Expecting a Miracle

As they made their way to the window, a boy of about five hurtled headlong into Gavin.

“Whoa, partner,” Gavin said, steadying him.

Another child took the opportunity to tag the boy’s back. “You’re it!” he hollered in glee.

As the pair dashed away, Gavin glanced down at his shirt and grimaced at the mark that had been left behind. Lauren knew exactly what Holden’s reaction would have been upon seeing a chocolate smudge decorating the fabric of one of his shirts. For that matter, the child would not have gotten off without hearing a stern reprimand. But Gavin was merely shaking his head and chuckling wryly.

“I guess I should have left my old clothes on.” He sent Lauren a wink as he grabbed napkins from a nearby tabletop dispenser and swiped at his ruined shirtfront. “This is what I get for trying to impress you.”

He said it lightly, clearly joking. But Lauren was impressed, and it had nothing to do with what the man was wearing.

“You’re very…” She said finally, “patient.”

“It’s just a shirt and he’s just a kid.” He shrugged, as if that explained it all. Lauren supposed that in a way it did. Gavin’s easy-going reaction to the mishap summed up his personality.

“You’d make a good dad.” She hadn’t meant to say that. At least not out loud. And certainly not on a sigh.

Hearing the words didn’t send Gavin into panic mode. He nodded. “I hope to one day.”

“You want children?”

He looked slightly surprised by the question. “Not right now. But sure, eventually. Don’t you?”

Lauren swallowed. The dashed dreams of the past and the miracle of the present clogged her throat. Before she could respond, a woman of about thirty rushed over to where they stood in line. She looked hot, harassed and, given the dark circles under her eyes, exhausted. And no wonder. She had a baby on one hip and a sticky-faced toddler in tow.

“Gosh. I’m really sorry about that.” She motioned to the mark on Gavin’s shirt. “That was my son, Thomas, who ran into you.”

Gavin chuckled easily. “He left a lasting impression.”

The woman shifted the baby to her other hip and began to rummage through a large purse that did double duty as a diaper bag if the package of wipes peeking out the top was any indication. After pulling out a piece of paper and a pen, she said, “Here, let me give you my address. You can send me a bill for your dry-cleaning.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. Really,” Gavin assured her. “It will come out in the wash.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He reached over then and tickled one of the baby’s many chins, delighting a giggle out of the drooling infant. “Looks like someone’s cutting teeth.”