind the wheel, aware that she had forgotten to lock the door earlier in her agitation.
Then again, who would want a basic, faded, eleven-year-old coupe except someone tied to the decrepit old thing with emotional bonds? Her foster parents, Mary and Fred Evans, had given her this car, already used and without a single luxury, when she’d graduated from high school. Lori had intended to trade it once she could afford better, but Mary died unexpectedly of a heart attack that summer, and Fred, who had been fighting cancer for months, had quickly followed. After their deaths, Lori had traded transportation for room and board with the family of a close friend, Joanna Tipps, now Allred, who’d attended the same junior college.
Joanna had not gone on to university. She’d married her high-school sweetheart instead, and now lived in Maryland with her husband and three children. Lori had stayed on with Joanna’s parents until she’d graduated. Joanna and the elder Tipps were the closest thing Lori had to family beside Lucia, but they’d drifted apart over the years, Joanna busy with her lot, Lori concentrating on her career.
It had comforted Lori, in some way, to go on driving the vehicle that Mary and Fred had sacrificed to provide for her, just as it comforted her to go to God with her problems as they had taught her. She knew that He had a plan, and she trusted Him, she truly did. It had to work out so that she could keep Lucia, because she simply couldn’t see her life without Lucia anymore.
On the other hand, it was so easy to picture the home that she could build around Lucia, an island of serenity in a turbulent world, a haven of acceptance and love. Lucia would never be the angry, sullen teenager that Lori had been.
Lori still marveled at the patience of Mary and Fred Evans. Working quietly, gently, steadily, they had won her over step-by-step, until one night Lori had finally whispered the words that they had so longed to hear. She whispered them again now, as she had so often over the years, in a kind of remembrance, a ritual act of praise.
“Thank You, Lord, for Mary and Fred, and making them care about me. Come into my heart and forgive me of my sins.”
The first time that she’d said it, a long laundry list of confessions had followed. Afterward, they’d all cried because they’d all been so happy.
Lori closed her eyes, wanting that for Lucia, wanting to be the one to patiently, tenderly guide her home to God. Never, never, did she want for Lucia or any child what she had experienced before the Evanses.
It was one thing to lose one’s only parent, another entirely to be the one to find the body. Not that she’d realized it at the time. At four, you just think that Mama is asleep on the sofa and won’t wake up. You don’t think—you can’t think—that Mama will never wake up again because such a thought is so far beyond anything you’ve yet learned.
It was only after the man and woman had stumbled into the living room and tried to wake her mama that Lori had realized this was not the same as all those times before. Funny, she couldn’t remember their names now, even though they’d been particular friends of Mama’s, friends who’d often spent the night after an evening of laughter and shrieking and other things Lori had tried very hard not to see.
She vividly recalled being asked their names after the police had come, but she didn’t know now if she’d been able to reveal them. Whoever they were, they had called the cops, gathered up all the drugs and beat it, leaving her there alone.
She’d remained alone until she’d been placed with Mary and Fred, alone in all the shelters and homes to which she was trundled over the years. It was as if she’d simply disappeared in some ways, and that was fine with her at first; so fine that for over two years she hadn’t said a word, until finally she’d realized that she would never again have a mama or anyone unless she somehow called attention to herself.
Some of the things that she’d done to make herself seen and known made her cringe now. They were all the wrong things, of course; the very things her mother had done. She’d been well on her way, in fact, to being the drug addict that her mother had been, until Mary and Fred had taken her in.