Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride. Sheri WhiteFeather

the sun, like the happy kid he was supposed to be.

      “Their recess is almost over,” Losa said. “And as soon as they come inside, you can meet him.”

      “Yes, of course.” Since the interview was coming to a close, Lizzie turned off the recorder on her phone and gathered the packet she’d been given. “I’m looking forward to it.”

      “Splendid.” Losa stood. “You can chat with him in the library. We use it as an art room, too, so that’s where the supplies you brought will be kept.” She said to Max, “You know where the library is, so you two go on ahead, and I’ll bring Tokoni to you.”

      Lizzie put on a brave face, but deep down she was still concerned that Tokoni would find her lacking. That he wouldn’t take to her the way he had with Max.

      But it was too late to back out. She was here to support Max—and the orphaned child they’d come to see.

      * * *

      The library was furnished in the typical way, with tables and chairs and shelves of books, but as Lizzie and Max stepped farther into the room, she spotted a seating area in the back that she assumed was designed for guests.

      Max led her toward it, and they sat on a floral-printed sofa. She folded her hands on her lap, then unfolded them, attempting to relax.

      “It feels good to be back,” he said, far more comfortable than she was. “I miss volunteering here.”

      “What kinds of things did you do?” she asked, trying to envision him in the throes of it.

      “Mostly I read to the kids or told them stories. But sometimes I helped in the kitchen. I fixed the plumbing once and mopped the floors in the bathroom when one of the toilets overflowed. Tokoni got in trouble that day because he caused the problem, flushing a toy boat down there.”

      She bit back a laugh. Apparently sweet little Tokoni had a mischievous side. “I guess your donation didn’t make you immune to the grunt work.”

      “I didn’t think it was fair for me to pick and choose my tasks. Besides, as much as Losa appreciated the money, she understood that I needed to be useful in other ways, too.”

      “The kids must have gotten used to having you around.”

      He smiled. “Yeah, they did. That’s how Tokoni and I got so close.”

      Just then Losa entered the library, clutching the boy’s hand. He was the kid in the green shirt and denim shorts Lizzie had noticed earlier, and up close he looked just like the picture Max had shown her, with full round cheeks and expressive eyes. As soon as Tokoni saw Max, he grinned and tried to escape Losa’s hold. But she wouldn’t let him go, so he stood there, bouncing in place.

      Max came to his feet. Lizzie followed suit, and her nerves ratcheted up a notch.

      Tokoni tried to pull Losa toward Max, but the older woman wouldn’t budge. “If you want to see Max, you have to be good,” she warned the child. “And then I’ll come back to get you.”

      “Okay.” He promised her that he would be “very, very good.” A second later, he was free and running straight to Max.

      Losa left the library, and Lizzie watched as man and child came together in a joyous reunion.

      “Hey, buddy,” Max said, scooping him up. “It’s great to see you.”

      “Hi, Max!” He nuzzled the big, broad shoulder he was offered, laughing as Max tickled him.

      Once the kid calmed down, he gazed curiously at Lizzie. This strange woman, she thought, who was just standing there.

      She tried for a smile, but feared that it might have come off as more of a grimace. He just kept staring at her, really staring, to the point of barely blinking. She could tell it was her hair that caught his attention. Her dang Lady Ari hair.

      With Tokoni still in his arms, Max turned to face her, too. At this point, he’d become aware of how the five-year-old was reacting to her.

      “Is she a goodness?” the child asked.

      “You mean a goddess?” Max chuckled. “No. She’s just a pretty lady with red hair. But sometimes I think she looks like a goddess, too. She’s my friend Lizzie.”

      Tokoni grinned at her and said, “Hi, Izzy.”

      “Hello.” She didn’t have the heart to correct him. But Max did.

      “Her name is Lizzie,” he said. “With an L. Like Losa. Or lizard.” Max stuck out his tongue at her, making a reptile face. “I always thought her name sounded a little like that.”

      “Gee, thanks.” She made the same goofy face at him, trying to be more kidlike. But truth of the matter, he’d nicknamed her Lizard ages ago. Just as she sometimes called him Mad Max.

      Tokoni giggled, enjoying their antics.

      Max said to him, “So you think we’re funny, do you?”

      “Yep.” The child’s chest heaved with excitement, with more laughter. Then he said to Lizzie, “Know what? This is an orange-fan-age.”

      She smiled, amused by his pronunciation of it.

      “Know what else?” he asked. “My real mommy is gone, but I’m going to get ’dopted by a new mommy. And a daddy, too.”

      Overwhelmed by how easily he’d rattled that off, she couldn’t think of anything to say. She should have been prepared for a conversation like this, knowing what she knew about him, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice.

      But that didn’t stop him from asking her, “Why are you at the orange-fan-age?”

      “Because Max wanted me to meet you.”

      Tokoni reached out to touch her hair, locating a strand that had come loose from her ponytail. “How come?”

      “Because of how much he likes you.” She released the air in her lungs, realizing that she’d been holding her breath. “And because I’m going to write a story about the orphanage and the kids who live here.”

      “Can I be a superhero in it?”

      Oh, dear. “It’s not that kind of story.”

      He was still touching her hair. “It could be.”

      No, she thought, it couldn’t. She wasn’t good at writing fiction. She’d always been a reality-type gal.

      “Come on, buddy,” Max said, redirecting Tokoni’s attention. “Let’s all go over here.” He carried him to the sofa and plopped him down.

      Lizzie joined them, with Tokoni in the middle. She fixed her hair, tucking the loose strand behind her ear.

      “I made a book of the mommy and daddy who are going to ’dopt me,” he said to her. “I can show it to you.”

      “Sure,” she replied, trying to be as upbeat about it as he was.

      Tokoni climbed off the sofa and dashed over to a plastic bin that had his name on it. There appeared to be personalized bins for all the children, stacked in neat rows.

      He returned and resumed his spot, between her and Max. He showed her a handmade booklet, consisting of about ten pieces of white paper with staples in the center holding it together.

      He narrated each picture, explaining the activity he and his future parents were engaging in. On page one, they stood in the sun. On page two, they swam in the ocean. In the next one, they were going out to dinner, where they would eat all of Tokoni’s favorite foods.

      Everyone had red smiles on their faces, black dots for eyes and no noses. Dad was the tallest, Mom was wearing a triangle-shaped dress and Tokoni was the only one with hair. His folks were completely bald.

      Lizzie assumed it was deliberate. That Tokoni hadn’t given them hair because he didn’t know what color