Footprints - 3 (warning: long)

Anna approached the doors to the side porch slowly, her feet balking every few steps. Despite the July heat, the polished cypress floor felt cool, almost damp. At the French doors she hesitated, her heart constricting at the sound of the low, familiar lullaby coming from the porch.

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the screen, casting the porch and its occupants in a muted golden hue. Anna stopped in the doorway to watch a well-rounded, coffee-colored woman perform a mesmerizing act on the young child she’d seen this morning in the kitchen with Sam.

So the child wasn’t a dream. After waking groggy from a drugged sleep, she’d hoped to find that she had imagined Sam and the screaming toddler. But here it was, straight black hair and all, cuddled in strong brown arms and staring up at Anna’s housekeeper with huge dark eyes.

As the duo rocked, the large, cushioned rocker creaked rhythmically, the sound mimicking the despair in Anna’s heart. Surely it was only yesterday that this same woman had held Susana and sung softly to her.

Anna swallowed the lump growing in her throat and drew a deep breath. A wave of lightheadedness made her reach for the door frame.

Filling her lungs again with warm salt air, she waited for the dizziness to pass and swore to flush the rest of her mother’s sleeping pills down the toilet. Their unpleasant after-effects far exceeded the brief descent into soothing numbness they produced. Besides, the last thing she needed was to follow her mother into chemical dependency. She’d rather never sleep again.

When she finally stepped onto the porch, she bumped into a plant stand, nearly upsetting it. The humming ceased.

“Missy!” exclaimed her part-time housekeeper in a low-pitched, maternal voice that was as deceptively soft and subtle as the surf just before the tide turns back toward shore. “Shame on you! Sneakin’ up on an old woman like me. Lucky my heart didn’t jest stop dead.”

Anna ignored the scolding and faced Opal St. John with slight bewilderment. “Is today Friday already?”

“Course not,” came Opal’s quick reply, “but when Samuel called this morning–”

“You came running.”

Opal smiled broadly. “He needed help, and when my favorite man calls, I–”

“Come running,” Anna finished for her again.

“Now stop that, missy. You know I’d walk this fat old body to the ends o’ the earth and back for that man.”

Opal’s lifelong service to Anna’s family and her immediate acceptance and subsequent devotion to Anna’s husband was reciprocated tenfold as far as Anna was concerned. She loved Opal, who had been the one steadfast influence in her troubled childhood.

Anna stared at the child in Opal’s arms. “So, this is why Sam needs help.”

Sam had pulled some pretty outrageous stunts in the seven years of their marriage, but this one topped them all.

“He needs help, all right, takin’ on a child with not so much as a howdy-do,” continued Opal in her rich, Jamaican singsong. “He’s a good man, Samuel is, so when he called this morning begging me to drop everything and come quick to help out with this fine young fellow here, I’m not about to refuse.”

“Good man, my–” Anna started, then stopped when Opal’s dark, disapproving gaze fell on her.

As if Anna had not even spoken, Opal turned her attention back to the child, lifting him until his face was close to her own. “And if this old woman is any judge, this is a fine young fellow sure.”

Opal cooed and chuckled, producing a wide smile and an answering giggle from the child.

Anna tried to ignore the raw emotions surfacing in her, but still found her voice low and husky when she asked, “Where’s Sam?”

“Gone into Charleston on business.” Opal eyed her with a shrewdness which made Anna want to shift her weight from foot to foot like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “My, aren’t we the lady of leisure today?”

“Sam did not sleep in my bed last night, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Now, missy, would I try to intrude on what goes on behind your bedroom door?” asked Opal, feigning innocence. “I was jest wondering if you planned to be exchanging those red jamas for some real clothes anytime today, or if you’re going on back to bed.”

Certain now that Opal had finally discovered the small bottle of sleeping pills she’d hidden weeks ago behind the aspirins in her medicine cabinet, Anna refused to explain either her state of undress or her sleeping habits. Instead, she grumbled, “What time is it?”

“High time, missy, plenty high time,” Opal said quietly, not bothering to camouflage her continued displeasure with her employers’ separation. “It’s a crime against nature for two people who love each–”

“Enough!” Anna warned. “I only asked the time.”

Opal shot her a look that would have wilted a weaker person. “Nearly dinner time. I’m fixin’ Samuel’s favorite summer meal to welcome him home. Crabmeat salad, baked potatoes and ear corn.”

“Great,” murmured Anna, “just don’t make him feel too welcome. He won’t be staying long.”

Opal’s sharp brown eyes captured hers, the censure in them clear. “You can’t be meaning that, now can you, missy? You miss him as much as I do.”

“Believe what you want, Opal. I don’t care.”

Anna turned to go. She couldn’t stay here and listen to Opal’s none-too-subtle attempts at reconciling her and Sam. Nor could she stand by and watch Opal fawn over some child Sam no doubt had produced to take Susana’s place.

Besides, she wanted to be dressed when Sam made his appearance. She needed every psychological advantage possible in order to withstand his sensual assault on her. Even after everything, she’d discovered last night that she was still much too vulnerable to just the sight and smell of him. Despite the sleeping pill, she’d lain awake long into the night missing anew the warmth of his body next to hers.

“You should have told me you and Samuel were going about adopting a child,” Opal commented too casually. “I could have had the nursery ready.”

Opal’s words stopped Anna dead. She turned back and stared hard at her housekeeper, who was walking her fingers up the child’s arm as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb. The child giggled contentedly. Anna forced her gaze from him to Opal.

“Adopting a child? You mean … him?” She glanced back at the child, who was mimicking Opal’s finger-walk by moving his own tiny fingers up the housekeeper’s round arm. “Is that what Sam told you?”

“Samuel told me nothing. But this old woman ain’t born yesterday.” Deep laughter shook her shoulders. “Not even day before yesterday, for sure. Samuel don’t have to say anything. Why else would he be bringing the boy all the way from South America, if not to adopt him?”

Anna blinked. This conversation was far too confusing for her to follow in her present half-groggy state. She knew she was going to flush those pills now. “How do you know Sam brought the boy from South America?”

“The airline stubs, missy. Poked in the side of the diaper bag. Samuel and this young man flew here all the way from Bogota.” She acted as if she was stating what Anna already knew. “Sometimes foreign adoptions work that way. Remember my cousin’s daughter, Trudy? That’s how she and–”

“Opal,” interrupted Anna, her voice as sharp as the pain piercing her head, “will you get on with it? I know all about Trudy and James flying to Jamaica for little Etienne.”

“Don’t look at me that way, missy. I just assumed you knew all–”

“Well, don’t assume anything, Opal,” Anna said, and sighed, “especially anything involving Sam and me. We’re not adopting that child, for goodness sake.”

“Now don’t get snippy with me, missy. I could still take you over my knee–”

Deep masculine laughter from the yard interrupted Opal’s throaty voice and brought both women’s heads around. A giggle of delight erupted from the boy. Sam, dressed uncharacteristically in a suspiciously new-looking business suit and carrying two huge shopping bags, stood at the foot of the steps leading up from the wide, shady yard.

“Careful, Anna,” he said as he shoved his way through the screen door and deposited the sacks on the floor beside him. “I believe she could do it.”

Still staring at Sam’s extraordinary outfit, Anna was totally unprepared when Opal thrust the boy into her arms and chuckled. “Make yourself useful, missy, while I see to dinner. Welcome home, Samuel. Don’t go running off again. Dinner in one hour.”

Momentarily forgetting Sam, Anna looked down at the toddler squirming in her arms. He was heavy, heavier than his size indicated, and he was beginning to fuss. Maternal instincts she’d thought were dead kicked in, and she shifted him in her arms until he was snuggled against her bosom. Rocking back and forth on her bare feet, she met his wary dark stare head on.

He was afraid. Poor thing. She smoothed a lock of coal-colored hair out of his eyes and cooed softly. “Ssh, little one. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. Nobody will hurt you.”

At the sound of her voice, the child stopped struggling and smiled up at her, his tiny white teeth shining like iridescent pearls. Then he did an incredible thing. He said, “Mama.”

Anna’s heart lurched. She’d never heard anyone call her that except Susana. It sounded strange coming from this boy whose name she didn’t even know. Vaguely, she wondered if she resembled his mother. Whoever he was, this child was beautiful.

Tearing her gaze away from him, she glanced at Sam, who stood leaning against a white post and smiling slightly. Not wanting to frighten the child unnecessarily, she forced a stiff smile of her own and tried to keep her voice pleasant as she asked, “What the hell are thinking, Sam? Who is this child, and why did you bring him all the way from South America?”

Sam’s smile turned as false and brittle as her own. “Good, Anna. Your years in front of a jury has made you an excellent actress.”

Upon hearing a familiar voice, the child turned his head and reached for Sam. Anna handed him over, thankful to be relieved of her burden, for the boy’s lively warmth was beginning to do crazy things to her insides. Again, she forced her voice to remain low and gentle. “Who is he?”

Sam ran his hand over the boy’s head and then met Anna’s steady gaze. “You look a little pale, darling. Perhaps you should sit down for this.”

Unable to hide her exasperation another moment, Anna ignored his obviously feigned concern over her well being and repeated her question. “Who the hell is he, Sam?”

Eyeing her cautiously, Sam hesitated as if choosing his words carefully. “Just don’t faint on me. I have my hands full at the moment.”

“Sam!”

He shrugged. “Okay, Anna. If you’re sure you don’t want to sit down first. This is Miguel, and according to his birth certificate, he’s my son.”