“Penance?” he asked quietly.
“Of sorts,” she agreed.
“I’m sorry if I made all of this that much harder,” Casey said, looking down at the infant in his arms. “If I’d known what you were going through, I obviously would never have asked you to help me with the babies—”
“But you didn’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m fine, Casey. I really am.”
And ultimately, Ember was fine. She was educated, she had a career, an avenue where she could help others through their difficult times, and she was that much more sympathetic to the shortcomings of her patients because she had been in their shoes and made choices that she’d later regretted, too. Her past weakness made her a better therapist today.
“Do you need to stop this? Helping with the babies, I mean,” Casey asked.
“I can’t avoid infants forever,” she replied. “You need help, and my mission here hasn’t changed. I know I had a bit of a meltdown today, but I’m really okay. I promise.”
“For the record, it sounds to me like you were young and confused, and did what you thought was the right thing for you and your baby,” Casey said. He leaned forward and used the back of one finger to brush a tendril of hair away from her cheek, his touch lingering there. She let her eyes flutter shut and leaned her cheek against his warm hand. But when she opened her eyes and looked into his face, she saw no judgment there. His voice was low and warm. “It was forgivable, Ember.”
And while she knew that anything was forgivable in a contrite heart, forgiveness wouldn’t erase the consequences of her actions. Forgiveness wouldn’t return the child she’d given away. This wasn’t about absolution so much as grief. And a mother never stopped being a mother to her child.
“Thanks,” she said with a sad smile. “But I’m okay.”
And she was. She was sad, she was living with deep regret and she had more hard-won wisdom than any other thirty-year-old woman she knew. But she was okay, because she was still in God’s hands.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, puddles forming on the gravel road and the patchy grass beside it. While she wished she could just lean into Casey’s strong arms and rest there awhile, she knew better. No man could fix this. Even a sweet man like Casey with those dark, gentle eyes and that stubborn streak that kept him good. He’d be an excellent father to these little boys. God was providing for these tiny orphans, and she could see that plainly.
But Casey Courtright wasn’t the answer to her prayers or her tears in the dark. Right now, all she could do was carry on. There would be light ahead eventually.
Chapter Eight
That night, Ember crawled into bed with the two heavy quilts on top of her, and she dreamed of her son as she so often did. She heard his infant cries and her dream-self was determined to find him. She would not hold herself back—not this time! She went down a hallway, opening door after door; she kept searching and searching, his cry so close. But whenever she tried to call out, her voice wouldn’t respond, and the baby’s sobs seemed to come from every direction at once. She woke up sweating and gasping for breath.
“Steven...” she choked out. He wasn’t Steven to her...but it was the name he’d be called throughout his life. He wasn’t a tiny infant anymore—he’d be a ten-year-old now, a tall boy with his own opinions.
Did he look like her? If she were to see him again, would she see her own features in his? But that was a dangerous line of thought, because she wouldn’t see him again. She had agreed to stay away. Unless he searched her out when he was an adult, that had been their last goodbye. Not every adopted child wanted to meet his birth mother. She might still yearn for him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be perfectly happy and fulfilled in the life he’d been given.
Ember swung her legs over the edge of her bed and sat there for a few minutes, pulling herself out of the dream and reaching out in prayer.
“Father, take the dreams away,” she murmured. “And wherever he is, protect my son. Bless him. Provide for him. Pull close to him and let him feel loved.”
The nightmares had been getting worse lately, and caring for Casey’s charges wasn’t helping matters. This visit to Vern Acres wasn’t supposed to be such a drawn-out affair, either. She should be finished with this task already. Finding her family’s land and starting up her own enterprise on it was going to fill her heart and squeeze out that aching sense of loss. Life had to move on.
She’d meant to wait until Monday morning, but last night she’d found the Cascade County Historical Society and had gone ahead and sent them an email. She’d gotten an automated reply saying that someone would be in touch at their earliest convenience, and she was hopeful that there might be some sort of information that could guide her. Something.
But everything seemed to be spinning out of her control, including her ability to keep her personal issues private. She pulled a quilt over her legs again, shivering against the night air. Her mind went back to yesterday when she’d said far too much. She hadn’t meant to speak to him about her son. She kept telling herself it was only the timing—she’d kind of melted down in front of him, after all, and he’d deserved an explanation. But it was more than that. Casey was warm, strong,
