Chapter 136

Fiona

“Thank you for calling Cure Connect; this is Chris Carter’s office. How can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Ethan Montgomery’s office at Silverclaw Company. I am calling to set up a meeting to discuss and plan the next joint charity event. Does Mr. Carter have any free days this week?” I ask, hoping I sound as calm and professional as I mean to.

“Let me check,” she says, pausing. I wait for a minute before she hums and speaks again, “He has a few hours of free time two days from now, on Thursday, between one and four in the afternoon.”

I glance at mine and Ryan’s schedules, thankfully finding the date open.

“That would be perfect. Let’s plan for two hours that day, from two to four,” I tell her, ready to write it down if she agrees.

“I’ll put it on Mr. Carter’s schedule. Thank you for calling.”

Ending the call, I write the new meeting into he schedule and add it to Ryan’s schedule as well so he knows.

My next call is to Heaven’s Blessings Children’s Home, but after three unanswered calls, I still don’t get a response. Ethan said they take in sick children, so with each missed call, I get more nervous.

Several terrible scenarios run through my mind, bringing me to my feet before I consciously move. I grab my purse and phone, shutting off my computer and making my way down to Ryan’s office. He asks if I need someone to go with me, but I tell him I’ll be fine.

After a quick instruction to be safe, he sends me down the elevator.

Clearly, this children’s home means something to Ethan, so I want to check that everything is alright.

It only takes thirty minutes to drive out of town to the children’s home, and when I pull up to the building, I find it sitting at the end of a neighborhood street. There is playground equipment behind the building and plenty of room to run.

The building itself looks fairly new, like it had been built in the last ten years or so.

Walking inside, I find an empty front desk. Joyful laughter and the sounds of children playing reaches my ears, and I realize they must be outside.

“Hello?” I call, looking around. I don’t want to intrude, but when no one responds, I step around the desk. “Is anyone here?”

“I’m here!” A woman calls, coming around the corner. “I’m so sorry. I was helping Little Timmy get off the swing.”

The flustered woman rushes into the lobby and offers a kind smile. She’s older, probably in her mid-forties, but pretty. Her blonde hair is falling out of her bun from playing with the kids.

“That’s okay. I tried calling earlier, but there was no answer, so I came instead,” I tell the lady. She smiles as she settles behind the front desk.

“Are you here to adopt?” The hope in her tone makes my heart ache.

“I’m sorry, but I’m actually here to set up a meeting for Mr. Montgomery,” I tell her while fighting my own heart. “He’s out of town, but he wanted me to set up a time for you to meet with someone.”

“Ethan sent you?”

“He did, Ms…”

“I’m sorry. I’m Ms. Fairchild the administrator of Heaven’s Blessings.”

“I’m Fiona. It’s nice to meet you,” I greet, offering my own smile.

“Would you mind following me as we talk?” Ms. Fairchild asks. I agree, following her through the building to the back where about fifteen children play on playground equipment. There are a few kids off to the side drawing on the concrete, so there can’t be more than twenty kids.

Ms. Fairchild motions for me to sit beside her on the bench, so I take a seat, watching the kids for a moment.

“Ethan wouldn’t send just anyone out here to meet me,” she says suddenly. I glance at her as she continues, “In all the years he’s been taking care of us, Ethan has never sent another person to me.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. I figured he would want to bring a lot of help, seeing as she’s the only one here. There aren’t any other adults, just her and the kids.

Ms. Fairchild nods brushing a bit of dirt of a child’s face as he runs by.

“Are there any volunteers to help out, or does the neighborhood beside you offer help?” I can’t believe that they’ve been abandoned out here. Yes, people nowadays are focused on themselves, but there has to be some sort of support system for a place like this. Something other than Ethan alone.

“Sometimes we get high schoolers looking for service hours, but they come and go quickly,” she answers, looking out at the playing children. “If it weren’t for Ethan, we wouldn’t be able to operate as we do. The money and support he gives is the only support we have other than the measly stipend from the government.”

A child runs up and throws her arms around Ms. Fairchild with a grin, and then, without a word, she runs off again. I smile.

“Did you know that Ethan comes here at least once a month to play with the kids?” She questions. I shake my head. I’d never heard of this place before Ethan tasked me with contacting her. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

Standing, I take one more look at the kids before following her inside. I trust that she won’t do anything to put the kids in danger, but I still find it hard to walk away and leave them alone outside.

“I know he’s a busy man, but he never fails to come visit on the last weekend of the month. He plays soccer, teaching the kids how to play correctly,” Ms. Fairchild says and stops in front of a large cork board. Pictures cover every inch of the board, but the most surprising part is that every picture has Ethan in it.

“This was a year ago, when he brought Christmas presents for each child here,” she says, pointing to a picture of Ethan carrying a large red sack. “And here, he taught a two-day soccer camp and helped raise money for the program.” This picture shows Ethan standing behind a line of kids with a whistle in his mouth.

My eyes scan the pictures, each making my chest tighten more and more. He said he likes kids, but this is more than I ever thought. He doesn’t simply like kids. He loves them.

There are so many pictures of Ethan playing with children. A lot of the pictures feature the children from outside, where they kick soccer balls, make crafts, and play outside. Though, there’s one picture that almost stands out from the rest.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ethan smile as big as he is in the picture.

“What about this one?” I ask, pointing to a picture of Ethan holding a little blonde girl with pigtails. “I didn’t see her outside, did I?” I could be wrong, but the majority of the children I saw are dark haired, and I don’t remember seeing a blonde girl.

Ms. Fairchild’s smile fades as she looks at the photo, gently touching the edges of the picture.

“This is Fia. She was a little girl in my care three years ago. She was here for about two years before she got sick,” Ms. Fairchild says softly and sadly. Her tone is heavy and her eyes watery as she speaks. “She had a blood disease that’s very rare and doesn’t have a cure. So, after three years of being here and two years of being sick, she just couldn’t hold out.”

She sighs and swipes at the tears falling down her cheeks.

“She loved Ethan, though. You should’ve seen the way she lit up when he would walk through those doors.” Ms. Fairchild sniffles and a small smile pulls at her lips. “She always asked when he was coming or how many days it would be until he came back. There was a monthly countdown on her wall that she would write and rewrite the numbers and days. She was a cutie, but it devastated everyone here when she passed.”

“Did Ethan…”

She nods.

“I called him when she was close,” she whispers. “He came running over and got to see her one more time before she left us.”

Blinking back tears, wrap my arms around the woman and try to ignore the ache in my chest. Ethan would probably never say anything about the little girl on his own, but I wonder if he would tell me about her if I asked.

Though, I don’t want to bring up bad memories.

“Let’s go back outside, hmm?” I murmur, standing up and pulling Ms. Fairchild with me. I can’t imagine how many children she’s lost over the years, especially if she’s been here as long as she makes it seem.

Almost as soon as we step outside, the children swarm around us.

“Who is she?”

“She’s pretty.”

“Where did she come from?”

“Is she here to take me home?”

Several questions come from the children, making Ms. Fairchild smile.

“This is Ms. Fiona. Mr. Ethan sent her here—”

“Are you his wife?”

“Oh, do you love him?”

“I-I’m not his wife, but I am his friend who cares about him very much,” I answer, kneeling down and looking into the curious eyes of twenty children. The youngest can’t be any younger than five while the oldest is probably somewhere around twelve. Several faces from the wall of pictures smile up at me as others ooh and ahhh.

Again, my heart squeezes with an unfamiliar ache. If I could, I’d take all these kids home and keep them forever.