Her Second-Chance Family

Willow let the conversation flow around her. She thought about the fact Audrey was going to let her learn to drive her car.

Willow stared out the passenger window and, for about the thousandth time, wondered about the family she’d found herself placed in.

Clinton and Bea were Audrey’s foster kids, too, but the three of them were definitely a family.

And a tiny part of her, a part she brutally pushed down whenever it appeared, wished that she were a part of their family, too.

But she wasn’t.

She had to remember that. Sooner or later, social services would move her again. Someday soon, though, she’d age out of their jurisdiction.

Then her life would really begin.

She’d get a job and have that apartment with shelves and every week she’d buy a new book to add to her collection...

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_169820ee-4f77-5275-bbbd-f3f97811de79)

THE NEXT TWO WEEKS, Sawyer made it a point to be home early on Monday afternoons. He rationalized that when you had a convicted thief mowing your lawn, it was probably wise to be present and keep an eye on your house.

But if he was honest with himself, he wanted to see Willow’s guardian again.

Audrey Smith had been on his mind a lot.

The first week, he asked her about composting.

She went into a long discussion about open piles versus closed barrels. He found her enthusiasm for compost amusing, but he was also slightly envious. He couldn’t remember ever being that excited about anything.

As Willow finished mowing the following week, he came out with a glass of ice water and some chips. “They’re organic,” he assured her as he sat beside her on the picnic table bench.

He wasn’t someone who generally paid attention to the very few groceries he bought. But he figured Audrey did, so he’d chosen the organic kind of chips. And he had to admit, they were pretty good.

Willow took one and studied him a moment. “You like her,” she finally said.

He didn’t need to ask who Willow referred to. “She seems like...” He searched for a word and settled on, “An interesting woman. She’s passionate about the things she believes in.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Willow said. There was a slight scoff to her tone, but he heard something else. Maybe pride? “Audrey’s passion for her new work project is why the kids and I had to spend our weekend at an overgrown vacant lot. We couldn’t even mow it because there was so much junk piled up.”

“Junk?” he asked.

“Yeah, the site is downtown. The city owns it. I guess there used to be railroad tracks that went through there. Now that they’ve closed down and the land reverted to the city, they’re donating it to Audrey’s project. It’s wild and overgrown. We filled ten bags with garbage, and hauled away a bunch of bigger items that couldn’t be bagged.”

“Why is it up to you all to clear it?” he asked. “I thought Audrey was the architect.”

“Oh, cleaning up that lot isn’t her job or ours, and she is the architect, but this isn’t a normal project. It’s a volunteer thing. She says that it will pay off in the long run. Mr. Lebowitz—that’s her boss—will get publicity and she’ll be building a legacy. She could have waited for fall so some of the schoolkids could help clean...”

“Schoolkids?” he asked.

As if talking to a young child, Willow explained, “The project’s meant to educate and empower us, whatever that really means.”

“Oh. And Audrey’s...”

“Certified, like I said. She knows environmental rules and policies, so they talked to her, and she wanted the project. Her boss got behind the idea. He’s technically in charge, but he’s staying behind the scenes. It’s really her project. Which means we get to contribute, too, like it or not. Well, when she got the project, you’d have thought she won a gold medal. And Bea and Clinton, too.”

“And how are they related to her?”

“They’re not related at all, either. She’s just our foster mom. No one else could have gotten foster kids so young, but she decided Clinton was meant to be with her, and since he was with Bea in his last placement, Audrey got Bea, too. She’s convinced she can save the world...”

“One compost pile at a time,” he supplied.

Willow laughed. “Yeah. And she’s convinced she can save all the throwaway kids in the world.”

Was that how Willow saw herself? As a throwaway kid?

Audrey and two kids came into the backyard. Bea and Clinton, he guessed.

Willow jumped up, as if she’d been caught slacking. “You’re early.”

“I brought Sawyer a present,” she said. “But first, Sawyer, this is Clinton and Beatrice...”

“Bea,” the young girl corrected.

“Bea,” Audrey confirmed for him. “Guys, this is Mr. Williams.”

Mr. Williams always had him looking for his dad.

“You can call me Sawyer,” he told Audrey’s kids.

The boy—Clinton—had rusty colored hair and freckles. More freckles than Sawyer had ever seen on one face. And the girl had light brown skin, with a long dark brown braid that ran down her back and landed at her hips.

Audrey and the boy went back to the front of the house and returned with a black barrel suspended on a metal rack.

Sawyer looked at Willow, who softly supplied, “Composter.”

“Of course it is,” he whispered back. He knew he was grinning like a schoolkid who just got picked first for the team.

Audrey set the black barrel down in front of him. “You asked about composters last week, so I didn’t think you’d be offended. It’s got a handle and you just give it a turn now and then, add some water, and soon you’ll have compost for all your planting beds. I thought you could put it next to your garbage bin.”

Before he knew it, she set it up and, with the kids’ help, gave him a rundown on how to use it.

He listened and nodded, and couldn’t help but think, What a weird woman. Odd. It wasn’t her composting and environmental principles—hippie chick stuff, as Willow would say. No, he could understand and admire that kind of passion.

It was the rest. He wasn’t sure he knew what to make of a woman who took in foster kids, volunteered for what seemed to be very time-consuming projects and believed in second chances.

Or third chances.

She seemed willing to give of herself with that project at work, but also with the kids she took in and now with him. A virtual stranger.

He wondered when the last time was that he gave something of himself with no expectation of getting something in return.