Adopted: Family in a Million. Barbara McMahon

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      Lying back on the pillows, he tried to imagine his son. The boy would be four now. Zack couldn’t remember back to when he had been four. He had already been placed in his first foster home by that age. There had been other children there, but his memories were hazy. What was a four-year-old like?

      That led to wondering what the family who had adopted his son was like. Did they think his father had abandoned him? Did they know Zack had not even known of his son’s existence until he’d received this letter a few hours ago?

      He had an overwhelming urge to find his son. See him. Make sure he was happy and well cared for. Even in the foster care system, bad things happened to children. Did adopted families have regular visits from Social Services to make sure the child was being properly looked after? Was Daniel happy and secure in the family that was raising him?

      Zack was scheduled to be sent back to the States next week—if he continued to improve. The surgeries had drained him of all energy. He was fighting to recover. But it would be several months before he could return to work. Just maybe he’d have time to find his son to make sure he was all right. To see what he and Alesia had produced.

      Did Daniel have dark hair like his, or was it lighter like Alesia’s blond hair? Was he fearful or brave? Adoptions were usually confidential. Did he really have any hope in the world of finding the child he’d fathered?

      He picked up the paper and pen the nurse had provided. The least he could do was thank Brittany for letting him know. It had been the right thing to do. And just maybe, it had given him even more reason for getting fit again as soon as possible. He had a son to find.

       April

      “Here’s the final report.” Ben Abercrombie slid the folder across the desk. “I know it took longer than originally anticipated, but you know adoption records are hard to access. Here’s what I found out. Your son was adopted by T. J. and Susan Johnson of New York City. I’ve located Mrs. Johnson, the husband has since died. Killed by a drunk driver two years ago.”

      Zack Morgan reached out for the folder and flipped it open. The first thing he saw was a picture of a small child. It was not a close up, but he could tell the boy had dark hair. He looked so little. Was he small for his age? Zack had no idea how big four-year-olds should be.

      Ben frowned as he glanced at the paperwork. “So how did you want this handled? Just show up one day and ask to meet your son?”

      Zack shook his head. “Despite what you may think, I have some feelings for the child and the situation. The last thing I would do is give any reason to rock his security.” He thought briefly of the different families he’d lived with. He never knew how long he’d stay. He couldn’t imagine deliberately causing that kind of panic and uncertainty to anyone, much less a little boy.

      “I just want to know he’s okay. That he’s loved and the family life he has is good.”

      The detective leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. “Mother appears to be doing the best she can. It was a comedown from the lifestyle they enjoyed when the husband was alive. He was an attorney and made a good income. Since his death, they’ve moved to a less affluent neighborhood. She’s gone back to work. Still, from what I could see, the mother takes good care of the child and he seems happy enough. Quiet, not as boisterous as other little kids I’ve seen. But, hey, everyone has a different personality.”

      “But he’s got a good mother, right?” Zack couldn’t remember his own mother. The best foster mom had been Allie Zumwalt. He hoped Daniel had a mother as sweet as Allie.

      Ben nodded. “Doing the best she can.”

      “What do you mean by that?” Zack asked quickly.

      “She has to work, leaves the child with an older woman in their building. The apartment building is old, a bit run-down. The neighborhood’s not the best place to be after dark.”

      “Should they move?”

      “Takes money to live where they did before. New York’s not a cheap city.”

      The one thing Zack had was money. He spent little, had amassed a small fortune working overseas with the extra hardship pay. Judicial investments had the money growing steadily. The detective had delivered, and the cost had been nothing Zack wouldn’t have paid three times over or more to find out about his son.

      He looked at the photograph again. Would he recognize the child if he tripped over him in a crowd somewhere? Shouldn’t there be some kind of tie between biological parents and children? Some sort of instant connection? To Zack, there was nothing but wonder that he could have fathered this little boy.

      Railing silently against Alesia once again, he closed the folder and stood. “Thank you,” he said, offering his hand.

      “I’ll be here if you want anything else,” the detective said.

      Zack carried the folder out with him. He was staying in a small hotel near Central Park while he finished recuperating. He could walk without the limp as long as he didn’t overdo it. His shoulder was still stiff. Maybe he needed to get back to work to loosen those muscles. But he was on medical leave and still doing his physical therapy routine each day.

      When he reached his room, he settled down to read every word in the report the detective had compiled. Even if he never got to meet him, Zack knew he’d left a legacy to the future. Thinking about it, he could do more. On Monday, he’d make an appointment with an attorney to leave his estate to his son. They may never meet, but someday Daniel would know his father had cared about him.

      CHAPTER ONE

      SUSAN JOHNSON was frantic. She could scarcely think as she rushed down the crowded New York sidewalk, dodging pedestrians, searching for her son. How could one small boy disappear so quickly. Why wasn’t someone looking for his mother? When she found him, she’d never let him out of her sight again!

      Of course that was impossible, but she was so scared she couldn’t think straight. Where was Danny?

      “Please, God, let me find my baby,” she prayed as she searched the crowded sidewalk in front of her.

      “Do you think he’d try to cross the street alone?” the teacher’s aide next to her asked, already puffing slightly from the fast pace Susan set.

      “No. I don’t know. If he thought he saw his father across the street he might, though I’m always careful to make sure we stop and look both ways even when the light is green. But he’s only four.” And always after tall dark haired men thinking they were his daddy. Ever since Tom had died, Danny had been searching. Children his age didn’t understand death, she’d been told.

      How could the preschool have let him get away? The play yard was fenced and the front gate should have either been latched so a little child couldn’t open it, or monitored by an adult. Had the teacher turned her back? For how long? Where was Danny?

      Were they going in the wrong direction? Had he turned right when exiting the preschool? Or left? She’d opted for left because it was in the direction of their apartment. Familiar territory to a little boy. But what if he’d gone the other way? If he’d darted out to follow some stranger, he wouldn’t have cared for direction—only СКАЧАТЬ