Darius came to a halt, conscious of the stares of everyone in the office. He couldn’t let Olivia leave in such a distraught state. He had to catch her, make her understand . . .
Darius made eye contact with the receptionist. “If anyone asks, I’ll be back shortly.”
Then he charged down the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time he reached the main level, however, there was no sign of her. He ran out onto the sidewalk and craned his neck in both directions, but to no avail. She was gone. Swallowed up in the sea of pedestrians.
His stomach sank to the tips of his shoes. He could go after her. Catch up with her at the maternity home and . . . and do what? He certainly wasn’t ready to propose marriage, so really what was the point in prolonging the misery? He let out a defeated breath as he slowly made his way back inside.
His father was right. The only thing that would help him now was time. Time to process all that he’d learned today and allow God to work on his heart. Hopefully then, the Lord would make it clear what Darius needed to do next.
29
The next day, Olivia sat with Abigail in the rocker. The child grew heavy in her arms, and Olivia knew she should lay her down for a proper nap. However, she couldn’t bear to let her go, even for half an hour. It was only a matter of time before Jane Linder showed up to take her, and Olivia wanted to cherish every last moment with the girl. She looked down at Abigail’s sweet face, so relaxed in slumber.
If only God would grant her a miracle, a way to spare her the anguish to come.
She’d foolishly thought that marrying Darius would be that miracle. How could she have been so blind, imagining she could propose to him and he’d simply accept? Even if he had agreed, she couldn’t have married him without disclosing her past. She realized that now.
But her desperation to hold on to Abigail had clouded her judgment, making her oblivious to everything but her own selfish desires. And that might be her worst crime of all.
She’d deluded herself into believing she could be a good mother—not only to Abigail, but to Sofia too. In reality, Darius had every reason not to want her around his daughter. He’d said Meredith would make a poor role model. If so, then Olivia would be ten times worse.
A sigh escaped. Lord, forgive me for trying to take matters into my own hands. You know what’s best for Abigail and for me. Help me to accept your will for the both of us.
Three sharp knocks sounded on the front door. Olivia’s eyes flew open, and her heart began to thump heavily in her chest. Slowly, she rose with the baby and headed to the door.
Mark Henshaw stood on the porch, looking very serious. “Good morning, Olivia. Mrs. Linder is here to pick up Abigail.”
Olivia looked past him to the walkway, where Mrs. Linder stood holding a briefcase.
Her lungs refused to inflate, and she clutched the baby tighter. “Please come in.”
“Hello, Miss Rosetti.” Mrs. Linder sailed by her into the parlor, looking very efficient in her cream-colored suit. “Is Mrs. Bennington at home? I’ll need her signature on some paperwork.” She set her case on the coffee table.
“She’s upstairs,” Olivia said in a voice she barely recognized as her own. “I’ll get her. I have to change Abigail anyway and pack her bag.”
“Fine. I’ll wait down here.”
Olivia took as much time as she dared, changing the baby’s clothes and gathering her few belongings. With shaking fingers, she folded the delicate items and placed them one by one into a small satchel. Her eyes burned. How empty this room would be without Abigail. No more soft cooing from the bed, no more midnight feedings or cuddles in the night.
She picked up the now-content girl, kissed her head, and breathed in the soothing scent of talc and baby soap one more time. Giving up this baby seemed almost harder than losing her own son, probably because Olivia had spent so much time with her.
Lord, I don’t know how I’m going to let her go. Please grant me the strength to face this terrible day.
Then, on a deep inhale, she grabbed the satchel and went to find Ruth. She’d need her friend’s support to get through this.
If that were even possible.
Ruth was just coming out of her bedroom when Olivia reached the door. She looked bright and alert, her gray hair fashioned in curls around her face. “Good morning, Olivia.”
Olivia couldn’t manage a smile or a greeting. “Mrs. Linder is here for Abigail. She needs your signature on some paperwork.”
Immediately Ruth’s features softened, and she put an arm around Olivia. “Oh, my dear. I’m sorry. I know how much you will miss that child.”
Olivia’s chin quivered. Unable to say a word, she turned and headed down the stairs. She set the satchel at the door and followed Ruth into the parlor. Several sheets of paper lay beside Mrs. Linder’s briefcase on the coffee table, along with a pen.
“Do you need me to sign anything?” Olivia managed.
Mrs. Linder looked up. “No. Mrs. Bennington and the doctor’s signatures will suffice.”
“I’ll wait with Abigail in the hall, then.”
She couldn’t stand to watch them sign away the little girl’s life, condemning her to a foster home and a lengthy adoption process. All Olivia could do was pray that a caring couple would claim her soon and that Abigail would grow up knowing she was loved.
Even if she never remembered the woman who’d nurtured her the first few weeks of her precious life. The woman who loved her so very much.
Tears gathered in Olivia’s eyes, and though she blinked hard, several broke free to trail down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the baby’s face. The girl began to stir,
