“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I’m being realistic. You know, I’ve been following the #MeToo movement along with everybody else. And wouldn’t we all like to march and speak out? But guess what? This is real life, and our bills are real, and we need real jobs.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It was idealistic and certainly current to point the finger and call out men and incidents that exploited and even harmed them. It all sounded good on social media and the news, but protests didn’t pay the bills. He’d seen it in the military and in education as well—women staying silent rather than risking their careers.

“How can I help?” he asked her simply.

She turned to him and there was that smile, the one that lit her face. “You’re already helping.”

Caroline gave each of the kids a kiss on the head and sent them down the driveway to wait for the school bus. It was their first day without their cousin Fern, because Virginia had bought a cottage on the south end of the peninsula, moving ahead in her post-divorce life.

“When did kissing my kids goodbye start seeming so normal?” she asked her mother, who was making a second pot of coffee.

“You’re a natural.”

“Nah. But you’re a good teacher. Seriously, Mom, I don’t know how to thank you and Dad. Now that Virginia’s gone—”

“Do you want to move to the garage apartment?”

“That’s really nice, but what I want is to be on my own again. Supporting myself and the kids.”

“I have no doubt you’ll do that,” her mother said, handing her a mug of fresh coffee. “There’s no hurry. We love being able to help with the kids.” She paused. “Take all the time you need. It’s probably premature to say this, but you and Will are getting really close.”

Please don’t say how close, Caroline thought.

“I’m happy for you,” Mom said. “He’s a good guy, and you’re . . . different around him. In a good way.”

“Am I?”

“He lights you up, Caroline. It’s really nice to see.”

Caroline looked out the window at the wind-harried dunes. “Is it weird that we’re together? Me and Sierra’s ex? I ran into her mother the other day, and she all but accused me of breaking them up. She said if I hadn’t come back, they’d still be together.”

“Sierra’s mother probably misses her desperately, and she’s grieving. She knows as well as you and I do that your coming back didn’t end Sierra’s marriage.”

“The timing must seem incredibly suspicious. Honestly, this was the last thing I expected.” And the thing was this—Caroline was so in love with Will Jensen that she couldn’t see straight. But lately she wondered if he was already regretting their newfound love. She came with two kids, a struggling business enterprise, and a complicated adoption proceeding. So much baggage to bring to a new relationship.

She opened her laptop and checked her email queue. It was a mile long these days. This morning brought a series of attached documents from the social worker who was helping her with the adoption. Feeling a twinge of apprehension, she opened a document with important in the subject line.

The words on the screen blurred before Caroline’s eyes. Everything inside her turned to liquid and drained away on a wave of horror. She must have made a sound, because her mother dropped everything and came over to the table.

“What’s the matter?”

Caroline managed to catch her breath. “There’s . . . Mom, there’s a problem with the adoption.”

“What do you mean, a problem? The hearing is on the calendar, and we’ve got the party all planned. What could possibly go wrong at this point? My God, you’re white as a ghost, Caroline. Is it their immigration status?”

Caroline nearly came undone as she tried to find her voice. “The children’s father hasn’t relinquished his parental rights.”

Chapter 30

Caroline stepped out of the car in front of the Pacific County courthouse, trying to keep her knees from wobbling. The domed 1910 building faced the bay with brooding symmetry, its blocky shape dominating the surrounding gardens and crammed parking lot. More cars lined the road, and there were several news vans topped with gear, the crews rolling out cables and cameras.

What should have been a simple case of adoption had become notorious. Caroline had barely slept for days as she braced herself for the confrontation.

Flick and Addie got out of the back seat, and Virginia went to park the car. The nightmare that had begun with the paternal rights claim had extended to her home, her heart, her dreams.

Caroline hadn’t been able to afford a lawyer, so her parents had put up a retainer to an attorney who specialized in family law. Because everyone knew Caroline was going to need all the help she could get.

Theresa Bond, the lawyer, had advised Caroline to bring the children to the hearing. Caroline had tried to explain the situation to the children in a way they could understand. But they didn’t understand. “Mama always said we don’t have a father,” Flick insisted.

“I don’t want a father,” Addie had stated. “I just want you.”

Now Caroline took both their hands. She hoped they didn’t notice how cold hers were. She was utterly terrified. She’d promised these children repeatedly that she would keep them safe. And now that promise was in jeopardy.

Judges almost never terminated the rights of a natural parent against that parent’s will. Almost never.

She clung to the almost.

A gleaming SUV with blackened windows silently docked itself at the curb. Out stepped a couple of men with briefcases, followed by Rilla Stein and Mick Taylor. Cameras flashed and journalists called out questions. It was bizarre, seeing them here at the far edge of the country, uncomfortable transplants from New York.

Mick Taylor was the children’s father. An expedited DNA test had verified the claim. Caroline was still in shock. The children had been born in Haiti, so she’d assumed the father was there. Yet now, she couldn’t help but notice Flick’s nose was very slightly aquiline, and maybe Addie’s eyes were a certain shade of flecked green. According to the documents filed by Mick’s legal team, Angelique had never told Mick the children were his.

Caroline had nothing to say to him or any member of his entourage as they surged past, dogged by reporters and photographers. Mick had found her Achilles’ heel. The one thing that could take her down. Although custody cases usually ground slowly through the system, Mick’s powerful legal team had won an injunction against Caroline’s adoption petition.

Addie made a small, almost inaudible sound. The little girl was staring at Mick, and a small trickle of pee tracked down her leg.

“Oh, sweetie,” Caroline whispered. “Let’s go inside, okay?”

With both kids in tow, she threw her bag on the security scanner and quickly found a restroom. “We’ll get you cleaned up,” she said, taking off Addie’s undies, shoes, and socks. She rinsed the things in the sink and dried them under the hot hand dryer. As she helped Addie get dressed again, she looked into the little girl’s eyes.