1. Evie
Chapter 1
Evie
Four Years Later
"I'm sorry, Ms. Grant, but at this time, we are unable to have your profile listed in our catalog for prospective birth mothers to choose adoptive parents for their babies."
Six.
That was the number of rejection calls I'd received from adoption agencies within the state.
Four years after leaving my life in Indianapolis behind, I was no closer to becoming a mother.
Tamping down the sinking feeling of defeat, I pinched the bridge of my nose as I replied, "May I ask why?"
If she was going to crush my dreams of parenthood, then I didn't care if my pushback made her uncomfortable.
There was a pause from the woman on the other end of the line. "Unfortunately, your living situation isn't quite as stable as we'd hope for when placing a child."
Translation: you're single and living with your parents, working in town as a bank teller.
On paper, I didn't hold a candle to those perfect couples applying for adoption alongside me, but what I lacked in terms of a partner, I made up for with heart. There wasn't a person alive who would love a baby like I would. I just needed someone to give me a chance.
Not giving up the fight yet, I pressed, "How so? I have a built-in support system where a child would grow up in the loving home of their grandparents. Not to mention, my brother is the town's family physician, so they would receive immediate access to proper medical care."
She sighed. "Be that as it may, at this time, our decision is final. Good luck in your quest, Ms. Grant."
It was times like these that I wished I still had a landline to slam down the receiver, a way to make my frustration known to the person on the other line. Pressing a button on a cellphone was far less satisfying, especially when the three beeps in my ear indicated the woman from the adoption agency had hung up first.
Elbows crossed on the kitchen table of my parents' home, I dropped my head to the wood.
My hometown of Rust Canyon, Oklahoma, was in the middle of the Bible Belt, but I'd given up on God a long time ago. How could I believe in a deity that would allow me to suffer for years, trying to conceive a child with a man I loved? Or one that would allow every adoption agency in this conservative area to block my applications? And I'd be damned if I set foot in a church where I was expected to believe there was a lesson to be learned from the difficulties I'd faced over the past seven years.
It drove my mother insane, but I wasn't budging.
Almost as if the thought conjured her presence, Maddie Grant entered the kitchen. Taking one look at my defeated posture, she tsked. "Elbows off the table, Evie."
I groaned but obeyed, lifting my head and facing my mother.
"I know I raised you better than that."
"Sorry, Mama," I mumbled.
She eyed my phone, discarded on the table. "Bad news?"
"Suppose it depends on who you're askin'," I said wryly, twisting my lips.
She threw both hands on her hips. "Was it not clear I was askin' you?"
With my eyes cast down in shame, I replied, "Just another judgmental adoption agency deeming me an unfit mother because I'm not married and live with my parents."
Mama let out a deep sigh, dropping onto the seat opposite me at the kitchen table.
I peered over at her, frustration finally taking hold. "I don't get it. There are thousands of unwed moms all over the world! But I'm not good enough to be one because I can't carry the baby myself? How is that fair?"
"I agree. It's not fair, darlin'." She grasped my hand over the table. "But the world isn't always fair."
"Tell me about it." If life were fair, I wouldn't be back living with my parents. I'd be in Indianapolis with my husband, surrounded by children we'd made together.
It would seem her mother's intuition was spot on because she remarked, "I know you won't want to hear it, but this whole process would have been easier if you hadn't left Jenner."
There it is.
My mom still hadn't gotten over the fact that I'd cut and run on my marriage when times got tough. To be fair, I had been hurting, reeling from yet another failed attempt at IVF, when Jenner suggested we stop trying. It had felt like the world was crumbling, like he was giving up on me because I couldn't get pregnant and give him a family that, to that point, I'd thought we both wanted. So, I'd packed my things and come back home—home being Oklahoma—with my tail between my legs.
The ultimate irony was that he had suggested exploring other options—like adoption—that day, and I'd shut it down. Now, here I was, four years later, trying and failing to go down that path alone.
If there was truly a God up there, I sure hoped he was having a good laugh. Someone might as well find humor in my misery.
When I remained silent, Mama said, "You know, most people would be thrilled about their children coming back home after they'd moved away. But you and your brother?" She shook her head with a sigh. "I wish neither of you had come back if it meant the both of you were still happy."
My younger brother Tucker's divorce had been finalized shortly after mine. He'd been working in Baltimore for a big-name research hospital but had given it up to practice family medicine in the town we grew up in.
We were both single by choice—a rarity in this town.
Once or twice, a handsome young cowboy had offered to buy me a drink, hopeful it would turn into something more, but I always declined, not wanting to lead them on.
Jenner had married me before we discovered I was broken. I couldn't in good conscience rob another man of a future family. That, and Jenner would always hold my heart, even if we weren't together anymore.
Tucker, on the other hand, was pining after a woman. But it just so happened that the woman was not his ex-wife. He had no regrets over his divorce as I did mine. His regrets ran deeper, further rooted in the past.
The Grant siblings were batting a thousand when it came to life and love, it would seem.
Mama stood, coming close to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. "I love you, darlin', but you're not living."
I squeezed my eyes shut. Her words were so accurate it hurt.
My world had been placed on pause, my heart frozen in time, when I walked out on Jenner.
But honestly, I'd stopped living a long time before that. The pressures of our infertility struggle had consumed me, stealing focus away from the happy life I had once shared with my husband. I hadn't been easy to live with during that steady stream of failed attempts at conceiving. It was no small miracle he hadn't left me before I left him.
But none of that mattered now because the ink had been dry on our divorce for four years. That chapter of my life was closed.
Summer was upon us, and every year, Rust Canyon hosted a celebration during the summer solstice that the entire town attended. Not like it was a huge town, but six hundred people in one spot sure made Main Street feel crowded.
It was one of the feature events of the year—the only real competition being the annual tree lighting during the holiday season—and the whole town shut down for music, dancing, and drinks in the middle of the street.
During these types of gatherings, I was often relegated to the company of the town's widows and spinsters. In this place, being single at thirty-one, I might as well be a spinster, and with my prospects of ever adopting a baby dwindling, that was the path I was headed toward.
Betsy Sullivan was on a familiar tirade about her grandson, Tripp, and how she was going to die before he made a move on the Atkins girl. I couldn't help but smile, not only at the meddling meemaw she was, but that she had those two nailed. Anyone with eyes could see there was a spark between Tripp and Penny. That girl had moon eyes for her best friend, but he always kept things respectable, never crossing the line of their friendship into something more, even though you could see the heat in his gaze when he stared at her when she wasn't looking.
Betsy grumbled, "If that boy keeps sitting on his hands, some other man is gonna swoop in and scoop that girl up. Then he'll be sorry."
"Youth is wasted on the young." Rose Crawford sighed. "What I wouldn't give to be that age again, being in love with a handsome young man who can heat your blood with nothing more than a look."
A sound that could only be described as a moan slipped past Betsy's lips. "You and me both. When my Milton was still alive, we tore up this town. It's a wonder no one ever caught us foolin' around."
Okay. The conversation had taken an unexpected and uncomfortable turn, and I needed to escape before they asked me about my past love life. Or worse, they decided to start playing matchmaker for me with a few of the eligible bachelors in town.
"Excuse me, ladies. I'm parched. I'm fixin' to get myself a drink."
Betsy elbowed Rose. "Listen to our girl. It took her a few years away from the city, but her twang has finally come back."
Heat rose to my cheeks; I was embarrassed that they might ever discover how hard I'd worked to lose it during my time away. The folks down here were proud of that accent, proud of where they came from.
Of course, I loved my hometown, but I'd been fortunate to have traveled the world, and I knew there was so much more out there.
My time away had given me perspective on the place I called home—both good and bad. It hadn't taken long to realize that I would never encounter a community as welcoming and supportive as the one I grew up in, where everyone knew everyone and neighbors helped each other without question. However, I'd learned quickly that people immediately judged me as uneducated when they heard my accent. It wasn't true—we had doctors and lawyers, the same as anywhere else—but city folks held tightly to their stereotypes about those of us from the country.
Leaving the ladies to their own devices, I walked to one of the vendors to snag a hard cider. I was about to pay for my drink when an arm reached around me, handing cash to the man behind the makeshift bar, accompanied by a deep male voice. "Drink's on me."
I rolled my eyes, ready to shut down whatever eager man had caught a glance of me in a sundress and cowgirl boots from behind, and decided to shoot his shot.
Spinning around, I was met with the smirking face of my baby brother. I shoved at his shoulder as he began to laugh. "You think you're funny, don't you?"
He shrugged, a twinkle in his eyes. "Seeing you all riled up is always worth it, Evie."
I tilted my bottle at him before taking a long pull. "Thanks for the drink."
"Looked like you needed it."
A wry laugh fell from my lips. "Oh, you know how it is. Betsy Sullivan and Rose Crawford are over there, reliving the good ole days. Had to get away from them before they got more graphic about their youthful adventures with their late husbands."
Tucker cringed. "Yikes."
"Yeah."
His gaze locked on something over my head; he was six feet tall and able to see over my five-four frame with ease. The color drained from his face, and he ducked down, trying to hide from whomever he'd seen behind me.
"Not sure I even wanna know," I mused on a laugh.
"It's Sarah Bowers," Tucker explained. "She's made it no secret she's interested. Keeps making appointments, trying to get alone time with me. Tried to tell my receptionist that she was due for a gynecological exam when she had one performed less than six months ago by my female partner."
I patted the top of his head with my free hand. "Aw, poor Tuck has the young town hussy chasing after him. Such a rough life you lead."
Peeking up at me, he rolled his eyes. "Not looking to lose my medical license, but glad you're amused."
A sugary-sweet voice came from behind. "Tucker? Tucker Grant, is that you?"
"Busted," I whispered to my brother.
He narrowed his eyes. "You're not my favorite sister anymore, you know that?"
I flipped my hair over my shoulder, popping one hip. "You know, I'd be more inclined to believe that if I weren't your only sister."
Spinning around, I came face-to-face with the barely twenty-one-year-old girl who had set her sights on the town doctor. She was thin and beautiful, with a luscious mane of chestnut brown hair. It curled over her breasts placed on full display this evening, but it was clear her mama had never told her that men wouldn't respect her if she gave up the goods for free. It was well known in Rust Canyon that if you were a guy looking for a good time, Sarah Bowers was your girl. She never turned down a night out—or a quick lay behind the bar, if the stories were to be believed.
Smiling at the young woman, I upheld my good manners, even if my brother wasn't in the mood to do so. "Sarah, mighty fine evening, isn't it?"
Sarah blushed, likely knowing I knew of her intentions with my brother. "Yes, ma'am. It's always a blessing when the whole town can come together."
The fabric at the back of my dress shifted. That, combined with Sarah's gaze traveling over my shoulder, signaled Tucker had stood from his hiding spot behind his big sissy.
Heat flared in Sarah's eyes. "Tucker. I thought that was you."
I peeked behind me at my brother, deciding to give him a much-needed helping hand when it came to fending off this girl. "Don't you mean, Dr. Grant?"
A pink tint rose up her neck and onto her cheeks at having been caught. She dipped her chin. "Of course, my apologies."
"Was there something we could do for you, honey?" I prompted.
She shuffled on her feet, toeing the ground. "I—uh—I was wondering if Dr. Grant would care to join me for a dance?"
"Well, aren't you sweet? Mighty courageous of you to come and ask a man for a dance." If there was one thing we country folk knew how to do well, it was disguising our digs to sound polite.
"U-uh—" Sarah stammered.
Tucker looped an arm around my waist, letting the girl down gently. "My apologies, Miss Bowers, but I promised my sister the next dance."
"Oh." Sarah's mouth dropped open, realizing she'd been shot down. "Of course. I'll—uh—see you around, I suppose."
When she turned and walked away, I had to hide my giggles behind my hand. Tucker pinched my side, and I squealed, trying to extract myself from his hold.
"Stop!" I cried. "You're gonna make me spill my drink!"
"Would serve you right."
I spun around to face him. "I don't know what you're complaining about. You should be thanking me. Doubt that girl will be making any ‘appointments' anytime soon now that she knows people are onto her."
Tucker grumbled, "Thank you, Evie."
Patting his cheek, I smirked. "Now, was that so hard?"
Looking skyward, he blew out a breath before settling his gaze on me and extending his hand.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking my sister for a spin on the dance floor. I know you're not gonna make a liar outta me."
He knew he had me there.
Tucker had always been there for me, even though he was my younger brother. He was the one who had told me I'd be a fool not to follow Jenner to Indy when I still had two years left of college and considered hanging back. He was the one who had gotten us referrals to the best fertility specialists in the country when we needed them. And he'd been the one to help me pick up the broken pieces of my life when I'd shown up on my parents' doorstep in tears after I'd walked out on my marriage.
I owed him. So, if he needed me to join him for a dance in front of the entire town, it was hardly enough to repay him for his consistent unconditional love and support.
Placing my hand in his, I let him lead me onto the makeshift dancefloor set in the middle of Main Street near the band.
You didn't grow up in Rust Canyon and not learn how to two-step practically before you could walk. The moves were automatic, born from years of muscle memory, even after time spent away. Tucker pushed me around the dance floor with ease, and I tried to clear my mind.
Truth be told, I was exhausted. The weight of the rejections had settled heavily over my heart.
What if I never got the chance to hold a baby and call them my own, genetics be damned?
I was convinced that becoming a mother was the only thing that could thaw my frozen heart. The love of a child would melt the ice surrounding it, and I would become whole again. Or at least, that's what I hoped.
Tucker must've seen the faraway look in my eye and spun me around as he admitted, "Ma told me about the latest agency turning you down. I'm sorry."
A heavy sigh shook my chest. "I don't know what they want from me, Tuck. Is it really a sin worse than death to give a baby to a woman without a man by her side? Seems like a huge step back for feminism that they don't deem me ‘worthy' because I don't have a husband."
"You know I'm on your side, sis." He let out a soft chuckle. "Maybe you and I should pretend to be hitched to get you a kid. We share a last name. Who would know the difference?"
He was only half kidding. Tucker would do anything to help me achieve my dream of becoming a mother.
Stopping him before he thought about it too much, I teased, "Way to lend credence to the stereotype that country folk are all inbred."
Tucker nodded. "You're right. It wasn't my best idea."
"Yeah, there's the little matter of them requiring a marriage certificate, regardless of us having the same name. Grant is a little too common."
But something about that tickled the back of my brain.
Marriage certificate. Same last name.
My mother's words from earlier came rushing back.
" This whole process would have been easier if you hadn't left Jenner."
I had a few documents that still held my married last name of Knight—my unexpired passport being one of them. Not taking anything in the divorce, I no longer had the means to travel, so it had been pointless to have my name changed on it. Adoption agencies would ask for a marriage certificate, which I had, but I would lay bets that they didn't go digging for four-year-old divorce decrees.
If I could pass off Jenner and me as still married and applied to a new agency closer to Indianapolis—where he still lived—then maybe there was a chance. Worst case, they'd reject my application. It wasn't worse than anything I'd been through already.
But best case . . .
There was no doubt this was a Hail Mary last-ditch effort, but I had to try.