Lost Cause. Janice Johnson Kay

the bedroom upstairs right across the hall from theirs that would be the nursery. It was a big, sunny room, the walls painted yellow, a twin bed, child’s table and chairs and toy chest the only furnishings.

      “Our nieces and nephews spend the night sometimes,” Beth said. “We enjoy having them.”

      Rebecca guessed the pleasure was bittersweet, a chance to sample what was denied to them, but she smiled in agreement.

      “We haven’t really decorated,” Beth continued. “In case we never—” She stopped, pressed her lips together. “This could be a sewing room.”

      Rebecca talked to them about the birth mother’s role in choosing the placement for her child, and the profile birth parents would be shown of the couples like the Coopers who were waiting. She warned them of how long the wait might be before they were likely to be offered a baby. Faces shining, they assured her they’d wait ten years if they had to.

      “Does this mean you’re approving us?” Ronald asked, voice gruff.

      She smiled at them both. “I think you’ll make wonderful parents. I have no hesitation in recommending that you go on our list.”

      She was moved to see that Ronald’s eyes got as damp as his wife’s before he harrumphed and wiped at them. It made her wish she could call them tomorrow and announce that a newborn was ready to go home to them. Unlike some older couples, though, they had time; they’d started trying to get pregnant when Beth was twenty-four or -five, so now she was thirty-three and her husband only two years older.

      Rebecca used her cell phone to dial the number Gary had given her. He answered with an abrupt, “Lindstrom.”

      “Hi, this is Rebecca Wilson. Um, if you’re still willing—”

      “Five minutes.”

      Dead air told her he was gone. Well! So much for her prepared speech about how it was fine if he’d gotten busy doing something else, getting a taxi was no problem, etc., etc.

      Next she called the auto repair shop where she had asked that her car be towed.

      “Can’t get to it until tomorrow,” she was told. “Check with us, say, eleven o’clock?”

      Yes, fine, she could do that.

      Obviously, she needed to rent a car. She had an appointment in Seattle tomorrow morning and had promised to go to dinner at her mother’s house in Woodinville that evening. Instead of having Gary take her back to the agency, maybe she’d have him deliver her to a car rental office.

      She borrowed the Coopers’ phone book to look for the handiest location, finding one not a mile from her agency. By that time, the distinctive throaty roar of a motorcycle outside gave notice that her ride had arrived.

      The Coopers thanked her profusely and waved goodbye from the doorstep as she left.

      When she reached the street, her cynical Good Samaritan nodded toward them. “Are they still trying to convince you that they’re great people? Or did you make them happy today?”

      “They can’t just be friendly?” She took the helmet from him, both relieved and a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to put it on again for her.

      “It would be normal to go back in the house now. Don’t you think?”

      She turned and gave a reassuring wave at the couple, who waved back. Yeah, okay, it would be normal for them to go back in the house. Instead, they stood side by side, holding hands, smiling at her.

      “I gave them hope.” She settled the helmet on her head and fumbled with the strap.

      He lifted a tanned, calloused hand and fastened it for her. “They’re going to get a kid?”

      “They may have to wait for a couple of years, but probably.”