“We are here to have fun together, Cam. I could give two shits whether you know anything about baseball. We are here for the experience of the surroundings, and to enjoy each other’s company, that’s all.”
I place my hand on her knee and gently give it a squeeze until I see her relax and smile. Apparently, that’s all that needs to be said. By the second inning, she is shouting at the umpires, referring to them as zebras…yeah, wrong sport. She is high-fiving all the fans in the general vicinity any time one of “our guys” as she refers to them does something “cool looking.” Any other woman, and I probably would have excused myself to the bathroom and hightailed it out of the stadium, but Campbell has made this night something to remember. Here I thought I would create something special for her, and all the while, she has done that for me.
“Travelling!” she shouts when the player on first attempts to steal second.
“That’s basketball,” I laugh. “It’s called stealing, not travelling,”
“Well damn, we may need to go to a basketball game next, because I sure know a lot of basketball lingo. I’m like the sports whisperer.” She laughs and the sound is so contagious, that I can’t help but join in.
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her to me until I can nuzzle into her neck. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to, Cam,” I murmur against her delicate skin. “As long as you know you can’t get rid of me.”
The crack of the bat connecting with the ball sends the crowd around us to their feet. A roar of cheers makes it impossible to hear her, but her actions speak louder than anyone around us.
Pulling away from me, she momentarily searches my eyes. Grabbing my t-shirt and twisting the collar in her grip she smashes my body to hers. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says against my lips before she takes complete control and crashes her lips to mine.
If I ever had any doubt that Campbell would follow through on this new journey we have set course on, it evaporated in that moment.
She was mine, and for the first time ever, a woman has been able to say with certainty that I was completely hers.
Campbell
In light of everything that has gone on, Jen’s idea about taking a mini Vegas vacation doesn’t seem so bad, even if it’s a bachelorette party. Everyone has been preparing for the weekend that is supposed to surpass all weekends. I’ve stayed grounded though, wrapped in the reality of the present.
Since Sharon died, Evan has called or texted nearly twice a week, making sure I’m okay. I think more than anything, he just wants to hear a friendly voice that cared for his mom as much as he did. It took a while, but I’ve finally come to terms with her passing. I’ve spent a large amount of time either with Lakin or at the foundation. I’m hopeful each time I’ve been back that I will run into Leah again, but I have yet to see her.
While Lakin gave me the file on Leah the day Sharon died, I haven’t been able to bring myself to look through it. I guess I’m hoping she will tell me her story herself. That, or I fear what I might find will open old wounds. Those wounds have long ago scabbed over, but I’m still waiting for the scars to fade.
I don’t dig into my past often, but somehow this girl with just one meeting has brought it all back.
When I first arrive at the foundation, I walk down the hallway through the administration portion of the building. Vivian’s office door is open, but she isn’t in it. I step inside, take Leah’s file out of my backpack, and lightly lay it across Vivian’s desk. It’s thick, the manila folder barely able to hold the papers within it. Without even looking inside, I know she either has been in the system a long time or has had several placements.
I slowly roll the chair from the desk and slide my body into the seat. I inhale deeply and release every bit of air in my lungs before I flip open the front cover of the folder. If anyone was walking by at that moment, they probably would have heard the sound of my heart cracking into shattered pieces and would have seen all resemblance of bravery spilling out onto the paper.
I attempt to read the first page, but as my eyes scan it, the words blur with tears. The red ink in large print at the bottom, reads loud and clear though:
PARENTAL RIGHTS TERMINATED. AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION.
In the six years she has been in the system, it looks as though Leah has had multiple placements. She bounced from foster home, back to her mother, and then back to foster homes over and over again until last year when her mother’s rights were finally terminated by the court and she was placed in a group facility.
There are no reports of sexual abuse or even physical abuse. She was removed from her mother’s care because of neglect. Documentation outlining a life with drugs in the home, her being left alone for days, weeks at a time, even a lack of food in the house filled the file. There lacks detailed explanations for the multiple placements, nor are there details as to why reunification with her mother did not work after so many years in the system. Those specifics will have to come from the caseworker or Leah herself.
After reading what is available, though, I want, more than ever, to find this girl and help her, if I can. There have been moments when I thought, I could be this girl’s mother; I could take that on. Reality sinks in though, and I know that just isn’t possible. My job has me constantly on the road in and out of bars half of the year, touring with bands. This girl needs a family, a real mom that is present. She needs someone who can help with homework and teenage drama, and that’s just not me.
I close the file and stuff it back into my backpack. I envision letting her shred it or maybe burning it one day, just like I wish I could have with my own file. I know these are just pieced together copies of the original file, but it still would mean something to see it buried.
Standing, I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way down the hall toward the commons room where I first met her. Every time I’ve been back, I look to the couch, hoping to see her there reading poetry, but over and over again I’ve been disappointed.
The room is crowded with kids, and the smell of sweaty teenagers from the summer heat hits me. Denver has a mixture of schools, which vary from year-round to traditional schedules, so even though it’s the middle of the summer, some of them will be working on assignments for school, while for others, the school year is a distant memory.
I walk directly to the sign-in sheet at the front desk. My finger scrolls down the list of names and I’m met with disappointment when I reach the end of the list without coming across Leah’s name. I exhale my frustration and turn to the kids in the room to see where I’ll be most helpful for the afternoon.
Then I see the flowing locks of blonde hair that I have been so eager to see again. Sitting in the same spot as before, Leah is stretched out on the couch, hoisting up a mammoth of a book: The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe. Her brows are drawn together, deep in thought, and I smile to myself at the scene before me.
“It’s been I while,” I say as I approach her. “I hoped I would find you here, and with a book on Poe is an even better surprise.”
She looks up at me with tears in her eyes, which she hurriedly wipes away. She doesn’t want me to see her weakness, but it’s too late. It was there; I saw it.
“It took a while before I could get to the library, and I wanted to have this book before I came here again. You know, in case you were here,” she explains. She clears her throat to rid herself of the emotion that overtook her, but I can still hear the slight tremble in her voice.
I take my seat next to her and change the subject as not to bring attention to her obvious discomfort and my intrusion of her personal moment.
“I’m glad to see you here again. I have to admit, I was happy to see that book in your hands. Are you enjoying it?”
She runs her hand across the pages she was just reading, and lets out a sigh. “Yes,” she says looking down at the book. “It’s like the words are speaking to me, and well, some hit a little too close to home.”
I peer over to look at the p
age and read the passage that she has lightly starred with a pencil.
“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” I read aloud and nod.
Leah takes a ragged breath and searches my eyes. She’s looking for a safe place, a safe person, to share her secrets, and I try to convey that I understand her struggle. I, too, have felt the pain of this world.
She begins to speak, but the words lodge in her throat and she stammers for a moment. “After my father left us, my mom just gave up. There were times she tried, but her pain was too great. She used to say the drugs helped her forget her loss, helped her not feel. No matter how many times I was taken away, I tried to do things to find my way back to her. I didn’t want anyone to want me so I could be with my mom.”
A tear escapes her eye and slides down her cheek, and this time she’s slow to wipe it away.
“I ran away more times than I can count. I really thought I could take care of her, but I could never fix her. There were times when she would take off and I found myself alone…scared….hungry. I wasn’t sure if she was alive or dead. There were times, I didn’t care; I just wanted it to be over.”
I move closer to her on the couch and reach my hands out for her to give me the book. She hands it over willingly and I turn the pages to the poem I want to share with her.
“There was a time when I had no place to go,” I tell her. “No one to run to.”
She tilts her head, confused by my admission.
“My parents died when I was little and there was no one,” I clarify. “I was alone. Then, just before I graduated high school, I met a family that made a home for me. I was never adopted, but I found a home nonetheless. Now, I have managed to create a family for myself, with those I surround myself with. I guess you could say I was blessed to get to choose my family.”
I hand her back the book with the page of the poem open for her to read. I point to a line and she reads aloud. “Never to suffer would never to have been blessed,” she whispers.
Her eyes don’t move from the page; she lets the words settle on her, sink into the fabric of her identity. “I figure if I hadn’t experienced the pain of my past, I would never have been able to appreciate the gifts I have in my present,” I murmur. “Do you think you’re ready now to accept what the world could offer for you?”
She doesn’t hesitate; her head snaps up and her eyes meet mine. “Absolutely,” she says confidently. “I know I’ve missed my chance for a family, but someday I would like to create my own, just like you did.”
“It’s never too late, Leah. You just haven’t met the right people yet. I promise to help change that.” I know I’m breaking a huge rule here; I should never promise something I may not be able to follow through on. I need to make her believe she hasn’t experienced the hell she has for nothing, though, that there are great things in store for her and she will be loved…like all kids should be.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the numbers until I come across the number I’m looking for. A person with the biggest heart I know, someone who would care for this child like her own, and who deserves a happily ever after just as much as the girl sitting next to me.
Leah scowls, the line between her brows creating a deep divide. “I’m starting right now,” I tell her with a smile and stand from the couch. I raise my finger to Leah to stay put as I walk away from the couch. The phone rings and I hold my breath, waiting for her to finally pick up.
“Hey, Cam. What’s up,” she says cheerfully through the phone.
A rush of air leaves my body as I try to steady my voice. I don’t usually ask for much from these girls, but in this instance, I’ll be asking for everything.
“Can we meet?” I ask. “There is something important I want to talk to you about.”
“Sure,” she says. “The plane for Vegas leaves in the morning; how about we meet just before?”
“Thank you. See you in the morning, Carly.”
Carly
I could have guessed a million and a half reasons why Campbell wanted to talk to me, and I would have never been correct. As much as I wanted to have more children, the thought of fostering a teenager, one I’ve never even met, no less, is something I never would have thought to consider.
My divorce isn’t final yet, I’m just getting on my feet, and I don’t think I would even be approved to be a foster parent as a single person. Campbell was quick to squash all negativity and misinformation I had about the process, but still, I need time to think about the possibility of bringing someone into my home…into my life.
While Campbell thought the decision was a no brainer, I’m hesitant. I don’t even know if I’m a strong enough person to handle the emotional back and forth that a foster parent could possibly go through.
I haven’t thought of anything else since she spoke with me.
As soon as the plane landed and we caught the shuttle to our hotel, I immediately checked in and changed into my pool attire. My body went through the motions, but my brain was stuck in first gear, my thoughts with a young lady back home with no one and how her last effort for a family lies with me. I should turn Jen loose on Campbell for putting me in such a difficult situation.
My mind wrestles with the possibilities until screeching from the other side of the hotel lobby puts an immediate halt to my wondering thoughts.
“Woohoo, hot momma!” Jen shouts from across the room, drawing the attention of everyone in the near vicinity. My eyes widen and I search the area for people who have honed in their attention on the obnoxious interruption. Completely mortified, I cover my face from onlookers and l scurry over to my friends as quickly as my legs can carry me. We agreed to meet in the lobby before going to the pool, and I’m now regretting that decision.
“Seriously, Jen, we are in public. You could exercise just a little restraint,” I say when I finally reach her.
She bounces up and down on her toes, excitement from the Vegas atmosphere written all over her face. “Oh, simmer down, girly,” she says, wrapping her arm through mine. “Look around. We will probably never see any of these people ever again. Don’t worry about what they think. We are here to let our hair down and have fun. So, get with it!”
With each sentence, her voice grows in volume until her pep talk feels more like a motivational speech for an audience of a thousand. I look back to both Campbell and Vivian, who are following behind us, grinning at the ridiculousness of Jen’s very public announcements and my embarrassment. I roll my eyes at them and allow her to drag me toward the pool entrance.
Jen smiles and giggles as she continues to speak about all of the fun we will have and all the men she will throw my way as a christening back to singlehood.
The sun nearly blinds me when we step outside, and I slide my sunglasses down off my head to block the light. Tanned bodies of twenty-somethings line the poolside and have taken over the first rows of lawn chairs.
Snaking through the chairs, Jen leads us toward a roped off cabana area that shows a “Reserved” sign hanging from the tent. Chairs, inside and outside the tent, as well as coolers and tables fill the space, but before we have a chance to enter, Jen suddenly stops, causing Vivian and Campbell to smash into us.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, what are you doing here?” Jen asks a man sunbathing outside the tent. She is absolutely not pleased with his presence and her displeasure is evident in her tone. “Casen may have invited you, but you are not invading my girls’ day.”
He doesn’t acknowledge her tirade, instead takes a sip from his fruity umbrella drink. I have a hard time looking at his face; my eyes are too narrowed in on his tanned muscles, which are covered in tattoos. His long mess of a hairstyle is piled into a man bun on top of his head, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why Jen would be so angry at such a beautiful man.
“Royce, this is kind of a special day. Isn’t there another place at the pool you could be, or go hang out wit
h the guys?” Campbell offers.
He sets his drink on the table next to him and stretches out in the lounge chair. “I don’t see the problem. I’m just catching a few rays with my girl here,” he says innocently. I look to the chair next to him, and how it escaped my attention before can only be attributed to his gorgeous appearance, because he is pointing to a blow up doll lying beside him. The plastic doll is dressed in a string bikini and is wearing a blonde wig. I laugh at the pure silliness of it, but I immediately stifle it when Jen shoots me a glare that could freeze every pool within a ten mile radius.
“Are you fucking with me?” Jen spouts off. “You brought that thing?”
“Sally was a gift, remember? It was only fitting that she come with me and ward off all the unwanted girl attention I might have to dodge.” He defends himself in a serious tone, but I can see the humor in his eyes.
I push my sunglasses onto my head to get a better look. This is a guy who enjoys having fun, even if it’s at his own expense. I’ve heard Jen talk about Royce before, and I remember briefly seeing him at a few of their concerts with the girls, but I couldn’t place him out of that context. Jen never had anything nice to say about Royce, and Campbell never stuck up for him, so he became forgettable to me.
Seeing him laid out before me, Royce represents a whole new level of enticement, and there is nothing about him I will forget this time. He notices my wondering eyes and shoots me a mischievous smile. My eyes evade his as quickly as I can. I feel like a high school kid who just got caught staring at her crush from across homeroom. Royce catching me is no less embarrassing than those torturous teenage moments.
Jen’s eyes follow his line of sight in my direction and I may have felt the world erupt around us. She spins around and grabs his Sally doll. He hops up to save her before Jen throws her into the pool. “You seriously have to leave. Stay away, Royce…from all of us.” She enunciates the end of her sentence, hinting that whatever that smile meant, he can just forget about it.
Deliver Her from Evil Page 10
