He frowned, and then his brows rose as the meaning of her words came through. “Really? I would have never guessed. But it explains why you’re so passionate about your work.” He paused a moment, considering whether he should ask the questions that were running wild in his head. Verna beat him to it.
“I never knew my father. My mother had me at seventeen. I don’t remember her.” She glanced away. “She gave me away, or so I was always told. I went into the foster system when I was about two.”
Her words were perfunctory, as if she was going down a grocery list, Ronald thought, but her eyes were distant. She had stopped turning the glass and now gripped it with both hands.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said gently.
Verna blinked, returning from that lonely place. She inhaled deeply. “I haven’t really talked with anyone about my past, my growing up.”
“Too painful?”
“Sometimes. But there were good times. Good homes. Good families.” She gave a half smile. “That’s what I wanted for other kids like me—the good. A few years ago I went on a training trip to Canada. One of the places we visited was Eva’s Initiatives. A truly phenomenal place.”
Ronald leaned forward to hear her over the music. “What kind of programs do they run?”
Verna told him about the Family Reconnect Program that helps runaways who want to reconnect with their families. “They’re brought back together through meetings, counseling and support services. There are so many reasons for dysfunction in the family, for why kids leave or parents put them out. The program works with those children and families that want help in bridging the gap while providing a safe place for the kids.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“They’ve been extremely successful. Eva’s Initiatives was my inspiration for Home. I want as many young people as possible to have a chance—I want to bring some good into their lives.”
“You’re an example for all of them. You didn’t let what happened to you define you. You took charge of your life.”
Verna stared into the kind eyes of the man across from her.
How could she tell him that what happened to her did define her. She never became attached to anyone. She didn’t dare. The fear of someone she cared about being taken away was more powerful than the aching loneliness that was as much a part of her as the hair on her head.
“I suppose you could say that.” She released the glass. “It’s what I try to instill in the kids.”
Ronald nodded in agreement. “If we allow the baggage of our life to weigh us down, we’ll always stay in the same place.”
She grinned and shook a finger at him. “I like that. I’m going to have to use it.”
“Be my guest, I did.”
Verna’s eyes widened in amusement. “Who shared it with you?”
“One of my professors in college. Got me through some tough times.”
“You seem to have turned out okay. I guess you manage your baggage.”
“Some days I feel as light as air, ready to leap tall buildings. Other days…”
Verna didn’t get a chance to ask him about the “other days.” The waitress had returned with their drinks and they put the heavy conversation aside and enjoyed the entertainment.
“I really had a great time tonight,” Verna said when they pulled up in front of her door.
“So did I. I’m glad you came. I hope we can do it again sometime.”
Verna’s heart thumped. He wanted to see her again. “I’d like that.”
His look of appreciation held her motionless and then his lips touched hers, so tenderly, so lightly that she could have imagined it. Her entire body warmed and her stomach fluttered like birds’ wings. No. This was no daydream. This was for real.
Ronald leaned back. He traced her cheek with the tip of his finger, sending little shivers rippling through her. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
Verna blinked and told herself to respond. “Um, nothing special.”
“Do you like basketball?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Yes, why?”
“Ever been to a live game?”
“Only in the parks,” she said, laughing.
“Well, I have two tickets to a Knicks game tomorrow at Madison Square Garden. They play against Orlando. How about it?”
“Well…sure. Sounds like fun.”
Ronald grinned. “I’ll pick you up at two.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Rest well.”
“You, too. And thanks again.” She gently squeezed his fingers. “Good night,” she whispered.
“Night,” he said, and turned to walk back to his car.
As Verna snuggled down in bed that night, thinking about her lovely evening, she couldn’t keep her mind from returning to what Ronald had told her about Patrice Holloway. Something he’d said had clicked in the back of her mind, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she returned to her office.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Unfortunately, the Knicks lost to Orlando, but that didn’t dampen the incredible time that Verna had with Ronald. Being with him in the midst of hundreds of screaming fans, watching the live action of the players and his total immersion in the game—from jumping up and hurling advice, to complete euphoria when his team scored a point—made her see him in an entirely new light. He was the total package.
They filed out with the throng, arm in arm, laughing and rehashing the highlights of the afternoon.
“I had an absolute ball,” Verna joked. “No pun intended.”
Ronald slid his arm around her waist, and when she didn’t pull away, he eased her a bit closer. “Told ya. Nothing like a live game.”
She liked the feel of his warm body against hers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so completely comfortable with a man. As they walked out of the Garden, she glanced up at him. His expression was positively glowing. All traces of their serious conversation the night before were gone. Maybe going to basketball games was one of the things he did to lighten the baggage. He let himself enjoy life outside work, something she’d deprived herself of doing. Maybe it was finally time for a change.
When he dropped her off at home it was like awakening from a wonderful dream that you didn’t want to end.
“Since you don’t work weekends, I guess this is it,” Ronald said as they sat in his car in front of her building.
Was it over already? She knew she shouldn’t have allowed herself to believe that she could open the doors to her emotions.
“Unless you’d still like to see me again, after watching me act the fool all afternoon.”
The speed of her thoughts came to a screeching halt. “What?”
“If I didn’t totally convince you that I’m crazy, I hope you’ll let me take you out again.” He was angled halfway toward her.
Even in the dim light she could see the hope in his eyes. “I…I would love that.”
Ronald exhaled a soft breath of relief. “Great. I’ll call you. Or if you’re in the mood, you can call me.”
Verna nodded, too excited to speak.
He leaned forward, hesitated a moment, then gently kissed her.
Verna sighed against the firmness of his lips as he cupped his fingers behind her head to pull her closer. All too soon he eased back and she was shaken to the soles of her feet.
She took slow deep breaths as the softness of his smile caressed her face. At last she found her voice. “I should be going.” She reached for the door handle and pulled the door open. As she glanced at him over her shoulder, she felt wonderful all over again. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Ronald lost count of how many times during the day he wanted to pick up the phone and call Verna, just to hear her voice and find out how her day was going, but he didn’t want to seem overeager. If this was going to work, he’d have to take it slow. If Verna carried scars from her childhood, then he knew from experience that she was n
ot going to jump into anything too quickly. Kids who had gone through foster care or group-home settings tended to shy away from the whole notion of emotional attachment. The anxiety of losing people you’d come to care about was too great. At the other end of the spectrum, the foster child became attached to everyone who showed the slightest bit of interest in them. His feeling was that Verna fell somewhere in between the two extremes.
The morning meeting had broken up and Nichole lingered behind as the other staff filed out.
“You look like someone lit a lightbulb inside you. You’re glowing.”
Verna’s face heated. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes, very.” Nichole said. She sat down in a chair facing Verna. “So how was the weekend?”
“Wonderful,” she said on a sigh of contentment. As much as she avoided opening herself up to others, she found it getting easier to do just the opposite. She needed to tell someone how good she felt, the new feelings that were stirring inside her. More important, she knew that beyond their working relationship, Nichole was her friend. Her girlfriend. She smiled inside, then launched into the details of her weekend.
“He really seems like a great guy, Verna.” Nichole’s approval was obvious.
“Yes,” she said softly. “He is.” She drew in a breath and stood. “This is new for me. I want to take it slow. But other times I feel like a freight train that needs to get to the next station fast.”
Nichole grinned. “I know the feeling. Just follow your heart and the rest will fall into place.” She stood. “I better get busy. We got a new referral. She’s being brought over from Child Protective Services this afternoon.”
“Right. Denise Fisher. Hey, Nikki…”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
Nichole winked and walked out.
Verna had a stack of grant proposals to look through to see which ones Home could qualify for, but she couldn’t keep her mind on her work. Not after what she’d discovered, or at least thought she had. Finally, she gave up and decided to do something physical. Starting in the basement, she made an inspection of the house, working her way up to the residential floor, stopping along the way to chat with the staff. As usual for a weekday, the house was quiet. That was the atmosphere she wanted for the young lady who would be coming. Whenever Home got a new referral, the staff tried to schedule it so that the teen came during the day when it was peaceful. That way the child wouldn’t be overwhelmed and would have a chance to ease into the program.
From what Verna recalled from reading the file, Denise had been in foster care pretty much since birth. Her young mother had been in and out of jail. No known father. Child welfare took her when she was four. A neighbor found her in the yard eating out of the garbage. Heartbreaking. Growing up alone was a trauma that was almost too difficult to overcome. But that’s why Home was in place. Verna’s goal was to change that outcome for as many kids as she could.
Verna was returning to her office when the front doorbell rang. She went to answer and found a stout woman with a young girl at the door.
“Hazel Davis from Protective Services.” She flashed her ID. “This is Denise Fisher.”
Verna focused on Denise, who was popping gum and staring at her shoes.
“Hello, Denise.”
She didn’t respond. A look passed between Verna and the social worker. “Please come in.” Once they were inside, Verna locked the door behind them. “My office is this way.” She led them down the short hallway. “Have a seat. Can I get either of you anything? A snack, something to drink?”
“Nothing for me,” Hazel said. She turned to Denise. “Would you like something, Denise?”
The girl continued to stare at her shoes.
Hazel handed Verna a thick manila envelope. “All the paperwork is in here.”
Verna took the envelope and placed it on her table. Nichole generally did the intakes, but Denise’s demeanor, the sadness that poured out of her body language, tugged at Verna’s heart. Now was not the time to turn her over to yet another person.
“Why don’t I give you a tour of Home,” Verna said softly. “Then I’ll show you your room. You’ll be rooming with April. Her roommate moved into one of the single apartments.”
Denise’s dark brown eyes flickered toward Verna and she saw the tears welling there. Verna came and put her arm around the girl, signaling for Hazel to leave them for a few minutes. Hazel quietly left the room.
“I know this is hard. It’s new and frightening. You’ve been tossed around all your life and there are days when you can’t feel the ground beneath your feet.” She clasped Denise’s thin shoulders. “But all that is about to change.”
Denise dared to look up. Tears now swam in her eyes.
“I promise.” She took the girl’s cold hand and led her into the kitchen, where she introduced her to Nichole and Brad and Gail. Then she took her on a tour of all the rooms, showed her pictures of the many kids who had come to Home and constantly returned to visit. They climbed the stairs to the top floor and Verna knocked on April’s door even though she knew April was in school. She wanted to show Denise that respect of one’s privacy was important. Using her key, she opened the door to the two-bedroom apartment.
Throughout the tour, the stiffness in Denise’s body began to ease, but when she entered the apartment, Verna saw the first signs of hope filter into her expression.
“This is all yours—to share, of course. A utility kitchen, a bathroom and living room. Down the hall is your room.” She led her to the closed door and opened it. Denise’s mouth all but dropped open.
Tentatively she stepped inside and looked around in wonder. Her own bed, dresser, desk, closet and even a small television. She turned to Verna.
“This is really mine?”
Verna’s heart nearly broke. “Yes, it’s really yours. And we expect that you keep it neat and orderly. Your roommate will be home around four. You’ll get to meet her then. We have dinner at six, but if you’re hungry before then, Gail always has something cooking.” She grinned. “Brad will bring up your bags and then you can get settled.”
There was a knock on the door. Verna turned to Denise. “It’s your apartment.” She folded her arms as the girl walked past her to the door.
“I believe these are yours,” Brad said, holding two suitcases and a backpack. “Where would you like me to put these, ma’am?”
“Uh…my room is back here.”
“Lead the way.” He put the bags in her room. “You’ll like it here,” he said. “Welcome Home.” He gave a short nod to the ladies and walked out.
Verna turned to Denise. “I’ll let you get settled. If you need anything, the intercom is in the kitchen. Press Office and it buzzes in the offices downstairs.”
Denise nodded, still clearly awestruck by her surroundings.
“Nichole will meet with you a bit later and go over some things…expectations, rules of the house, find out if you need anything…anything at all. Okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured.
Verna drew in a deep breath. “See you a bit later.” She gently squeezed Denise’s shoulder and left.
Denise stood in the center of her room, taking in the floral bedspread, the curtains in the window, her own desk and dresser. She flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t dare feel comfortable or too happy. Nothing lasts forever, she reminded herself. Especially for her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ronald’s day was finally over. Somehow he’d made it through without calling Verna, but that was about to change. He checked the time. Four o’clock. He picked up the phone and dialed her number. She answered on the third ring.
“Someplace Like Home, Verna Scott speaking.”
“Well, good afternoon, Dr. Scott.”
“And a good afternoon to you, Mr. Morris. How are you today?”
“Better now that I’ve heard your voice. How was your day?”
She told him about their new resident, giving him a
little history.
He sighed heavily. “It never ceases to astonish me how much some kids go through.”
“And their resiliency.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting her. You said she’s rooming with April?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to April’s roommate?”
“Carmen has moved up in the ranks. She was given her own room. It’s the last transition step. She’ll be eighteen in a few months and legally she can be on her own. This is just a way of preparing her.”
“Makes sense. Hey, how about if I stop by after work? I’d like to meet Denise before I see her in a group session.”
“That’s fine. I think it’s a great idea. I was going to suggest it, but I didn’t want to impose on your time.”
“Believe me, it’s not an imposition. Besides, if I hurry, I can get to see you for a few minutes.”
Ronald didn’t imagine the soft intake of breath at the other end of the line. “See you when you get here,” she said quietly.
Denise and April were in the family room when Ronald arrived.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Hey, Mr. Morris,” April greeted him. “This is my new roommate, Denise. That’s Mr. Morris. He’s pretty all right,” she said with a half smile.
“Hi, Denise.” He approached the teenager slowly. “I’m pretty new myself.”
Her heavily lashed brown eyes flickered at him.
“I just started working here and I like it already,” he said.
“It’s okay, I guess.”
“I’m sure April will show you the ropes. What grade are you in?”
“Ten.”
“So that would make you about fifteen.”
“I’ll be sixteen next month.” Her voice was a flat monotone.
“Get out,” April said. “Me, too.”
Ronald’s chest tightened. He made himself smile at both girls. “We’ll have to talk to Dr. Scott about a sweet-sixteen party.”
“The parties here are the best,” April offered. “We always find a reason to have a party.”
Denise almost smiled.
Ronald chuckled. “So I’ve heard.”
More Than Words, Volume 7 Page 13
