A Family of Their Own

She nodded, and he unhooked the heart-shaped pendant from the flaps and fastened it around her neck. “It’s a heart for Valentine’s day.”

Lucy peered at it. “It’s pretty.” She eyed Kelsey. “I’d like a birthstone, too.”

“Yours would be different, though.”

Peyton’s comment surprised Kelsey. “She’s right, Lucy. Your birthstone is sapphire.”

Lucy looked puzzled.

“That’s a bright blue.” Kelsey looked around the room for something that color.

“Sapphire like your eyes.” Ross tilted Lucy’s chin and grinned. “The same as your mom’s.”

Kelsey’s pulse fluttered.

“Sapphire.” Lucy peered into her mother’s eyes. “I love blue.”

Peyton fingered her necklace. “I like purple.”

Ross jumped in. “Well, I like purple and blue.”

Kelsey gave him a poke, hearing sarcasm in his voice. She feared that he had had enough. “What did your daddy give you for your birthday?” A new topic was in order.

“Three books to add to my Nancy Drew collection and a gift card for Macy’s for some new clothes.”

Lucy leaned against Kelsey. “Mom, I need some new clothes.”

Her expression disappointed Kelsey. Lucy rarely showed envy as she did tonight. Instead of a comment, she gazed at her watch.

“We’d better get in line or we’ll miss the show,” Ross said.

She followed Ross, but her mind stayed with her worry—the girls’ competition. Purple. Blue. Maybe rivalry was natural. Lucy sometimes butted heads with Cooper, but two girls the same age should have a few things in common. These two seemed to be at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Ross would do anything for Peyton. She would do anything for Lucy. So where did that leave her and Ross? At opposite ends, too?

Chapter Four

Kelsey’s spine knotted with anticipation, waiting to open the MOSK meeting. She pushed back her shoulders and pulled them forward, hoping to relieve the stress. Despite reservations, she’d settled her mind to her mission. She had to, now that she’d met Ross and understood his need.

Her gaze drifted over the women, recalculating a way to approach the topic without laying too much out in the open. She’d almost hoped Lexie wouldn’t attend, because she knew too much about the situation, and Kelsey knew she’d feel guilty if she didn’t put everything on the table. Facts, feelings and familiarity. Maybe that was the problem. Being too close to Ross and her roiling emotions may have undermined her wisdom and skewed her ability to see all sides of the issue.

The clock hand ticked past the hour, and a couple of women eyed their watches. She had to begin. The agenda gave her time to think through her points, and she hoped by the end of their sharing time, she would have the right words.

Kelsey clapped her hands together and managed a grin. “I’m glad to see so many of you here today. We have some things to talk about, but first, we begin by sharing.” She shifted her gaze to the back of the room. “I see a couple of visitors with us. Welcome. If you have questions, please ask.

We’re here to support each other in any way we can. Now—” she gestured toward the seating arrangement “—let’s scoot our chairs around to form a circle today. It’s nice when we can see everyone.”

The women shifted—some standing and moving their seats and others wiggling their chairs into position. When they’d formed a ragged circle, she turned to Ava.

“Ava, why don’t you start? Tell us about your week, and introduce yourself to our guests.”

Ava raised her hand with a wave, as if wanting to make sure everyone knew who she was, and began. “I’m Ava Darnell, a single mom. My son, Brandon, has Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He’s fourteen.” She gazed at the women in the back of the room as muffled sounds of compassion rippled toward her. “We had good news this week. This round, we had an excellent report. His blood tests showed a little improvement, and he has more energy than he’s had in a long time.”

Words of assurance echoed through the room before the next mom began her news, but Kelsey’s attention slipped into her thoughts and the voices faded. Though she tried to focus, she was concentrating on her goal for the meeting.

Ross’s image had rattled through her mind since Peyton’s birthday. He wanted so much for his daughter, but until Peyton was willing to give and take a chance, Ross’s hopes would never come to fruition. Ideas kept coming, but how could she step in and influence changes? Her actions would result in resentment from Peyton and Ross. She would make Ross feel like a failure as a dad, and he wasn’t. Ross gave so much. She saw it in his face and his actions. He tried so hard it broke her heart.

Lucy’s disappointment made her sad, too. She’d wanted her to be friends with Peyton, but the girl didn’t budge toward acceptance at all. She’d reacted the opposite and thwarted everyone’s efforts to extend her a happy birthday. Kelsey refused to put Lucy through that again.

But then she envisioned Peyton. Lonely. Lost. Forlorn. An ache flared in Kelsey’s chest. She would talk with Lucy and explain. Lucy could take it. She was strong and kind.

Kelsey’s attention snapped back to the women. She’d missed the guests’ introductions, and guilt assailed her. A moderator needed to focus and be on top of things. She rose and managed a pleasant smile. “Thanks everyone for sharing from your heart, especially our visitors.” She scanned the faces. “Did we miss anyone?” She would have known had she paid attention.

Blank looks stared back. She’d goofed. “I mean, do we have any other thoughts?”

Some heads nodded no. Others swiveled to scan the room.

“Then, it’s time to move on. We have two topics today. One has to do with a fundraiser we’d like to sponsor to help our members who are having financial problems. The other is one I’d like to bring up … again.”

Expressions changed when she added again.

“So let me offer this now as food for thought.” She lifted her shoulders and dragged in a lengthy breath. “A while ago we voted on whether we should allow men to join this organization. Most of us are single parents, but some are married. The consensus was that men want to ‘do’ rather than ‘talk.’ Most of us agreed.”

Heads nodded and rumblings of examples buzzed among them.

“That’s why I’m here,” one of the guests said. “My husband puts his head in the sand. He doesn’t want to face what our daughter is going through. He deals with the information but not the pain we’re all feeling.”

Kelsey nodded, wishing someone would come up with an illustration to support a man’s need to be open. “That’s what we agreed on.” Ross’s words filled her mind. “But recently I’ve met a man who is interested in a support group, and ours fits his time, schedule and location. I challenged him with the same things you’re saying. Men don’t want to talk about their feelings. They want action. They want to do something. And his response took the wind out of me.” She surveyed the room, hoping her next words would touch them as they had her. “He said that when a man has a sick child there’s little he can do.”

An intake of breath dotted the room. Some women squirmed, gazing at the ceiling or the floor, anywhere but at each other. “He said more. He said it’s hard to open up, but he thought he would benefit from hearing others’ struggles and knowing he’s not alone. And he thought he could learn from others’ experiences.”

Ava jumped in. “We do learn from each other’s situations. It’s taught me how to handle my grief and what to be grateful for. It’s easy to forget the good when we’re dealing with so much bad.”

Kelsey wanted to hug Ava. “I voted against men, too, but I’ve seen a different side of it now, and I realize that many single men have no one to talk with. They can’t show their feelings to their friends or coworkers because they don’t want to look weak. Where can they turn?”

“To groups like this.”

Lexie’s voice surprised her.

“Sorry, I’m late.” She pulled her shoulder from the doorframe and stepped into the room. “I’ve thought about this lately, too. Originally I was against it, but my feelings have changed since I met the man Kelsey’s talking about. And I’m sure he’s not the only one. We’re all parents. We love our kids whether we’re fathers or mothers. We all need support.”

“Thanks, Lexie.” Kelsey’s heart surged with her friend’s encouragement. “I’m not asking you to vote today. But I’m asking you to think about it during the week. Put yourself in a father’s position, and we’ll vote on it next week. Decide with your heart what’s best for all of us dealing with seriously ill children.”

Her hands trembled as she lowered them to her sides. “Now, let’s hear about the fundraiser idea.” She slipped into a chair, waiting for the tension to fade. Nothing would please her more than to tell Ross the group had opened the door to him and other men who loved their sick kids and needed support. Lord, please, give us an answer. If it’s not our door, open another one. Help us to show compassion.

Ross stood outside Ethan’s office door, grasping for courage to open it and talk. He liked Kelsey more than he wanted to admit, but his brain told him he was heading for trouble. But how could he explain it to Ethan and make sense? Ethan’s situation was different. Lexie’s boy had been fighting leukemia. Ethan supported her and Cooper without shortchanging his own child, since he had none. No conflict of interest there.

Ethan’s telephone receiver clicked as he hung up, and Ross stepped forward. Ethan’s back was to the door, but when he heard Ross’s steps, he swiveled around. “Hey, how’s it going?”