“Let’s hit the drive-thru.”
“Sure.” She stopped at the drive-thru board.
Once they ordered their coffees and left Reggie’s Donuts, Bridget turned the truck onto Arthur Street. “Any particular place?”
“Yeah, anyplace where a man can get some suction without the whole world watching.”
His deadpan tone coaxed laughter up Bridget’s throat. “You’re awful.” She smacked his hand resting on the console.
“I’m serious.” He sipped his coffee. “Y’know how long it’s been?”
“You’ll get your blow job, but first we need to talk.” The mountain would be a perfect place. Located on the reserve, just over the Kaministiquia River, they could have privacy to talk.
Since someone or someones had set fire to the swing bridge on James Street a few years back, the shortcut to Mountain View First Nation was inaccessible. They’d have to go in through Chippewa Road. It’d be about a fifteen-minute drive. She’d stay on Arthur and then turn on to the highway.
Fifteen minutes later, the truck tires rolled over the gravel parking spot. Bridget switched off the engine. No other vehicles were parked. The attendant had said a couple of hikers had already ventured down the mountain since light was quickly fading. They had to be out by ten, which wasn’t a problem because Adam was due home before nine.
They left the truck and meandered to the lookout point. Both leaned on the wooden railing. Barely visible because of the setting sun was the road they’d driven up to reach the parking lot.
“Forgot how nice it is up here.” The breeze ruffled tufts of hair sticking out from Adam’s hat. “Peaceful.”
“It is. It’s been awhile when I last brought Kyle up here.” There was always an ever-present wind. Good thing Bridget had braided her hair.
Adam kept his elbow on the railing but slipped his free arm around Bridget’s waist. She leaned into the warmth his hard body produced. He kissed the top of her head.
“I missed you and the kid today. Can hardly wait till Wednesday and see him again.”
Bridget’s face brushed his chest. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish we could all be together.”
“That’ll happen soon enough. What do we gotta do? Meet with a lawyer? Get him to start the process?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “What if we choose to fight it?”
“Fight what?”
“Mrs. Dale. Her supervisor. Children and Family Services.”
Adam snorted. “Kwe, the system don’t work that way. I should know. All it ever did was kick me around.”
“But if we don’t try...”
“There’s no use. If we go the fighting route, the red tape’ll be longer than a tape worm, and just as bad. Eat us alive.”
Funny how Adam had let nobody on the streets intimidate him, and he’d even fought the toughest men from rival gangs, but if any form of authority entered the picture, he turned and walked away.
“The meeting’s on Thursday.”
“What meeting?”
“The committee. I think we should confront the police and Children and Family Services as a board, though.”
“Aren’t we supposed to make recommendations and stuff like that? Then present it to the board? From what I remember.”
“Yes. But I think the board should involve itself.”
“S’okay by me. You’re the one with the brains.”
“You earned your high school diploma. You have brains, too. And it takes brains to stay alive in the environment you grew up in.”
“When can we meet with the lawyer?”
“Let me talk to Emery first. He has his BSW. I’ll see what he says.”
Chapter Thirty-three: Just ‘Cos You got the Power
When Bridget arrived home at quarter after nine, Kyle didn’t greet her, which meant he was in bed like a good boy, because tomorrow was a school day. Emery sat in the living room, watching a show. He craned his neck while pausing the TV screen.
“Did you have a good evening?” He tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
Bridget set her purse on the small table she always used for her belongings. “Yes. We had a great time.” She hung her jacket on the hook. “What about you? What’d you and Kyle do?”
“He watched a movie. Z Men. Not surprising.” Emery grinned. “Then he had his bath, I read him a story, and he went to sleep.”
“What’re you watching?” She removed her favorite beige clogs.
“A program on the Indigenous Peoples Television Network. I was going to originally watch it with Darryl.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay. I didn’t know you two had something planned.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Emery set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “Have a seat. I know there’s a lot on your mind.”
A puff of surprise inflated Bridget’s chest at Emery prodding someone to speak. He always waited for the person to ask first. She joined him on the sofa.
“What’s going on?” Emery reached for a napkin and wiped his mouth and hands. “Did you want a drink?”
“Wine sounds nice.”
“Wine it is.” Emery rose and ambled to the kitchen.
Bridget grabbed a handful of popcorn. Through a mouthful of food, she muttered, “He wants to give me legal guardianship.”
“He does?” Emery stood at the kitchen counter, pouring the wine. His reply didn’t indicate surprise, happiness, or disapproval. Typical of her brother.
“Yes.”
“You don’t agree?” Emery sauntered back to the living room.
Bridget took the offered glass. She sipped on what might as well be ditch water or the purest grapes of the vineyard. “I think we should fight back.”
Emery sat. He wore his spectacular poker face. If he went to Vegas, nobody in the family would have to work again.
“You don’t agree?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” Emery angled his leg and rested his foot on his knee.
“Now I know why you’re a social worker. You must’ve aced counseling.” Bridget set her elbow on the back of the sofa and rested her fist against her cheek.
“I want you to make the best decision for you, Adam, and Kyle.”
“You can have an opinion.” Bridget raised her chin.
Sighing, Emery sipped his wine. “I don’t know who’s more stubborn. You, Dad, or Darryl.”
The comment should have offended Bridget, but all it did was usher out the glumness and bring forth a much-needed giggle. “Is there already trouble in paradise?”
“Of course not, but the three of you never give in.” He had another drink and gazed at the TV. “Is there a reason why he wants you to have legal guardianship?”
“Mrs. Dale, my caseworker, mentioned something about a conflict of interest. Then, get this, she said Kyle might have to have another foster parent.” A knife settled in Bridget’s chest. “I don’t understand how she can—”
“You two aren’t living common-law. You’re only dating. If Adam respects his visitation rules, the caseworker has no right to recommend rehoming Kyle. It’s that simple,” Emery calmly said. “Understand, she can’t up and make decisions. She only makes recommendations to her supervisor. And the supervisor must take into consideration Kyle’s emotional welfare. He’s been fostered by you ever since Adam started drinking.”
“I can tell you she has it out for him. I sit beside her during Kyle and Adam’s visits. The notes she takes don’t jive with what’s happening between Kyle and Adam.”
“Really?” Emery raised his brow. “Did you mention this to anyone?”
Heat climbed up Bridget’s face. “No.”
“Why not?”
“At the time I was still pissed at Adam.” Her voice shrank to pea-size at Emery’s drawn-in cheeks.
“Y’see what I mean by how stubborn you three are? Why do you always take the hard path? Do you like navigating through mud, washouts, and washboard?”
Although Emery’s voice remained gentle, irritation pricked Bridget’s pride.
“No.” She sipped another taste of the ditch-water-pure-luscious-grapes. “You don’t understand. You’re too much like Mom.”
Emery grinned. “You mean I’m not stubborn?”
Bridget stiffened. She wasn’t stubborn. More like staunch in her convictions. Yes, that sounded much better. “Are you coming to the meeting or not?”
“Of course. But...”
Oh great, here came Emery’s faith-driven advice.
“You have to remember, Adam wants you to have legal guardianship of Kyle. You have to consider his wishes.”
“I am.” Bridget again lifted her chin.
Emery burst out laughing. His green eyes brightened to the color of lush summer grass. “Geez, we all do that, don’t we?”
“Do what?”
“Shove our chins at people.” Emery kept laughing.
“At least you inherited something from Dad besides his hair,” Bridget muttered. Well, just Dad’s rich black color, because Emery’s hair wasn’t poker straight, but wavy, like Mom’s.
“As I was saying, you must consider Adam’s feelings. Does he want me involved?”
Only Emery would smash Bridget’s plan.
“I think you should talk to Adam first.”
“I already did. That’s why we went out tonight.”
“What did he say?”
Bridget made a face. “He believes the system is there to impede, not help. I tried to tell him that’s not the purpose of provincial and federal services.”
“But for someone like him, that’s all he’s encountered. He doesn’t have faith in anything controlled by the various levels of government. Think about Healing the Spirit. All different levels of government hurt Indigenous people. And it still happens today.”
“So you think I should consult a lawyer?”
“I think you already know the best answer for you, Adam, and Kyle. Going through a lawyer will facilitate a faster process. You know the government and its red tape.”
Bridget nodded, but knots formed in her shoulders.
“Is this really about what’s right? Or are you nervous about everything happening within a month?” Emery’s eyes crinkled.
She traced the rim of the glass. “I’m worried how Kyle will feel. This will go to court, and he’ll be interviewed to see how comfortable he is with everything. They’re just reconnecting. When Adam couldn’t attend the last supervised visit, Kyle freaked.”
“Does Adam know about this?”
“Yes. He still insists on giving me legal guardianship.”
Emery smiled.
“What?”
“In August, you were intent on gaining full custody of Kyle, no matter what.”
How true.
“Did you ever think Adam wants you to have legal guardianship so you can start being a real family again?”
“I know Kyle wants to see more of his dad.” Bridget peered at the wine in the glass. “One hour a week isn’t cutting it.”
“Does the caseworker know?”
“I’ll talk to her about it.” The mistakes she’d made. If Bridget had sincerely considered Kyle’s welfare from the start, she would’ve reported Mrs. Dale’s biased reporting sooner.
“Don’t go blaming yourself.”
Bridget’s hand loosely slid into her lap. “What makes you think I’m blaming myself?”
“You’re Catholic. We’re famous for guilt.” Emery chuckled.
“I made a lot of mistakes.” She sipped more wine. “I wasn’t sincere enough in my care of Kyle. I should have met with Mrs. Dale sooner about him.”
“You can’t undo the past, but you can do something about it now.”
“That’s why I’ve got to make this work.” She sat forward. “If it wasn’t for me being pissed at Adam all the time and letting my personal feelings get involved, he wouldn’t have been forced to give me guardianship.”
“As I said, you can’t undo the past, but you can do something now.”
“You mean accept the guardianship?”
“What do you think?”
“But what about Mrs. Dale? How many more Indigenous parents do you think she’s sabotaging?”
“That’s something IWA should address. You do have a platform.”
Bridget ushered Kyle down the hall. From school and during the drive to Children and Family Services, he’d babbled nonstop about seeing his dad. Before she could open the door, Kyle pushed forward and stampeded into the cozy room.
“Dad! Dad! Lookit what I made at school!” Kyle scrambled to Adam, who leaned against the windowsill, grinning.
Mrs. Dale sat in her usual chair, taking notes. Bridget joined the bitchy woman.
“What’cha got here?” Adam held up the big piece of paper.
“It’s a drawing of us. My family. You. Mom. Me.” Kyle giggled.
Bridget froze in her seat. Earlier, she’d asked about the artwork, but Kyle wouldn’t let her see the drawing, insisting what he did during class was a surprise.
Mrs. Dale, for once, lowered her clipboard and stopped writing.
“That’s us at Logan’s special goodbye.” Kyle pointed at the picture. “When we rode there in Mom’s truck and back like a real family.” His dark eyes danced. “It’s us... we’re walking into the church. Cool, huh?”
Mrs. Dale whipped her narrowed gaze to Bridget and then to Adam. “I don’t like to interrupt,” she began in her frostier-than-a-snowman voice, “but I would like to meet with you two after the visitation.”
The pattering of Bridget’s heart was loud enough to shake the building. “I have no one to watch Kyle.”
“We are Children and Family Services. Someone can watch Kyle in this room while we meet.” Mrs. Dale’s tone implied there’d be a meeting no matter what.
Adam remained on his haunches, his eyes harder than steel. He nodded. His hand remained on Kyle’s waist, fingers tangled in the boy’s shirt, challenging, as if he didn’t care what Mrs. Dale said, he wouldn’t give up his only child.
Bridget sent up a silent prayer. She must keep Adam in check during the meeting. If he lost his temper, they could lose Kyle.
“This is exactly why I asked you to keep your communication to a minimum.” Mrs. Dale’s wicked-witch-of-the-west glare and pinched lips sliced into Bridget and then Adam. “He referred to you as his family. Currently, Kyle does not have a family, other than a foster mother. Is this understood?”
Adam grunted. He wore the same harder-than-steel expression he’d spewed earlier in the visitation room where Kyle had been left, much to his confusion, with another caseworker.
Bridget dug her nails into the arms of the chair. If she had to listen to this woman state what Kyle could feel, her temper threatened to spill over Mrs. Dale’s desk.
“Ms. Matawapit? Do you acknowledge what I said?” Mrs. Dale tapped her pen on a pad of paper.
If Bridget didn’t nod, there’d be trouble. If she nodded, she’d forfeit her beliefs and principles. Adam was bound by government services. Of course he’d grunted in acceptance.
“I assumed you’d be pleased that Kyle is happy about his current situation.” Bridget uncrossed her legs and sat straighter in the chair. “My brother’s a social worker. He has his BSW. In the winter, he’ll begin working toward his master’s. I was informed if Adam respects his visitation rules—”
“But he did not on Saturday evening. Kyle stated you picked up his father and drove him back to his facilities.” Mrs. Dale’s smile was smugger than a cat eating sixteen canaries.
“He was without a ride to the church—”
“Ms. Matawapit...” Mrs. Dale retrieved a paper from a manila folder. “Your older brother is listed as an emergency contact. I’m sure he could have retrieved Mr. Guimond. Your parents were also present. Could they have not retrieved your ex-fiancé?”
“I think what you should consider is that Kyle wishes to see more of his f
ather. One hour a week isn’t sufficient.” Bridget’s heartbeat accelerated to the full throttle of her truck’s powerful engine. “The drawing Kyle made during his art class more than proves he desires a closer relationship. Just what do you write in your notes? I assume as a foster mother I’m allowed to review them.”
“This is confidential information—”
“That concerns the welfare of a child. You told me when I first began fostering Kyle that you’re in charge of the Indigenous children’s case files. I assume you’re reviewing Sheena Keesha’s death.”
Mrs. Dale slammed down the folder. “I will not discuss other cases but yours. I see you are also rerouting this discussion. Why did you retrieve Mr. Guimond when I specifically stated during our telephone conversation, which I documented, to keep contact to a minimum since Mr. Guimond has more than proven he cannot associate with Kyle unless the visit is supervised?”
Fierce heat thundered through Bridget’s veins. “My foster child wanted to retrieve his father. Adam had missed the previous visitation. They wanted to see one another.”
“So, you blatantly defied the rules.”
The truthful accusations discharged at Bridget from Mrs. Dale’s wicked gun of words slammed her back into the chair.
Adam sat forward. “Save it.”
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Dale sputtered.
“I said save it. I’m meeting with a lawyer to give Bridget full guardianship of Kyle.”
Mrs. Dale’s beak came out far enough to almost poke them. “You cannot authorize anything while your child is currently in care.”
“Yes, we can. And we will.” Bridget stood. “Everything you’re saying is wrong. My brother counseled me on this matter. Our discussion is over. I’m going to retrieve Kyle.”
“Understand this, if I view the foster parent as unfit, I can place Kyle in emergency care—this second.” Mrs. Dale’s voice was vicious enough to bite someone. She also stood.
“Yes...” Bridget yanked the folder off the desk and slapped over the paper bearing Jude’s name. She banged her finger on the desk. “You’re to place Kyle in my brother’s care since Children and Family Services must home the child in his or her next of kin, under the Indigenous Children’s guidelines. The days of shipping them off to anywhere are long done.” She almost snarled the words at the bitch.
Redeemed Page 29
