“I think she’s stuck in the middle of that huddle over there—I left when the conversation moved into political topics. I’m better at cutting leaves then debating ideals,” one of the parent volunteers offered as I passed her.
Debating? Mrs. Pendleton was known for her pragmatic nature, even when those around her were sure-bent on fanning the flame of controversy—and there was loads of controversy in the public school system. I wondered which topic had taken a turn south this time. But as I approached the small mob, I realized it wasn’t Mrs. Pendleton who’d captured the group’s attention with her peacemaking talents.
“You can’t argue with the facts. It’s science,” a gruff voice said as I moved to catch a view of who was speaking, only to see Joshua on the opposite side of the semicircle.
“But that’s the thing, Don,” Joshua offered in a respectful tone, addressing a man I recognized as the grandfather of one of Jenna’s third graders. “Our education system has often linked the study of paleontology to the teachings of evolution, but there are actually plenty of profound archeological findings to confirm the claims of intelligent design. It’s not nearly as one-sided an argument as you—or today’s educational system—might believe. New discoveries are happening all the time. I’d be happy to share my research on the matter with you and anyone else who’s interested.” He spoke with contagious charisma, and I found myself, once again, marveling at his confidence. This time for sharing his opinion on such a widely disputed subject with a group of strangers.
Perhaps I admired that quality most in Joshua because it was an attribute I greatly lacked. I often struggled to state my personal convictions with the people who shared my DNA, much less people I hardly knew.
“Once again, you’ve wowed us, Mr. Avery. I’d sit in a lecture of yours any day. You’re definitely an apple who didn’t fall far from the tree.” Mrs. Pendleton patted him on the back and spotted me several feet out from the circle. “Miss Bailey, please tell me you’ve come over to bring me that handsome baby.”
I snuggled him closer, brushing my cheek over his curls. “Will I be let go if I don’t give him up? Because if so, it’s been really nice working at Brighton.”
She laughed, and so did most of her companions. Everyone except Joshua, who watched me with unnerving quiet. I tore my eyes away from him and studied the baby in my arms instead, tucking the blanket more securely around his solid form. Mrs. Pendleton broke away from the group to join me.
Purposefully, I kept my feet moving, fighting the pull of a man I wished I could dislike. Or at the very least, feel indifferent toward. But neither could be further from the truth.
“Does everything look to be running smoothly for Wednesday’s program?” she asked. “Our volunteer turnout is incredible this year.”
“Yes, it really is. Most have committed to staying after school tomorrow, as well, to help with setup.” I switched the baby to my other side, his head burrowing under my left collarbone. “And apart from the select readings from each classroom, your role will be the same as last year—to emcee between groups. I’ll email the rundown tomorrow morning.”
“Excellent, I’ll look for it—although there’s one surprise that won’t be listed on your agenda, but it will be great.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Thanks for heading this up again. You’re a superstar teacher.” She paused, and I knew with eerie certainty where her line of thought had drifted. Other than Jenna, Mrs. Pendleton was the only soul in our school who knew about my future plans—mostly because she’d be the one needing to approve my leave of absence after the adoption.
“You’ll be a superstar mother, too.” She squeezed my shoulder and grinned at my sweet-smelling arm cargo. “You look good with a baby, Lauren.”
I gave a shallow nod, not wanting to encourage the conversation further for fear of being overheard. But Mrs. Pendleton needed little encouragement to continue speaking. “When my Minnie couldn’t get pregnant for the first five years of her marriage, I just kept encouraging her to protect her hope. Without hope, life feels so empty.”
I didn’t exactly know where my boss stood on issues of faith and God, but she certainly believed in inspirational quotes. She drew from a deep well of them. None were exactly scriptural, but all were thought-provoking. And all were offered with the best of intention and heart.
With a light touch on my arm, she excused herself to extend her gratitude to the craft table workers, currently tracing a huge batch of pumpkins on orange construction paper.
“I see you’ve got the rock down.”
I squeezed my eyes closed for half a second at the sound of Joshua’s voice at my back, unwilling to acknowledge the spike in my pulse at his nearness. Having coffee with him had not helped put him in the box marked “professional colleague only.” It had done just the opposite—broken down walls that were meant to be firmly in place.
“The rock?” I asked with a brief glance.
“Yes, the baby rock.” Joshua demonstrated the side-to-side hip motion I wasn’t even aware I’d been doing. “My brother and his wife had their second baby last year. I’ve seen the rock a lot. Rebekah does it even when someone else is holding Calvin. Although she doesn’t seem to be a fan of me pointing that out to her.”
“I can’t imagine why not.”
Laughing off my sarcasm, he bent low, lifting the edge of the blanket from my arm to peek at the precious face underneath. The action sent goose bumps scattering along my bicep. “Yep, you’re definitely an expert at the rock.”
“Is he asleep?” The thrill that I could put a baby to sleep flooded my brain with the kind of serotonin I wished I could package in a bottle and sell.
“Either that or he’s mastered the art of drooling with his eyes closed.”
In that moment, it didn’t matter that my lower back had started to ache or that my forearms were stiff and cramped from maintaining this position. Because right here, cradled against my chest, was my hope. My purpose. It was more than a feeling, it was a conviction. One I couldn’t deny or excuse or replace. I was made for this, to be a mother to a motherless child. I knew it in the same way I knew God was still in the business of answering the prayers of His children.
Although the irony of this confirmation happening while sandwiched between Joshua and a borrowed baby . . . well, that I couldn’t explain. Apparently God had an epic sense of humor.
chapter
nine
Early release days were always chaotic, but early release days before an extended holiday break? Absolute insanity. Kids were pumped full of extra excitement and often extra sugar, too. But the multicultural Thanksgiving program was proving to be a big success.
All Brighton students had been seated in mixed-grade groupings on autumn-colored leaf cutouts, feasting on the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving foods: popcorn, buttered toast, jelly beans, and pretzel sticks. Adults filled the chairs in the back, grinning and videoing while elected students shared their gratitude essays in front of an audience of their family, friends, and peers. Some were sweet and sentimental, others funny and winsome, but all helped to create a warm and inviting spirit of love and community. An atmosphere, I couldn’t help but note, far from the one I’d be experiencing with my own family tomorrow.