The orphanage was in a renovated old church, large enough to accommodate its residents and perched on a pretty piece of land with a cluster of coconut trees.
A short stout lady greeted them on the porch. With plainly styled gray hair and eyes that crinkled beneath wire-rimmed glasses, she appeared to be around seventy. Max introduced her as Losa.
After they shook hands, Lizzie extended the rose. “This is for you.”
“Thank you. It’s lovely.” The older woman accepted it with a gracious smile. Although she gazed at Lizzie’s fiery red hair, she didn’t comment on it.
Thankfully, that made the painting Max had bought seem less important. For now, anyway. No doubt Lady Ari would keep creeping back into Lizzie’s mind, along with Max’s sexy little joke about Lizzie tempting him.
Clearing her wayward thoughts, she said, “I also brought gifts for the kids.” She gestured to the boxes Max had placed beside the door. “I got blankets and bottles for the babies and art supplies for the rest of them.”
“That’s wonderful.” Once again, Losa thanked her. “You seem like a nice girl.”
“She is,” Max said. “We’ve known each other since high school. We’ve been proper friends a long time.”
Proper friends? Was that his way of making sure that Losa didn’t mistake them as lovers, the way George had done? That was fine with Lizzie. She preferred to avoid that sort of confusion.
Losa invited them into her office, a simply designed space that was as understated as she was. Max brought the boxes inside and put them next to a metal file cabinet.
Losa offered them iced tea that had been chilling in a mini fridge and slices of homemade coconut bread that were already precut and waiting to be served.
They sat across from her with their food and drink, near a window that overlooked the yard.
Lizzie noticed a fenced area with picnic benches, occupied by groups of children who appeared to be between the ages of two and five. Two colorfully dressed young women watched over them.
Losa followed her line of sight and said, “The older children are in school and the babies are in the nursery. The others are having lunch, as you can see. Tokoni is among them. You can visit with him afterward.”
Lizzie didn’t ask which child was Tokoni or try to recognize him from the photo Max had shown her, at least not from this distance. She was still nervous about meeting him, especially with how much Max adored him.
“So,” Losa went on to say, “you want to interview me for your charity blog?”
“Yes,” Lizzie quickly replied, “I’d like to feature the orphanage. To provide whatever information you’re willing to give.” She removed her phone from her purse. “Also, may I get your permission to do an audio recording? It’s more accurate than taking written notes.”
“Certainly,” Losa said. “It’s good of you to help. It was kind of Max to donate to us, too. He was very generous.” She sent him an appreciative smile.
Although he returned her smile, he stayed quiet, drinking his tea and allowing Lizzie to do the talking.
Once the recording app was activated, she said to Losa, “Max told me that you and your family founded this orphanage after your husband passed.”
“He was a dear man.” Her expression went soft. “He would be pleased by what we accomplished here.”
Lizzie stole another glance at the window. “Are those your granddaughters? The young women tending to the kids?”
“Yes. They’re good girls, as devoted as I am to keeping this place going and matching our children in waiting with interested families. Tokoni is especially eager to be adopted. He chatters about it all the time.”
Lizzie nodded. Max had said the same thing about him. “I’m hoping that my article will raise more than just money for your cause. That it will bring awareness to the kids themselves and how badly they need homes.”
“We work with international adoption agencies that provide pictures and information of our children in waiting. You’re welcome to post links to those websites.”
“Absolutely.” Lizzie intended to be as thorough as possible. “Will you email me that information, along with whatever else you think will be helpful?”
“Actually, I can give you a packet right now.” Losa went to the file cabinet and removed a large gray envelope. She resumed her seat, slid it across the desk and said, “In the United States, intercountry adoption is governed by three sets of laws—the laws of the child’s country of origin, your federal laws and the laws of the US state in which the child will be adopted.”
“How long does the process typically take?”
“In some countries, it can take years. For us, it’s between three and six months.”
“Wow. That’s fast.” Lizzie leaned forward. “Are you the only country that’s been able to expedite it that way?”
“No. There are others in this region. Small independent nations, like ours, with less red tape, as one might say.”
“Will you tell me about your guidelines?”
“Certainly,” Losa replied. “We don’t have residency requirements, meaning that the applicants don’t have to live here before they adopt. But we do require that they study our culture through the online classes we designed. Prospective parents may be married or single. They need to be at least twenty-five years of age and demonstrate a sufficient income. But what we consider sufficient is reasonable. We’re not seeking out the rich. Just people who will love and care for these children. Honorable people,” she added. “Their character is what’s most important to us.”
“Did you help develop these guidelines when you lobbied for international adoption?”
“I worked closely with the authorities, giving them my input. But in some cases, the requirements are modified to accommodate a family member’s request. For example, Tokoni’s mother asked that he be adopted by a married couple. She didn’t want him being raised by a single parent.” The older woman softly added, “So I promised her that he would be matched with the type of parents she envisioned, a young romantic couple who would devote their hearts to him, as well as to each other.”
Lizzie considered Tokoni’s mother and how terribly she’d struggled. Apparently she wanted her son to have a warm, cozy, traditional family, which was what she’d longed to give him when she dreamed of marrying his father.
Losa said, “Most of our applicants want girls. Studies show this to be true in other countries, as well. Unfortunately, that makes it more challenging to find homes for the boys. If Tokoni were a girl, he might have been placed by now.”
Lizzie’s chest went heavy, tight and twisted, in a way that was beginning to hurt. “I hope the perfect parents come along for him. But you never really know what hand life will deal you. My mom died when I was ten, and my dad raised me after she was gone. But I hardly ever saw him. He was wealthy enough to hire nannies and cooks to look after me.”
“I’m sorry that your father wasn’t available for you,” Losa said. “It shouldn’t be that way.”
Lizzie noticed that Max was watching her closely now. Was he surprised that she’d offered information about herself?
After a second of silence, he said, “I told Losa about my childhood last time I was here. Not all the sordid details, but enough for her to know that I came from an abusive environment.”
“So much sadness.” Losa sighed. “Perhaps spending a little time with Tokoni will cheer you up. He’s such a vibrant boy.”
Lizzie glanced out the window. By now the children had finished eating and were playing in the