For Her Son's Love

Ben was silent. It was Leah who stepped into the gap.

“First we’re going to pray,” she said. “And then we’re going to call Ross.”

Chapter Four

“Pleeease, Miranda. You’re the only person I know who doesn’t have plans on a Friday night.” Darcy clasped her hands together and probably would have dropped to her knees if she hadn’t been wearing her favorite pair of white jeans.

She’d trapped Miranda in the small break room off the kitchen when she’d stopped at the diner to pick up her paycheck.

Miranda wasn’t sure what amused her more—the truth in the desperate plea or that Darcy could draw out a simple, one-syllable word like please for ten excruciating seconds.

“Just for the record, I do have a date. With a very handsome young man. We’re going to play Chutes and Ladders, drink root beer and eat popcorn.”

“Sounds boring… Oh, you’re talking about Daniel.” Darcy looked relieved. “I only need you to cover the last hour of my shift so Greg and I can catch the nine o’clock movie. One hour. That’s it. I promise. This could be the night when he falls madly in love with me. My entire future rests in your hands.” She nibbled on the tips of her artificial nails and waited while Miranda decided her fate.

“I thought you were waiting for Andrew Noble to fall madly in love with you.” Miranda couldn’t resist teasing her a little.

“You were right. Andrew might be Mr. Gorgeous and Available to three or four women on this planet, but he’s Mr. Gorgeous and Out of My League to Darcy Gibson. Greg drives a brand new Saturn and doesn’t live with his mother. I’d say that makes him a pretty good catch, wouldn’t you?” She snapped her gum to underscore the point.

“I’ll work for you.” It was the safest thing Miranda could say at the moment.

Darcy squealed and hugged her. “Thanks, Miranda. I owe you. If you ever have a real date and need someone to keep an eye on Dan the Little Man, let me know. He’s into science, right? I remember some cool experiments from chem class.”

Miranda made a mental note never to ask Darcy to babysit. Ever. Not that she’d be going out on a date anytime soon. The one serious relationship she’d had in her life, with Hal Stevens, had shaken her to the core. She no longer trusted her own judgment when it came to men.

She had met Hal at the bank where she’d worked as a loans officer and immediately she’d been drawn to him. Good-looking and successful, Hal was a junior partner in a local law firm. His confident, take-charge personality seemed to be just what she’d needed at that time in her life. Reeling from the loss of her beloved older sister and trying to figure out how to parent an active toddler, Miranda had been overwhelmed. Hal’d swept into her life like the proverbial knight on a white horse.

Within months, however, the “take-charge” man who’d lovingly encouraged her to lean on him slowly took over her life. He’d openly criticized her friends until they eventually stopped calling. He’d accused her of flirting with the male customers who came into the bank. He’d dropped in during business hours to check up on her. Somewhere along the way, his attentive courtship had morphed into a jealous obsession. Gradually his tirades weren’t only limited to the men Miranda had come into contact with at the bank—they’d started to cast a dark shadow on her relationship with Daniel. Hal had begun to complain about the amount of attention she gave to her son.

Miranda had found herself living in a nightmare. And it got worse. One evening, she’d told Hal she couldn’t go to a concert with him because Daniel had a fever. Hal had screamed that Daniel wasn’t even her biological son so it wasn’t fair he had to compete with the boy. And then he’d pushed her against the wall. It was the first time his attacks had crossed the line from verbal to physical. Daniel had witnessed the scuffle and had burst into tears. It had given Miranda the courage to do what she had to do. She’d broken up with him.

But Hal hadn’t been willing to let her go. He wouldn’t stop calling her. He’d shown up at the bank where she’d worked. But one evening, when he’d let himself into her apartment with a key she didn’t know he’d had, and Miranda knew she had to make a decision.

Less than a week later, she’d taken Daniel and fled from her home in Georgia in the middle of the night. She’d had one suitcase and a vague destination in mind— Chestnut Grove, just outside of Richmond, Virginia. It was as good a place as any for a fresh start and it would take them far away from Hal. Miranda didn’t have any roots there but Daniel did. He’d been a newborn when Lorraine and Tom had adopted him from Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.

Her relationship with Hal had cost her more than her job and her security. It had devastated her ability to trust. And knowing that Hal might still be looking for her—even after four years—kept her constantly on edge.

Not exactly the kind of baggage a woman could carry into a new relationship.

“I know that look.” Darcy put her hands on Miranda’s shoulders and shook her lightly. “Daniel’s dad messed with your head and now you think all men are scum. And they are. The trick is to figure out which ones are always going to be scum and which ones have the potential to be descummed.”

“I’ll remember that.” Miranda’s reluctant laughter over this latest Darcy-ism chased away the specter of the past.

Encouraged, Darcy warmed to the subject. “You could put a little more effort into your appearance. No offense, but even older women should make the most of what they have. You could put some highlights in your hair and use a little eyeshadow. I found this great color called Astro blue—”

Which, if Miranda remembered correctly, had enough metallic sparkle in it to get her a part as an extra in a sci-fi movie.

“I’ll see you tonight at eight, Darcy…” Miranda suddenly noticed one of the buttons on her summer-weight sweater had come loose and was hanging from the placket like a broken spring.

Darcy zeroed in on it. She blew a bubble and let it pop. Just for effect. “My opinion? Don’t replace the button, replace the cardigan.”

Or I could use it as a muzzle.

“I’ll think about it.” Miranda escaped to the kitchen before Darcy offered to lend her one of her sweaters.

She found Daniel standing next to Isaac, carefully refilling the salt shakers. A swatch of silky brown hair, which needed a trim, flopped over one eye.

“Ready to go, Daniel?”

“You two off to the park today?” Isaac boomed above the hiss of the grill.

“Yup.” Daniel nodded vigorously and his glasses slipped down to the end of his nose.

“Hit a couple home runs for me, Danny Boy.”

“Daniel doesn’t play baseball,” Miranda reminded him. “We’re going to look for bugs to add to his collection.”

“Well, you can keep those things out of my kitchen,” Isaac muttered. “Imagine looking for bugs. On purpose.”

“Will you tell Sandra I’ll be back in tonight to close up?” Miranda called over her shoulder. “I’m covering for Darcy.”

“Sure thing.” Isaac used one hand to flip a pancake and the other to ladle gravy over a plate of biscuits. “Order up!”

“We could play baseball. If you want to,” Daniel said as Miranda ushered him out the back door into the alley where he’d parked his bicycle.

“Bug collecting is fine with me.” Miranda ruffled his hair. “I know you don’t like to play.”

“Okay.” The toe of Daniel’s shoe scuffed at the dirt.

Miranda slanted a look at him. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” He hopped on his bicycle and Miranda stared at it in disbelief. She’d bought it on clearance two summers ago and it suddenly looked way too small for him.

Daniel was growing up too fast.

He needs a dad.

The thought came out of nowhere and blindsided her. She sucked in a ragged breath. Hadn’t she just been reliving how horrible their lives had been when she’d let Hal in? Her loneliness and vulnerability had made her a target for his manipulative personality. By trying to fill a void, she’d only ended up creating a larger one.

If she could be tricked so easily by one man, what would stop her from being tricked again?

It wasn’t worth the risk.

Andrew had a nine o’clock dinner reservation. And a sudden craving for apple pie. This would send François, the head chef at his favorite restaurant, into a culinary tantrum if he even said the words out loud. He’d end up with some puff-pastry thing the size of quarter with a slice of apple inside it that didn’t even look like an apple. Because it wouldn’t be an apple. It would be something more acceptable—like a pomegranate.

Only one place served honest-to-goodness-homemade-with-a-flaky-crust-and-oozing-with-real-apples apple pie. And it happened to be less than ten minutes away from the apartment. He’d still be on time for his dinner reservation—he just wouldn’t have to order dessert.

“Andrew!” Sandra greeted him warmly when he walked into the diner. She sat at the counter next to Isaac, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. “Are you here for a late supper or something sweet?”