The Baby Barter. Patty Smith Hall
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tone had just the right combination of chastisement and concern that came from years of caring for other people’s children. He straightened in his seat. “Nothing, Ms. Aurora.”
She studied him a long moment until he felt himself start to squirm again. “It don’t look like nothing to me.”
Billy Warner, the oldest of Aurora’s current batch of foster children at twelve years old, pushed himself out of his chair, his cane anchored against his side as he stretched up to get a better look down the rows of chairs that lined the makeshift aisle. “Is Claire up to something? I knew she’d get bored with all this wishy-washy romantic stuff.”
Mack’s lips twitched as he put his free hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently pushed him back into his seat. “Claire is on her best behavior today. That girl’s been looking forward to seeing her parents get remarried since her daddy showed up back in town.” John and Merrilee had a troubled past—filled with misunderstandings and manipulations by her family meant to keep them apart. But they’d triumphed over it all, as this wedding proved. And their twelve-year-old daughter couldn’t be happier.
“Maybe.” Billy blew out a snort. “But the ceremony’s been over for a good five minutes, and we’re still sitting here when we could be eating some of that spread Miss Merrilee has been cooking for the last week. I’m starving.”
Mack shook his head. The boy had a lot to learn about the female of the species over the next few years, particularly when it came to things like romance and marriage. Not that Mack was any kind of expert. His few attempts at romance had been shot down in flames. Maybe women and the workings of their hearts were the only mystery he wouldn’t ever solve.
A faint whimper drew his gaze, and Mack found himself staring into a pair of pale blue eyes wide with just a slight hint of irritation, plump baby fingers reaching for him, her tiny body squirming in Ms. Aurora’s arms. Technically, little Sarah was in Ms. Aurora’s care until the adoption was approved, but both Mack and the baby knew the truth—he was the one who had been there for her, loving her since she was dropped into his arms on the day she was born. He was her father in every way that mattered. If only he could push Judge Wakefield to make it legal.
Ms. Aurora shifted the child in her arms and held her out to Mack. “Looks like someone wants to see her daddy.”
“Come here, doodlebug.” Mack scooped up the baby, her warm little body instantly nestling against his chest. She reached up and Mack caught the tips of her fingers between his lips, nibbling gently, enjoying this new game Sarah had discovered in the past day or two. Her lips turned up in a gaping smile, the jagged pink line just under her nose the only evidence of her most recent surgery to fix the cleft palate she’d been born with. A wave of love like nothing he’d ever known speared through him.
“Really, Sheriff,” Ms. Aurora whispered as she caught the baby’s hands and wiped her tiny fingers dry with a billowy cotton cloth. “You need to teach her to keep her hands to herself.”
“It’s just a game we play.” Mack held out a finger to the baby, who eyed it for a moment before grasping it between her palms and drawing it to her gaping mouth. “Besides, I think she’s teething. At least, that’s what it sounds like from all the books I’ve read.”
The elderly woman shook her head as she extracted his finger from the little girl’s grip. “You’re spoiling her silly, Mack.”
“I can’t help it.” He lifted her up, brushed a quick kiss against Sarah’s silky hair, then smiled. “And what girl doesn’t deserve a little bit of spoiling?”
“Not every moment of every day,” the older woman scolded.
Mack silently disagreed. They’d almost lost Sarah during her last surgery to correct the disfigurement to her mouth and nose, and there was still one more surgery to come. It would be a hard trial for anyone to face, particularly a baby who had already faced too much pain and rejection in her short life.
She’d been abandoned by her young mother just hours after she’d been born. Mack had gotten the call to pick up the baby that day—Victory in Europe Day—and deliver her to the only place that would take a child with such severe anomalies. In the short half-hour drive to Ms. Aurora’s, Mack had found his attention riveted to the tiny infant lying swaddled in a ragged blanket in a cardboard box fashioned into a makeshift crib. By the time they’d turned into the dirt driveway leading to the older woman’s home, he’d known he wanted to adopt this child and raise her as his own daughter.
As if she had a window into his worries, Ms. Aurora laid a comforting hand on his arm. “You heard anything from Judge Wakefield about when you can finally take Sarah home?”
Mack shook his head. “Not yet.”
“That’s Ethan for you. Taking his ever-loving sweet time about things.” The older woman gave a little huff. “I swear that man is as slow as molasses in the dead of winter.”
Mack couldn’t argue with her there. Judge Wakefield was known in town for his persnickety approach to his duties, but Mack had an inkling this situation was related more to the man’s personal dislike of him.
“Well, what’s Red doing to get the adoption finalized? I figured with all the money you’re paying that boy, he would have closed this case by now.”
Mack’s lips twitched. Red had never grown up from being “that boy” to Ms. Aurora, not since he’d filled up the town fountain with laundry soap when he was just ten years old. She didn’t seem to realize that he had become one of the leading attorneys in the state.
But Aurora did have a point. Red should have gotten everything resolved by now. Since taking this case, one thing after another had gotten in the way of finalizing the adoption. “He’s supposed to be here today. I thought I’d corner him with a piece of Merrilee’s juicy chocolate cake and see what the holdup is.”
“The way things are going, Sarah will be a woman fully grown before you take her home.” Ms. Aurora gently patted the baby’s back.
Billy turned to them, his finger pressed against his lips. “Claire’s giving us the eye.”
Mack glanced up to where the wedding party had gathered. Claire stood beside her mother, her lips drawn into a stern line. Boy, John and Merrilee would have their hands full with that one, especially when the boys began to come courting.
Mack leaned back in his chair, a smile threatening along the corners of his mouth. What would Sarah be like at that age? Full of sass and determination? A tomboy more interested in Atlanta Crackers baseball games than school dances? Or would she love frills and lace and girly stuff Mack didn’t know a thing about?
Mack’s gaze fell to the bundle of ribbons and bows perched on his lap. Was he being selfish, wanting to raise Sarah without the benefit of a mother, no feminine hand to lead her through those challenging years of becoming a woman? He shifted in his seat. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to find a wife. A number of nice women had moved into town since the bomber plant had opened. He’d even dated one or two, but things never seemed to work out.
He touched the scar just under the hairline next to his left ear. Probably for the best. If God wanted him to have a wife, He would have sent someone who could look beyond his limitations, one who would love him just as he was, deaf ear and all. Until then, he and Sarah would do just fine on their own.
A slight pressure against his right side jarred him away from his thought, and he turned to see Ms. Aurora’s worried expression. Her pale eyes darkened into stormy gray as she stole a glance over her shoulder, her body rigid.
Mack lifted Sarah and nestled her against his shoulder. “What is it, Ms. Aurora?”
“I’m probably just imagining things.”
Mack doubted it. Aurora Adair was one of the most sensible and down-to-earth people he knew. If she felt something was amiss, nine times out of ten she was right. “Let me be the judge of that.”
She pressed her lips together as if deciding