“I sure did.” He handed a bag to each girl and then waited for the little boy to approach him. Instead of moving toward Ethan, however, Jerry merely watched Rose and Daisy dart past him, their laughter filling the air as the squawking geese began a rendition of follow the leader, or rather, follow the bread sacks. Rose flung a piece behind her, and several headed for it, then she and Daisy tossed more on the opposite side.
The geese waddled beyond the girls to get to the scattered pieces. And Jerry held his ground, red tennis shoes rooted in place and hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.
“Jerry, I got a bag for you, too. Don’t you want to feed the geese?”
He looked at the girls and then the sack in Ethan’s hand. He slowly nodded.
Ethan said a quick prayer of thanks. “Okay then, here you go.” He extended the bag, but Jerry merely looked at it, still not budging.
“I’ll put the sack right here.” Ethan placed the paper bag on the concrete edge surrounding the three-tiered fountain that designated the center of Claremont’s town square. “And then I’m going to sit and watch you feed the geese, okay?”
Jerry’s gaze fixed on the bag.
Ethan walked away from the bread and sat on the opposite end of the park bench from the social worker. “You may want to get it soon—” he forced a little laugh “—or those geese may go after it without you.”
Daisy giggled from the other side of the fountain. “Yep, go on, Jerry. You need to get your bread and start feeding them before they eat all of ours!”
Jerry shot a glance toward the girls, surrounded by geese, then to his bag, and then to Ethan. Small shoulders lifted as he sought the courage to step toward the sack. Easing closer, he snagged it as if he thought Ethan planned to grab it first, before Jerry had a chance.
Maybe that was the type of thing he was used to, but that wasn’t the way things were—not anymore.
“Great.” Ethan gave him a thumbs-up. “Now you can feed those hungry geese.”
As if his words were an invitation, the geese transferred their focus from the girls to Jerry.
The little boy’s blue eyes widened, hinting at obvious fright at the onslaught of the noisy animals.
Ethan knew better than to rush toward the child, so he instead leaned forward on the park bench and spoke soothingly. “It’s okay, Jerry. Just toss a few pieces away from you. You can even throw some in the fountain if you want. They’ll probably get wet trying to get the bread.”
Undeniably frightened, Jerry plunged his fist into the bag, grabbed a handful of bread and flung it into the fountain. As predicted, the geese headed into the splashing water, dipping their heads beneath the surface and wiggling their backsides in an effort to get the sinking and bobbing bits of bread.
Rose and Daisy jumped up and down, clapping and laughing at the spectacle. But Jerry clamped his mouth together. Was he afraid to smile? Had he gotten in trouble for laughing or smiling in the past? He also kept peering toward Ethan and Brodie, the only men near the fountain, as though expecting some sort of reprimand for tossing the bread.
Ethan scrubbed a hand down his face, at a loss for how to handle the situation. As an eighth-grade English teacher, he interacted with adolescents on a daily basis and attempted to provide a fatherly example to the kids in his classes. But he’d never spent a lot of time with four-year-olds, particularly ones who had been so abused that they feared the majority of adults.
Which was exactly why Ethan wanted to adopt Jerry. Every little boy deserved a father he could count on, someone to care for him and protect him. Ethan could do that for Jerry. He wanted to. He’d prayed to be able to.
But, in all of his anticipation for how this first meeting would play out, he hadn’t considered the extent of the boy’s fear.
If Gil Flinn weren’t a dead man, Ethan would have a hard time fighting the impulse to make him pay for the trepidation in his little boy’s eyes. And if Melinda Sue Flinn weren’t behind bars for killing him, he’d let her know exactly what he thought of a mother who’d stand by and allow her husband to abuse their son.
“He’ll need time.” Mrs. Yost jotted another note on her tablet and then slid it in the large red bag that appeared to hold enough files for at least twenty children. “He’s been through so much, not only with what happened with his birth parents but also another upheaval with his first long-term placement in the system not working out.”
Ethan nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. He felt even more empathy toward the sad little boy.
“But the good news is,” she continued, “based on his past experience with other placements, he’ll adapt to his new surroundings within a few days. He’ll still be a little downhearted every now and then, but I believe, given everything I’ve learned about you, that you would understand what he’s feeling probably better than anyone else.”
Ethan’s jaw flexed involuntarily. She had no idea.
“The previous couple who wanted to adopt Jerry didn’t understand how to handle his disconnect with the family unit. Children who have been through that type of emotional trauma need extra care to build trust. We tried to convey that prior to them taking Jerry into their home, and they had felt certain that it would be a good situation, but—” her mouth curved down at the corners “—it was more difficult than they expected.”
Ethan didn’t think much more of the couple who’d turned the boy away than he did Jerry’s biological parents. But now wasn’t the time to judge. Now was the time to let Jerry know that all adults wouldn’t necessarily disappoint him. Or hurt him. “I understand what he needs. Someone who will love him unconditionally. Someone who will actually care.”
Rose and Daisy attempted to get Jerry to join them on the other side of the fountain. “Come over here.” Rose crooked a small finger. “Watch the way they follow the bread into the water. It’s so funny.”
Jerry took a timid step toward the girls, then tilted his head toward their parents, standing a few feet away, and froze.
“It’s okay, Jerry.” Brodie took his wife’s hand and led her away from the twins toward a wrought iron bench on the opposite side of the fountain. “You can play with Rose and Daisy. We’ll sit here and watch you feed the birds.”
Savvy shoved her shoulder into the side of his arm. “Geese, Brodie. They’re geese.” She laughed, and the girls joined in, their happy giggles filling the air.
Jerry blinked several times, watching the joy between the family, and then furrowed his brow. He squeezed his hand so hard around the top of the bag that his tiny knuckles turned white, then he dropped his head and dragged one shoe across the soft earth.
Ethan’s heart clenched in pain for the boy. And apparently the social worker’s did, too, because she whispered, “God, please help him.”
From the night he’d heard Jerry’s story on the news, Ethan had wanted the little boy. He knew what Jerry had gone through, and he knew what the child needed. Love. Time. Patience. Protection. Things that had never been given to Jerry before.
And things that had never been given to Ethan.
“Mr. Ethan, we’re out of bread.” Daisy darted toward the bench, and Rose followed.
He had one more sack. “I have another bag that y’all can share.”
Rose’s lower lip puckered. “But Jerry is out of bread, too, and that won’t be very much for all three of us.”
“Rose, don’t be greedy,” Brodie called from the other side of the fountain. “Say thank you.”
“I have two bags.”
Ethan didn’t recognize the soft, feminine voice, and when he turned to see who’d spoken,