At Home on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [106]
The grin that broke across Noah’s face seemed to be a thing of itself, unrestrained and alive. He struggled to get it under control but was not entirely successful. “That’s good,” he said simply, “’cause I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Good-bye, Noah,” Mandy said softly.
He replied nonchalantly, “Bye, ma’am.” Then he turned toward the kitchen.
Lori, on her way upstairs, had come around the corner in time to hear the verdict. As she came abreast of Noah she winked at him and held up her hand for a high five. He slapped it, sharing a grin, and they passed without speaking.
As Mandy started to move toward them, Lindsay’s hand was clamped down so hard on Bridget’s that she couldn’t feel her own fingers. She let go, and made herself breathe, and tried to flex her fingers. Her mouth was too dry to speak.
Carrie was the first to move forward, and she went to put her arm around Mandy’s shoulders in sympathy. “So you’ve made your decision,” she said gently.
Now that Noah was gone, Mandy let go of the forced smile, the brave shoulders, the cheerful eyes. Her demeanor sagged and she looked tired, and haggard, and heavy with grief. But she also looked peaceful.
“I remember being fifteen,” she said, and a faint wistful expression crossed her face as she spoke. She looked at Lindsay. “Being carefree, and hopeful, and waking up every day feeling like anything was possible. I wouldn’t take these years from him for anything in the world.”
Lindsay found her voice. “Do you mean . . .”
Mandy said, “I didn’t tell him about me. About who I was, I mean. I let him go on thinking I was a social worker. I just wanted to . . . know him a little, you know?” She looked at Carrie for understanding. “I wanted to know that he was okay. I wanted to know who he was turning out to be. I wanted to know about his life. He told me about his drawing, about how he wants to hang his pictures in a fine gallery in Washington, and about his pet deer, and his garden, and what he’s studying in school . . . my, he’s smart isn’t he?” Almost unbidden, a flare of motherly pride came into her eyes. “He told me you’re a good teacher,” she said to Lindsay. And to the others, “He told me a lot of things.”
Cici said hoarsely. “Does this mean—are you going to leave him with us?”
They could see her throat constrict as she swallowed. And she replied quietly, “Sometimes a mother has to make hard decisions.”
Lindsay said, “The things I said to you before . . . they were cruel. I’m sorry.”
“They were true, though,” Mandy said. “That’s why I didn’t want to hear them, I guess.” And she managed a weary smile. “I know you’re nice people. I knew that from the minute I heard about you, and I knew it more when I met you. That’s why I’m trusting you to raise my child.”
Lindsay could not make a sound. She simply nodded.
Mandy glanced at Carrie, then back to the others. “Ms. Lincoln here said you wanted to adopt Noah. I can’t let you do that, not while I’m living. But she said there was a paper I could sign that would put you in charge of him, and make it legal and permanent, and that’s what I’d like to do. If you’d let me come see him from time to time,” she added, “that would be a blessing. And maybe, when he’s older, and we’ve gotten to know each other . . . well.”
She dropped her eyes, acknowledging the futility of completing that thought, then looked at the three women again. Tears shimmered on her lashes. “I want him to grow up believing in a mother who loved him so much she would die before she hurt him. Please . . .” Her voice broke there. “Help me do that.”
Ida Mae cleared her throat behind them. “You gonna want any more coffee?”
The women stepped apart. Mandy turned away to wipe her eyes. Cici said, “Please, will you sit and have some coffee, or pie, or—”
Mandy shook her head. “No, thanks. I want to start back.” She stopped, her attention caught by the art on the opposite wall. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“Noah did it.” Lindsay walked with