“I want to hire a detective.” There was resolution in her voice. She could endure anything if she had a plan. “I want to know everything about these people, where they live, where they work, what they eat, who they know. I want to know if they have any past history of criminal behavior, or if they’ve even had a parking ticket. I want to know if they drink. I want to know what kind of parents they were to their daughter. She ran away when she was fifteen, you know. She was taken in by a Christian family in Jackson and she met Jack there when she was nineteen.”
“That doesn’t speak well for them,” Eubanks said. “Maybe we can get some mileage out of that.”
“They’re not getting my children,” she said, leaving no room for debate. “Robert, do everything you can. Get every scrap of information you can find.We’ve got to show the judge that they’re better off with me.”
But it didn’t really matter who we were better off with . . . since our best interests were up for grabs. It was all about the Krebbses’ legal rights—the blood connection that meant nothing to us, the greed that drove them.
And Amanda knew it could go either way.
EIGHT
As it turned out, Deke and Eloise Krebbs had no criminal record.
There were only a few parking tickets and some hunting violations. There was no documentation to prove their daughter—our mother—had run away at fifteen. No one had ever filed a missing persons report, and while the detectives had found the family who had taken her in, their testimony that she was a troubled teen and a drug abuser before she’d come to them didn’t help in proving that her parents had driven her away.
Panicked, Amanda drew closer to us as the prospect of losing us neared. She thought of fleeing the country, taking us with her and raising us in France where our grandparents couldn’t reach us.
But her father needed her in Jackson.
Buzz had already suffered one mild stroke, and she could see the fatigue and the paleness of his features when she visited him each day. She knew traveling to another country would be too hard for him, and she didn’t want to take him from the friends of his old age. And she didn’t know what would become of him if she left him to fend for himself as he declined in health.
The night before that final day in court, Buzz limped into our home. His face was paler than Amanda had seen it before and he had a tremor in his hands. Lizzie and I slept soundly, blissfully unaware that tomorrow might be one more cruel turning point in our lives.
“I’m sorry for the way things have turned out for you.” Buzz sank down on her couch. “I always thought I’d prepared you for life,” he said, “but I never counted on the kind of things you’ve been hit with here lately.”
“Neither did I,” she whispered. Tears came into her eyes and she tried to blink them away. It disturbed him so when she cried. She didn’t want to upset him.
He cleared his throat and looked between his knees to the floor. “When your mother died, I grieved for two years. I thought it would never go away, but I had you. I could see her in your face, your mannerisms, the way you spoke, even your approach to life.” He touched her cheek. “You are the only thing that pulled me out of it. I had hoped the girls would do that for you.”
She could hardly manage to speak. “I had hoped that, too.”
“You had options.” He leaned forward. “You could have left the country and taken them where the law couldn’t reach you. But you stayed because of me, didn’t you?”
She didn’t want to admit that, so she got up and walked across the room to the mantel where a picture of my father and us sat. She fingered the frame, then turned back to him.
“It just didn’t seem necessary. I always thought the court system would come through for me. Don’t they always say that people with money get what they want?”
“You’re changing the subject.” His smile was soft, tender, filled with a pained compassion. “Amanda, I always knew that you would be here for me. But the truth is . . . if it means losing those girls, I’d rather have you far away. I have plenty of people here who can tend to me.”
She couldn’t hold back the tears as she looked at the man who had been such a precious part of her life.
“I have a buddy who’s a pilot,” he said. “I had him rent a jet, and if you want, you can pack up those girls and carry them away tonight. Any place you want to go. The farther, the better.”
She gaped at him. “Dad, how could you afford that?”
“I have my retirement. I was saving it to leave to you, but it doesn’t look like you’re going to need it. I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”
For a moment she thought of running to the back, throwing a few things into a bag, and grabbing the girls. They could be in France by court time tomorrow. The Krebbses would not have the resources to track her down and find her.
But that would mean she wouldn’t see her father again. And what if she won in court tomorrow? What if the judge had the good sense to leave the children where they were? Then fleeing the country and this home she’d shared with Jack would be unnecessary.
“I can’t go tonight, Daddy.”
“Why not?”
“Lots of reasons. What if the judge comes through for me, and I can have the best of both worlds? You and the girls.”
He waved a hand at her as if dismissing such a ludicrous thought. “Go with the sure thing, Amanda. Take the girls and leave. I’ll come visit you.”
“But you can’t. It would be too hard on you. Besides, the girls need to be in their own home. I don’t want to leave Jack’s things, or the little playhouse he built in the back.” She reached out and took his hands. “I want them to grow up knowing you.”
He sighed and touched her face. “All right, then. But tomorrow, if the judge rules that those terrible people should get the girls, I want you to be packed and ready. We’ll have the plane loaded, and before they can come and pick them up, you’ll be on your way to France.”
The idea sounded feasible. “All right. I’ll go pack right now.”
She hugged her father, then pulled back and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I know.” His ragged whisper nearly broke her heart. “But you promised Jack you would take care of the girls. They need you, Amanda. You can’t chance losing them.”
Feeling hope blossom in her heart like a delicate rose, she dashed to her room and began to pack.
NINE
The road in our lives turned that next day, when the judge made his ruling.
As we played “kitchen” in our little playhouse with our babysitter, Mrs. Guerrero, watching over us, Amanda sat rigidly in court. She felt as if a fist had rammed through her sternum, crushing her heart, as the judge ruled that we must be given into the custody of the Krebbses by two o’clock that afternoon. Amanda let out a strangled cry.
“Mrs. Holbrooke—” the judge looked at her as she collapsed in her grief—“I don’t doubt the quality of home that you would be able to offer these children, and I commend you on your care for them to this point. But as much as I tried to find some legal basis for allowing the children to stay with you, I wasn’t able to. I can’t deny their only living relatives their right to custody.”
She couldn’t even hear the words as the judge seemed to ramble on, trying to explain and justify this horrible thing he’d just ordered. She managed to get to her feet and vaguely realized that a celebration was going on, on the other side of the room. Deke and Eloise Krebbs were hugging and laughing as if they’d just won the lottery.
“Your Honor!” Amanda’s voice barely functioned. “You can’t do this to them. They’ve already lost their mother and their father, and now they’re going to lose me, too? You can’t do it.”
“I have no choice,” he said. “Please sit down. I’m not finished.”
“But, Your Honor, this makes no sense!”
He drew in a deep breath, then banged his gavel. “Mrs. Holbrooke, I can’t help but think that a woman o
f your means might do something drastic, such as taking the children away.”
“I don’t have any means,” she said. “The estate is in probate. I’ve been living off of life insurance.”
“Still, I order that a marshal accompany you to your home to make sure you don’t try to flee with the children.”
Her hopes crashed like plate glass on concrete. “But,Your Honor! That’s ridiculous! You don’t have to send a babysitter home with me. I haven’t done anything wrong! I simply want to be alone to say good-bye to my children.”
“The marshal will give you the time you need.”
Before she knew it, court had ended and the grandparents of her children began to hoot and holler like inebriated fans at a college football game.
She fell into her father’s arms.
“You should have left last night!” His fierce whisper echoed her own thoughts. “Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe we can distract the marshal, get you out of there before he even knows you’re gone.”
“Oh, Daddy, do you think so?”
“Let’s just go home and get the girls ready. I’ll let you know when the coast is clear.”
TEN
Much of our things had already been packed the night before as we slept. Amanda tried to listen to what was happening out in the front yard. Her father gave the marshal a tour of the yard, trying to keep him busy so she could get away. But he hadn’t yet sent the signal that it was all right to go ahead. She paced back and forth across our room, back and forth, back and forth, until I finally looked up at her.
“What’s the matter, Mommy?”
“Nothing, sweetie. Everything’s okay.” She later said that she searched her mind and heart for what to do. Should she be explaining to us why we were being taken away from her? Should she prepare us in case her plan didn’t work? Should she tell us that she would always love us no matter what happened, that she hoped we would never forget her, and that she would never stop trying to get us back?
No, she thought. Somehow this had to work.
She went to the window and saw her father limping toward the playhouse. Buzz had engaged the marshal in some deep conversation, probably about his war days in Korea. The marshal was smiling and nodding his head. She saw her father turn back to the house, and nod toward the window.
Was this his signal? She wasn’t sure, but time was running out. She couldn’t take the chance of missing the opportunity.
Suddenly panicked, she turned back to us. “Girls, we have to go somewhere. Quickly. Come with Mommy.”
“Where we going?” Lizzie asked loudly.
“Shhh. Just come with Mommy. It’s a surprise. I’ll show you when we get there. Be real quiet, now.”
She grabbed us both up, one on each hip, and hurried to the front door. She quickly got us into our car seats, started the car, and carefully pulled out into the street.
Hawkins Field . . . that was where the jet was. Her father had laid a map of back streets on the passenger’s seat. She trembled as she picked it up and glanced down at it.
She looked in her rearview mirror as she left her yard. The marshal turned around, saw the car pulling out of the driveway, and started to run toward her.
She felt sick as she realized that they wouldn’t get away with it.
Still, she gripped the wheel and stomped the accelerator, wondering if she’d just made things unbearably worse . . . or if there was still a chance to escape.
She turned down the back road on her father’s map, took another turn, then another. Chances were, the marshal wouldn’t think to go this way. He would head to Jackson International, not Hawkins Field. By the time he figured out his mistake, maybe they could be gone.
“Mommy, we’re going fast!” I said, looking out the window with glee.
She crossed a dirt road to get to another street, her heart racing. The airport was about five minutes away—if we didn’t get stopped.
Five minutes seemed an eternity. She looked in the rearview mirror, didn’t see anyone coming after us. Maybe she had, indeed, lost him.
In moments, she found the small private airport and drove right onto the tarmac. She saw the jet waiting, ready to go.
“Girls, we’re going to take an airplane ride.” She got out of the car and threw open the back door. “Would you like that?”
We probably had visions of getting into a plane and flying off into the clouds, just like our daddy had done. We probably imagined going to join him in heaven. So we started to cheer and tried to get out of our seats. She unhooked us and lifted us out.
Then we heard it. A siren behind us.
“Policeman!” Lizzie shouted, and Amanda looked back to see the lights flashing. She started to run, but knew she wouldn’t reach the plane before they caught up to her.
It was all over.
Before she could decide what to do, she was surrounded. With all the vicious crimes being committed in the world, she couldn’t fathom how so many in the police force could have been called to stop one woman trying to save her children.
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to take the girls now,” a woman in a business suit shouted, and I started to scream.
“I want my lawyer!” Amanda held tight to us, though the woman tried to fight us away. “I want to talk to my lawyer now!”
“Ma’am, this isn’t about you. It’s about them. You can talk to a lawyer about your own arrest, but I have a court order to take these girls, and I’m going to do it now.”
Horror sank deep into her heart as they tried to wrench us out of her arms.
I don’t remember Amanda or Buzz, my father or my mother. I just know what I’ve been told. But I do remember people grabbing us, someone screaming, me shrieking out for help. I remember the horror of being ripped from the fabric of my own life, of strangers holding me and running toward a waiting van . . .
“Please. Just a few minutes. They don’t understand!”
I remember my sister’s anguished cries, my own efforts to break free and run back. I remember a van with blackened windows, doors slamming, wheels screeching.
Our own cries echo through my dreams sometimes, and I remember that sense of falling off a cliff into a never-ending drop . . . with no one there to catch me.
I now know that Amanda was arrested moments later. She waited at the jail, pacing back and forth across the holding cell until her father could reach her lawyer. She decided they would have to lock her up forever to restrain her from going after her children.
The door flew open and her small father stood at the threshold, Robert Eubanks at his side. Amanda flew into her father’s arms.
“Oh, Daddy, where are they? Have you been able to stop them yet?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His shoulders slumped. “I was so busy trying to get you out of here. And I didn’t know where to go after them.”
“I’m not what matters!” He didn’t deserve to be shouted at, but she couldn’t help it. “Those people have my children by now. I’ve got to do something.”
He was breathing hard, she noticed, and his right hand came up to rub his shoulder. “They said there was paperwork,” he got out. He stumbled and almost fell. She leaped toward him.
“Daddy, are you all right?”
Beads of sweat broke out above his lip and across his brow. He stared into space for a moment, blinking as if he couldn’t see . . .
Then he collapsed onto the floor.
“Daddy!”
Robert ran out to get help.
She cradled his head in her arms and screamed out, “He needs an ambulance! Somebody help!”
Within seconds, several of the guards had come to his aid. One knelt over him, pumping frantically at his heart.
But once again, it was too late.
The ambulance came, but there was no hurry.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Holbrooke,” she was finally told, “but your father is dead.”
ELEVEN
I can’t imagine why I have so much trouble remembering
the pleasant things of my life, when the memories of our ride home with the Krebbses is so clear. I remember Lizzie and me holding hands in the backseat of that car that smelled of wet dogs and fast-food bags. We had never ridden in a car without our car seats, and Eloise and Deke had not fastened our belts. Lizzie had found one end of a seat belt and pulled it limply across our laps, as if that would give us the security that had been snatched from us.
“Told you this was a fool idea!” Deke yelled over our cries. “Screaming brats and two more mouths to feed.”
“They’ll learn about the screaming,” Eloise said. “And don’t you worry about the money. We got us a gold mine.”
“It’s a hard way to make easy money.” Deke had permanent scowl lines on his face, like he’d frowned one too many times and his face finally stuck that way. “Shut ’em up, Eloise.”
Eloise turned around in her seat and swatted at our bare legs. “I told you to stop that squalling!”
Our wails rose an octave as we pulled our knees to our chests and tried to back as far as we could from her.
“Shut up now!” Eloise made like she was going to hit us again. “Hush!”
We tried to hold back our cries, clinging to each other. Confusion weighed down on me. There had been a terrible mistake, I thought. These dreadful people had taken the wrong pair of twins! If they just realized it, we could go back. “I want my mommy!” I squeaked out.
“Your mama’s dead. You’re mine now, so straighten up or I’ll get Deke to stop this car and spank you hisself.”
Twisting our faces in an effort to hold back our cries, we huddled together against the door. Eventually, Lizzie fell asleep, but I was too frightened.
I wondered if it was true that Mommy had died just like Daddy. Had the angels come for her, too? Why hadn’t they taken Lizzie and me?
I looked up through the window, to the stars that Lizzie and I had lain under so many times talking about heaven and Jesus and Daddy.
I wanted to go home.
I heard a snore and jumped. The old woman was asleep, with her head back on the headrest, her mouth wide open. Her yellow wig was slipping off of her head, revealing matted, cropped gray hair underneath.
Covenant Child Page 4
