uncovered, that your nanny, this Laura Mast, only aggravates your daughterâs desire for a mother. It must be terribly frustrating, if not a little frightening.â
Frightening?
Karen continued. âWe find ourselves concerned about what will happen to Nattie when this Amishwoman seeks employment elsewhere.â
Jack sighed. âI canât imagine she will.â
Karen looked skeptical.
He mentioned his sisterâs role in Nattieâs life, and they acknowledged that San provided essential maternal support for her young niece. Jack asked for further suggestions, but when Karen suggested counseling again, he cringed. He didnât trust counselors, with their half-baked theories and arrogant Ivy League demeanor. Fact was, he didnât trust anyone with his daughter.
Jack noticed the time.
Stacy must have caught him looking at his watch and promptly inserted Nattieâs picture into a folder and gave it to him. They rose and escorted him to the door, where Stacy Fenton shook his hand, then headed down the hallway.
Karen Jones lingered behind to offer her business card. âIf youâreinterested in private counseling for Nattie, Iâm available during the summer. I can also give you a referral, if you wish.â
Jack stared at the card, remembering sheâd given him the same one a few months before. âWonât Nattie outgrow this?â he asked.
Karen paused before launching off into her assessment of the special risks attendant to raising an adopted child. âAdoptees often start their lives feeling cast off by their first mothers. They feel rejected in the womb. In Natalieâs case, she grew close to Darla and Danny, only to lose them, too. So in a way, sheâs lost everything. Obviously, at this stage of her development, sheâs afraid of losing more, and itâs affecting every part of her life.â She paused to breathe. âNattieâs desperate for permanence.â
Karen gestured to the folder under Jackâs arm, the one containing Nattieâs drawing, and gave him a heartening smile. âIâve worked with many troubled kids,â she said. âAnd Iâm convinced that children will find a way to tell you what they need . . . if we can find a way to listen.â
Jack considered this. Heâd been listening to everything, everyone, and racking his brain for solutions.
Karen retrieved the card from him. âHere, let me jot down my home phone number, just in case.â She wrote it above the school number and handed it back. âI hope this helps. Call me, Jack, whenever, whatever, just to talk, or if you need help making any decisions regarding Natalie.â
In the parking lot, Jack opened the glove compartment, checking for his camera, which heâd used to chronicle Nattieâs past year, knowing heâd want it at the park, where he was heading. Before starting the ignition, he removed Nattieâs crayon drawing from the folder and studied it.
âChildren will find a way to tell you what they need.â
Sighing, he started the car, backed out of the parking spot, and exited to the street.
His cell phone rang, as if on cue.
âWhere are you, Jack?â It was San.
âHeading to the park.â
âIâll meet you,â she said, her tone subdued.
âWhatâs up?â
âIâll tell you when I get there,â San said and hung up.
No more drama, Jack thought. Please.
Chapter 8
L ight crept through the blinds in her bedroom and she pushed away the sheet. Something â s wrong . Getting up, Kelly yanked on her robe and staggered across the hall to the small nursery, peering into Emilyâs crib.
She froze, panicked, then rushed down the steps to the kitchen and into the living room. Heart throbbing, she dashed back to the nursery and saw that Emilyâs diaper bag was missing, as was her crib blanket. Hysterical now, Kelly could scarcely think.
Turning to