Huntington Family Series

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Here,” he said, thrusting the envelope into her hand.

  “What is it?” Her long fingernails poked under the flap. She was surprised to see it wasn’t sealed.

  “A restraining order,” the man said.

  “You’re a cop?” She felt betrayed. He’d admired her; she knew it. And now this.

  He didn’t answer but walked away.

  As she read the document, her anger grew. How dare Blake try to keep me from my children, she fumed. How dare he! The liar! He said I could see them whenever I wanted. He’s nothing but a filthy, stinking liar who’s trying to steal my kids. MY kids, not his. They’re MY LIFE, not his. The ugly, lying . . . Inwardly, she raged on, using every curse word she knew and making up a few more. When words weren’t enough, she went into the kitchen and smashed dishes until Kim came from her bedroom and made her stop.

  “I hate him!” she screamed. “They’re my kids!”

  “What happened?” Kim’s blonde hair, cropped close to her head, didn’t need combing, so she always looked calm and orderly. Unlike Paula, whose long hair reflected her every mood.

  “My cousin filed a restraining order!” Paula snorted in disgust. “I can’t go near him or his apartment now. I can’t even call. And of course that means I can’t see my kids except with a social worker staring at us.”

  Kim shrugged, her face looking hard and worn in the stark light coming in from the window. “I told you not to go there the other night. We all did. You were too gone to listen.”

  “I just wanted to see them for a minute. I’m dying without them!” Why didn’t her friend understand? She had her own son, whom she protected quite fiercely—to the point that she wasn’t much fun anymore.

  Kim’s patience was wearing thin. “So, get someone to beat him up.”

  Paula shook her head. “It’s gone too far. They’d know it was me.” She didn’t add that despite it all, she still loved Blake. And if she wanted to be completely honest—which she wouldn’t be in front of her friend—she knew he loved her.

  “Then do what you have to do to get them back. That’s what I would do. Jump over whatever hoops, do whatever they say. Get them back. Then your cousin won’t have a say.”

  “They want me to do a drug test,” Paula said dully. “I’ve been trying to stay away from it, you know, since they took the kids. But it’s hard. I’ve been drinking a lot to get by.”

  “What kind of drug test is it?”

  Paula shrugged. “Urine, I think. That’s what they gave me at the police station.”

  “Then it’s no sweat. Most of that stuff only shows up for a week in your urine. And there’s those drug detox products Loony’s always bragging about. He claims they work.”

  “So if I tested in a week, I’d be clean?”

  Kim tiptoed through the broken dishes and shut the cupboards Paula had left open. “As long as it’s not a hair test. I hear they do that sometimes, too. Especially in a custody case. Loony might know something to help that. I heard someone say once that the hair test can tell if you’ve stopped so maybe that’d be enough. I know for sure that alcohol only shows up for a couple of days.”

  Paula began to feel a kind of hope burgeoning in her chest. She could stay clean for that long, couldn’t she? If it meant she could have her kids. “Yeah, I think I can do it.”

  “Well, fine.” Kim’s eyes narrowed. “But I don’t want you drunk again in front of my kid, remember? That was the deal when I let you stay here. That and rent.”

  “Loony set me up with a job at his uncle’s car shop. I’ll have rent soon.”

  Kim turned her back on Paula. “Don’t break any more of my dishes—and clean up that mess.”

  Paula watched her leave, depression taking the place of her dwindling anger. “I need my kids,” she whined to the empty room. Tears streamed down her face.

  Kim was right. There was only one way to get her children back—and to make Blake pay. She didn’t have a problem with substance abuse, not even a little one. She just liked to enjoy herself occasionally with her friends. But she would sacrifice that comfort for the time being—if that’s what it took to get Kevin and Mara back. She’d take their drug and alcohol tests. She’d get it all out of her system if it killed her.

  A small smile played on her lips. Blake would even be proud to hear of her progress—at least until he realized that once she was in charge, she was never going to let him near her children again. They were hers, and she was going to take care of them.

  Chapter Nineteen

  On Saturday Blake was out in the garage fixing his truck. The timing belt had broken on his way home from Paula’s lunch party last week, and he hadn’t found time before now to replace it. Blake had bought the needed parts the day before, and between him and Garth, they had all the necessary tools in the garage.

  While Garth worked on his car because he didn’t trust “those people” at the shop to get it right, Blake’s reasons for doing his own repairs were multiple. First, he enjoyed using his hands. His mind could wander as it pleased or focus on specifics—in fact, he’d memorized a lot of his schoolwork while tinkering on the truck. He also worked on his truck because of necessity. There were so many other things he’d rather spend money on, especially since Kevin and Mara had come to stay with him.

  This morning, Mara was in her crib sleeping and Kevin was in the garage “helping.” Blake knew he had a solid two hours to work on the truck because Mara would sleep at least that long. Of course, he’d go and check in a while to make sure. The thought made him smile. He was beginning to feel he could do this parenting thing.

  “Uncle Blake, can I play with Tara?” Kevin was standing at the entrance to the garage, looking over at the neighbor’s house.

  “Where will you be?”

  “I want to take her in back to see the swing you and Garth put up yesterday.”

  “Let’s see, I fixed the broken fence. And I got rid of all those boards with the nails in them. Sure, go ahead.” Both items had been demanded by Erika Solos from DCFS when she had stopped by last week to deliver some papers. Blake had finally found time to comply.

  He chuckled as Kevin ran next door, remembering how Garth had acted like an excited little boy last night when he’d brought home the swing and presented it to Blake and Kevin. “Hey, if we’re going to have kids here,” he’d said, “we need a swing set.”

  Blake was very grateful for his friend’s gift. He’d called Amanda and invited her to the big swing-raising event. They used Garth’s flood lights to see in the dark, and their fingers were chunks of ice when they’d finished. Afterwards, Amanda’s hot chocolate, made from powder in small bags she had pulled from her magic purse, had felt like fire in their hands. A good fire. One that matched the newfound feeling in Blake’s heart.

  Garth had seemed taken with Amanda, and she obviously liked him, but Amanda hadn’t let Garth’s charms draw her away. She had left no doubt as to her preference. She liked Blake. Better yet, she liked him for who he was. Maybe she was even falling in love. He knew he was totally gone. He’d never felt this way for a woman before, hadn’t known such feelings were possible. Now he finally understood the Lord’s commandment for a couple to be married and to be one. With Amanda he felt he could achieve that spiritual union.

  The only difficult moment between them since the dance had been her irritation at him for not telling her about his pending graduation from BYU, but after Paula’s drunken visit, it hadn’t been so important to either of them.

  Things were going so well that Blake could easily imagine their future together. The two of them in a house, complete with a garden and a seventy-two-hour kit. Going to church on Sundays, making dentist appointments, shopping for groceries. Vacations on the beach, curling up before a fireplace, walks in the rain.

  Somehow Kevin and Mara were always a part of these dreams, but he didn’t examine that too closely. He hadn’t heard from Paula in the four days since he filed the restraining order, though the social wor
ker was scheduled to take the children to see her on Monday. He didn’t know how he felt about that. He had been so furious with his cousin on Tuesday for scaring Amanda and Kevin, but now that his initial anger had subsided, he wished he could talk to Paula, make her understand. Still, he knew he’d made the only wise decision available. Someone had to be responsible. Talking to Paula would only give her an excuse to curse at him.

  “So how’s it going?” Garth stood in the doorway to the house. He was still wearing his pajamas, and his hair was plastered to his scalp, making the thinning on top more apparent.

  Blake set down his wrench. “Okay, so far. How’d your date go last night?” After they’d finished putting up the swing, Garth had gone to the movies, picking up a date on the way. He’d invited Blake and Amanda along, but Blake didn’t want to take the kids out so late, and Amanda needed to turn in early since she had a “date” at the temple this morning with her family. She didn’t invite him to come along, and he didn’t ask, though he would have loved to go. He wanted to let their relationship progress at a natural pace. Not everyone was ready to get married after only two and a half weeks.

  Garth shook his head. “Not good. I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again. It’s just not working.” He shrugged.

  “That’s too bad.”

  Garth grinned. “Well, not really because just now I got a call from a woman I met last weekend. I think she might be The One.”

  “If I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that in the past year, I’d be able to pay a mechanic to fix this thing.” Blake kicked a wheel.

  “I mean it this time.”

  “Yeah, sure. If I had money for that phrase, I could have bought the swing set you gave us myself. Now where’s that timing light you had? I’m going to need it soon.”

  Garth pointed in the general direction, and rubbing his protruding stomach, he went back inside in search of breakfast.

  No sooner had the door shut than the new cordless phone Blake had left on the single cement stair started ringing. Amanda? he thought, though he knew she was still at the temple. He wiped his hands on a rag and went to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Blake? It’s Erika Solos, from DCFS.”

  “Oh, hi. What’s up?” He hadn’t expected to hear from her on a weekend.

  “I wanted to let you know,” she began, her voice grave, “that Paula has agreed to drug testing and has been given a new court date—sooner than we expected.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Well, that depends. If she can manage to convince a judge that all this is a mistake, that she was just down on her luck for a while, and she can prove by taking a drug test that she’s not abusing, or at least that the levels in the test are low enough that she can say she hasn’t been using since the children were taken away, she may be able to get custody back. Especially since in the court’s eyes this is a first offense.”

  Blake swallowed hard. He hadn’t thought about that, only about her agreeing to be tested for substance abuse. “What about counseling? I thought you said she had to attend counseling first.”

  “I said she’d have to at least begin counseling before she got the kids back. Yesterday she voluntarily came in for her first session. She’s also apparently changed her housing status. She’s staying with a woman who has a steady job and a five-year-old child. What’s more, Paula claims she’s starting a new job next week. Now with these changes, I’m worried that the judge will see no reason not to award her custody.”

  Her hardened tone made a bitter taste rise to his mouth. “Isn’t that what we want? I mean, the kids should be with her if she’s ready to take care of them, shouldn’t they?”

  The social worker sighed. “Yes, that’s the goal, but I find it hard to believe that your cousin would suddenly decide to do exactly what we’ve asked. She’s fought us at every turn. She’s used crude language—when she actually made it to our offices—and she’s threatened about a dozen lawsuits. I just can’t believe anything has changed so quickly. I’ve worked with people like her a long time, and I’ve learned to listen to my instincts. So trust me on this when I say that I don’t know what changed, but Paula is more worried about getting back at you than being with her children.”

  That Blake could believe. There was nothing worse than Paula’s fury, and he knew from seeing her relationship with her siblings that Paula could hold a grudge forever. He’d always avoided being in her line of fire—mostly because there was a genuine love between them—but now, at least in her eyes, he had done the inexcusable.

  “It was the restraining order,” he said, sighing.

  “Most likely,” Erika agreed.

  “Even if she got the kids back, you’d be checking up on her, right?”

  “Oh, yes. Make no mistake about that. The only problem is that sometimes, if they’re determined enough, they’ll move. Maybe to another state, even.”

  “But wouldn’t she still have to report to a social worker?”

  “It depends on what the judge says and on how well she’s behaved. That’s even assuming she cares what the judge orders her to do. Once she has the children, she might just disappear.”

  Fear shot through Blake’s entire being. He would have to pay a price for getting the restraining order. He knew that. Paula would see to it. But he hadn’t considered that when it was all over, she might not allow him to see the children as much as he had in the past. “She loves those children,” he said, feeling somehow strangled by the words. “If she can straighten up . . .” The sentence was too hard to finish.

  “I know she loves them.” Erika’s voice was softer now, more human. “But she’s not ready. A few months or a year and maybe she would be. Addictions don’t clear up in a matter of a few days or even weeks. It usually takes that long for them to admit to an addiction. What worries me is if they’re determined, people can fake that they’re cured for short periods of time. In the end, if they haven’t really gone through the proper steps, it comes back with a vengeance. I don’t want Kevin and Mara in her path when that happens. She’s not ready. I feel it.”

  Blake shared the same feeling. This miraculous recovery was another of Paula’s lies. “What can we do?”

  “Well, we have a strong case, too. Strong enough, I think, to at least convince the judge to allow status quo for a few more months. That’s all we’ll need to see if Paula really is serious about her changes.”

  “I don’t know. She can be very convincing. She’d sooner lie than tell the truth.”

  Erika snorted. “I’ve learned that for myself. And she does have a very sweet, convincing face. Certainly she doesn’t look like a woman with substance addiction—which is terribly unusual. Normally, I can tell just by looking at them that they’re addicts.”

  Maybe Paula isn’t that bad off, then. A tiny hope sprang to life inside him.

  “If you and Amanda go in there,” Erika continued, “and present a solid front—uh, you are still dating, aren’t you?”

  Blake allowed himself a small smile. “Yes. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’d marry her tomorrow, if she’d have me.”

  Erika chuckled. “That was fast.”

  For Blake it didn’t seem fast enough. He felt as though his life hadn’t really begun or even mattered until the day Amanda walked into it, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Erika Solos.

  “Well,” she began again, “if you and Amanda are there, along with your brother and his wife, and as many of their kids as possible, and if Paula’s mother and siblings are also there backing you, the judge will realize there is something to our claim—no matter how sweet and convincing Paula is.”

  “When is the new hearing then? Do you know?”

  “Mid-December. That gives us about three and a half weeks.”

  Blake felt himself relax slightly. For a moment he’d been worried that Paula had been able to get a hearing for next week. Three and a half weeks got him past Thanksgiving at least.

 
“Thank you, Erika,” he said.

  “Oh, one more thing. Paula wants you to call her. She knows she can’t call you because of the restraining order, but she wants to talk to you. You don’t have to, but I promised I’d tell you.”

  “I’ll think about it. I would like to try to judge for myself if she’s serious.”

  “No offense here, but would you be able to tell?”

  “I don’t know. I think I can usually tell when she’s lying. Maybe because we were so close.”

  “Well, be careful. If she’s fooling even herself, you may be fooled as well.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Feeling rather deflated, Blake hung up the phone and went back to work on his truck.

  After a while, depressing thoughts of Paula were pushed away as his mind roamed over a jumble of subjects and came to rest on Amanda. He began whistling. He’d told her he would call today and talk about plans for tonight. Would it be too late to get a sitter? He enjoyed the time they spent together with the children, but he had romance on his mind tonight. Maybe a nice dinner—provided he had the budget for it—or perhaps a movie. He’d even be willing to see the latest chick flick, if she wanted. He didn’t think he’d be paying much attention to the movie anyway, not with her soft hand in his.

  Before long, the engine was running, and Blake aimed the timing light inside the hood, trying to see if he’d have to adjust the belt further. So far it looked good. He shut off the engine and stepped from the cab of the truck, blinking in surprise when he saw Amanda sauntering up the drive.

  She looked beautiful. The sun, which had come up with no cloud covering that morning, reflected off her golden hair. Her brown leather coat opened in front to reveal a gauzy off-white floral-patterned dress that swirled down around her ankles. Her feet were clad in thick-heeled pumps.

  “Hi,” she called. “Thought I’d stop by on my way home to see how you were doing.”

  “Almost done.” Blake became aware of his own disheveled appearance. His hands and arms were streaked with grease up to his elbows, his old jeans and heavy sweatshirt were equally marked, and his hair was likely to be oily since he hadn’t showered that morning.