The Adoption Surprise

  “I wish Ms. Kelsey could be my new mommy.”

  Those nine words from Mia made Zach question his parenting and his decision to remain single, and left him with his heart hammering in his chest. That’s what he got for listening in on their conversation.

  Zach had placed the basket down and was now waiting for Morgan’s answer. He had to remain quiet so he could hear her much-softer tone.

  “But she’s already my auntie” came the quiet reply.

  He placed a hand over his mouth to cover his chuckle. He wished he had brought his phone with him to record this conversation. Kelsey would have enjoyed hearing Morgan speak at least five words.

  “I know, but if she married my daddy, then we would be together.”

  On second thought, perhaps it was a good thing he wasn’t recording this. He didn’t know how Kelsey would react.

  “I want us to be together,” Morgan breathed out.

  “Then tell Ms. Kelsey to marry Daddy,” Mia said. Then she used one of Zach’s expressions. “It’s that simple.”

  Zoey Marie Jackson loves writing sweet romances. She is almost never without a book and reads across genres. Originally from Jamaica, West Indies, she has earned degrees from New York University; State University of New York at Stony Brook; Teachers College, Columbia University; and Argosy University. She’s been an educator for over twenty years. Zoey loves interacting with her readers. You can connect with her at zoeymariejackson.com.

  Books by Zoey Marie Jackson

  Love Inspired

  The Adoption Surprise

  Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.

  THE ADOPTION SURPRISE

  Zoey Marie Jackson

  For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

  —2 Timothy 1:7

  For my darling, John, a man of faith and the one God used to help me believe in love again. Thank you for all the talk throughs with the characters and story lines.

  I also would like to acknowledge my sons, Eric and Jordan, my stepchildren and my family, who are my biggest motivators and supporters. I also have to mention my Sisters writing group and my critique partner, Vanessa Miller, as well as my sister, Sobi Burbano, for her feedback.

  Special thanks to my editor, Dina Davis, and my agent, Latoya Smith. I feel blessed to have been given the opportunity to write for this line.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Building Her Amish Dream by Jo Ann Brown

  Chapter One

  For the third time that Thursday morning, Kelsey Harris fought back tears. And for the hundredth time over the past six months, she questioned her ability to be a mother.

  Her niece, Morgan, had been given the world’s most amazing parents for almost six years. Then in a moment, at the hands of a reckless drunk driver, both her parents had been snatched away in a nasty collision with Morgan in the back seat.

  Now all she had was Kelsey.

  An inadequate substitute.

  She stood in the kitchen of her sister’s house—her house now—in the small community of Swallow’s Creek, Delaware, ignoring the empty Chinese food containers mixed in with the clutter on the kitchen counter and the stack of dishes in the sink. Instead, Kelsey watched Morgan swing her legs under the small round kitchen table, eating her Lucky Charms slower than the first pour of ketchup from a bottle. Kelsey didn’t dare rush her for fear that Morgan would stop eating.

  The child already barely ate.

  Or spoke.

  Her vibrant, fun-loving five-year-old niece had been replaced with one enclosed in a silent cocoon. Kelsey didn’t know how to get Morgan back to herself.

  Reason number 4,673 why Kelsey doubted her skills. Oh, why had God put her in this position?

  Morgan took another spoonful—her fourth—her hand moving from bowl to mouth, lackluster. A chore.

  Sitting down in a chair across from Morgan, Kelsey braced herself to ask a question that made her heart pound. “I heard you crying last night. But when I came in the room, you turned away from me. I know you were awake and pretending to be asleep. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Her niece closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “Sweetie, you can talk to me about anything regarding your mom and dad. And how you feel. I want to help you.”

  Kelsey tensed while she prayed and begged God to loosen her niece’s tongue. All she got was another shake of the head. She didn’t push for fear Morgan would become upset and stop eating.

  Patting Morgan’s hand, she said, “Okay, honey. Finish your breakfast.”

  After a brief hesitation, Morgan squared her shoulders and resumed eating. Kelsey released a plume of air.

  Maybe it was good she had finally heeded Pastor Reid’s advice. He had recommended a Christian therapist, Lily Hernandez, who was trained in childhood trauma. After months of lagging, Kelsey had made the appointment for the following Thursday, June 23. It was an hour away in Wilmington, but Morgan’s well-being was worth the drive. Kelsey had plugged the details into her calendar and set an alarm reminder to make sure she didn’t forget. If therapy didn’t work, Kelsey was seriously considering a move to San Diego or Florida. Both she and Morgan could use a little sunshine in their lives.

  Kelsey looked at the clock and bit back a groan. She had thirty minutes until the meeting with her new client, but she had to drop Morgan off at the first day of summer camp. As one of the top real estate agents in Swallow’s Creek, Kelsey stayed busy and worked past midnight most days. But once she became Morgan’s primary caretaker, she’d had to reduce her hours. One of the perks of being in business for herself in a small town was that she could do the daily drop-off and pickup from school. Not bad for a twenty-nine-year-old cosmetology school dropout.

  Which in itself was a plus. Morgan’s hair was always on point. Kelsey eyed her niece’s shoulder-length cornrows and beads with pride. Morgan’s hair shone, moving and swaying while Morgan chewed her food. Slowly.

  Seconds later, Morgan plopped her spoon in the bowl and stood, causing the chair to scrape across the floor.

  “Are you all done, honey?” Kelsey asked, swallowing the disappointment when she saw how much was left.

  With a nod, Morgan picked up her bowl, holding it close to her chest. Kelsey knew Morgan was afraid it might fall and shatter to pieces like two others had before. Yet, if she offered to help, Morgan would refuse. Her niece placed the bowl in an empty spot on the counter, then tugged her Moana T-shirt over her brown leggings. She had outgrown the outfit but refused to allow Kelsey to change out her wardrobe. Their last trip to the mall had been a disaster, with Morgan crying and asking for her mom.

  “Can you use your words for Auntie?” Kelsey pleaded, tucking Morgan under the chin.

  Her niece looked up at her with sad, haunted eyes, her jaw churning behind zipped lips. A few seconds passed before she whispered, “Yes.”

  “Great,” Kelsey said with a cheer she didn’t feel. She gave Morgan a quick hug. “Why don’t you get your Princess Tiana bag?” With a nod, Morgan went to get her backpack. It was one of the last things Kennedy had purchased for Morgan, and it was her niece’s prized possession. Morgan didn’t go anywhere without it, though it was almost as big as she was.

  Once they were out the door, Kelsey swallowed the muggy heat, rushed to her BMW coupe and directed Morgan to get in her booster chair and put on her seat belt. She really needed to trade this car in and get a sensible mom car.

  And she would. Probably never.

  She couldn’t bear to part with her car.

  Kelsey put on JoJo Siwa, then glanced in her mirror to see if Morgan danced along. But the former ballerina sat still, eyes wide as she clutched the leather seats. Kelsey wanted to tell her niece not to worry, but she, too, had been traumatized. The first week after Kennedy’s and Alex’s deaths, Kelsey had been too paranoid to drive. One of her best friends, Sienna King, had done the driving. Kelsey had had to recite 2 Timothy 1:7 several times before she got behind the wheel again.

  She was halfway to the summer camp when she slapped her forehead. “I forgot to pack your lunch.” She rebuked her self-recriminating thoughts.

  Morgan shrugged and peered out the window.

  “I’ll get you a burger and fries for lunch. How’s that sound?”

  Her niece nodded. Kelsey couldn’t imagine the horror Morgan relived every time they got inside a vehicle. Her heart squeezed tight, like a lollipop in a child’s fist. She wished she could snap her fingers and remove the pain that Morgan must be feeling. Or take that agony onto herself.


  Sinking into her seat, Kelsey whispered an internal prayer. Please, God. Help me help her. ’Cause I don’t have a clue.

  By this time, Kelsey had twelve minutes to meet her client. She gripped the wheel and resisted the urge to press down on the accelerator. That might scare Morgan. She would prefer to be late and lose that deal rather than cause Morgan any additional harm. So she counted to ten and followed the speed limit.

  Kelsey pulled into the church parking lot and drove to the rear, toward the camp entrance. There was a huge black SUV in the lane. Just as she moved to turn, the rear door of the truck opened and a pink ball bounced in front of her car. A small girl jumped out and went after the ball. All Kelsey saw was a head full of curls as she squealed with horror.

  Panicked, Kelsey stomped on her brakes. The tires screeched like squawking seagulls as the car hurtled forward. Morgan emitted an earsplitting scream. And then another. Kelsey rammed the gear into Park, jabbed the release button on her seat belt and grabbed Morgan’s leg to comfort her. Morgan’s eyes were shut tight, her face red, her horror evident.

  A tall, muscular man dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a blue-and-white-checkered shirt came after the child and scooped her into his arms.

  Stealing a quick glance and seeing the other little girl had not been hurt, Kelsey yelled, “It’s all right, Morgan,” before opening her door with such force it rocked on the hinges. She catapulted out of the vehicle and scuttled to the passenger side to open Morgan’s door.

  With sweaty hands, Kelsey fumbled before undoing Morgan’s seat belt. Morgan lunged toward Kelsey, her little body shaking and her chest heaving. Kelsey scooped the quivering child into her arms and rocked her, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re fine, Morgan. You’re fine.” Morgan bellowed directly in her ear. She tilted her head, her ear cavity ringing. Her niece had quite the healthy pair of lungs.

  Feeling a presence looming behind her, Kelsey turned. She was tall, at five-ten, but she had to look up at the man. And her eyes enjoyed the journey, taking in his full lips and square jaw and stopping in awe at a pair of unusual eyes—one hazel, the other a deep, rich honey brown. She swallowed, having never met anyone with heterochromia before, and tried to hide her instant fascination.

  She lowered her eyes, resisting the urge to fan herself. Did he notice how flustered she was? The stranger hadn’t said a word. That was odd. She scrunched her nose and made her eyes meet his.

  His gaze was trained on... Morgan? Kelsey frowned, snapping out of her musings and swallowing her awakened fury. You’d think he would be apologizing or thanking her, but instead he stood staring at Morgan, like he was judging her niece for screaming and crying. His daughter slid down his body to hide behind his leg.

  Kelsey swung around to shield Morgan from the man’s intense gaze.

  “I’m glad your daughter is okay,” she said, raising a brow. Her tone had enough acid to solicit a reaction.

  The man sputtered like a choked engine. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you saw Mia jump out of my truck. If you hadn’t...”

  “The main thing is that I did see her and that she’s safe.” Kelsey tried to put Morgan down, but her niece clung to her tighter than a monkey on a swing. Morgan had stopped screaming and had wiped her face into Kelsey’s blouse. Her sniffles tore at Kelsey’s heart.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, noting that the man was still, as if he was in shock.

  He stepped back, rubbing his eyes. “Nope. My eyes aren’t deceiving me. I am seeing doubles.” He tried to tug the little girl from his leg, but she was holding on to him.

  “Doubles? Really?” Kelsey asked, moving away from him. She didn’t have time for corny pickup lines or to engage with someone more concerned with hitting on a woman than tending to his child. She retrieved Morgan’s book bag, then swung her hips to close the car door. With long strides, she went to the driver’s side to shut that door as well. Kelsey tried not to think of her damp blouse and her bun coming undone.

  “Wait,” the man said, but she lifted her chin and kept moving. She thought she heard the sound of an alarm behind her. This man definitely wasn’t from around here. Hardly anybody in Swallow’s Creek locked their vehicles.

  * * *

  Zachary Johnson watched the woman scurrying up the path, struggling to keep her rapid pace with a child in her arms. A child that, if his eyes were seeing right, was the mirror image of his daughter, Mia.

  A doppelgänger.

  His heart thumped in his chest, and goose bumps popped up on his arms. It couldn’t be. Zach needed to get another glimpse. Then he could laugh at his error and apologize for freaking out her mother. He hadn’t had much sleep the past few nights, having just relocated to Swallow’s Creek from Philadelphia.

  “Why was that girl screaming, Daddy?” Mia asked, peering around his leg and looking up at him. “I’m scary.” Her chin wobbled, melting his heart. His little pumpkin, as he called her, had him wrapped about her finger. Fortunately, she didn’t know it.

  “You mean scared.” Zach patted her curls and corrected her. “I don’t know, honey. Maybe she was afraid.”

  The fact that Mia could have been hit by a vehicle registered. Not even five minutes ago, Zach could have lost his baby girl. An image of her lifeless body flashed before him and his legs weakened. He snatched Mia in his arms again and hugged her tight. She squirmed, her back arching like mozzarella cheese against him, but Zach couldn’t let her go. His baby was alive and well.

  Unlike Sandy. His wife had passed after losing a battle with cancer two years ago. They had gotten married at twenty-one, and he treasured the eleven years they’d had together. Sandy had truly been his best friend.

  “Put me down, Daddy,” Mia said, pulling on his goatee. “I’m not a baby. I’m a big girl. I can walk.”

  “You’ll always be my baby,” Zach said, willing his legs to move.

  Then he stopped. With all the commotion, he had forgotten Mia’s lunch box. He put Mia down and kept his eyes on her as he ran to retrieve her pink ball. Her ruffled pink skirt looked like it had snagged, and the T-shirt was no longer tucked in. Most of her hair had come undone from her lopsided ponytail. It had taken him fifteen minutes to undo her tangles and get it in a ponytail.

  Zach hated to see her so disheveled, especially on her first day of summer camp. But he had to get back to the house. There was a truck coming to deliver Sandy’s car, and he had to be there to open the garage.

  Thankfully, his chatty new neighbor, Jade Wilson, had shown up a couple days ago with a scrumptious walnut cake in her hand to welcome him to the neighborhood. When he mentioned Mia, who had been asleep upstairs, she had suggested Millennial House of Praise’s summer camp. Jade had left after that, promising to come by soon with her fifteen-year-old daughter, Izabelle, whom she had volunteered for babysitting if he needed it.

  “Hurry up, Daddy,” Mia said, flapping her arms like a baby bird trying out its wings. “I’m ready to go.”

  Zach returned to his truck, tossed the ball in the back and stretched across the seat for Mia’s lunch box. Taking her hand in his, he started back up the path to the entrance of the camp. Mia danced and twirled the entire way.

  “I’m going to make twenty new friends,” Mia said.

  He chuckled. “Twenty? That’s a lot of friends. You only need one or two.”

  “I still want twenty.” She skipped.

  As soon as he walked through the door, warmth akin to the first bite of fluffy pancakes seeped through him. The walls were painted with images of Noah’s ark, David and Goliath, and other biblical heroes. There were about thirty children ranging in age from four to twelve scattered throughout the huge room. The young children herded together, their bodies moving like marionettes to the Chicken Dance. Some of the older children were sprawled in chairs in front of a large television screen, the rumble of T. D. Jakes’s voice a low hum. Others busied themselves on their cell phones or on computers. His eyes scanned the play-kitchen area, theater tent and a mini racetrack—an organized chaos.

  Zach counted six counselors milling about the room, recognizable by their blue T-shirts with Millennial House of Praise Camp Counselor emblazoned across the chest in white. He approached one and asked for Sienna King. While the teen scurried to get her, he appreciated the aroma of cinnamon rolls. He could almost taste the icing, picturing it oozing on the sides. His stomach growled. He hadn’t had time for his protein shake that morning.