Free KeepingFaithCole by Christina Cole Page A

Although we tracked him down…” Her voice trailed off.
    “What’s her name?” Tom
leaned closer. Soft, crooning sounds came from his throat.
    “Lafferty. Baby Girl
Lafferty.”
    He blinked. “What sort of
name is that?”
    “Her father’s name was
Samuel Lafferty.”
    “Yes? So, what’s the baby’s
name? Her given name,” he pointed
out. The thought that this innocent babe was nothing more than baby girl to the people who cared for
her brought a surge of emotion so powerful it frightened him.
    “It’s not our place, Mr.
Henderson, to—”
    “Well, whose place is it?”
He reached for the infant, his movements so swift and sudden, the protective
woman had no chance to put up a defense. “She deserves a name. Every baby
deserves a name.”
    “Once she’s adopted, her new
family will decide what to call her.” A stricken look appeared on her face.
Obviously she didn’t trust Tom with her precious responsibility. He understood,
but he was kin. Nobody needed to adopt her. She had family.
    “What of Mr. Lafferty’s
folks?” Lucille asked. “Do they know about his daughter?”
    “He had no family that we
could find.” The woman sniffed again, then held out her arms. “I’ll take her
now, Mr. Henderson.”
    Tom took a step back,
clutching the baby more tightly. “She’s got an uncle.” He looked up and smiled.
“She’s got a grandmother, too.” Ordinarily he wouldn’t go around calling any
attention to his mother’s existence, but this was far from an ordinary event. After all the hardships,
all the horrors, all the sufferings and shames of Charlotte Henderson’s life,
this one singular moment could change everything. What was that crazy story Ma
used to tell him, about some bird rising up out of the fire? As a boy, he never
understood it, but suddenly its meaning came clear in his mind. Bad things
happened, but good things could still come of it. Instead of wallowing in
ashes, you could look up, see the sky and choose to fly.
    “Please, Mr. Henderson. It’s
plain to see that you’ve got no way to provide for your niece. I suppose I
should have taken time to make the trip on my own to assess the conditions, but
I was hopeful you’d be in a position to take her. Optimism is one of my
weaknesses, I daresay.”
    She didn’t look too
optimistic in Tom’s eyes. He couldn’t imagine her ever having a positive
outlook about anything.
    But this child! She needed
hope. She deserved bright blue skies and sunny days. She deserved butterflies
and flowers, and the sweet promise of spring. Not some strait-laced,
tightly-corseted old biddy who thought of her as nothing more than baby girl.
    Tom looked down at the tiny
bundle he held in his arms. So tiny, yet so perfect. He marveled over the
little fingers, touching each one by one. When the baby’s hand closed around
his big thumb, he felt a tugging at his heart so real, so undeniable, he
suddenly couldn’t find his breath.
    “Excuse me, Mr. Henderson.”
Edith Christensen’s nasally voice grated on Tom’s nerves. “I have to leave now.
It’s a long trip back to Denver. You need to give me the child.”
    “Not yet, ma’am. She’s my
niece. I want a little time with her.” He stroked one soft, pink cheek and was
rewarded with a gurgling, cooing smile. “She likes me,” he said, glancing
toward Lucille.
    And he liked her. No, he loved her. This precious life wrapped
in a thick gray blanket was kin. Not his own child, but a child who shared his
blood, all the same. She was Sally’s daughter, and Sally was gone now. This
sweet, nameless angel was all that was left to him of his sister’s kindness,
her goodness, her own innocence.
    He wished he could have
taken better care of Sally, could have helped her and given her all she needed,
but he’d failed her. Too young, too mixed-up, and too bitter about his own
life, Tom hadn’t been able to save Sally from the wretched evils of their
childhood.
    But he’d damned sure save
this baby.
    “I’m