a second time, her eyes remained closed. Leaning against the stone wall at her back, she hummed over a dreamy smile.
“Perhaps we should stay here forever.”
His stomach slowly twisted. Not because he disagreed but because as outlandish and flippant as her suggestion may be, he was attracted to the idea. As far as he and Bailey were concerned, this trip was supposed to be about nothing more than short-term companionship. Was meant to be about acting on physical attraction. This minute physical attraction was dangerously high … but he was feeling something more. Something new. And he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.
A woman’s voice, emanating from around the corner, brought him back. It was one of the caregivers, the auburn-haired Madame Prideux. Bailey obviously heard too. Her dreamy look evaporated a second before she straightened her blouse and patted away the long bangs from her blushing face.
“Is she looking for you?” Bailey whispered.
“No. Eleanor. She wants her to wash up and come to the office.”
“Is something wrong?”
Mateo remembered Nichole’s comment about a child leaving.
“My guess is,” he said, “that this is little Eleanor’s lucky day.”
They came out from behind the corner. Eleanor was holding Madame Prideux’s hand as they walked together toward the main building. Clairdy sat by herself on a miniature kitchen chair. Mateo felt this little girl’s jumbled feelings as if they were his own.
“Don’t worry, Clairdy,” Bailey said. “Monsieur says Eleanor isn’t in trouble.”
Not understanding, Clairdy gave Bailey a blank look, let out a sigh then spoke in French. Bailey’s eyes widened at the words Mama and Papa. Clairdy knew Eleanor wasn’t in trouble. To Clairdy’s mind her friend was being rewarded for being the best little girl at the orphanage.
Bailey lowered into the second tiny chair and spoke to Mateo. “Is she saying what I think she’s saying?”
He nodded. “Nichole explained this morning that a couple, who’ve been waiting years, have jumped through the final hoop and obtained consent to adopt.”
“Eleanor?”
“It would appear so.”
They both studied Clairdy watching her friend walk away toward a different tomorrow. And as Mateo’s gut buckled and throat grew thick, he was reminded again of all the reasons he loved coming back. And why he hated it too.
Bailey gazed down at the little girl who a moment ago had been bubbling with life. Now Clairdy’s tiny jaw was slack and her shoulders were stooped. When she held her tummy and spoke to Mateo, Bailey guessed the ailment. The innocent she was, Clairdy would be happy for Eleanor finding a mother and a father—a mama and a papa—but how could she not also miss her friend? Likely envy her.
“Does Eleanor get to say goodbye to her friends?” Bailey asked as they escorted a pale Clairdy back to the dorms.
“I have no doubt.”
“That’s something at least. Not that I’m unhappy for Eleanor,” Bailey hastened to add. “It just must be so hard on the ones left behind.” She examined Mateo’s intense expression as they walked. “But you know that better than me.”
“There’ll be someone for Clairdy too one day.”
She read his thoughts—for them all, I hope—and had to stop herself before she blurted out, I wish it could be me.
But she’d known this child a couple of days. Even more obvious, she was in no position to think about children in that context and hadn’t before this moment. But the brave way Clairdy held her head as they strolled up the main path brought a stinging mist to Bailey’s eyes. She might have lost her mother but she’d known and loved her for fourteen beautiful years, and, as difficult to understand as he was, her father had never considered putting her up for adoption. Damon Ross cared about his daughter. These past years, he simply hadn’t been able to show it.
They were all three entering the nurse’s office as Remy showed up, a scuffed football clamped under his arm. When they came out a few minutes later, Remy was still there, waiting to see how Clairdy was. Something older than his years shadowed that little boy’s eyes; he knew she needed a friend more than medicine. Remy said a few words to Mateo—something in French, of course. Mateo nodded and Remy took Clairdy’s hand and led her upstairs to the girls’ dorm to rest.
They both watched until the pair disappeared around the top balustrade. Bailey let out a pent-up breath. She couldn’t stop thinking about what her mother would’ve done in this situation.
“We could stay and read her a story,” she suggested and stepped toward the stairs, but Mateo’s hand on her arm held her gently back.
“She might like to be alone with Remy now.”
Bailey wanted to argue, but it was as much herself as Clairdy she wanted to console. This was a small taste of what Mateo must see each time he visited. There was the fabulous welcome and smiling familiar faces, time set aside to make plans for improvements he knew would be appreciated. But those same faces who were overjoyed to see him couldn’t help but be sad when he drove away. He must want to take each and every one of these children home with him, and realizing he couldn’t …
Bailey hung her head.
A lesser man might simply send a check.
As they moved away from the building toward that big sprawling tree out front, Mateo circled his arm around her waist. “Let’s take a drive.”
She hesitated but then nodded. If they went out, talked, her mind, and his, would be taken off a situation over which they had no power. And she had to be happy for Eleanor and pray that Mateo was right. A perfect family was around the corner for Clairdy. Remy too.
Mateo drove over that ancient stone-bridge and into the village with a towering gothic church, two restaurants, one bakery … and right on through.
Bailey shot over a glance. “Where are we going?”
“Thought you might like to see something a little different. A fortress. A ruin now. Word is it’s haunted.”
Determined not to be sullen, she set her mittened hands in her lap. “I’m in.”
After a few more minutes traveling along the country road, they reached the foot of a rocky cliff that jutted over the river. Ascending a series of rock slabs that served as steps, Bailey, with Mateo, reached near the summit a little out of breath. But given their incredible surroundings, she soon forgot her tired legs.
“Nine-hundred-years ago this began as a motte—a large mound—and wooden keep,” Mateo told her. “An earlier word for keep is donjon.”
It clicked. “As in dungeon?”
He winked, took her hand and led her toward the ruins. “By the fifteenth century, the fortress consisted of three enclosures surrounding an updated keep. Only the château of the second enclosure still stands.”
Bailey soaked up the sense
