Rain was the first friend Josie had made in eight long years, and she felt a tension loosen inside her with the newly forged bond. The reminder of how important women are to each other.
Together, they’d removed the more feminine décor items Josie had had in the room . . . the floral paintings, the antique, ceramic pitcher and basin that had been on the dresser. They’d painted the walls a blue gray and replaced the pale pink and green quilt that had covered the bed with one Josie had found in the attic done in blues and whites. It was perfect. Reed had plenty of space to add his own special items.
Josie sat down on the bed, her hand running over the hand-stitched fabric. Her mind drifted to the quilt Marshall . . . no Charlie had thrown in the warehouse cell where she’d given birth, the quilt she’d used to wrap around her newborn infant after she’d first held him.
She clenched her eyes shut, drawing in a shuddery breath. She was alone now, no chatter distracting her from her own thoughts and suddenly, her chest ached. She felt so deeply unsettled and she didn’t know why. She should be overjoyed, shouldn’t she? Here she was, preparing the room where her son would sleep. The ending to her long search that she’d only dared to dream of. It was just nerves, she told herself. It was going to be a difficult adjustment, and she had to be realistic about that. But it would get better. For both her and for Reed. It had to. It had to.
She heard her cell phone and stood quickly, walking back to her bedroom and looking at the number. Unknown. Frowning, she connected the call.
“Hello?”
“Hi Josie, it’s Graham Hornsby.”
Her lawyer. Josie tensed slightly. Was something wrong? Something regarding Reed? “Hi, Mr. Hornsby. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” he assured her. “Right on track. I met with the Davies earlier.” Josie released a breath. “The reason I’m calling . . . Josie, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but—”
“What?” She sat up straighter, worry thrumming through her once more. “Is Reed okay?”
“Yes, sorry, he’s just fine. He’s at a baseball game. His team is playing against a Cincinnati team. He’s . . . he’s very close to where you are, and I shouldn’t be saying anything at all, but”—he released a long breath—"I have children myself, grandchildren. I can imagine . . .”
Josie blinked. “I can go watch?”
There was a pause. “You can’t let him see you. You have to promise that.”
She shook her head, gripped by excitement. To see her son in person. Not in a still photograph. But in person. Right up close. Her breath caught. “Yes, yes, I promise. I won’t let him see me.”
She heard him exhale into the phone. “I could . . . get in trouble for even mentioning this to you—”
“You won’t, I promise.” She cast her eyes to the side. “I’ll call my friend Rain. I’ll see if she can help me.”
“All right.” Mr. Hornsby sounded so unsure, torn, as though he was second-guessing himself and what he’d just instructed her to do. The sweet, fatherly man who’d gotten tears in his eyes when she’d told him of her search for her baby. The man who’d taken her case pro bono after Zach had referred him to her. Zach. At the thought of him, her stomach trembled. God, she missed him. She missed him so much, and she’d pushed him away. It was necessary, but it still hurt. And God, he would blow a gasket if he knew what she was about to do.
“Which field?” she asked quickly before Mr. Hornsby changed his mind. He told her and then she held the phone tightly to her for a moment as though she were squeezing the older man himself. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you so much.”
**********
“You sure this is a good idea, Josie?” Rain asked, pulling into a space at the field where Mr. Hornsby had told her Reed was playing a baseball game.
The lot was full, and she could see that the game was already underway. Her heart beat swiftly, her breath shallow. She was about to lay eyes on her son for the first time in eight years. Maybe it was a bad idea, perhaps she should just wait until he was delivered to her house. But that moment was going to be awkward and emotional, she wasn’t sure how Reed was going to react to her at first, and she just wanted to see him. She ached for it. To soak him in without him knowing for just a few precious moments. That wasn’t so wrong, was it?
She’d told the officers at her house that she was going to take a nap, but then called Rain who had come to her front door and dropped something off under the guise of being neighborly, distracting the officers for a moment while Josie had snuck out and then met Rain down the road. She’d left her phone at home, knowing it had a GPS tracker on it. It was a lot of subterfuge but worth it. She’d only be gone a couple of hours at the most.
Josie craned her neck to see the kids on the field, trying to spot the one who belonged to her as Rain unbuckled Milo from his car seat, got the stroller from the trunk, and met her where she stood. “Ready?” she asked softly.
Josie nodded. She’d given Rain the general breakdown of what was going on. Rain looked worried, but hadn’t argued with her, following the GPS to the address of the field her lawyer had given her.
The entrance to the bleacher seats was to the left and a grove of trees lay to the right. Josie would avoid the crowd of parents clapping in the stands
. She was sure one or both of the Davies were there, cheering on their son. Her son. That twist in her chest again. She pushed it away, bringing her hand to the place under which her heart lay, as though she could massage the unsettled feeling away.
“Oh, crap,” Rain muttered.
“What’s wrong.”
“My bag, it was right here.” She bent, looking under the stroller. She sighed, looking back at the parking lot, pressing her lips together. “I must have left it in the trunk when I was getting the stroller out. It has his snacks, my wallet, everything in it. Meet you there in a minute?” She turned the stroller, beginning to push it back over the asphalt.
Josie nodded distractedly, turning back to the field, her eyes still scanning. She stepped onto the patchy grass, moving toward the fence where she had a good view of the kids. Her heart stalled when she saw the name of the player standing at first base, his back to her, his knees bent as he prepared to catch a ball. Davies. Her heart picked up its beat, pounding heavily now as love, so intense it almost brought her to her knees, filled her soul. She gripped the fence, bringing herself closer, her eyes trained on the little brown-haired boy. The kid who had been up to bat struck out and Reed stood upright, stretching his arms as he waited for the next kid to step up to the plate. He was skinny, but tall, and the sun glinted off the caramel highlights in his hair. His father’s hair. She drank him in greedily. Everything about him seemed like a marvel. His arms. His long legs. Every hair on his head. There were a dozen other kids milling around, and they all had arms and legs and hair too, but something about looking at her son, the child she’d created within her, made such things seem impossibly wondrous.