Grace felt a sharp pang at Selah’s reminder.
Ruben gripped Selah’s hand firmly this time. “Selah.” His tone was full of disapproval.
Selah’s eyes filled with tears.
“We will not hold Grace back. Samuel is her son, not ours. Would you have given up Javier?” Selah started to speak again, but Ruben pressed on. “This is part of a healthy transition, mi amor.”
The sooner Grace left, the better. “I have most of what I need in storage to set up the cottage. I’ve called my church. Volunteers are helping me move on Saturday.”
Selah gasped. “Saturday! You don’t have a crib.” Her eyes glistened. “Where will Sammy sleep? On the floor?”
“I bought a crib yesterday.” She had gone back to the thrift store where she’d purchased the gently used car seat as well as a high chair, crib bedding, and toys. “I have what I need.”
Selah looked hurt and angry. “You still need time to find childcare.”
“I know.”
“You need to check references carefully.”
“I know.” Grace fought tears.
Selah’s tone softened. “Please, don’t take him like this. Let me take care of him for you.”
Ruben looked ready to cry at his wife’s anguished appeal. He gave Grace a pleading look. “Perhaps a little more time would help, chiquita. You could leave Samuel with Selah while you move in. I can help, too. I’m free on Saturday.”
Grace knew she couldn’t help with a baby in her arms, and Selah seemed to understand everything was going to change. Maybe a little more time would be good. She didn’t want to make a hasty decision about childcare. Selah was right. One couldn’t be too careful these days. She’d have to talk to people, check references. Meanwhile Samuel would be safe and happy with people he knew.
Samuel stirred in her arms. Heart aching with indecision, Grace kissed the top of his head. He should be asleep in his crib, but she’d wanted to hold him so she’d be strong when she talked with Selah and Ruben. It hurt to accept the logic of Selah’s arguments. Selah would give him better and more loving care than he would receive in a day care center, even if she found a good one. He would be one among a dozen other children, while here, he would have Selah’s complete attention.
That’s what worried Grace most. Was she being selfish? Was jealousy driving her? Would leaving Samuel in Selah’s care a while longer help her adjust or make things worse? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t allow her insecurities to overrule good sense. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Selah. This would be temporary.” She searched Selah’s face, wanting her to understand. “I’ll leave Samuel with you during the week. And I’ll pay you for childcare.”
“I don’t want money! I do it for love.”
“I know, but it’s part of me being independent again. Please. Try to understand. I love you, Selah. You’ve been like my sister. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and for Samuel, but I want my son with me full-time and as soon as possible.”
Selah let out a shuddering breath. “Yes. Yo comprendo.” She nodded, calm now. “It will all work out as it should.”
Grace prayed she was doing the right thing. “I’ll pick up Samuel Friday afternoon after work and bring him home Sunday afternoon.” She hadn’t meant to say home. She felt quick tears threaten and blinked them back.
“Yes. Good.” Selah spoke gently now. “Taking care of Samuel has always been my pleasure. He is our little angel.” Selah held out her arms, ready to take him.
Grace stood. You can’t have him, she wanted to cry out. Stop trying to take him from me! But to say such things was unthinkable after all Selah and Ruben had done for her. “I’m grateful to you both. Truly, I am.”
“We know.” Ruben understood, even if Selah didn’t.
“It’s late, and Samuel and I should both be in bed.” She put her hand on Selah’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
Selah looked up at her. She lifted her hand and cupped Samuel’s foot.
Grace didn’t put Samuel in his crib that night. She kept him snuggled in bed beside her.
Roman watched four men move furniture and boxes into his cottage. Grace had taken a large, wrapped item in earlier and made two more trips with boxes. She carried in a vacuum cleaner and didn’t come out again. He imagined her inside, issuing orders like a general. Put the couch over there, the swivel rocker over here, the coffee table just so. Everything would have to be in its proper place. She didn’t have much, so the process didn’t take long. Three of the men left, and the fourth stayed. Mexican, Roman guessed.
When Roman looked again later, Grace and the man were sitting on the low wall overlooking the canyon, talking. He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. Roman thought about how well she’d gotten along with Hector. Maybe Grace had a thing for Hispanics. Roman had been mistaken for one a few times. Then again, he’d been mistaken for a lot of things, especially when he traveled and went through security. His mother had been white. It was anyone’s guess what the sperm donor was. Jasper said a DNA test could tell his ancestry. Roman Velasco didn’t want to know, but Bobby Ray Dean sometimes thought about it.
Roman concentrated on the transfer sheet. Last one and almost finished. In a few days, a week at the most, he’d be heading south to San Diego. He’d stay whatever time it took to finish the project. Two weeks, maybe less if he pushed himself hard. He’d start where Hector began and work his way across the wall. Hector would do the final protective coat.
Tossing the pen into the tray, Roman flexed his cramping fingers. He’d worked on giraffes dining on thorn trees for hours, struggling with the irony of drawing beasts free in the Serengeti for a hotel housing tourists eager to see captured animals living in enclosures.
He paced, daydreaming. What would it be like to go on a photo safari and take up-close-and-personal shots of lions and wildebeests? He had the money to spend time in Africa. Unfortunately, he couldn’t leave this project unfinished.
Maybe he needed another trip somewhere closer.
He went to the bank of windows overlooking Topanga Canyon. Grace and the guy were still talking. For a woman who barely said twenty words a day to him, she sure had plenty to say to that guy. They stood and hugged. The man kissed her cheek. Good friends, then. They headed for the front drive and disappeared. Roman’s pulse kicked up a notch when Grace came back alone and entered the cottage.
Maybe he should go over and say hello. It would be the polite thing to do.
Bad idea. They’d already established boundaries: boss and employee, now landlord and tenant.
He scrounged through cabinets and the fridge for something to entice his appetite. He wasn’t hungry enough to fix anything. Turning on the sixty-inch wall-mounted television, he channel surfed. Nothing but sports and news, reruns of canceled TV shows and old movies. He turned the set off and stood at the living room windows, thinking about how much Grace liked the view. He’d seen far better during his travels. Bored and tired, he stretched out on the couch and let his mind drift. Images formed in his imagination. Pulling the black book and pencils from under the couch, he sketched quickly. A woman looked back at him with wide, dark eyes, her lips curved in a Mona Lisa smile. Muttering a curse, he ripped the page out and crumpled it in his hand.
Roman pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. He was getting another headache. A drive with the windows down would help. He’d kill time walking the beach at Malibu, have a hamburger before he came back. Maybe he’d meet a hot, willing girl. He’d been celibate far too long.
Two hours later, Roman sat on the beach, watching the crash of waves. All he’d done was change scenery, not his mind. He could almost hear Jasper Hawley’s voice. Where are you going this time, Bobby Ray? What are you looking for?