Patty Smith Hall - The Baby Barter

He may not have a wife or the law degree he’d always hoped for, but he could make a home, have a family with Sarah as his daughter.

Mack walked down Cherokee Street, past the courthouse, until he came to a row of quaint little homes just outside the main town square. Brilliant violet-and-gold pansies glistened with early-morning dew as they stretched to sun themselves, and the grass was still an emerald green, even in mid-October. A bird twittered his wake-up song overhead, drawing a reluctant smile from Mack.

He’d longed for a home in this neighborhood for as far back as he could remember. The idea of adopting Sarah had finally pushed him into putting a down payment on the small three-bedroom cottage at the end of the street. Nothing fancy, just a yard big enough for a swing set and a room where she could play with her stuffed animals and dolls in the years to come. A home where they could put down roots, where Mack could give Sarah the kind of childhood his parents had given him.

But not if Thea took her away.

He wouldn’t let her, not without a fight. Sarah was his daughter, had been since the moment Mrs. Williams had placed the squirming little newborn in his arms all those months ago. One look into Sarah’s inquisitive sapphire-blue eyes and he’d lost his heart.

Blue eyes, now that he thought about it, that looked very much like Thea’s.

Lots of babies had blue eyes, he reminded himself. Mack shook off the thought as he turned up a side street toward his attorney’s office. Maybe Red would have some good news about the adoption for him.

His footsteps echoed against the brick-paved walkway that led up to Redmond McIntyre’s ranch-style home. Mack raised his fist, then hesitated. The sun had barely risen. Would Red be up yet? Well, if Mack came across as rude, so be it. The situation warranted it. His knuckles rapped against the wooden door.

A heavy bolt slid seconds before the door flew open. Red stood framed in the doorway, a coffee cup in one hand, his tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar. “Mack, how are you doing this morning? You don’t have one of my clients waiting down at the jail, do you?”

“I’m not here on official business.” Mack whipped his hat off and held it between clenched fingers. “I was hoping I could talk to you about Sarah for a moment.”

“Sure, come on in,” Red replied, pulling the door open wider as he stepped back. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Mack shook his head. Truth be told, he couldn’t stomach anything right now, especially not some of Red’s strong brew. He followed the man into a small sitting room just off the hallway and settled onto one side of the sofa while Red retrieved his file from his office.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something? A glass of sweet tea, maybe?” Red strolled back into the room, a thick three-ringed folder neatly tucked under his arm.

“Nothing, thanks.” Mack settled his elbows on the chair’s arms and leaned forward. “I was hoping to talk to you yesterday at Merrliee’s wedding but I never saw you.”

“I had to go to Atlanta for a client at the last minute and didn’t make it back in time. Did I miss anything exciting?”

Nothing Mack was ready to talk about, at least not until he did some research into Thea’s claims. He shook his head. “I just want to see where we are with Judge Wakefield.”

“Pretty much the same spot we’ve been for the last month.” Red sat across from Mack, dropped the file on the coffee table and flipped it open. “As far as I’ve searched, there’s no precedent in the State of Georgia for allowing a single person to adopt a minor child.”

Red wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already heard, but Mack refused give up, not where Sarah was concerned. “But those cases didn’t involve a child with the kind of health issues Sarah has.”

“No, but that’s because those children are usually committed to an institution.”

“Or on the streets,” Mack bit out. His stomach roiled at the thought of his daughter, or for that matter, any of Ms. Aurora’s kids, left on the curb to fend for themselves. Who would do that to any child, flesh and blood or not? It made Mack wonder how many more children were out there on their own right now, hungry, cold and afraid. “Those kids deserve a family and a place to call home just like any other kid, Red.”

Red lifted his hands up in mock surrender. “You don’t have to convince me. And it appears from my discussions with Judge Wakefield that he sides with you on that point.”

Mack nodded. The judge had never hidden his feelings about the need for adoptive parents for all children, even those with physical and mental disabilities, but he held fast to the notion that a child needed both a mother and a father. Mack could see his point, but no family would adopt a child with the type of medical issues Sarah had. Wasn’t one loving parent better than no one at all?

“You’ve got a more pressing problem at the moment.”

Mack settled back into the cushions. Had Red heard about Thea’s claim, that Sarah was Eileen’s child? “What might that be?”

Red shifted forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Ben Holbrook cornered me at the courthouse after I got back from Atlanta yesterday afternoon. It appears the city council is bent on restructuring the police department.”

“Why haven’t I heard about this?”

Red shrugged. “They just voted on it. With all these folks from the bomber factory making Marietta their home, the council wants to add more men to the force, maybe even devote entire departments to specific crimes. And there was some mention of adding more experienced men to the sheriff’s department.”

“What you mean is now that the boys are coming home, they want law enforcement jobs to give them.” Not a bad idea. Able-bodied men with battlefield experience on the force were just what a growing town needed. “We have had an increase in petty crimes recently, mostly kids bored and getting into trouble. It would be good to have some additional help.”

Red sat back, his lips mashed into a straight line. “From what I understand, they might be evaluating your work as sheriff.”

Mack’s world shifted beneath him. “Why? Are they thinking about firing me?”

“I don’t think it’s that dire—yet.”

Mack rubbed his fingers against the raised scar high on his left cheek. “Did anybody mention where I might fit into all this restructured force?”

Red shook his head. “Not yet. I’m sure they’ll take your exceptional service to the community into consideration when the decision is made.”

Mack stretched out his legs and studied his old high school friend. “That sounds like lawyer talk for you’ve already put that information out there for them, but they didn’t bother giving you an answer.”

“Always looking out for my friends.”

For that, Mack was grateful. “How does this affect the adoption?”

Red’s smile dimmed. “With this hanging over your head, Judge Wakefield isn’t likely to budge on the adoption anytime soon.”

“What’s the man waiting on? Does he want me to jump through hoops or something?” Mack snapped, raking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know about him, but I’d pay good money to see you do that trick.”

Mack snorted out a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off like that.”

“It’s understandable. You love that little girl, and you’re afraid you’re going to lose her.”

Another obvious statement but the gut-wrenching truth. Mack wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t. “So what do we do now?”

Red slid back in his chair. “Well, we’re still going to need Sarah’s birth certificate. Have you heard anything from Mrs. Williams? I figured she would have gotten back with you before now.”