“Bosh. If he didn’t, the judge did.”
“So why are we here again?”
“Damned if I know. I hear the ice cream truck; can children demanding money be far behind?”
Sure enough, three little girls ran squealing toward the umbrella. “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream.”
Karen and Sarah reached for their wallets simultaneously.
“The consolation is that ice cream at the beach mostly melts before they can eat it, saving their teeth and not spoiling their dinner.”
They trudged up the sand to the street and got in line.
“Just in time,” Karen said.
Sarah turned to see Reesa hurrying across the street toward them.
“Man, that girl could use a day at the spa and then a trip to the mall.”
She could, thought Sarah. Reesa was wearing a pair of ancient clam diggers, a Mexican peasant blouse that looked like tomato sauce had been spilled all over it, and she was lugging a heavy-looking canvas bag more appropriate for books than beachwear.
“What happened to you?” Karen asked.
“Lunch at Hands Around the World.”
“Is that the place the woman in the store was talking about?”
Reesa nodded.
They all stopped to order their ice creams.
“My treat,” Sarah told Reesa.
“Thanks, finding my wallet in this bag has become like the search for the holy grail. I need a job where I can carry a smaller purse.”
“Nah,” Karen said. She unwrapped the girls’ ice cream then started on her own. “Jobs with little purses require very high heels. Not worth it.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Reesa said and bit into her Creamsicle.
They stood on the sidewalk eating ice cream and cleaning up kids, then went back to the beach, where Karen passed out water bottles and the girls sat down on their beach towels in the shade of the boardwalk. Karen and Sarah moved over to make room for Reesa under the umbrella.
“So tell us about lunch at Hands Around the World.”
“It’s an amazing place,” Reesa said. “A cooperative situation. Everybody has to participate in some way. And only mothers and their children. No men. Which quite frankly these days is sounding better and better.
“They have a few paid staff members, but mostly the women are mentored by other women. No drugs, no alcohol, or you’re out, no appeal. Tanisha and her husband are pivotal in the operations, but I have to say everyone steps up to the plate.
“Ugh. I’m so inundated with baseball talk I’m using game slang.”
Reesa had been animated while talking about the center but at the mention of baseball, she suddenly looked like the tired, overworked woman she was.
Sarah and Karen looked sympathetic, but even Karen didn’t have anything to say to that.
“They’re looking for a development director.”
“Paid?” Karen asked.
Reesa shrugged. “It pays, just not a lot. About half my current salary.”
“Whoa. Are you thinking about taking it on as a second job?”
“I’m thinking of taking it on, period.”
“You’d leave social work?” Sarah asked, nonplussed.
“For a while anyway. Definitely leave child welfare.” She held up her hand. “And don’t say I can’t because I’m good at it or I do important work. I work hard and sometimes things work out, but just as often they go back to what they were before.” She trailed off, then shook herself and said more brightly. “But I’m not going anywhere until we see Leila’s adoption through.”
Sarah was relieved. It wasn’t the first time Reesa had talked about quitting, but Sarah needed her now more than ever. They were too close to lose now.
Chapter 21
The first sign that things might not be going well during the visitations was the skinned knee. Not unusual in children, but Sarah was watching out for any telltale signs that might go unnoticed by a harried caseworker.
“What happened?” she asked Danny when he brought Leila home from the next visit.
“She fell down while we were in the park.”
“Which park?”
“The one near Carmen’s apartment.”
Sarah bent down to take a closer look. Big scrape covered by one tiny Band-Aid. It hadn’t even been cleaned out. Carmen’s—or Danny’s—parenting skills left a bit to be desired.
“Where did she fall?”
“In the park.”
“I mean, exactly. Was she running? Fell off the swing, from the monkey bars?”
Danny looked away, just for a second, but the movement told Sarah everything. She hadn’t been shuttled through the system for ten years without knowing every piece of body language. “You didn’t see, did you?”
Danny shook his head.
“Were you even there?” She knew that caseworkers sometimes used supervised visits to make phone calls or catch up on paperwork.
“I just turned away for a few minutes to set up my next appointment. And when I got back, she was crying. But Carmen was very attentive, and we took her back to the apartment and Carmen put a Band-Aid on it.
“I assure you, it was just an accident, the kind kids have all the time.” He licked his lips. “Which was a good thing in a way.”
Sarah waited for him to elucidate. She didn’t see how getting hurt was a good thing.
“They’ve decided to accelerate visits into unsuped—unsupervised—starting next week.”
“It’s too early.”
“Sarah. Things have been going really well.”
“And you have too many other cases to be stuck supervising all of them.”
“Well, yes. It never stops.” He licked his lips again. “Something’s gotta give. And since these visits have been going so well, they decided to give it a try.”
“But the review hearing isn’t until next week. Shouldn’t they wait until then?”
“I don’t make the decisions,” Danny said. “They asked me if things had been going well, and if I thought Carmen could handle a few hours alone with Leila. I didn’t see anything so far in our visits to prevent it from happening. She’s been fine. Really.”
“That’s what they said the last two times.”
Danny shrugged. “There’s really nothing I can do. I shouldn’t even be going on these visits.”
Sarah bit her tongue. She longed to tell him just what she thought of him and the system, but that would be like shooting the messenger. Plus you never wanted to piss off your caseworker. They held your future in their hands.
As soon as he left she picked Leila up. She hadn’t cried, or stormed off to her room, hadn’t complained about falling down. Sarah almost would prefer a tantrum. At least it meant Leila was still reacting to what was happening to her. Please God, don’t let this be the beginning of total withdrawal.
“Let’s fix up your owie.”
Then the bottom lip protruded, and Leila started to cry. But without a sound and Sarah held her close and promised herself she wouldn’t let anything happen to this precious little girl.
The abrasion wasn’t bad in the scheme of skinned knees, but Sarah cleaned it up and blew on it while she applied a bacterial cream to it. Then she covered it with a large Band-Aid. “Now you and Wyatt both have owies.”
Leila nodded.
Sarah breathed easier. But after dinner when Leila was in the bath, Sarah noticed the bruising on her upper arm. And she knew they came from fingers. She’d seen and felt them often enough in the past—in Leila’s past and in her own past.
She reached for her phone, her hands shaking a bit. “Let’s take a selfie and we can send it to show Wyatt. Want to?”
Leila nodded.
So Sarah took a pic of the knee, and while Leila was bent over looking at her Band-Aid, she took another of her arm.
“What shall we say to Wyatt?”
“Say I have an owie, too.”
Sarah keyed in the message and attached the photo.
Then she turned the phone to Leila so she could press send.
“On its way,” Sarah said brightly.
Later she would put both photos in her documentation file. A skinned knee was one thing, maybe the fingers were an accident. Perhaps Carmen tried to stop her from falling and grabbed her too tightly, though somehow Sarah doubted it. The court might be willing to give Carmen one more chance, but Sarah wasn’t so forgiving.
She knew Carmen’s MO. She wouldn’t stay sober or single. She’d have another kid, have it taken away. You’d think after seven children in foster care, someone would figure that out. And yet Carmen got another chance.
Why didn’t all those hurt and abused kids get a second and third chance? Sarah had been in more foster homes than she could remember. Some had been okay. Nice even, then one day they’d be at the door to take her away. Send her to another home. Sometimes Sarah knew it was because she acted out, which she did whenever a place was bad, or the father or brother or whoever started hitting on her. But sometimes she never knew why they took her away.
She didn’t want that life for Leila. She’d fought to have them guarantee that Leila would be returned to her each time they took her away.
Leila had been on the adoption track almost since the beginning, and still she was not adopted. It was crazy. And it was cruel.
So life was cruel. Boo-hoo.
Dear Nonie,
I’d like to run away where nobody would ever find me. But we know what happens to those kids. You can’t run away here, somebody just finds you, or hurts you, or kills you.
I hate it here. Why didn’t you tell me it wouldn’t get better? How come other kids have families that love them and buy them clothes that don’t come from a thrift store or from one of the other foster kids, even when they’re too old and don’t fit right? Why do other kids have their own beds and clean sheets, and good food?
Why can’t I have a dad who drops me off at school in his car before he goes to work? It isn’t fair. I know, Life isn’t fair. Boo-hoo. But it should be.
Does your new dad drive you to school? Do you have your own room? That would be so cool. My new roommate at group farts in her sleep. She’s gross.
Everything here is gross. I’d like to run away.
Sarah
“YOU KNOW, MICHAEL,” Reesa said as she put a TV dinner down in front of him.
He looked at the food divided into little sections of aluminum. “What’s this?”
“Your dinner. You know”—she started again, now that she had deposited the food on the TV tray and he couldn’t see her shaking hands—“I’ve decided you have the right idea. Why work? I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out. I hate my job. It’s sucking the life out of me. So as soon as my current case is finished, I’m quitting.”
Michael had just speared a piece of meatloaf, but he put it back down. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, I think I might like to sit around all day watching television. Hell, right now I couldn’t even tell you the time or day of any program.”
“You can’t quit.”
“Why not?”
“This is about my accident, isn’t it?”
Reesa sighed. “No, Michael. It’s not about your accident. It’s about you sitting on your butt and not looking for another job.”
“I’m going to start looking. I meant to go down to the union today.”
“Just like you meant to go last week?” Reesa walked to the door, wanting to get out of the room before she said things she might regret.
He threw his fork back on the aluminum plate and pushed the TV tray away. “What the hell do you want me to do?”
“Lose the attitude and the temper to begin with. I’ve told you what I want you to do for weeks now. You’ll feel better if you have something to look forward to every day instead of sitting there like a lump. Michael, there are plenty of things you like to do. You could help Tony at the garage for starters until something bigger comes along.”
“Work for my son? When hell freezes over.”
“Michael, I can’t keep this up. I need a break before I completely lose it.”
“Well, just wait until I find work. We have to have one salary coming in.”
Reesa shrugged. “I’ve waited. I’ve tried to be understanding. I’ve tried to encourage you. But I can’t do it all anymore.”
“We’ll lose the house.”
Reesa looked around. For a second she felt a cold chasm of fear, but it passed. It had been a good house, it had served them well, but now it was more like a ball and chain. “It’s up to you.”
“That’s it. You can quit your bitching. I’m outta here.”
“Good. Is the union still open now?”
“I’m going to stay at my brother’s until you come to your senses.” He stormed down the hallway, barely limping she noticed.
She should feel sorrow, or hurt. She should try to talk him out of going, say that they could work it out. But she just stood by the door listening to him crashing around the bedroom, packing a bag. Just watched as he breezed past her and out the front door without a good-bye.
She should have felt bad or sad, but all she felt was relief.
SARAH KNEW SHE was overpreparing for the court session. It wasn’t a trial, merely a review of Carmen’s progress.
There would be reports from her caseworker, the therapists, and the drug program rep, and child services would have a lawyer present. Carmen would be there with her lawyer and caseworker. Leila’s CASA guardian would probably show, though she had moved onto other cases since Leila was in the process of being adopted.
Lots of people to say how great Carmen was acting. They probably wouldn’t ask Sarah to comment. Danny would be there to report on the supervised visits. As Leila’s original caseworker, Reesa might be able to respond. She’d promised Sarah she would be there just to support Sarah.
Sarah hadn’t pushed her to come. She knew that Reesa was having trouble at home and was preparing for another case, one that had really upset her.
Reesa kept up a good front while she was busy or working. It was when she was relaxing at the beach that Sarah saw the lines of worry, the sag of her shoulders, the unhappiness that lay just beneath the surface of her personality.
Karen was worried about her and so was Sarah. And as soon as this situation with Leila was finished, she was going to really be a good and supportive friend to Reesa. She was going to make sure Wyatt stayed an important part of their lives. And be a real friend to all her friends.
A FEW DAYS before the review hearing, Sarah met with Randy Phelps to talk strategy. He occupied a messy desk in a storefront law office in the next town over, which he shared with several other affordable lawyers.
Randy was young and energetic, that or he ran on caffeine to judge by the paper cups on his desk. He offered Sarah a seat, then sat down behind a pile of papers that partially obscured her view.
Instead of moving the papers, he rolled his chair around to face her.
“Not to worry,” he told her.
Too late. She was already worried. “This was supposed to be a done deal,” she said, trying to keep her voice from screeching out of control. “What happened? Why the delay?”
“These things happen on occasion.”
She just stared at him. He didn’t seem at all worried. That made her even more worried. And where was Leila’s file? Hidden in that tower of paper? Had he even looked at it lately?
“You said it was finished, and we were just waiting for it to process.”
Randy shrugged. “And normally it would have been. But I’m on it. I’ll handle it.”
She wanted to ask how? When? Maybe if Randy had been more aggressive, this would never have happened and the adoption would be completed by now.
He stood up and she realized a couple had entered and were hovering near by.
Okay, the guy was overworked. But that didn’t help her or Leila. He would have to put out for them.
Sarah stood and shook hands. “I’m counting on you,” she said, and she hoped he somehow would come through.
THE MORNING OF the hearing, Sarah dropped Leila off at Karen’s. Camp had finished for the summer so the girls were home. Leila’s school would go through August, but she could miss a day here and there without falling behind. Plus Sarah thought she needed a treat, and she loved playing at Bessie and Tammy’s house.
Sarah met Randy and Reesa on the courthouse steps. They went through security and down the hall to one of the smaller family division courtrooms.
She felt the walls closing in on her. Like a bad dream that just kept repeating itself. A loop they could never escape. Patience. Fix the now. She was trying, but sometimes it seemed outside her grasp.
They sat in the second row behind Danny, who was sitting with the other professionals who would be giving reports; therapists and drug counselors who would all report on Carmen’s adherence to appointments and the results of her drug tests for the last six weeks.
But six weeks wasn’t a lifetime, as Sarah well knew. She’d seen it over and over again. First with her own mother, then with other foster kids and already twice now with Carmen. Sarah refused to take the chance of putting Leila in that environment again.
The Child Protection lawyer was sitting at a separate table. And on the other side, Carmen, wearing a skirt and suit jacket, sat straight-backed next to her lawyer. Behind them were two women, one Sarah recognized as Leila’s former CASA worker, a volunteer whose sole job was to look out for the interests of the child. She saw Sarah and waved, then shrugged her shoulders as if to say, Why are we here?
Randy had explained that since this was an unusual case, brought by Carmen because of “deliberate misleading of understanding” by Carmen’s former lawyer, all meetings would be presided over by a family court judge.
Sarah tried to breathe evenly and stay calm, when her whole being was screaming to do something drastic. The room wasn’t helping, painted an institutional beige color, with dark furniture. She didn’t know how Judge Whitaker could return day after day without growing numb.
The chairs were hard, and the air was overly chilled in deference to the judge, she guessed as he walked through the door and walked up to the bench. They all stood. They all sat.
Forever Beach Page 23
