Rancher Daddy. Lois Richer
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“You’re adopting the child for life so it would be better to learn as much as you can before you act.”
“I suppose.” Luc nodded. “So what else do I need to know?”
“This isn’t my specialty, Luc. I’m a nurse practitioner not a social worker.” She sounded frustrated. Must be lack of sleep.
Luc knew ordinarily Holly would be tucked up in bed by now. She always gave her best at work but she worked doubly hard when she was on night shifts and especially when children fussed and seemed to need extra attention. Most mornings he watched her return home utterly worn-out.
“You’re tired. Never mind,” he said, sorry that he’d bothered her when she was spent.
“You should talk with Abby Lebret.” Her voice sounded calmer. “She’s the social worker who runs Family Ties and she’d know how to proceed.”
“That’s a good idea.” He stretched out his booted feet and bumped hers. “Sorry. I suppose someone will visit my place, make sure it’s all right for a child to live there?”
“I’m sure that’s part of a home study,” Holly told him. “But I doubt you’ll have just one meeting. It’s—I mean I think it’s more like a series of meetings and it gets pretty personal. Or so I’ve heard,” she added, ignoring his surprised look.
“I’d expect to be investigated.” Luc wondered where she got her information and then decided it must be from Family Ties. Abby and Holly were good friends. “I’d want them to get all their questions about me answered so there wouldn’t be any mistakes that would mean they’d take Henry back.”
“I guess that’s wise. But, Luc, there’s no guarantee Henry is even adoptable.” Holly’s smooth forehead pleated with her frown. “He might already be a candidate for some other family or it may be that he’s not eligible for adoption.”
“He is. I just know it.” Luc couldn’t explain how he knew Henry was supposed to be his son. He’d struggled for the past year trying to figure out God’s will for him. Surely having Henry show up as he had, asking for a family, was a sign God’s plan was for Luc to be a dad to Henry.
“I imagine Henry has a child worker assigned to him. I guess that person will be your first hurdle.” Holly tried to hide a yawn behind her hand but didn’t quite succeed. “I think we’d better get over to Marsha’s office before I doze off.”
“It’s time.” He waited while Holly collected Henry then walked to the door. “Are you going to stay awake through this?” he asked when she tried to smother another yawn.
“I can give you another half hour,” Holly promised. “But then I am going to crash.”
“Thanks, Holly. You have no idea how much this means to me.” Luc reached out and squeezed her shoulder. With Holly on his side, he couldn’t possibly fail to get his son.
“Henry has no home. I don’t see what’s wrong with bringing him to my place to stay until the adoption goes through,” Luc said as he took a seat at her dining table.
Holly watched as the tall, lean rancher gulped down a mouthful of the coffee she’d just poured, disregarding her warning that it was hot. Coughing and sputtering, he raced across the dining room to the kitchen sink and downed a glass of cold water. He made a series of silly faces as he tested his scorched mouth.
She tried but couldn’t quite stifle her laughter at his antics.
“It’s not nice for you to laugh at me, Holly,” he reproved her then added, “Certainly not something the town’s wonder girl would do.”
“Oh, lay off that nonsense,” she said, losing her good mood. “I’m not that wonderful and the town would know that if they really knew me.” Sobered by his words she reminded him, “It’s only been a week since you met Henry and you’re still treating adoption just like that hot coffee. I warned you it was hot just as I warned you it wouldn’t be easy to adopt Henry.”
“I never thought it would be easy.” Luc flopped back down in his chair and stretched out. “I just didn’t think it would be a lesson in fighting bureaucracy.”
“Please keep your boots away from that bag of fabric.” Holly’s warning came a second too late. “This is exactly why I need a sewing room,” she complained in an exasperated tone as she freed a piece of frilly lace from the toe of his boot.
“Sorry. I know I promised I’d work on a sewing room in exchange for your help, Holly. I’ll get to it soon.” He took the lace from her and studied it. “What is this for anyway? A hair bow?” He peered at it then studied her head. “Since when do you wear pink? You hate pink.”
“It’s not a hair bow and it’s not for me,” Holly told him, snatching the delicate lace from his fingers. “I’m going to sew it on a gift I’m making.”
“Another baby gift?” He leaned over to study the fabric pieces lying on the table. “Looks like a jigsaw puzzle but I can tell it’s for a girl. You sure do have a lot of new moms as friends.”
“I deliver babies. It’s my job to know the moms. I like to give them a little gift after their baby’s birth.” Holly flushed and looked away.
Shame on me for fudging the truth.
But how else could she explain without telling him about her online business? And Holly didn’t want to do that. If Luc knew he’d probably pass on the information and soon the whole town would be talking. She couldn’t bear to hear the gossips.
Poor jilted bride. That’s why she makes baby clothes, you know. Because she doesn’t have any children of her own.
If they only knew that she’d once held her own precious child in her arms and then given him away to save her father’s reputation.
Since it was Holly’s week off, Luc had made a habit of stopping by unexpectedly for coffee, ostensibly to discuss the work he did on her ranch. Somehow the conversation always turned to adopting Henry. A couple of times he’d caught her with her work spread all over the dining table. Well, it wasn’t as if she could just scoop everything into a box whenever he appeared.
“I probably shouldn’t have bothered you about this again,” Luc apologized. “But I wondered if you’d given more thought to selling Cool Springs Ranch?”
“Not again.” She rolled her eyes. “Luc, you’ve asked me that a hundred times since Dad died. I told you on Monday that I wasn’t interested in selling any of Dad’s land. Today is Thursday and I’m still not interested.”
“It’s not your dad’s land anymore, Holly,” Luc said in a somber tone. “It’s yours.”
“Yes, but he worked so hard to acquire this land and his herd,” she said softly. “He wanted me to have a birthright.” Which should have gone to his grandson. “I wouldn’t feel right selling off any of it.”
“Okay.” Luc sighed. “But when you do decide, you’ll give me first dibs, right?”
“If and when,” she promised.
“Good enough.” He wrinkled his nose at the brightly striped fabric she was about to cut. “That looks like clown material,” he said then added, “Have you got time to go for a ride?”
“Now?” Holly paused, her scissors frozen in midair. She looked up at him and frowned. This was about the ranch; it had to be important. “What’s wrong?”
“I’d rather show you than explain,” he said. “Then I’ll come back here and you can show me exactly what you want in your sewing room.”
“Fine.” Resigned, Holly put down her scissors and shut off the pattern