her over?”
“That’d be great.” Fresh hope raced Eve’s pulse.
It didn’t take long for Miss Ginnie to arrive, using a four-pronged cane to help navigate the porch stairs. “As I live and breathe.” Through blue eyes not dulled by age, the older woman surveyed Eve who’d stood to introduce herself and shake the woman’s hand. “You are about the right age to be one of Rose’s girls.”
Garrett had pulled out a chair for the elderly woman and, after more introductions, helped her sit down. Clara bustled off to get more tea and cookies.
Eve’s mouth was so dry she doubted herself capable of swallowing a crumb.
“Thank you for coming,” Garrett said, sharing the high points of their story. “Since Eve’s father left no information regarding our son’s current whereabouts—or even names of his adoptive parents—we’re having to start with the basics in our search.”
“I understand.” When Clara returned with refreshments, Miss Ginnie helped herself to three sugar cookies. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the reason this house was even sold is because Rose ran out of money. I would assume she kept records, but she had no family that I know of.”
“Where is she now?” Garrett asked.
Miss Ginnie shrugged. “The only kin Rose claimed were her pregnant girls. Best she could, she tried making this home a happy place, but it was hard in the face of such pain. Teens aren’t easy to deal with under normal circumstances. Toss hormones and Savannah heat into the mix and Lord have mercy were there some fireworks over here.”
Eve remembered all too well. She hadn’t been pampered like she’d been at home. She’d done her share of cooking and cleaning and even though as much as possible she’d kept to herself, some of the other girls had been cruel—taunting her about her lack of communication from her baby’s father.
While Miss Ginnie rambled on about how some of the teens had come from less than desirable families, Eve caught herself studying Garrett. The way he seemed to exude tightly coiled physical power. As if at a moment’s notice he’d be capable of leaping from his chair to tackle any contingent. The word handsome didn’t do his angular face justice. Experience had taught her his gray eyes held the capacity to hurt or heal. There might now be crinkles at the corners from too much time in the sun, but essentially, on the outside, he was the same guy she’d fallen for all those years ago. How had he changed on the inside? How many times had she sat in this very spot, wondering what he was doing? Thinking? Had she been on his mind as often as he’d been on hers?
As if feeling her stare, he glanced her way. While Miss Ginnie rambled on, their eyes locked. Eve wanted to look down, but held her ground. Now wasn’t the time to let on how scared she truly was—not just about the odds of them ever finding their son, but taking on her father’s responsibilities and finding a way to cope with her growing fear that Hal hadn’t been the person she’d thought he was. As for how she felt about her unexpected reunion with Garrett? She might never completely understand.
“Miss Ginnie, Clara—” Garrett rose. “While we can’t thank you enough for talking with us, we don’t have long to be in town and we still need to get to the Vital Records Office. Maybe someone there can help find Rose.”
They said their goodbyes and then followed Clara’s directions to reach the next stop on their journey, where they encountered a line leading out the door.
Already on edge, wrung out from the memories of her father essentially abandoning her with Miss Rose, Eve said, “This is probably a sign. We should just go.”
“No way. We’ve come this far and need to see it through.”
Exhaustion clung to her, making her limbs feel heavy and drugged.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, intending to keep her private issues inside, but then she found compassion in his eyes and he ever-so-lightly cupped his hands to her shoulders. The realization she was standing in an endless line in what might turn out to be an endless, fruitless search for their son… It was all too much—especially when what the two of them once shared was a dream. Like some far-off, hazy image of what she’d always dreamed her life could be. “I—I have to go.”
“Where?” Still holding her, his gaze searched hers. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”
Was she? Before her father’s cancer, she’d been a strong, self-supporting woman. She’d not only recognized she was miserable in a marriage that’d been lackluster from the start, but she’d taken on the business world and won. Landing contracts for the manufacturing of top New York fashion designers’ shoes had been not only fiscally rewarding, but personally fulfilling. She’d finally felt as if she were coming into her own. As if she’d lived the past decade underwater and had only just been allowed air. Then Hal’s cancer had struck hard and fast, and now she was constantly falling apart. She didn’t recognize the woman fainting at funerals and skipping out on family obligations. For the sake of not only her sanity, but all of the people depending on her to run her father’s companies, she had to pull herself together. Fast.
“Tell you what.” Garrett fished in his jeans pocket, handing her his keys. “Go back to the car and nap or rock out to the radio or whatever you need to do. I’ll handle this.”
Lips pressed tight and fighting tears, she nodded, taking Garrett up on his offer.
* * *
IT TOOK AN HOUR FOR GARRETT to learn exactly nothing. Not only was there no birth certificate, but no record whatsoever of their baby even having been born—or having died.
More than anything, Garrett wanted to give in to the slow burning rage building inside. He’d honestly been dumb enough, naive enough, to believe even the all-powerful Hal Barnesworth wouldn’t have been capable of pulling a stunt such as hiding his own grandson, but he’d been wrong.
In the crowded parking lot, Garrett found Eve asleep with the car’s windows down. She looked at peace and he didn’t want to ruin that.
He tried opening the driver’s-side door quietly, but she bolted awake.
Some of her hair had spilled from her tight French twist, making her appear more like she had back in school. His fingers itched to reach out, sample the soft strands as he once had been free to do, but he instead kept his hands to himself and climbed behind the wheel.
What they’d once shared was as lost as their son.
“Well?” she asked, tidying her hair. “What’d you find out?”
Right hand fisted, he punched the steering wheel. “Not a damned thing.”
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