Free Child of Mine by Beverly Lewis

uncovered, that your nanny, this Laura Mast, only aggravates your daughter’s desire for a mother. It must be terribly frustrating, if not a little frightening.”
    Frightening?
    Karen continued. “We find ourselves concerned about what will happen to Nattie when this Amishwoman seeks employment elsewhere.”
    Jack sighed. “I can’t imagine she will.”
    Karen looked skeptical.
    He mentioned his sister’s role in Nattie’s 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 didn’t trust counselors, with their half-baked theories and arrogant Ivy League demeanor. Fact was, he didn’t trust anyone with his daughter.
    Jack noticed the time.
    Stacy must have caught him looking at his watch and promptly inserted Nattie’s 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. “If you’reinterested in private counseling for Nattie, I’m available during the summer. I can also give you a referral, if you wish.”
    Jack stared at the card, remembering she’d given him the same one a few months before. “Won’t Nattie outgrow this?” he asked.
    Karen paused before launching off into her assessment of the special risks attendant to raising an adopted child. “Adoptees often start their lives feeling cast off by their first mothers. They feel rejected in the womb. In Natalie’s case, she grew close to Darla and Danny, only to lose them, too. So in a way, she’s lost everything. Obviously, at this stage of her development, she’s afraid of losing more, and it’s affecting every part of her life.” She paused to breathe. “Nattie’s desperate for permanence.”
    Karen gestured to the folder under Jack’s arm, the one containing Nattie’s drawing, and gave him a heartening smile. “I’ve worked with many troubled kids,” she said. “And I’m convinced that children will find a way to tell you what they need . . . if we can find a way to listen.”
    Jack considered this. He’d been listening to everything, everyone, and racking his brain for solutions.
    Karen retrieved the card from him. “Here, let me jot down my home phone number, just in case.” She wrote it above the school number and handed it back. “I hope this helps. Call me, Jack, whenever, whatever, just to talk, or if you need help making any decisions regarding Natalie.”
    In the parking lot, Jack opened the glove compartment, checking for his camera, which he’d used to chronicle Nattie’s past year, knowing he’d want it at the park, where he was heading. Before starting the ignition, he removed Nattie’s crayon drawing from the folder and studied it.
    â€œChildren will find a way to tell you what they need.”
    Sighing, he started the car, backed out of the parking spot, and exited to the street.
    His cell phone rang, as if on cue.
    â€œWhere are you, Jack?” It was San.
    â€œHeading to the park.”
    â€œI’ll meet you,” she said, her tone subdued.
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œI’ll tell you when I get there,” 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 ’ s wrong . Getting up, Kelly yanked on her robe and staggered across the hall to the small nursery, peering into Emily’s 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 Emily’s diaper bag was missing, as was her crib blanket. Hysterical now, Kelly could scarcely think.
    Turning to