“A house. She lives in the nice residential area. There’s an elementary school within walking distance. She teaches fifth grade there.”
“Wow, you’ve been busy…” If Maddie’s heart beat any harder, she’d go into cardiac arrest. But for the first time, hope had also whispered through her tone.
“Breathe,” Jameson murmured into the side of her head. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Just thought you’d feel better knowing you have a mom, and that she still lives nearby. Close enough to visit someday, when you choose. It’s all up to you.”
Maddie sniffed. He’d made her cry. “Aw, babe, I’m sorry. Damn, I’m an ass. I ruined your new car day. I’ve spoiled everything.”
“No,” she whimpered, her face pressed into his neck under his ear, her breath warm and moist on his skin. “When I was a little girl, I used to dream my mom was a queen from another country. That she only left me behind because she was so much more important than me, you know? That her country needed her more than I did. That she’d come back someday to get me.”
He held Maddie tight. She was coming apart, and his heart was breaking for having hurt her. “Let’s go back to my place. We’ll go mansion hunting another day.” And I’ll keep my big mouth shut from now on.
“No. I… I think I’d like to call her.” She turned in his arms and smoothed her fingertips into his hair over that same ear. “You went to all this trouble just for me. Maybe I could call her, you know, j-j-just to talk. See if she remembers me. Where’s her number?”
Jameson produced his phone and handed it over, tipping his lips to her forehead. “I’ll never lie to you, and I only want what’s truly best for you. I’m okay if you’d rather not call. But if you do, her name’s in my contacts list under B for Bannister.”
“She kept her married name? She’s not—?”
“Remarried? You won’t know until you talk to her.”
The tension between them changed from desolate to excited, and in that moment, Jameson wasn’t sure what the hell he’d done. This could go so, so bad. Yet he’d relied on his gut, and he had that same feeling now as when he’d first met Maddie. This could also go so, so good.
She was working his phone. Then, “H-hello...? Is Krystyna there? Oh...” Silence. “Well. Umm… okay, well… umm… hi.”
Jameson pressed his nose in Maddie’s hair, content to breathe the flowery scent of this amazing woman into his soul, while she reached out for the mother who might just need her as much as Krystyna needed her baby girl.
“Umm…” Maddie stalled. She smacked her lips and gulped and breathed too hard until, at last, she whispered, “My name’s Maddie—”
“Maddie? Madelyn Bannister?” Krystyna shrieked loud enough Jameson heard her over the connection. “Is this you? Are you my baby girl?! Good grief, tell me it’s you! God, please let you be my Maddie! My baby!”
“It’s me, M-m-mom,” she choked through her tears. “Yes, it’s me.”
Jameson bowed his head and smiled. He didn’t need to see to know they were headed to Bailey’s Crossroads next.
Chapter Thirty
Maddie stared at the traditional American Foursquare home at the end of a neatly edged walk in Bailey’s Crossroads, Virginia. The walk led straight up a couple steps to a pair of hunter-green doors with frosted windowpanes. A sturdy brass knocker that formed a golden heart. One long, elegant brass handle. Two huge, red geranium plants in terracotta planters, one at each side of those doors. The matching hunter-green runner that started at the edge of a graciously large porch, ended at those doors. White lattice work concealed all lower sides of the porch, and plump Boston ferns in bright red pots hung from chains attached to the ceiling. The house was postcard perfect. Surely a teacher couldn’t afford to live here.
Weathervanes decorated every quaint, tidy home in this delightful neighborhood, where wide green lawns stretched like welcome mats from one home to the next. But the proud standard flying high at the steepled peak of this address on Melody Lane was as telling as the woman Maddie hoped she’d find inside. A tremendous, golden, perforated heart, each hole in it another cookie-cutter-shaped heart. Hope in that beautiful weathervane had echoed inside Maddie’s chest the moment she’d parked at the curb and turned off the ignition.
That SUV all by itself had made this day one of accomplishment. She’d felt as if she’d arrived when Jameson guided her through the automobile loan process, which hadn’t been difficult at all. But doing that with him made everything almost, well, fun. She’d been on top of the world. But now…
Her feet refused to move, and she was afraid she’d pass out. Her lungs had rebelled, refusing her breathing rights. Her poor heart now resided between her tonsils, which might also explain why her stomach felt it needed to climb out of her mouth. Tiny black dots danced at the edge of her peripheral. The only thing holding her steady and upright was the valiant, handsome man at her side, his left hand at her elbow, his white cane stuck out in front of them like a divining rod. Or a spear in case the gentle woman she hoped to encounter ended up being another dragon to vanquish. Like Rick Bannister.
“You’d think she’d be waiting, watching for me,” Maddie mumbled more to herself than to Jameson.
“She’s probably as anxious about this meeting as you,” he confided. “Put yourself in her shoes. She deserted her little girl. What would you say to that baby when she returned to you as an elegant, well-cultured woman?”
“I’m not elegant or cultured.”
“Oh, yes, you are.” Like the bulwark of strength he always was, Jameson wrapped his strong left arm around her shoulders and breathed into her ear, “One step at a time, Maddie. That’s how we get the tough jobs done.
