A Mother For His Adopted Son. Lynne Marshall

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       CHAPTER TWO

      ANDREA TAPPED ON the white front door of the boxy mid-century modern home in the hills above Glendale. She was about to ring the bell when the door swung open. Admittedly nervous about facing the handsome Dr. Sam Marcus on his turf, she grinned tensely until she saw him with an adorable little boy balanced on his hip and wearing an eye patch, then she relaxed.

      “Come in,” he said, seeming more hospitable than she would have imagined considering their first two encounters.

      “Hi,” she said, stepping inside onto expensive-looking white tile in the narrow entryway. “This must be Dani.” She moved closer to the little boy, raised her brows and gave a closed-mouth smile. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder. Ack, too much.

      “Bashful,” Sam mouthed.

      She nodded and pretended to ignore the adorable little person after that, as Sam bypassed the living room and walked her into the more inviting family room. It was large, square, open and with excellent sources of natural light from tall windows nearly covering one entire wall of the boxy ‘50s architecture. As it was late April, the sun stuck around longer and longer, and though his house abutted mixed-tree-covered hills and stood on metal stilts at the front, the angle at this time of day was perfect for maximum light. A thick brown carpet made her want to kick off her shoes and walk barefoot. Not sure what to do next, she set her backpack and art box aka fishing-tackle box on the classic stone fireplace hearth, then glanced up at Sam. The previously upturned corners of his mouth had stretched into a genuine smile.

      She’d given herself a stern talking-to the afternoon they’d made the appointment for letting herself send and pick up on some kind of natural attraction vibes arcing between them. The man was a father! Probably married. How many do-overs would she need with this guy?

      Shifting her gaze from Sam, she secretly studied Dani so as not to send him into ostrich mode again. She was admittedly surprised that Dani wasn’t a mini-me of Sam. He looked Asian, Filipino maybe? Was he adopted? And Sam didn’t wear a wedding ring, which made her wonder if he might not be married, but she figured she’d find out soon enough once his wife or significant other made an appearance.

      “That’s as good a place as any to set up,” he said, easing Dani down onto his own two feet. “I hope the lighting is good enough.”

      “This should be perfect.”

      Dani immediately ran toward his stack of toys.

      “Um, should I wait for your wife?”

      “I’m not married. I adopted Dani on my own.” Sam sat on the large wraparound couch and put his feet up on the circular ottoman at the center.

      “That’s fantastic.” Don’t sound so enthusiastic! “The adoption part, I mean.” The only men she knew in Los Angeles who adopted kids on their own were gay. Dr. Marcus clearly didn’t fall into that category if she read that subtle humming interest between them right.

      “I knew what you meant.” A kind gaze came winging her way, and she felt her anxiety over making a dumb remark take a step down.

      “Does he speak English?”

      “They spoke both English and Tagalog at the orphanage. He’s superbright and picks up more and more words every day.” Spoken like a proud papa.

      She found the boy busy with a colorful toy TV controller, punching buttons and listening to sounds and jingles, and dropped to her knees. “So, Dani, may I look under your patch?”

      The black-haired toddler, who was small for his age, kept his head down, staring at the gadget in his hand, as he let her gingerly remove the child-sized patch. She’d seen empty eye socket after empty eye socket in the four years since she’d started the apprenticeship, but this was her first toddler. Grandma had given her a pep talk that afternoon about how much she believed in Andrea’s talent and technical skills, and truth was she knew she’d caught on quickly to the long and tedious process of re-creating matching eyes for the eyeless. But this was a beautiful little kid, and her heart squeezed every time she looked at him, thinking this was way too early for anyone to need a prosthetic. But was there ever a good age?

      She’d worn stretch slacks, so she sat cross-legged beside him in order to be at his level. “I need to make a little cast to fit your face, Dani. Will you let me do that?”

      The boy looked at his father, who reassured him it was okay with a slow, deep nod.

      “It won’t hurt, I promise, but it might feel strange and cold for a little while.” With adult patients it was so much easier to explain the process. She’d just have to wing it with Dani. “May I take some pictures of your eye, too?”

      “Eye gone,” he said, slapping his palm over the left socket, СКАЧАТЬ