The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(102)

“C ameron Douglas Girard, what are you doing?”

Cameron gazed up from the carpet where he sat sorting through his daddy’s sock drawer. The nine-month-old grinned up at her guilelessly as Carol stood with her hands on her hips, trying hard to look stern while struggling not to laugh. “Come here,” she said, lifting her baby boy into her arms. Raising him high, she pressed her mouth against his bare belly and made a loud smooching noise. Cameron let out a squeal of pleasure. When she lowered him, he buried his face in her shoulder, gripping her hair with both hands, gurgling and chattering.

In this past year, Carol had learned about a whole new facet of love—about how much one person could love another and how much a mother could love her child. Cameron might not have come from her womb, but he was her son in every way that counted.

“It’s time for our walk,” she told him.

Cameron knew what that meant and squirmed, wanting her to put him down. She did, quickly returning Doug’s socks to the bottom drawer of their chest of drawers. Then she carried Cam to his room, where she dressed him in tiny jeans and a hand-knit sweater. The pants were a gift from her brother, who’d sent them, plus a matching jacket, shortly after the adoption was completed. Released again, Cameron crawled rapidly toward the stroller. Once he reached it, he pulled himself into a standing position, then looked over his shoulder to be sure she’d noticed his feat and appreciated his skill. Cameron loved their walks.

“We’re visiting the yarn store this afternoon,” Carol told him as she buckled him in. “We’re going to see Miss Lydia.”

Draping her purse over her shoulder, Carol left the condo and pushed the stroller into the hallway and then into the waiting elevator. They took the same route almost every afternoon, stopping at a park two blocks from their building to chat with other young mothers.

Carol’s circle of friends had broadened dramatically since she’d left work and Cameron had come into their lives. The other mothers she’d met at the park had formed a casual group, meeting once a week for coffee. They shared advice and experiences, traded parenting books and magazines, passed on toys and clothing their own children no longer needed. Carol was the oldest member of the group, but that had never bothered her.

After their park visit, Carol steered Cameron into the yarn store. “Carol,” Lydia called out cheerfully. “Hello.” She squatted down so she was eye level with Cameron. “You, too, Cam.”

The baby grabbed for a skein of bright purple yarn but Carol was too quick for him and automatically rolled the stroller backward and away from the tempting yarn.

“I need another ball of that Paton worsted.”

“The olive-green, right?” Lydia had an uncanny ability to remember who’d bought what yarn for which project. Carol had so many projects going now, it was hard to keep track of them all. Lydia, however, had no such difficulty.

“Jacqueline was by earlier this afternoon,” Lydia said.

“She’s back?”

“With a gorgeous tan, too. She looks so happy,” Lydia said with a contented smile.

“That’s great.”

“She’ll be here Friday.”

“What about Alix?” The fourth member of their knitting group wasn’t always available on Fridays. It had been hit-and-miss with her because of culinary school commitments.

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t think she’ll be able to make it.”

Carol sighed. “I miss her when she can’t be here.”

“Me, too,” Lydia admitted. “Remember what we thought when she first signed up for the class?”

“I was convinced Jacqueline and Alix would go for each other’s throats within the first five minutes.” Carol laughed. “They were impossible, always sniping at each other.”

“It was like third grade all over again.”

“You’re telling me.” Carol marveled anew at how the relationship between those two had turned out.

“Jacqueline was ready to drop out more than once,” Lydia said, reminiscing.

Carol nodded. “I understood why she wanted to, but I’m so grateful she didn’t.”

“I am, too. And if Alix hadn’t stayed…”

They could never have guessed how one defiant, angry young woman would influence all their lives.

“Do you ever hear from Laurel?” Lydia asked.

“Not a word. Not since the day Cameron was born. She went into court on her own, signed the paperwork and walked out the door without a word to either Doug or me.”

“What about Alix? They used to be roommates.”

“If she’s heard from Laurel, she’s never mentioned it to us.”

“What about Jordan?”

Carol sighed. “I understand he hooked her up with a counselor and got her housing when the apartment building was sold.” The urge to take Cameron in her arms and hold him protectively against her was nearly overwhelming, but Carol resisted. “She was a sad, confused young woman with a lot of problems.”

“But she did one thing right in her life, and that was to give you and Doug her son.”

“I wish her well,” Carol murmured, and she meant it.

At some point, years from now, Cameron might be curious about his birth parents; he might even want to search for them. That decision would be his, but for now, during these formative years, this baby boy was hers and Doug’s. It was their love and their values that would shape him.