Home. Sitting on the dock, getting a worm wet. Short of rolling around his bed with a beautiful woman, it was his favorite way to wind down at the end of a summer day. “What is the message Sarah wants you to pass along?”
“You need to call her. There’s a baby, Boone. A newborn. He could be yours.”
Boone took just a second to do the math, and then burst out laughing. Last fall he’d been having an affair with a ski instructor over at Wolf Creek. The affair ended by Thanksgiving, but they’d remained friendly. They’d had lunch together just two weeks ago, in fact. He’d been monogamous during the affair and celibate since. “No, Ellen, take my word for it. A newborn child cannot possibly be mine.”
“He’s officially a Safe Haven baby who was surrendered at a fire station. He arrived with a letter from the mother naming you as his legal guardian. She said she wanted you to adopt her baby, but she didn’t know how to find you.”
Boone went still. “Excuse me? Say that again?”
“Someone who knows you surrendered a newborn at a fire station.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know. She didn’t say. That’s what the Safe Haven law is all about.”
Boone knew that, of course. Texas law provided that a parent could leave a baby up to sixty days old with an employee on duty at any hospital, emergency medical services provider, or child welfare agency and not be charged with abandonment. Parents were encouraged to give information about the child’s health, race, date of birth, place of birth, and the parents’ medical history, but it wasn’t required.
Ellen continued, “Sarah did say there was a separate, personal message for you.”
“A message? What does the message say?”
“I don’t know. Sarah didn’t share that with me. Call her, Boone. Tonight. You have a ticking clock situation here with this. Do you need her number?” His former colleague rattled it off, and then ended the call saying, “This could be a good thing for you, Boone. Good luck.”
“Goodbye.” He disconnected the call and stood frozen as walled-away memories began chipping at the mortar in his mind.
Boone fought back. He couldn’t allow any breach in his defenses. That way there be dragons.
A Safe Haven baby. Holy hell. Ellen thought that bringing a child into his life could be a good thing?
“Not hardly,” he muttered. Not according to his history. He’d been down this road before. Traveling it brought only heartbreak and pain. “No. Not going there. Never again.”
He returned to his desk and took a seat. He didn’t phone Sarah Winston. Instead he phoned Josh Tarkington to schedule a tune-up for his Maserati. After that, he took a call on his cell from Brick Callahan and answered a handful of questions related to Jackson and Caroline’s wedding at the Callahans’ North Forty property on the shore of Hummingbird Lake. Upon ending the conversation with Brick, Boone phoned the Mocha Moose Sandwich Shop and placed a pickup order for dinner on the way home.
He no sooner set the phone down than it rang again. Sarah Winston. Why had he ever given her his cell number? He let out a string of curses that would do a bronc buster proud and then answered the call.
He let her go through the entire story before he began asking questions. “Why is this even a possibility? I know how the system works. This is highly irregular, to say the least.”
“That’s true. But Boone, you are a hero to everyone in our office. In the courts too. Throw in the fact that you are related to half the judges in Texas, and three-quarters of the politicians on both sides of the aisle want you to run for office—nobody is going to interfere. You’ve long been a champion for victimized children. You helped so many people. And what happened to you—” She paused a moment and softened her voice. “What happened to you and Mary was tragic. People want to help. This can be treated like a private adoption.”
He closed his eyes and massaged his brow. “I appreciate the sentiment, Sarah, but I don’t need this.”
“Really? Are you so certain of that? You’re personally and professionally fulfilled by writing wills and contracts?”
“The world needs ditch diggers too, Danny.”
“What?”
“Caddyshack. And I don’t need to defend my choices.”
Besides, his work was more than contracts and wills. He was working his butt off managing the family trust with all the Enchanted Canyon projects. He stayed busy as hell. “I don’t want or need a baby. If I did, I’d go out and get one the old-fashioned way.”
“Fair enough. Be the baby’s guardian, then, if not his father. Find him a family. He needs you.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t need to be involved. Infants are a snap to place.” As long as the mothers don’t change their minds. “You probably have dozens of approved adopters who’d love nothing more than to bring a Safe Haven newborn into their home. Hell, I’m not even on the list anymore. Plus, I live in Colorado!”
“Lucky baby gets to avoid the Texas summer,” she responded. “They say we might reach a hundred and ten later this week. That’s brutal for this early in the season. Colorado’s not a problem. I had everyone up and down the line check off on this before I ever called you. Like I said, Boone, you have lots of friends.”
“Yeah, and like the old yarn goes, with friends like these who needs enemies. You’re not listening to me, Sarah.”
“His mother chose you.”
That stopped him. “About her. Who is she? Ellen said she left me a message?”
“I don’t have a name. What I do have is a folded note with your name on the outside.” Sarah Winston waited for a beat before adding, “It’s written in gel ink. Pink gel ink.”
Pink gel ink. Boone closed his eyes as his defensive walls collapsed, and he was catapulted into his past.
It was the one case that haunted him. The one case he’d totally blown. The system—Boone—had failed a sweet, vulnerable twelve-year-old girl who could not speak of the abuse, but who had managed to write it down. Seven handwritten pages with hearts dotting her i’s. Cruel, sickening abuse.
Detailed in pink gel ink.
With dread crushing his chest, he cleared his throat and asked, “What does the note say?”
Softly, gently, Sarah said, “‘You owe me.’”
“Oh, God.” Boone closed his eyes. He massaged his brow with fingers and his thumb. “I need to think. I’ll phone you tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The call ended, and he sat without moving, haunted by his ghosts, his emotions a maelstrom. He only vaguely heard the knock on his door. Only vaguely heard the hinges creak as the door opened.
“Boone?” Celeste Blessing said as she approached his desk. She was a lovely older woman with kind, periwinkle eyes and a ready smile. Her silver hair was cut in a modern bob, and her signature angel wing earrings dangled from her ears. “Is everything okay?”
The concern in her voice caused a sudden lump to form in Boone’s throat. He swallowed it. “No. No, Celeste, it’s not. I just received some disturbing news.”
“Oh, dear. I hope all of your family members are okay?”