A Daughter's Trust

A time when she’d thought about writing to him, begging him to come home to his son.

A time when she’d hated him for all the pain and rejection he’d put Joe through.

“Comes from years on a fishing boat,” Joe said drily. He had his back to the man. “Who’s that?” he asked, nodding to her right.

Sue turned. Smiled at her cousin’s curious stare. Sam had moved on. “Belle.”

“Your cousin. She’s a couple of years younger than you.”

He’d remembered. “Right.”

“Is the baby hers?” Camden was sleeping, snuggled against Belle’s chest as though he belonged there.

Infants had an uncanny ability to adapt.

Especially ones who’d been passed from one pair of arms to another since taking their first breath.

“No.” Sue shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Belle’s not married. That’s Camden. He’s mine, too.”

With one last pointed look, Belle moved over to join her mother. Uncle Sam had disappeared. Probably to go check on Stan Wilson himself since the receptionist hadn’t yet produced him. Had he really been waiting for his mother to die so he could take over the Carson dynasty?

A dynasty of six.

“She’s cute.”

Joe’s words brought Sue back to the slight chill of the high-ceilinged foyer. She glanced over at Belle again, and then realized Joe was staring at the baby on her back.

“That she is,” she said, remembering the changing table that morning. She’d rubbed her face against the baby’s belly and Carrie had chortled out loud. The sound, one she’d heard countless times from more than fifteen babies over the past four years, had calmed her. Reminding her that everything would be okay. It always was. If you held on long enough.

“What’s her name?”

“Carrie.” Chosen by her mother.

“How long have you had her?”

“Since she was twelve hours old. Almost five months, now.”

“What happened to her parents?”

“There was no father named. Her mother’s young, has no means to care for her.”

The room was cold. The day was cold. Not even the memory of Joe’s friendship could warm her.

Grandma was gone. For good.

“I thought there was always a waiting list for newborns.”

“Her mother won’t give her up. She has six months to complete a state-ordered program as part of the process of getting her back.”

“How long until she regains custody?”

“Depends on the mother. Could be months. A year or two. Never. In the meantime, because she can’t be adopted, I keep the baby.”

“You could have her for years?”

“I could.” Sue couldn’t allow herself to consider the possibility or she’d get too attached. “It’s not likely, though. I’m sure her mother will come through. She wants this baby more than anything. In all my years of fostering, I’ve never had a baby for more than nine months.”

And in all the years she’d worked for Joe, he’d never asked her a single question about the kids in her care.