A Child's Gift. Linda Warren
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and I’m going to do the same. So, do we have a date?”
He tapped his fingers on the wood table and then looked at her. “Yes.”
She relaxed a little bit.
“Your mother’s opinion matters because it affects you.”
“I can take care of myself, Rico. I just don’t want our relationship to end, and at our ages we should be able to say and do what we want within reason.”
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
She smiled at him and Rico glanced over at Dusty. “The date will have to wait until they find a home for Dusty.”
“That’s fine with me. I’m here to help.”
“What about the bakery?”
Her eyes locked with his. “I quit. I’ve had enough and I’m not going back.”
“What?” One dark eyebrow almost disappeared into his hairline. “How are you going to make a living?”
“I’m very frugal and I’ve saved most of my salary. I can afford to take some time to help you with Dusty until I decide what I’m going to do. That starts with our first date.” Her hands were numb as she stared at the salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder on the table. There were little blue flowers on them and she focused on that. “I want to tell you some things about myself.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I know everything I need to know.”
She shook her head. “No. I need to tell you.”
“Anamarie, there’s nothing you could say that would change the way I feel about you.” The warmth of his eyes said she didn’t need to say a thing, but for her own peace of mind she had to.
“Just listen. Okay?”
He nodded.
“In high school I had a relationship with Greg Holmes. We fell in love and he asked me to marry him. He gave me a ring and as soon as we graduated we were going to get married. We made all kinds of plans. He was going to take over his dad’s plumbing company and I was going to take over the bakery. But then I got sick.”
She took a gulp of air. “When I had my period, I started bleeding and it wouldn’t stop. I was in a lot of pain. It went on for weeks till my mom took me to the doctor. After a lot of tests, they discovered I had endometriosis, and they also found tumors on my ovaries. They did a biopsy and they were malignant and had to come out. The only solution was a partial hysterectomy.” She paused and looked directly at him. “I’ll never be able to have children.”
The sadness on his face gave her the courage to continue. “Greg said it didn’t matter. We’d get married anyway and adopt. Then rumors started to spread around town about Greg and Charlotte Carter. Finally, he came to see me and said he couldn’t go through with the wedding. That he wanted children of his own. He was sorry, but that was the way he felt. I was devastated and depressed for a long time. I just poured myself into work. My only thought was that I would be the old maid of Horseshoe, Texas.”
He reached across the table for her hand and held it between his warm palms. “No. You’re a beautiful vibrant woman and Greg is a jerk.”
His hands were rough. She could feel the calluses that indicated how hard he worked. At the understanding in his eyes, she kept talking. “It made me feel less of a woman.” He made to speak and she stopped him with a raised hand. “I know it doesn’t matter to you. You don’t even have to tell me that. Somehow I know deep in my heart that you would never hurt me.”
He stroked the back of her hand. “Do you ever see Greg?”
“Oh, sure. He comes into the bakery all the time with his three girls and Charlotte. At first I avoided them, but now it doesn’t even matter. They’re just another group of customers.”
He continued to stroke her hand and she’d never felt anything so good. “Let’s see if I got this right. That’s the reason your mother is so protective of you?”
“Yes. She doesn’t want anyone to know I can’t have children. It somehow diminishes me in her sight and she thinks it would in other people’s eyes, too.”
“Wow. You have some mother, but in a way I guess I can see that she’s trying to keep you from getting hurt again.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes.
Rico’s phone buzzed, interrupting them. He looked at his phone and said, “It’s Wyatt. Maybe they’ve found a relative to take Dusty.” He got up to answer it and she followed.
“Hey, Wyatt.” Rico talked for a minute and then clicked off. “Wyatt wants me to bring Dusty into the office. The CPS worker will be there and she’s going to talk to Dustin’s mother in prison and let Dusty talk to her, too.”
“Then we better go.”
He stared at her for a moment and she wasn’t sure what to read in his expression. “I said I would help you with him.”
“Are you sure? Because, you know, we’re going to have to give him back.”
She did something she was never bold enough to do. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face on his solid chest. “I can handle it.” She never met anyone who was so concerned about her feelings or about her. She got lost in the shuffle of her family. But with Rico, she came first. She felt it and she needed that. She needed him.
And she hoped he needed her, too.
THEY WENT IN Rico’s truck and Dusty was full of questions.
“Why do we have to go back there?”
“We just do. Play with your truck and we’ll be there in a few minutes.” Rico glanced at Anamarie and he couldn’t believe all the things she’d shared with him. He wanted to show her just how much of a woman she really was.
In the sheriff’s office, he was introduced to Ms. Henshaw, the social worker. Dusty stayed with Anamarie in the outer office.
Ms. Henshaw adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses with the tip of her forefinger. “The sheriff failed to mention a big part of your past.”
He met her eyes squarely. “If you’re talking about prison, that’s exactly what it is. My past.”
“Still, I don’t appreciate being given half-truths.”
“We all want what’s best for this little boy,” Wyatt said. “So let’s concentrate on that. I did what was best at the time and I’m sticking to my decision and I really don’t care what CPS thinks, Ms. Henshaw.”
“You don’t have to get snippy.”
“Then let’s focus on what happens next.”
Ms. Henshaw glanced at the watch on her arm. “The warden should be calling right about this time.” As the words left her mouth, Wyatt’s phone rang. He put it on speakerphone.
“Sheriff Carson.”
“Sheriff, this is Della Riley, the warden at the woman’s prison. I have Darlene Miller in my office and she would like to speak to her son.”
“He’ll be here in a second.”
“Is this the sheriff?” A softer female voice came on the line.
“Yes, it is. I suppose the warden told you that your mother has passed away.”
“Yes, I’ve been crying for hours. Where’s my baby?”
Loud voices outside the door interrupted the conversation. Suddenly the door swung open and a blonde in a nice dress and heels stood in the doorway. She removed her sunglasses; bracelets jangled as she did. “I want to