A Mother For His Adopted Son. Lynne Marshall

him the toy, and he reached for it without hesitation.

      “What do you say?” For the first time in the entire process Sam spoke up.

      “Thank you.”

      She couldn’t help herself and kissed his forehead. “You are welcome.”

      Sam cleared his throat. “Can I make you some tea or coffee?”

      “Tea sounds good. Thanks.” There was a strange expression in Sam’s eyes when theirs met, as if maybe he’d been touched by the interchange with her and Dani as much as she had.

      Dani played happily with his frog as Andrea helped put the eye patch back on. “There. Now you look like a pirate.”

      “I don’t like pirate.”

      “When I make your new eye, you won’t need to wear the patch anymore.”

      He touched the patch and tugged on it. “Okay.”

      “Hey, is this your truck?” She crawled over to a pile of toys in the corner of the room. “May I play with it?” The boy quickly followed her and laughed when she made a vroom-vroom sound, pushing the red truck around the carpet, while waiting for Sam to make the tea.

      Next they played building blocks, and Dani took great pleasure in letting her build her colorful tower, only to knock it down the instant she’d finished. She pretended to be upset, folding her arms and pouting, but the boy saw right through her. Mostly what they did was laugh, giggle, tease each other and horse around until Sam showed up with the tea.

      “I hate to break up the play, Dani, but it’s time to get you ready for bed.”

      Dani acted upset. He pushed out his lower lip and crossed his chubby arms just like Andrea had done a few moments before, but she knew it was all a show. He’d been rubbing his right eye when they’d played, like any little kid who was getting sleepy. When he thought she wasn’t looking, he’d even yawned.

      “Oh, jammies,” Andrea said, to distract him from his pout. “I bet you’ve got really cool jammies.”

      “My jammies have trucks,” he said, his sweet single-eyed gaze waiting for her reaction.

      “Trucks! I think you already know how much I love trucks.”

      She was positive she saw him puff out his chest. Sam offered his hand and Dani took it, looking happily up at his father. The moment went still in her mind like a photograph, as she admired the sweet boy with the loving new parent he’d had the good fortune to find. But before he left the room she called after him. “Dani, don’t forget your frog.”

      He trotted back to take it and gave her one last smile before running off to his father’s waiting hand, then walking with him down the hall. Andrea sat on the plush carpet and sipped her fragrant chamomile tea, her heart aching for a precious little boy with one eye. The warm tea helped smooth out the lump in her throat, but there was no way she’d soon forget Dani.

      A large framed black-and-white photograph on the opposite wall caught her attention. She carried her tea over to it and counted eight kids with a mother and father, all grinning, on someone’s front lawn. She studied the enlarged grainy family photo and determined that the boy third from the end might possibly be Sam Marcus. Or maybe he was second in? Come to think of it, there wasn’t a very strong family resemblance.

      A tallish woman with a broad smile and clear-looking eyes stood next to a droopy-shouldered man with a soft, kind face. They both had dark hair. Two of the kids looked even less like the rest, a blonde girl and a gangly boy with a buzz cut, but somehow those two had earned the favored position of each standing under a draping arm of the mother. Maybe that was Sam under her right arm? Who knew? The date at the bottom of the blown-up picture read “1990.” That would make Dr. Marcus somewhere around thirty.

      Andrea’s gaze wandered to another wall and a shiny silver frame with beautiful cursive penmanship on a weathered scroll inside. The title read “Legend of the Starfish” and the short allegory taught that though a person might not be able to save everyone, in this case starfish, they could at least help one at a time. She stood pondering the words, sipping her tea, wondering what this told her about Dr. Samuel Marcus, the single guy who’d adopted a little boy from the Philippines.

      Ten minutes had passed. She’d put all of Dani’s toys back where they belonged and had almost finished her herbal tea when Sam returned. He wore comfortable jeans that still managed to hug his hips and thighs, and a white with black stripes polo shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck in. It gave her a glimpse of his broader-than-she’d-expected chest and surprising biceps. He walked around in his socks, proving he was totally at home in his castle. His cell phone rang. He checked the caller and said, “Sorry, but I’ve got to take this. It’s my sister.” She nodded her approval.

      “You’re up late,” he said, then walked around the room in brief yet very familiar conversation. She tried not to listen, though envying him having a sister to share things with.

      His hair was less tidy tonight, and Andrea liked the effect, especially when a clump fell forward onto his forehead when he bent over to pick up an overlooked toy block. And the eyes that had practically drilled a hole into her the last time they’d met seemed smoky blue tonight without a trace of tension around them. She’d often heard the term “boyish good looks,” but never understood what that meant until now. How could that uptight man who’d barged into her department be the same guy standing in front of her? A man who’d adopted a little boy on his own and appeared to genuinely enjoy a conversation with his sister. A man like that had to have a good heart.

      She took in a tiny breath as he ended the call and approached, her enjoying every step. So this was what an everyday hero looked like. Feeling nothing short of smitten, she let out a beyond-friendly smile.

      Sam didn’t know why he’d choked up just before he’d put Dani to bed, but seeing Andrea with his son, and how effortlessly they’d gotten along, made him remember how much Katie had let him down. Evidently having her own kids would have been one thing, but it’d been too much for her to consider adopting someone else’s child. “You never know what you’ll get,” she’d said. “You could be adopting a million problems.” He’d argued that the same could be said for any child. Besides, he’d seen with his own eyes what wonders selfless understanding and generosity of love could work on most kids. His foster mother had been the queen of that, not only with her own children but with all the kids she’d brought into their home.

      He wasn’t about to go down Katie’s road of disappointment and pain again, especially right now, not when the dramatic-looking, height-challenged blonde with big overly made-up brown eyes sat waiting for him. He smiled and she gave a flirtatious beam right back. He definitely liked that, even though he knew a smile like that could be dangerous.

      “You’ve made quite an impression. Dani said to tell you good-night.”

      “Great. He’s an awfully sweet kid.”

      “Yeah, he has a gentle nature.” Now wasn’t the time to go all soft over the misfortune of his beautiful adopted son, and how sometimes it reminded him of his own situation as a child, so he focused on his tea. “My tea’s gone cold. Can I refill yours?” He scooped up his cup and took hers when she offered it to him, then headed for the kitchen. Surprisingly, she followed along in her bare feet. He liked it that she’d made herself at home.

      He put their cups on the kitchen counter, and as he turned on the front burner to heat the teapot, he felt her expectant gaze. He glanced over his shoulder and found her still smiling at him, so he smiled back, letting her warmth pass through him. If they kept up this goofy grinning, things could get awkward.

      “It’s really obvious you’re a good and loving father.”

      “I don’t know how true that is, but he deserves no less.” He kept busy, opening and closing drawers and cabinets, but talked freely.

      Something about her easygoing and encouraging style helped him open up. “You know my greatest fear is that