The Trouble with Joe

by Emilie Richards

  “No.” He couldn’t believe it. He had been ready for anything except this.

  Sam rolled to the bed beside him and swung her legs over the side. “She sounds scared to death!”

  “Her timing is impeccable.”

  “You don’t think she’s making this up, do you?”

  He didn’t. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Joe knew terror and what it sounded like. He had suffered nightmares after the death of his father, and his mother had always been there, despite her own sadness, to comfort him.

  “I’ve got to go to her.” Sam had already thrown on her robe. The words stayed in the room longer than she did.

  Joe stared at the ceiling, at the way the moonlight softened the swirls of plaster and cast shadows that looked like the heads of gargoyles. Then with a harsh sigh he got out of bed and found his robe, too.

  “I was looking in my mama’s grave.” In the doorway Joe saw that Corey was sitting up in the lonely twin bed, her face wet with tears and the bear Sam had bought her clutched tightly in her arms. Sam was on the bed beside her, with her arm around Corey’s shoulders. “I was looking, and I saw Mr. Red, ’cept he was all bones and stuff. And my mama was turning into bones, too.”

  Sam pulled her closer. “When people die they don’t feel anything anymore. Same thing for birds or anything that dies. The Bible says we came from dust and turn to dust. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. But the real part of us, the part that makes us what we are, goes on to another, better place. And that’s where your mother is.”

  Joe had real doubts about that, but he sure wasn’t going to tell Corey. As the years passed she would come to terms with her memories of Verna, in her own way and in her own time. Now Sam was right to offer her comfort.

  “She died real quick. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe I was the one s’posed to die.”

  “No. Things happen the way they’re supposed to. You’re supposed to grow up to be a wonderful woman and live a good and happy life.”

  “Like you?”

  “I don’t know about that. I just know you’re supposed to be happy. Your mother would want you to go on and be happy.”

  Corey looked doubtful. She looked up and saw Joe standing in the doorway. Her expression seemed to say that she thought Sam was probably wrong about Verna, but Corey wasn’t going to tell her so.

  Something inside Joe did a funny little lurch. Corey obviously didn’t want Sam to feel any worse than she already did. She was protecting Sam. Corey would keep her secrets about her mother to herself, even if it might feel pretty good to share them.

  “Why don’t you pack up your pillow and blanket and come sleep in our room for tonight?” he said. He didn’t know where the words had come from, but they continued. “We’ll make you a bed on the floor next to ours.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll step on me!”

  “If I do, I’ll try not to put all my weight on you.”

  Sam laughed. The look she sent him was laced with gratitude. “Would you like that, Corey? It might not be so lonely.”

  “If I can sleep on your side, Miss Sam.”

  Sam laughed again. “I’m sure Mr. Joe won’t mind. Will you, Mr. Joe?”

  He was going to mind terribly. He had other things he’d rather do in his bedroom than babysit tonight. But it seemed that one small child was already taking over his life...and his wife.

  “I sure hope you don’t snore,” he said.

  “I don’t!”

  “I’ll be sure to tell you if you do.” He started for the bedroom to set up Sam’s exercise mat and a pile of sleeping bags as a base for Corey’s new bed.

  In the hallway he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head.

  “You’re the kind of man who does what’s necessary, even if it’s not the least bit fun,” Sam said. She stretched up to kiss him, a soft, lingering kiss that was filled with promise.

  “I’m the kind of man who can’t say no when he ought to.”

  “I hope that’s the case, because tomorrow night I want to hear a resounding yes to every suggestion I make.”

  His heart beat faster as he went to fix Corey’s bed.

  Chapter Nine

  JOE WAS GONE the next morning by the time the county social worker arrived. Since he had early meetings he had promised to stop by her office in the afternoon to introduce himself and answer any questions she might have. Now Sam and Corey braved examination alone.

  Dinah Ryan was a no-nonsense woman, in sensible shoes and a conservative suit, who drove a spiffy red sports car that made Killer look sedate.

  “So, Corey, how do you like it here?” She looked over the top of her bifocals.

  “I like it fine.”

  “Settled in all right?”

  Sam answered for her. “Would you like to see Corey’s room?”

  “You mean the room where Corey is staying?”

  Sam heard the difference and was properly chastised. “Yes.” She led the way with Corey right behind her.

  “Very nice.” Miss Ryan ran her hand over Corey’s new comforter, then picked up the teddy bear. “A new friend, I see.”

  Corey grabbed the bear out of her hands. “Mine.”

  “I’m sorry, sugar, I should have asked your permission.”

  Sam relaxed a little. At least Miss Ryan understood children.

  “This is a very comfortable room,” Miss Ryan said. “Did you sleep all right last night?”

  “I slept with Miss Sam.”

  Miss Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Sam answered. “She was frightened. We made her a bed on the floor beside ours.”

  “A good idea. For a little while.”

  Sam relaxed a little more. “Would you like to see the rest of the house? We’d like to take you to the duck pond if you have time.”

  “It ain’t no pond,” Corey said. “It’s a lake!”

  Sam smiled and smoothed Corey’s hair back from her forehead. “Tell that to Mr. Joe sometime.”

  They toured the house slowly. After a few minutes it was clear that Dinah Ryan was more interested in the antiques that Sam and Joe had refinished and the history of the building than whether the house was suitable for Corey.

  Outside, Corey, despite her limp, outdistanced them on the path down to the pond.

  “I’d give my car and my mother’s diamonds for more homes like this for our children.” Dinah—formality had lapsed by the time they had reached the kitchen—spread her arms wide. “All this space. Everything’s clean and tidy and open. You have room for half a dozen Coreys here.”

  “One Corey is plenty.”

  “I’ve followed her case for years. I can’t tell you how many complaints we had about Verna Haskins. I shouldn’t even tell you that much.”

  “Then why wasn’t anything done?” Sam realized how belligerent she sounded. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you tried.”

  “And tried hard. It would have been easier if she beat the child, but she didn’t, or at least not often or brutally enough to qualify as abuse. But neglect is much more difficult to pin down. We can’t take one set of standards and apply them to all families. Parents have different ways of raising their children. Sometimes the differences are cultural, sometimes it’s just personality or ignorance. I can tell you that Verna was an abused child, herself. She didn’t have much left inside her by the time she had Corey.”

  “My husband and I can’t have children.” Sam didn’t know where that little piece of information had come from. It had just seemed the right thing to say.

  “And you look at people like Verna Haskins and wonder about fate?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I didn’t have children, because I never met a man I wanted to marry. Over the years I watched the way other
people ruined the lives of the kids they’d had, and I got so angry.”

  “But not anymore?”

  “I figure I’ve had half a dozen children by now, if you add up all the kids I’ve worked with and loved and let go of.”

  “That’s a nice way to think of it.”

  “There is always more than one way to skin a cat.”

  Or make a family. Sam heard an open invitation. Dinah approved of her. Heartily. And she would probably approve of Joe. If Sam and Joe were interested in becoming foster parents, or in adoption...

  “Do you have many children who need homes?” Sam couldn’t resist the question.

  “Not babies. Most of the children we get are like Corey. Placing a newborn is almost unheard of these days. But we have children with physical or emotional problems who need families. Sometimes we have siblings. We work hard to place them, but sometimes we have to resort to looking outside the county. And we’d much prefer to keep our children here if we can.”

  “What will happen to Corey if her father can’t be found?”

  “I’m not sure. What will?” Dinah inclined her gray head.

  Sam couldn’t answer. She knew what she was supposed to say, what she had promised Joe she would say, but somehow, the words just wouldn’t come.

  * * *

  SADLERS WAS THE closest thing to a department store in Foxcove. There were several strip malls out on the highway with nationally known chains. But Sadlers, with its two stories of odds and ends packed into nooks and crannies, was much more fun to shop in.

  Sam determined Corey’s size with one agonizing fitting. The little girl’s hips and back were black-and-blue, and between her sprained ankle and broken arm, trying on clothes was a miserable experience. But once Sam had a pretty good idea what would fit, the fun began. Corey, wide-eyed and—for the moment, at least—enraptured, sat on a bench while Sam brought her things to look at.

  Corey liked bright colors, and they looked surprisingly good against her tanned skin. She liked pants and jeans, but there was also a wistfully feminine little girl deep inside her who responded with enthusiasm to a red plaid dress and a fuchsia skirt and blouse.

  Sam discovered that she couldn’t say no to anything Corey really wanted. She remembered shopping for clothes with her own mother. Kathryn had disapproved of most of her choices, and only rarely had Sam come home with anything that excited her.

  Between that memory and the realization that Corey had never shopped for clothes at all, Sam knew she lost all perspective. Corey had grown up in hand-me-downs, and the expression on her face when she was allowed to choose what she wanted blotted out the sensible voice inside Sam that told her she was setting Corey up for a fall.

  There was almost no chance that Corey’s father would indulge her this way. And if she went to live in permanent foster care, it was doubtful that the state of North Carolina would spend money so lavishly.

  But Sam couldn’t resist.

  Sam had an armful of bundles by the time they left Sadlers. In addition to everything else they had bought shoes and socks for school and play, a backpack for school—and notebooks and a pencil box to go in it—a sweater, in case it turned cold early, a hat to go with the sweater and half a dozen T-shirts and cotton shorts to last for the rest of the summer. Then there had been underwear, a new brush and comb, female fripperies for the youthful set.... The bill had been enormous.

  Sam dumped the bags in the trunk of her car and slammed it just in time to see Polly and her youngest daughter, Mary Nell, who was just two years older than Corey, waving from across the street.

  Sam crossed with Corey’s hand in hers and greeted Polly and Mary Nell on the opposite sidewalk.

  “Well, hello, Miss Corey,” Polly said cheerfully. “My, don’t you look fine in that cast. Looks to me like it needs some decoration. Don’t you think, Sammy?”

  “I think Miss Polly wants you to ask her to sign it,” Sam explained to Corey.

  “Me, too!” Mary Nell said. “I could draw a picture on it.”

  Corey seemed to like that idea. The four of them descended on the drugstore, which, despite bright, wide aisles and a thoroughly modern pharmacy, had left its old-fashioned soda fountain intact during remodeling.

  They settled at a table and ordered root-beer floats. “Come on, let’s go look at the toys while they’re getting it.” Mary Nell, a wiry bundle of energy, was up and out of the booth before Corey could respond. Corey hesitated and looked at Sam.

  “Go on, honey. I’ll be waiting right here.”

  Polly watched Corey follow Mary Nell’s path. “I can’t believe you’ve got her.”

  “You’d believe it if you saw what I just spent.”

  “Overdoin’ it a bit?”

  “A bit.”

  “What’s Joe think about all this?”

  Polly knew all about the problems between Joe and Sam. She was the only person to whom Sam had been able to pour out her heart after the final visit to the fertility specialist.

  “He’s tolerating her,” Sam said. “He’s been wonderful, actually, considering that I forced her down his throat.”

  “It’s not so bad to force a good thing down a man’s throat now and then.”

  “You think this is a good thing?”

  “Could be.”

  “He was fantastic last night. Corey was scared, and he made a bed on the floor beside ours so that she wouldn’t be afraid.”

  “Sounds like our Joe.”

  “Then this morning he left with hardly a word to either one of us.” Sam thought about the silent man who had shaved, dressed and grabbed a cup of coffee on his way out the door. Last night she’d thought they were making wonderful progress. This morning had been like old times—or new times. The tension between them had been going on for so long she wasn’t sure what to call it now.

  “You’ve never really understood what he’s feelin’, have you?”

  Sam waited until the floats had been placed in front of them before she answered. The girls still hadn’t returned. “I understand. I’m just tired of it. I have feelings, too.”

  “Sure you do. Difference is, you’re supposed to. He’s not.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “No? Don’t you think you married Joe ’cause he’s strong and sure of himself? He likes to take care of you and everybody else. Nothing stops him, least nothing did till now.”

  “I married him because I love him.”

  “But what was it you loved?”

  All the things Polly had just named. The answer was so clear that Polly might as well have said that, too. Sam looked down at her float. “Darn you.”

  “Oh, you can do better’n that, Sammy. I deserve at least a damn or two.”

  “But I don’t expect him to be strong all the time,” Sam said. “I really don’t.”

  “Then give him some more time. Joe’s used to bein’ strong. Now he doesn’t see himself that way anymore. And if you start naggin’ at him to be stronger, it’s going to make him feel weaker. Do you see what I’m gettin’ at?”

  “You ought to go into counseling and put Dr. Ray out of business.”

  “Now wouldn’t that be a kick in the head?”

  * * *

  THE DRUGSTORE’S TOY shelves were full of wonderful things. “Look at that.” Corey pointed to a jigsaw puzzle with a picture of a teddy bear much like the one that Sam had given her. “And that!” She pointed to another.

  “You ever been out to the toy store on the highway? They got lots of stuff there. Better puzzles than these. I’ve got a bunch, but I don’t play with them much.”

  Corey liked puzzles a lot. It was like magic to take all those little, no-count pieces and put them together to make something big and pretty. At school, every time she put that last piece in she f
elt better about lots of things. She wasn’t sure why.

  “You can have them,” Mary Nell offered. “Mine, I mean.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I’ve done them all already. You’ll have fun.”

  Corey couldn’t imagine anyone just giving away toys like that. Mary Nell, with her long brown ponytail and rosy cheeks, looked so much like the little girls who had tormented her in school that Corey fully expected her to say she’d been lying. But Mary Nell moved down to the books. “Do you read yet?”

  “Sure!”

  Mary Nell looked doubtful. Corey chose a book, one with a picture of a horse on its shiny cover, and started to read out loud. “When the little colt E-E-bony was born, he couldn’t stand on his wobbly legs.”

  “Eb-ony.” Mary Nell pronounced it correctly for Corey. “But that’s very good. I couldn’t read that good in first grade.”

  “I’m in second grade now.”

  Mary Nell sighed. “Yeah. School starts pretty soon. I don’t want to go back.”

  Corey reluctantly put the book back on the shelf. She wanted to find out what happened to Ebony. “I like school.”

  “Really?”

  “Miss Sam’s nice to me.”

  “My mom says your mom died and now you’re staying with Miss Sam. That’s sad.” Mary Nell brightened. “I know, let’s get some markers to decorate your cast.” She took off down the aisle before Corey could answer. Corey started after her at a fast limp.

  By the time she reached the school supplies Mary Nell had chosen a big, fat box of markers. “We can pay for ’em on the way out. I need some for school, anyway.” She took out a bright red marker and tested it on Corey’s cast by drawing a big heart. “Look, they work good.”

  Corey took out a yellow one. She couldn’t draw too well with her left hand—it wasn’t good for much at all—but she managed to uncap the marker and start a yellow flower next to Mary Nell’s heart.

  “What are you girls doing?”

  The two girls had been so absorbed in their artwork that they hadn’t heard anyone approach. Now Corey looked up and saw a tall woman frowning down at them. Before either girl could answer, the woman took them by their arms. “Are you here with anybody?”