Chapter 32
LENA
“They’re coming up the driveway now!” Agnes cried from somewhere in the castle. The excitement in her voice was palpable. “Room’s all made up,” she added a little breathlessly as she poked her head into the dining room where Weston and I were sitting.
“Thank you, Agnes.” Weston turned to her, grateful. “You’ve really gone above and beyond helping us get ready. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“We appreciate it,” I agreed. For weeks now, she’d been scrubbing the castle from top to bottom, organizing furniture and unboxing toys and books for us while Weston was busy with wind farm meetings and I was swamped with schoolwork.
“All the little touches have made Lochbrae feel homier than ever.”
“Oh, well—” Agnes huffed, waving off our thanks as her cheeks pinked.
“And the place has never smelled better,” Weston added, inhaling deeply. “Is that your famous garlic and chive—”
“The scones!” Agnes cried, her eyes widening dramatically. She turned on her heel and darted for the kitchen.
Weston’s lips twitched as he glanced over, catching my eye across the table. A smile slowly curled across his face that was giddiness and uncertainty all in one. “I think she’s a little nervous.”
“It’s a big change,” I said. The weight of that fluttered in my own gut. It was a mix of anxious anticipation, excitement, and the tiniest dash of fear. Would I be a good foster mom? I shoved that thought aside. “How long has it been since there’s been a child around Lochbrae?”
Weston nodded. “Not since Grandad’s camp came to an end.”
“Exactly.” I closed my textbook and set it aside.
“She just wants everything to be perfect,” I said, which I understood.
I’d battled my nerves these past weeks by throwing myself into school.
I’d finally gotten into the grad school of my dreams—one with an online program that allowed me to stay in Lochbrae with Weston.
Between my schoolwork and finishing up our foster placement courses, the number of books in the castle had exploded.
Weston had insisted on reading up on as much as he could before we actually became foster parents, and he’d been engrossed in books on trauma-informed care and the foster care system itself.
The trauma books had been surprisingly eye-opening for him in regard to his own childhood.
“I think we aim for almost perfect,” Weston said. “That way we have room to improve.”
I smiled softly at his words, the chaos in my stomach settling momentarily. “I think we can do that.”
“Because we’re in this together,” he said, climbing to his feet and coming around the table to press a kiss to the top of my head.
It was sweet, and as he reached for my hand, I let him pull me into his arms. “We can do anything together,” he promised, pecking my lips, and that’s how I knew I’d be good at this foster mom thing.
Weston was with me, and he wasn’t going to let me fail.
I tightened my grip around his waist. “You’re nervous though, too, right? I sort of feel like if I open my mouth too wide, a whole load of butterflies will fly out.”
He grinned. “The kid would probably get a kick out of that. And yes, I’m terrified. But also excited. And I feel…ready.” He nodded, as if reassuring himself. “Because I’m taking this next step with you, and I trust us to get through this process. Through the good times.”
“And the tricky times,” I added. “Like negotiating bedtime.”
“Doing schoolwork.”
“Eating her vegetables. Don’t forget, brussels sprouts are out.”
“That’s right,” Weston said, grinning. “What else did the file say? She likes Scotch pies. Brussels sprouts are her nemesis. And she wants to be a footie player when she grows up.”
“Who doesn’t?” I teased. We’d gotten the file a couple weeks ago and had spent an entire evening poring over it, piecing together the complicated little life.
How one child could go through so much upheaval in six short years was heartbreaking, but Weston and I were determined that this would be the place that would make her feel welcomed and wanted and safe.
Agnes appeared again, frazzled. “Saved the scones!” she announced, putting a decorative plate piled high with multiple types of pastries in the middle of the table.
“Those smell amazing,” I said, stomach growling. I’d slowly been replacing my beignet addiction with scones, specifically Agnes’s cherry and chocolate recipe.
“I wanted to have options,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what she’d like best. Oh!” She clapped her hands together. “Forgot the jam and cream!” She raced out again just as a knock echoed from the front hall.
“She’s here,” I said, my heart racing. I imagined the little face on the other side of the door, staring up at the castle, mouth agape as curiosity and nerves bubbled inside her.
Maybe even a little excitement?
I hoped the little girl was excited for this new chapter. Excited to meet us. Excited to spend time as a part of this family Weston and I were building.
“Ready?” Weston asked, holding his hand out for mine.
“Ready,” I said, linking our fingers.
Together, we walked down the hall, pulling open the massive front door to peals of laughter. A little girl clad in dark red overalls and boots was sprawled out in the grass, giggling as Milo playfully licked her face, tail wagging.
“Milo!” Weston said, trying to call him off. But Milo didn’t move, except to wag his tail furiously, and the little girl simply squealed with delight.
A young social worker stood on the driveway, looking fondly at the scene.
“Hi, Maeve,” I called.
She turned around with a bright smile, reaching for our hands. “Good to see you two again.”
We’d been in touch with Maeve throughout our process to qualify as foster parents.
She’d been out to Lochbrae on multiple occasions, ensuring the space was ready for a child.
“Well, this is Aisling,” she said, gesturing to the little girl who was now rolling around on the ground, playing with Milo.
“She was quite clean when we got here. Now not so much.”
Weston’s lips twitched, and he nudged me with his hip. “Sort of reminds me of your first interaction with Bonnie,” he murmured.
I arched my eyebrow. “I was attacked.”
“So you keep insisting.”
“Aisling,” Maeve called. “Come say hello.”
The little girl popped her head up briefly. “Hiya!” Milo yipped at being ignored, taking her attention back.
“I see we have a dog lover,” I said.
“She adores all kinds of animals,” Maeve confirmed.
“That’s good,” Weston said. “Because we’ve got a few of them.”
Aisling climbed to her feet, blonde ponytail skewed. Her freckle-dusted cheeks were flushed as she stared up at the turrets. “You know this is a castle?”
“Aye,” Weston said. “Have you ever been in a castle before?”
Aisling shook her head.
“This is where you’re going to live,” Maeve said. “And this is Weston and Lena. Remember that chat we had about staying with them?”
Aisling skipped to Maeve’s side, grabbing onto her pant leg, a little uncertain all of a sudden. “It’s so big.”
I crouched down, closer to her level. “It is really big. And I know that can be scary. But I promise the inside is cozy. Would you like to come in and see your room?” I asked, extending my hand.
Aisling nodded shyly, reaching out, and as her tiny palm fitted into mine, my heart melted. “I get my own room?” she asked, looking up at me as I got to my feet.
“Sure do,” Weston said. We turned for the door, but a jingling sound echoed across the gardens.
“Oh no,” I groaned, turning just in time to see Bonnie race around the corner of the house.
“A pony!” Aisling cried excitedly. “You have a pony!”
“That’s Bonnie,” Weston said. “Probably coming to say hi to you.”
As Bonnie trotted over, Milo welcomed her with a bark. Aisling pulled free of my hand to greet the pony, patting her mane and laughing as Bonnie nuzzled her, fighting Milo for Aisling’s attention.
I shook my head as the giggles started all over again. “I can’t believe the demon pony has already won her over,” I whispered.
Weston laughed. “Maybe Aisling will turn out to be a horse whisperer and get Bonnie to finally behave.”
“God, I hope so,” I teased. “Or we’re seriously going to need to consider obedience training.”
Weston laughed.
But as I watched the scene play out before us, I couldn’t help thinking just how perfect everything felt. It may not be what I’d always envisioned when I’d imagined my future, but it was so much better than anything I could have ever hoped for.