Anna Adams - The Prodigal Cousin

“No, you are. Other adopted kids get along just fine without launching a sneak attack on the people who didn’t want them.”

“You’re talking out of pride, which I can’t afford. I need to give you and Nina someone else to depend on.”

“These people treat strangers like family. They deserve better.”

“I’m not too proud of myself right now, but nothing changes our situation.” His smile hurt. “If Eliza doesn’t want us, we’ll go home, and I’ll pray we stumble across friends who’d make good substitute parents.”

“Only you would look at it that way. We might as well take out personal ads.”

“What do you know about personal ads?” He kissed her head. Stubbornly, she slid away. She wanted her mom. No one else would do.

“I’m no kid, you know.”

Since her mother’s death she’d tried to separate herself, as if she could lose him or Nina with less grief if she stopped caring about them. Sam figured that if he kept proving he’d love her no matter what, she’d eventually realize that loving was still safe. He started toward his room, and she turned off the light before he reached their adjoining door.

“’Night, Tamsin. I love you.”

“Uh-huh.”

He left her door open about an inch, too, and she didn’t shut it.

The next morning he woke the girls in time for a late breakfast. Tamsin claimed she wasn’t hungry. To her disgust, he checked her for a temperature, but let her go back to sleep.

After a quick bath, he wrestled Nina’s long blond hair into a sad-looking braid. Fortunately, she was still too young to care that his surgeon’s hands were useless for styling hair. Unless she was too grown-up at five to hurt his feelings. He kissed her cheek.

“Hungry?”

She nodded, head-butting him, and he stood, eyes watering as he rubbed his nose.

“Tamsin, we’ll bring ya something.” Nina tore out of the room and down the hall ahead of him. He caught her before she reached the stairs.

“The dining room, today,” he said. “We have to be invited to use the kitchen.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

At the bottom, they found Eliza carrying a heavy tray from the kitchen. Sam took it.

“Thanks.” She inspected them, clearly looking for his older daughter. “Where’s Tamsin?”

“She chose sleep over breakfast.”

“Molly was the same at her age. Trout or the breakfast platter for you two?” She beamed at Nina. “We have plenty.”

“Two slices of bacon and a scrambled egg for Nina,” Sam said, “and I’d like the trout again.”

“Great.” She pointed at a couple just inside the room. A baby lay in a stroller next to the blond woman. “The tray goes to them. Sophie, Ian, this is Sam Lockwood and his daughter Nina.”

The man stood, reaching for the tray as he nodded a greeting. Sophie shook Sam’s hand and then patted Nina’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” she said. “Aunt Eliza mentioned you’d checked in yesterday evening. First time in the Smokies?”

“Yeah, so we’re going for a long walk if my sister wakes up.” Nina had a future as a society page columnist. “Can I look at your baby?”

“Sure. Her name is Chloe.” Sophie pulled back the blankets so Nina could examine the infant.

“What brings you here?” Ian asked. “We’re out of the way.”

“A brochure.” A lie this late seemed pointless, but Eliza might need the cover if she sent them home. “One of my patients had it, and I thought my daughters might enjoy the mountains.”

“You’re a doctor?” Ian glanced at Sophie, who was completely absorbed in Nina and the pink-swathed baby. “So is my wife. An OB-GYN.”

“I’m a cardiologist,” Sam said.

Sophie looked up with interest. “You wouldn’t be looking for a change of pace?”

He smiled blandly, not understanding.

“She’s always thinking of work.” Ian grimaced. “Sophie and a few other physicians from the surrounding area are opening a clinic in town and they’re still scouting for staff.”

His wife looked regretful. “I don’t suppose we’d have the facilities you’re used to.”

Sam didn’t suppose Tamsin would survive even talk of a permanent move. She’d made him promise not to think of it, and Nina, coming in on the tail end of that battle, had chimed in, though she’d really had no clue what they were arguing about. “I’m settled in Savannah.”

“I love Savannah.” Eliza stopped herself before she said more, but Sam pressed his advantage.

“You’ve been there often?”

Her blush was as good as a confession. “I grew up there, but when I graduated from college in Knoxville, I answered an ad for a teacher’s position here. In fact, I used to teach kindergarten and first grade in our little school, just like Molly. Then I met Patrick, and he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Sam tried to laugh with the others, but her lighthearted recovery hurt a little. He hadn’t tempted her to keep him. His children might not tempt her to want them, either.

“What’s the big girl doing out there?” Nina pointed at Molly, who was out in the garden with her back to the window, leaning over a tall, gray tank.

“Blowing up balloons.” Eliza smoothed Nina’s braid with her palm, unconsciously trying to tidy it. “She needs them for school today.”

Nina latched on to Sam’s hand. “I want to go to school, Daddy.” She turned to Sophie. “I can write my name, and I can make numbers up to ten.”

Sam let her swing from his arms. “She’s been badgering me to let her go to ‘big kid’ school for the past year. You can’t go today, Nina. We’re hiking, remember?”

“I wanna do balloons with the big girl!”

Heading off her tantrum, Sam smiled an apology at Sophie, Ian and Eliza, and guided his suddenly weeping daughter toward a back table. As he settled her in a chair, Eliza appeared at his elbow, offering a small square whiteboard and a couple of markers.

“I thought she might like these.”

“Thanks.” He took them, searching her gaze. A thoughtful woman planned ahead for young customers—a kind woman gave them markers that could destroy her furniture. He handed the board and markers to Nina. “Thank Mrs. Calvert.”

“Thank you,” Nina said through a haze of tears. She grabbed her napkin and wiped her nose, and Sam stared, appalled. Fiona had instilled a deeper respect for linen in her daughters.

Eliza misunderstood his dismay. “Don’t worry. I’ll get her a clean one. And then bacon and eggs. Do you like cheese with your eggs, Nina?”

Up and down went her head. A wisp of hair fell out of her braid and poked her eye. Sam hooked it away with his little finger. With a fortifying smile at both of them, Eliza hugged Nina and hurried back to the kitchen.

“No more crying, Nina, okay?” He sat across from her, and she nodded, sniffing back the last of her tears.

“But I wanna go to school. I like balloons.”

“You don’t have to go to school to play with balloons. We’ll find one in town.”

“The big girl has better ones.”

“Her name is Miss Calvert.”

“I thought that was her mommy’s name.”

He gave up. “Just try calling her Miss Calvert when you see her.”

As they waited for their breakfast, Nina taught him to write her name and then speedily learned how to write his. Every so often, he followed his daughter’s glance to the garden, where Molly was stuffing filled balloons into large white plastic bags.

Strands of dark red curls slipped over Molly’s shoulder, lifting with the same breeze that wrapped her long, feminine skirt around her legs. Sam returned his attention to his child.

Eliza brought their breakfast about the time Sophie went out to the garden and distracted Molly from the balloons. Ian took their baby out to join them, and Nina finally lost interest enough to eat. At least until Sophie and Ian left and Molly returned to her work.