A Mommy in Mind

“Well, we’ve got a long weekend coming up.”

Ramon had forgotten about the upcoming holiday weekend. His family always participated in the annual community Labor Day picnic in Winchester Park. This year it would be particularly good to get his mind off work. And Lori Sumner’s beautiful green eyes. Getting quickly to his feet, he prepared to take his leave.

“Guess I’ll see you Monday.”

Zach nodded and hooked an arm over the back of his chair. “Glad to hear it. Now if you’d just promise to turn up at church on Sunday, I could go home and tell my very pregnant and equally emotional wife that I have completed my assignment.”

Ramon arched an eyebrow. “So that’s what this is about. No chance meeting at all.”

Zach lifted a hand. “She’s worried that you might think the two of you are on opposite sides of this custody thing. It would do her a world of good just now if you’d—”

Ramon clapped a hand onto his brother-in-law’s shoulder, squeezing just a bit harder than was absolutely necessary. “You may tell my sister that I will see her on Monday,” he said, “and that if she had a lick of sense in her beautiful head she would stay home on Sunday and put her feet up.”

Zach snorted. “Kindly recall of whom you are speaking.”

Ramon grinned. “You are a good husband. For a gringo.”

“I don’t know about being a good husband. I do know that your sister loves you.”

“And I know that you love her,” Ramon told him softly.

Zach said nothing to that, but he didn’t have to. It was all there in his blue eyes, a serene wealth of emotion that permeated the very air around him with satisfaction and joy. Ramon began to understand just how cold and lonely a mate even a good cause could be.

Chapter Three

Sybil Williams proved to be a thin, well-dressed bundle of nervous energy who seemed younger than she actually was. Shrewd, forthright and honest, she weighed Lori’s chances of retaining custody of Lucia at no more than fifty percent, and only that because Yesenia Diaz was an illegal resident. She expressed surprise that Ramon Estes would involve himself in a custody case, required a modest retainer and encouraged Lori as best she could.

“Estes is a fine attorney,” she said, “but family law is not his specialty. Let me do a little research and get back to you in a few days. I’ll have a better idea then just what we’re dealing with.” She stood and reached across the desk to offer her hand, a clear dismissal. “Until then, try not to worry.”

Lori rose from her chair and took those slender, manicured fingers in her own, painfully aware that fighting Yesenia could cost thousands and thousands of dollars. She would worry about that later, though, trusting God to provide what she would need. It was all up to Him, anyway.

Ten minutes later she stepped out onto the Richmond sidewalk. Heat rose up to meet her from the concrete underfoot and bounced off the glass wall of the high-rise building behind her. She longed suddenly for home, Lucia and the shady streets of Chestnut Grove, but she knew that any respite to be found there was only temporary.

She could hardly believe that she’d just engaged an attorney and was about to join in a legal brawl. And for what? Why? That was the question that continually bedeviled her. For what reason would God put her through this?

Lord, she thought, heading back to work, help me to understand what is happening. I know You have a plan. You must have a plan. When You sent me to Mary and Fred, You had a plan. When You directed me to Chestnut Grove, You had a plan. When You brought Lucia to me, You must have had a plan. There has to be a reason, a purpose, for all this worry and fear. Help me to find it. Please.

Surely that plan could not be for her to lose Lucia. It couldn’t. It simply couldn’t.

Despite the heat, she felt a deep and numbing chill.

Pushing Lucia’s stroller along the walkway beneath the trees, Lori took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure. She loved the summertime with the aromas of freshly mowed grass and burgers grilling over hot coals.

Smiling, she thought of Mary and Fred and cook-outs in the backyard. Along with the burgers and the occasional steak, they’d given her laughter and lazy afternoons and the confidence to be herself, things she knew that she could give to Lucia—if allowed the opportunity.

But she wasn’t going to think of that today. For the next several hours she would take a holiday from worry. And what a glorious day to do it! Of all the holidays, Labor Day must surely offer the most spectacular weather, warm enough for outdoor activities, cool enough to simply bask in the sun.

Sunshine dappled the people and picnic tables scattered across the broad, tree-shaded greensward of Winchester Park. Some people were tossing a Frisbee in an open spot across the way, and two teams played softball on the field on the other side of the little lake at the center of the park. A few booths, decorated with bunting, surrounded one of the larger pavilions near the parking area.

As Lori watched, a large, yellow dog chased a duck into the pond and reemerged to shake water all over a queue of people waiting to rent rowboats. Lori laughed, feeling renewed and at peace. For now.

Movement in the corner of her eye had her turning her head. Kelly Van Zandt, looking cool in slender cropped pants and a fitted, sleeveless top that buttoned up the front over her pregnancy bulge, her multitoned hair caught up in a color-coordinated clip, waved to Lori from the gazebo. She was with a group of people that included her husband, Sandra Lange, Tony Conlon, Ben Cavanaugh and his nine-year-old daughter, Olivia.

Lori waved back and aimed the stroller in that direction. As she drew near, Kelly got up and came to meet her.

“Lori, how are you? I needn’t ask how Lucia is. She’s sleeping the sleep of the blameless, God love her.”

Lori peeked beneath the bonnet of the stroller and smiled to see the baby relaxed in that soft, boneless fashion that denoted deep, blissful slumber, her tiny mouth working an invisible nipple on an imaginary bottle.

“Must be all this fresh air,” Lori said. “That or I rushed her morning nap so we could get out here.”

“She looks so contented,” Kelly commented wistfully, her hands roaming over her distended belly. Then she seemed to recall what Lori was trying so hard to forget. Dropping her hand, she fixed Lori with a sympathetic gaze and lowered her voice. “I’ve wondered if you’d called Sybil Williams.”

“Yes. We met on Friday.”

Kelly breathed a relieved sigh. “Thank goodness. She really does know what she’s doing.”

“I’m sure of it, and you were right. I like her a lot.”

“Good, good. Well, I’ll rest a little easier on that score. Come and say hello to the others.”

She led Lori to the gazebo, Lori pushing the stroller. Sandra beamed a welcome at Lori from a lawn chair placed dead center of the gazebo’s plank floor, her sparkling brown eyes so like her daughter’s. The resemblance ended there, though.

In many ways, mother and daughter were exact opposites. Kelly was slim and neat, even a tad uptight, while at fifty-seven, Sandra was on the plump side and more than a bit flamboyant. She’d undoubtedly spent a small fortune on hair spray over the years. Today she wore a little triangular scarf over her normal puffy, teased-up style. The checked scarf matched perfectly the large S on the shoulder of the bright blue blouse that she wore over a long denim skirt.

Kelly had been one of the first children placed for adoption at Tiny Blessings. She and Sandra had realized their connection only last year during Ross’s investigation into Barnaby Harcourt’s misdeeds. As different as they were, the reunited mother and daughter had grown close, proof positive, to Lori’s mind, of how God worked in the lives of His children. A survivor of breast cancer, Sandra still wore a pink rubber bracelet in honor of her recovery.

Tony Conlon, Sandra’s “particular friend,” occupied the chair at her side. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and suspenders—though why he would need suspenders, given the size of his belly, Kelly couldn’t imagine. She chalked it up to his penchant toward small eccentricities. Lori found Tony to be a delight with his quick smile, quick wit and white hair and beard. She often stopped in his shop, Conlon’s Gift Emporium, just to exchange repartee with him.

“My favorite girl reporter!” Tony exclaimed, showing a lot of white enamel and winking broadly.

Lori laughed, partly because of the old joke, partly because she knew it pleased Tony. A widower whose only daughter lived in Florida, he was a likable, charming fellow and simply wild about Sandra Lange.

Lucky Sandra, Lori thought, envying the older woman such devotion. Inspiring such devotion seemed to be a family trait.

Ross Van Zandt stepped up next to his wife and slipped an arm around her shoulders. Lori sighed inwardly. She wanted that kind of love, but she accepted that it might not be God’s will for her. Lucia, however, clearly was, and that, she told herself sternly, was enough. If she could just keep Lucia with her, she wouldn’t ask for romance or anything else.

Olivia Cavanaugh skipped over to peek at the baby. “Awww, she’s so cute.” Lucia sighed and squirmed, rubbing her nose with one tiny fist, and Olivia giggled. “Joseph does that sometimes. Mama says a baby’s dreams are delivered on the flutter of angel wings, and that’s why they jerk and stuff, because the angel’s wings brush them.”

Lori smiled. Joseph, Ben and Leah Cavanaugh’s son, was only a couple months older than Lucia. “What a lovely thought.”

Ben stepped up and laid his big, capable hands atop his daughter’s narrow shoulders. “Now, don’t wake her, Livy.”

“Oh, Lucia is a champion sleeper,” Lori told him. “I sometimes think maybe she naps a little too much.”

Ben smiled. “I wish I could say that about Joseph. He kept us up all hours for months, and even now sometimes that boy just seems to vibrate with energy. I think he’s going to walk before he’s six months old.”

“Speaking of Joseph, where are he and Leah?” Lori asked.