Her Second-Chance Family. Holly Jacobs

how are they related to her?”

      “They’re not related at all, either. She’s just our foster mom. No one else could have gotten foster kids so young, but she decided Clinton was meant to be with her, and since he was with Bea in his last placement, Audrey got Bea, too. She’s convinced she can save the world...”

      “One compost pile at a time,” he supplied.

      Willow laughed. “Yeah. And she’s convinced she can save all the throwaway kids in the world.”

      Was that how Willow saw herself? As a throwaway kid?

      Audrey and two kids came into the backyard. Bea and Clinton, he guessed.

      Willow jumped up, as if she’d been caught slacking. “You’re early.”

      “I brought Sawyer a present,” she said. “But first, Sawyer, this is Clinton and Beatrice...”

      “Bea,” the young girl corrected.

      “Bea,” Audrey confirmed for him. “Guys, this is Mr. Williams.”

      Mr. Williams always had him looking for his dad.

      “You can call me Sawyer,” he told Audrey’s kids.

      The boy—Clinton—had rusty colored hair and freckles. More freckles than Sawyer had ever seen on one face. And the girl had light brown skin, with a long dark brown braid that ran down her back and landed at her hips.

      Audrey and the boy went back to the front of the house and returned with a black barrel suspended on a metal rack.

      Sawyer looked at Willow, who softly supplied, “Composter.”

      “Of course it is,” he whispered back. He knew he was grinning like a schoolkid who just got picked first for the team.

      Audrey set the black barrel down in front of him. “You asked about composters last week, so I didn’t think you’d be offended. It’s got a handle and you just give it a turn now and then, add some water, and soon you’ll have compost for all your planting beds. I thought you could put it next to your garbage bin.”

      Before he knew it, she set it up and, with the kids’ help, gave him a rundown on how to use it.

      He listened and nodded, and couldn’t help but think, What a weird woman. Odd. It wasn’t her composting and environmental principles—hippie chick stuff, as Willow would say. No, he could understand and admire that kind of passion.

      It was the rest. He wasn’t sure he knew what to make of a woman who took in foster kids, volunteered for what seemed to be very time-consuming projects and believed in second chances.

      Or third chances.

      She seemed willing to give of herself with that project at work, but also with the kids she took in and now with him. A virtual stranger.

      He wondered when the last time was that he gave something of himself with no expectation of getting something in return.

      When Audrey wound down, he was surprised to hear himself asking, “What are you doing for the Fourth?”

      Audrey, who always seemed like a whirlwind of movement, stopped a moment. Completely stopped. “The Fourth of July?”

      Emphasizing each word, he slowly repeated. “The. Fourth. Of. July. Independence Day. Do you have plans?”

      She shook her head. “Not plans per se. I don’t work, so I’ll be spending the day with the kids.”

      “I thought I could pay you back for your kindness and the composter by having a picnic here. For you and the kids,” he added.

      She was going to say no. He could see it in her expression. She got as far as the word “I...”

      He cut her off. “If you say no, I’ll probably just spend the day in my office working.” This was an out-and-out lie. He’d planned to go visit his friend Martin Pennington and his wife, Jan. When Millie left, they’d taken him under their wings. He didn’t find it a comfortable place to be because he hated feeling like an obligation.

      “Let me pay back your kindness,” he said. “The kids can go swimming and we’ll picnic.”

      Audrey was silent. He thought she was going to politely refuse, but finally she nodded and said, “Only if you let me bring something.”

      “Done.”

      The kids were helping Willow take her tools to the front.

      He hated that she was leaving. Under other circumstances, he might ask her out for lunch, or drinks. Eventually, if that went well, dinner and a movie, or a show. He’d take it slow and play it cool.

      With Audrey, cool didn’t seem to apply. Not at all.

      She turned to follow after the kids, but he said, “Listen, I went down to Miller Brothers and ordered a lawn mower. It will be here next week, so you won’t have to haul yours back and forth anymore.”

      Audrey stopped, turned around and looked at him. For a moment, Sawyer felt like an open book. As if she could see everything about him. Then she smiled, obviously happy with whatever she’d seen. “You are a very nice man, Sawyer Williams.”

      “It’s nothing to do with nice. It just seemed silly to make you haul your lawn mower over here every week.”

      “I maintain that you are nice, but I’ll let you keep your illusion that you’re not. And thank you.” She turned and headed toward the front of the house.

      He followed her. The kids were busy loading stuff in the car.

      “And thank you again for giving Willow a chance.”

      Sawyer looked at Audrey. “May I ask why you took in a kid who’s only a dozen years younger than you and has a record?”

      She turned to him and her brown eyes met his. He noticed there were gold flecks in them. “Because no one else would.”

      He waited to see if she was going to add anything else, but it became apparent she wasn’t. “There’s more to it than that. You’re young. Why saddle yourself with three kids?” Throwaways, Willow had said.

      “Because when I was young, I was just like them. Moved from family to family, from home to home, but none of the places I lived was my home—my family. I had two friends back then. They cared. And that made all the difference. I never got a home, but I’ve given those three kids one. It’s not traditional family, and you’re right, I’m young. But no kid in the foster system is looking for a perfect family...they just want someone to belong to. Someplace to call home. I try to do that for these three.”

      “But how did you get started?” he asked.

      “That is a long story.”

      He was about to say he could manage long when she added, “Too long for today.” She looked away from him, her attention back on the kids.

      “Come on, Aud,” Clinton called.

      It took Sawyer a second to realize the boy had called her Aud, not Odd. He might not know Audrey very well yet, but he knew she was odd—in a very good way. Not many people her age took on the responsibility of three kids, one of whom had a checkered past.

      “What time would you like us to come over on Saturday?” Audrey asked as she started toward the car.

      “How about noon?”

      “That sounds great.”

      “Have the kids bring their suits,” he reminded her.

      Audrey nodded. “See you then.” With that, she got in the car with the kids and backed out of his driveway. With other women, even his ex, Millie, he’d had playing it cool down to a science. He did enough, but not too much. He called, but not too often. Now as he stood staring down the road long after she’d disappeared, he realized