An Unexpected Turn

by TJ Fox

  I sit in one of the six chairs in the room. It’s nice and tastefully decorated, if a little generic. Instead of staring at the starving artist couch painting on the wall opposite me, I pull my notes out again. It’s just fidgeting and busywork to keep my hands and mind occupied. My nerves, already pushed to the brink, feel ready to shatter.

  My notepad is barely out of my portfolio before the receptionist asks me to follow her. She leads me through another door in the waiting room and down a short hall. The office she takes me to is large. Packed bookcases line the wall across from the door and wrap around the corner and continue behind a desk on the right. A man sitting behind the desk stands when we walk in. He is older, maybe in his mid to late sixties. Tall and slim, his white hair is thinning at the temples, emphasizing his widow’s peak.

  “Hello, Ms. Griffin. I’m Josh Ferrell.” He shakes my hand, then motions to the chairs in front of his desk before taking his own seat again. “Please, have a seat.”

  I sit, realizing I have no clue how or where to start. Even with all my notes, I’m lost. I don’t have any clue what or how much he knows about any of this. And isn’t that half the problem in the first place?

  He takes deciding where to start out of my hands when he begins, “I’m sure you have lots of questions. I understand that Dylan gave you the guardianship papers to sign.”

  “He gave me more than just some papers, Mr. Ferrell. He gave me the kids. While B was in the hospital for an appendicitis. He left Riff and Simone alone in the waiting room while I was in the emergency room with B. So, no. Dylan did not just give me papers.” Damn, it’s going to be so much harder keeping my emotions under control without the kids here.

  Mr. Ferrell looks puzzled. “I don’t understand. He said he was giving the papers to you, so you could read them over and then come in and sign your portion of the agreement.”

  I sigh and take a deep breath. Letting everything overwhelm me is just going to make this harder. “Maybe you should read this. It was one of the other things he left.” I get the letter out of my case and hand it over to him.

  Putting on some reading glasses, he takes it from me and starts to read. Part way through, he lifts his other hand, rubs the lower half of his face and across his mouth, not disturbing his glasses.

  When he puts the letter down on the desk, he doesn’t look up right away. His eyes are still directed at the letter, but he is no longer reading. He finally looks up, and I can see the grief etched into the lines on his face. I give him a minute before I explain everything that has happened. The conversations with Betty and his doctor. Everything that is being done to locate him and what the police had found.

  “I have known the Jacksons since Deanna was sixteen and pregnant with Dylan.” It’s the first time I’ve heard the mother’s name, so it takes me a second to figure out who Deanna is.

  “I took Dylan on as a client after Deanna passed away. He came to me after he was diagnosed, so I knew that he was dying. I also knew that he was trying to get his affairs in order and to decide who he wanted to name as guardian, but I didn’t know anything about this. He left me with the impression he was choosing from people he already knew and trusted. My part was to work to ensure everything was in place and iron clad before he could no longer make these decisions. It took him some time, but once he provided me with your name, I finished drawing up the papers, so all that was left was getting your signature. This…” he indicates the letter “…leads me to believe you didn’t know each other long.”

  “No. We didn’t. We went on less than a dozen dates over the last couple of months. I hadn’t even met the kids, or knew he was their guardian, until…” I have to pause to think because the answer I almost give automatically seems so absurd it can’t be real. But it is. “Until Wednesday evening, three days ago, when I was to meet him at his house for a date.”

  He sits back in his chair in shock. “Oh, Dylan! What were you thinking?”

  I think he needs to digest what he has just learned before we can continue, so I give him time. Worry is starting to build because this isn’t what I expected when I came in this morning. I tried hard to not have any expectations, but a few kept trying to sink their persistent roots. His reaction has me on edge. I don’t know where this conversation is going to lead or what all this means for the kids.

  After a few minutes he looks at me with concern. “What, then, is your intention with the children? You were obviously not expecting any of this.”

  Nodding, “I think that’s one of my biggest questions right now. The guardianship papers and that medical power of attorney? Are they legal and binding? I’ve spent the last two days signing off on treatment and consent papers at the hospital and acting as if they are.” I hold my breath waiting for his answer.

  He leans forward again, placing his arms and clasped hands on the top of the desk. “The power of attorney is legal. An agreement isn’t required, just something that states you have permission to make those decisions if needed. We drew that up to ensure there would not be any problems getting any of the children treated if something were to happen, especially during the transitional period before Dylan passed, or the guardianship became official. Because of that, there are no problems with regards to the hospital.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, but this is only one of many worries I’ve been carrying, so it is only a small relief.

  “As for the guardianship, under normal circumstances, you can’t just decide you don’t want the responsibility and hand over permanent custody or guardianship of a minor when you are a functioning, living adult. The courts have to agree to it. Otherwise, a person can designate a guardian for their children in the event of a person’s death or incapacity, which is what the documents I drafted establish. Dylan’s wishes in the event he could no longer care for the children due to his illness or his death. We knew there would come a point where Dylan would no longer be able to care for the children because of the tumor progression. That is why it was so important to get the guardianship arranged before then. Having it formalized with your agreement would make it easier to establish guardianship. I was unaware that his health was already deteriorating.” He pauses, tapping his thumb on his desk in thought.

  “The issue now is how to proceed. This letter…” he lifts the letter, then places it back on the desk “…could call into question his state of mind at the time he named you as guardian. As his lawyer and someone who has known him his whole life, I do not question it and would defend against such a question. I don’t agree with his methods, but I will not argue or question his choice. So, unless your right to guardianship is challenged, and I doubt that it would be, his state of mind is not an issue. Now, because you haven’t signed, and the papers haven’t been filed, the agreement isn’t legally binding even though Dylan has, essentially, turned over responsibility for the children to you which puts this in a gray area as far as technicalities go. His wishes are clear and, if we were discussing this because he had died, the courts would be asking if you agreed before granting those wishes.”

  He looks at me in thought for a moment. “I believe the final say comes down to you. There are only two options. If you decide to take on this responsibility, we may run into a few bumps because Dylan is missing, and we haven’t been able to establish his inability to care for the children. There would be a period where you’ll be in a legal gray area, acting as temporary guardian. During that time, you may be required to meet with a representative from the state to establish your fitness to serve in this capacity. That should only last until we can locate him to establish incapacity…” He pauses for a moment, as though he’s struggling with the words, before he’s able to continue again “…or death, at which time you will become their full guardian if no objections have been raised. If you are not willing to take on this responsibility, the children will be placed in the state’s care, and you are then finished with everything concerning the Jackson childre
n.”

  My chest is tight, and I’m fighting off the flood of emotions threatening to drown me, hanging on with every scrap of strength I have. “The social worker at the hospital is already treating this as though I’m their temporary guardian. What other issues will I run into if I am not a full legal guardian? There’s no knowing when or if Dylan can be located. The kids will need to get registered for school in the fall. And what about things like medical insurance?”

  “You should have no issues as a temporary guardian outside of whatever the state may need. If you do, I am willing to step in as needed. I could speak to the school about any concerns and explain the situation. I have legal authority to speak on Dylan’s behalf until he passes. Medical insurance for the children is already being paid for out of their trust, so that shouldn’t be a worry unless they run into some sort of catastrophic situation.”

  The knot of dread and worry has almost entirely untangled, but I still have doubts that won’t let go.

  “You said you didn’t see there being any contest to Dylan’s wishes. What about the kids’ fathers? In Dylan’s letter, he said they were all different.”

  Sitting back in his chair, he crosses an ankle over his opposite knee and folds his hands across his stomach.

  “When Deanna was sixteen, she fell in love with a family friend. He was much older, closer to her parents’ age. When she found out she was pregnant, he denied it was his and refused to see her anymore. She went to her parents looking for support, and they were furious at her. They accused her of lying and trying to destroy their friend, then threw her out. I helped her fight to gain emancipation from her parents and get established, so she could live on her own. After that, Deanna chose not to have any relationships, but wanted more children. She chose to use anonymous donors and in vitro to have the other three, so there is no possibility to contest this from that direction.”

  “What about Deanna’s family? Will they try to challenge this?”

  I can’t do this if I’m not sure or if there is any real chance they could be taken.

  “After Dylan was born, she attempted to contact her parents thinking the lure of a grandchild would change their minds. They had their lawyers draft a restraining order and told her never to contact anyone in the family ever again. All of that is moot anyway since she was an only child, and I’ve learned that her parents passed away a few years ago. I can’t imagine there is anyone left who would even care.”

  I close my eyes and tilt my head to my chest. My hands are clasped between my knees, have been since we started talking, and are beginning to shake. My life changed less than three full days ago. I knew it then. I’ve known it all along, but until this moment, I refused to hope. Now I can no longer contain it. It’s getting ready to boil over and burst out of my skin.

  Looking back up at him, I ask, “So, if I sign the agreement, they are legally mine?”

  “Eventually, yes.” He is watching me closely.

  A thought flickers across my mind. It is enough to press pause on everything I was about to say. A “what if” I just cannot ignore.

  “What if this isn’t something the kids want? I mean, I know they don’t have much choice. They have to have someone. But… what if they don’t want me?”

  I hold my breath knowing it isn’t a question he can really answer, at least not completely, but I still need to get some kind of answer.

  “Their options are the same as yours. It is either you or the state. And I tell you this, not to pressure you, but to make sure you are fully aware of all possibilities. There are no guarantees they will be allowed to stay together if they went into state care. Often, older children, such as Riff, end up in group homes if they can’t find a way to keep them together.”

  Sighing, I nod, but I still want to make sure. “But if they really don’t want this and I’ve signed, how do we give them what they want? They should have some kind of a say in this, shouldn’t they?”

  He tilts his head in thought for a minute. “I could hold onto the paperwork until you speak with them, not filing anything until I hear back from you. If you give them the choice, and they don’t choose you, I simply won’t file the paperwork. Would you be able to walk away if that was their choice?”

  The thought freezes the breath in my lungs. Could I? After everything that has happened? I don’t know how, but if it is what they really want, then what choice do I have? Is it right to allow kids their age to make that kind of a choice? Ugh! I just don’t know.

  “I honestly have no clue, but… I think I need to at least ask them. Can we do that?”

  He is nodding before he responds. “Absolutely.”

  I release the breath I am holding and jump. “Where do I sign?”

  Then he smiles. It’s still a little sad, but it is genuine. “I can see why he chose you. For what it’s worth, I think you are handling this the right way for the children.”

  “There are a few other things that you need to be made aware of.” He talks as he pulls some folders from his desk. “Deanna had a small trust from her Grandparents that was to be used for very specific purposes, things like college, a down payment on a home. Those sorts of things. The goal being to help her get established in life. When her parents tossed her out, they didn’t think she deserved that money and tried to take it from her. I was the one who managed the trust, and she came to me for help.”

  He lays several documents on the desk and continues. “I continued to help her manage the trust after her emancipation. When she got sick, she wanted something similar for her children. We got Dylan established as guardian and, using the little bit that was left of her trust and her life insurance money, I set up a trust for each child. I will continue to manage the children’s trusts until they are of age, or I am no longer capable. The trusts are designed to help them like Deanna’s did, covering certain specified expenses, like medical insurance and college. Once they reach the age of twenty-five, what remains is theirs to do with as they will. Because she wanted to ensure the children always had what they needed, she included a list of expenses Dylan could pull from the trust. The transfer of guardianship to you would transfer those as well. I’ll get you a list. It wasn’t much since Dylan had his own trust, but it was designed to keep the added burden of raising the children from eating into his own future…”

  “I don’t want any money. If the kids need something, that’s fine, but I won’t take anything.”

  I refuse to make any of this about money. I was unaware of it before I agreed. It wasn’t an issue then, and I will not allow it to become a question in my motivation to take the kids now.

  He tilts his head. “Alright, I’m sure we can work out some arrangement. Now, here are the documents you need to sign. There are several places. After you have signed, I’ll give you a copy. You will get the official one once it has been filed with the court.”

  I take a relieved breath and nod.

  He calls in the receptionist to be the notary for my signature. There are about a dozen different places to sign, but I make sure I get every last one.

  “One of the things the guardianship trust covers is my legal fees. If there is ever a legal issue regarding any of the children, call me, and I will take care of it.”

  He takes his copies of the papers I’ve signed and places them back in his folder, then puts mine into another. Turning to access a cabinet behind him, he pulls out a large envelope and sets it on the desk.

  “All of the children’s pertinent paperwork is in here. Social Security cards, birth certificates, school and medical records, insurance information, as well as a copy of the guardianship agreement that granted Dylan rights. These are all legal copies, as I keep originals in my safe.”

  I look at the envelope and my copies of the paperwork, then back at Mr. Ferrell. “Okay. Now what?”

  He laughs. “Now, my dear, you go make sure those children are taken care of.
Love them hard, as their mother would have wished.” His smile evaporates somewhere along the way, and his eyes fill with unshed tears.

  Standing, he hands me my paperwork and shakes my hand. I walk out of the office, feeling the gigantic smile that has spread across my face.

  No, I didn’t expect any of this. I am still angry at Dylan for stealing this last precious time away from those kids. I still don’t see what he saw when he chose me. From the very first moment it became even a glimmer of a possibility for them to be mine, I had refused to allow myself hope, no matter how much I wanted it. It felt wrong and horribly selfish under such awful circumstances. It still does, and the hope that has exploded inside me now has the ability to gut me. But that hope is no longer containable.

  Having children of my own was a dream I had all but given up when, at age twenty-three, the only thing left after treatment for severe endometriosis was a single damaged ovary. I refused to allow myself a single thought about any future that contained children after that. I couldn’t imagine doing it on my own through adoption, which was pretty much my only choice, and since having a partner wasn’t on the horizon, I pushed all thoughts of children aside.

  I’d convinced myself it would just never happen. I couldn’t stand the thought of hoping, only to be let down. Then, this horribly awful tragedy that is ripping these kids’ lives apart happens and presents me with the very dream I had denied myself. It comes gift-wrapped in grief and pain, in tears and thorns, but it’s a gift I cannot and will not refuse.

  My meeting with Betty is barely a blip on my radar after the one with the lawyer. After reviewing the newly signed and notarized paperwork, she is satisfied that everything meets whatever criteria she and the state need. As far as she is concerned, they will be available if needed, but it is no longer their concern unless the kids decide this isn’t what they want. She tells me to let her know their decision, but she doesn’t believe it will go that way. She will continue to monitor the police search for Dylan and let us know if anything turns up.