“Then you’re still interested in adopting a child?”
“Of course.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” the other woman said. “We have a little girl. She’s six months old and quite adorable. I wonder if you would be interested in her.”
Dakota felt the blood rush from her head and wondered if she was going to faint. “Do you mean it? You have a child for me?”
“Yes, we do. I’m emailing you her file right now. There are a couple of pictures, as well. I was wondering if you would call me back after you look at the pictures. We have one of our workers returning home late tomorrow. If you want to take the child, she can get on the same flight. Otherwise it might be a couple of months until you can have her. I know this is quick, so if you want to wait we all understand. It won’t change your application status.”
Dakota’s head spun. They were offering her what she’d always wanted. The chance for a family of her own. And six months old. That was so young. She was somewhat familiar with the developmental problems of a child raised in an orphanage. The younger the child, the more easily those problems were overcome. The little boy she’d been offered before had been five.
“When would you need to know?”
“In the next couple of hours,” Patricia admitted. “I’m sorry it’s such short notice. Our contact has been called home with a family emergency. We try to send a child with every adult going home. But again, it’s up to you. We’re not trying to pressure you. If you’re not ready, we’ll call the next family on the list.”
Dakota walked into the kitchen. She picked up a pen and some sticky notes, then sat at the kitchen table. “Give me your number,” she said. “I’ll look at the file and call you back within the hour.”
“Thank you,” Patricia said.
Dakota took the information, then hung up. She sat in her kitchen. She knew she was in a chair with her feet on the floor, but part of her felt as if she were flying. Flying and shaking and emotional beyond tears. She had to still be breathing because she was conscious, but she couldn’t really feel her body.
Somewhere in the background there was a dinging sound. Finn walked into the kitchen and took the casserole dish from the oven. Then he turned to face her.
“You’re adopting a child?” he asked, sounding stunned.
She nodded, still unable to focus on anything. “Yes. They have a little girl for me arriving in L.A.” She looked at him. “She’s from Kazakhstan. Six months old. They’re sending me a file. I need to go turn on my computer.”
She stood, then couldn’t remember where her computer was. This wasn’t happening, was it? She laughed. “They’re going to give me a little girl of my own.”
“I know you wanted kids…” His voice trailed off, then he nodded slowly. “You have a lot to deal with. Why don’t I get out of your way?”
“What? Oh.”
So much for their romantic dinner, she thought sadly. So much for him. Finn had more than made it clear he wasn’t looking for another family.
“Thanks,” she said. “I have to make a decision pretty quickly.”
“No problem.” He started to leave, then paused. “You’ll let me know what you decide?”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
She watched him leave. There was a whisper of sadness, but it quickly faded as she hurried to her spare room and turned on her laptop. The machine seemed to take forever to boot, but when it finally did and she was able to open the file, she saw the picture.
And she knew.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAKING THE DECISION was easy, Dakota realized the next morning. The details, on the other hand, threatened to drown her. She’d barely gotten any sleep. Every time she’d closed her eyes, she’d thought of something else she had to do. Even putting a pad of paper and a pen on her nightstand hadn’t helped very much.
It was barely after eight in the morning, and she was exhausted. She had lists, including supplies, and the names of who she was going to call. The last big issue to be resolved was whether to drive to Los Angeles or to fly.
Although flying would be faster, she had to face the reality of dealing with the six-month-old baby she barely knew. What if her new daughter cried the whole way? Dakota wouldn’t know how to handle that. So driving made more sense. Except it was probably an eight-hour drive and wouldn’t that be stressful on the child, as well?
Dakota tapped her pen on the paper, not sure what was the best solution. In a few minutes, she would call her mother. She wanted to tell Denise the good news and ask her advice on the transportation issue.