Danae tapped the sheet of notebook paper. “Misty says here that Arato wasn’t Austin’s real last name. Wouldn’t that indicate that Hank never officially adopted him?”
“It might,” Mary said. “There are a lot of unknowns right now. But the first order of business is making sure Austin has a safe place to be. I think, in light of Misty’s letter, and the fact that she put Austin in your care this weekend, that it would be best if he stays with you. You and Dallas currently have guardianship of him at his mother’s request. You have the medical release forms to prove it. Like Berta said, it might be best if you and Austin are just”—she chalked quote marks in the air—“ ‘conveniently’ not at home, on the chance that someone from DFS comes looking.”
Danae’s pulse raced. The Division of Family Services and foster care were a godsend when a child actually needed protection, but over her dead body would they take Austin away and put him into the system. They’d all heard too many stories of children who got sucked into the foster care system. It practically took an act of Congress to get them out again. “So . . . what do we do next?”
Mary shook her head. “I’m not sure. We have the shelter’s attorney looking into it. She’s the one who helped with the legal aspects of getting the shelter up and running. She’s served as a guardian ad litem—a child’s advocate—in some other child protective situations, so I think she’ll be able to give us some direction. Until then, if you and Dallas are willing, I think the prudent thing to do is leave things the way Austin’s mother chose for him. She cared enough to put it in writing. And if that’s wrong, I plead ignorance.”
Berta nodded.
Danae tried not to think about the fact that there might be people who wanted to take Austin. Whether it was family members of Misty or Hank, or child protective services, or whoever. “Would we be doing anything illegal if we disappeared for a while?”
“I’m not an attorney,” Mary said. “But I can’t imagine it would be wrong to protect Austin from any of those possibilities.”
“No. No, I can’t either.” Danae inhaled, steeling herself for what was to come. “I have to call my husband. I can’t leave him hanging any longer.”
“Of course.” Mary waved her away. “Go.”
Danae left the office and walked blindly through the house. There were two women she didn’t recognize in the dayroom. She didn’t want anyone to overhear her conversation, so she punched the security code and went out to her car. Her legs could barely hold her up.
She closed the car door, took a deep breath, and dialed her husband.
Dallas answered on the first ring. “Is everything OK?”
“No. Oh, babe . . . I don’t even know where to start. What’s Austin doing right now?”
“Hang on.” She heard him talking in that precious voice he used when he spoke to children. She could hear him moving to somewhere he could talk more freely. “He’s watching TV. I know you don’t like kids watching too much TV, but I’ve had to field some work stuff, so yes, I’m using the TV as a babysitter.”
“Stop—I don’t even care about that. Dallas, Misty killed her husband.”
“Killed him? What do you mean?”
“I mean she shot him dead. She’s in custody right now, and from everything they know, it sounds like she shot him in the back and that it was premeditated.”
“How could they know that?”
Strangled, inappropriate laughter came from her throat. “That’s where we come in.”
“Danae? Are you OK? What’s the deal?”
20
I think we need to take him.” Dallas wasn’t sure where the conviction in his voice had come from, but even hearing himself speak the words aloud, he knew—as crazy as it sounded—he believed them.
His in-laws had come and picked up Austin and taken him out to the inn. Ever since, he and Danae had paced the house like zombies trying to absorb the news.
Now, half standing, half sitting on a barstool, she twisted the wedding ring on her finger, unable to sit still, but seeming to need the support of a chair at the same time. “I don’t want him to get put in the system. I know that. But, Dallas, we don’t even know what we’re getting into. How long would we have him? A few weeks? A few years? I . . . I don’t know if I could do that.” Her voice rose on the word and tears sprang to her eyes.
“If we don’t take him, who will?”
“I know. I know. But—”
“Misty asked us—trusted us to take care of him.”
“She used us, Dallas. She knew what she was going to do when she left for St. Louis on Wednesday. When she wrote this note.” She jabbed at the copy of the note Misty had left. A copy of a copy, actually, since Mary had felt the shelter needed to keep a copy on hand too.
He picked it up and read it again. “She spelled your name wrong.”
Danae gave a humorless laugh. “She spelled a lot of things wrong and—” A little gasp escaped her. “You don’t think that would keep this from being valid, do you? A valid document?”
“What? Because your name is spelled wrong? I wouldn’t think so. They could see from the rest of the note that she’s not the sharpest crayon in the box.”
“Dallas!” She glared at him. “That sounds awful.”
“You know what I mean.”
She ignored him and jumped up from her chair for the dozenth time. “I feel like we’re the ones who did something wrong!”
“Well, maybe we are. I’m not sure I like the idea of hiding out at your parents. It feels a little too close to kidnapping.”
She shuddered at the word, and he knew she was remembering a few months ago when an unstable woman Jesse had worked with lured Sadie and Simone into her car. This world sure had its share of nutjobs to go around.
Danae stood at the window for a few minutes, and then she turned, staring past him. “What if someone comes and tries to take Austin? He’s not going to understand what’s happening.”
“He doesn’t know what happened yet,” Dallas reminded her.
“I know. And how do you even tell a three-year-old that Mommy killed Daddy?”
“Well, the man he called Dad, anyway. I wouldn’t dignify him with the label.”
Danae nodded, but her face was a mask of anguish and confusion.
Dallas went to her. “We’ll get through this, babe.”
She buried her face in her hands. “What are we going to tell him?” she said again.
He rose and went to her, wrapped her in his arms. “Shhh . . .
shhh . . .” He opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, not knowing what else to say. But he did recognize the silent, persistent nudge inside him. Still, he hesitated.
He kissed the crown of Danae’s head, unaccustomed to praying aloud. Yet the insistent nudge finally won out. “God, we need your help,” he whispered. “Give us wisdom and show us what’s right in this situation. Help us tell Austin in a way he can understand, and in a way that won’t break his spirit.” Words left him then.
But Danae nodded against his chest, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He didn’t know how long they stood that way but he realized that it had grown dark outside. “We probably should let your parents know what’s up.”
“What is up? I don’t have a clue what we should do.”
“We just . . . we need to do the next thing. One foot in front of the other. We need to explain to Austin as best we can. And we need to be sure he’s safe and with people he knows and loves. I think that’s the most important thing right now.”
“Yes. You’re right.” She straightened and took a deep breath. “I sent his suitcase with Mom and Dad. Is there anything else we need?”
“No. Except our own clothes and stuff. I think we should stay at your parents’, like Mary and Berta said. It’s better if we just aren’t here. And . . . I wouldn’t answer your phone unless you can see who it is.”
So many questions they didn’t know the answer to. Supposedly, Misty was in the city jail in St. Louis
, the town where the murder had occurred. But whether she would soon be out on bail or . . . He didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. She wasn’t their responsibility.
But Austin was.
Gently, he let Danae go. “Let’s finish packing and getting the house closed up.”
“OK.” She seemed grateful to have “marching orders,” and after calling her parents to see if they could stay at the inn, she followed him throughout the house, gathering things they would need, turning off lights, and locking doors.
The drive to the inn was the longest twenty minutes he could remember. “I think we should tell him together, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I want to talk to Mom and Dad first. Just about how we should tell him. How much we should say. I don’t even know how much a three-year-old can understand.”
“Probably at this point, until we know what’s going to happen to Misty, the less we say the better.”
Danae nodded. “Misty already pretty much told him that he wouldn’t be seeing Hank again because of the beating. And I don’t think Austin is going to be torn up over that. But what if they won’t let him see Misty?”
“They probably won’t. She killed a man, Danae.”
“I know. But surely they’ll at least let her have visitation, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.”
The yard lights from the inn appeared in the distance through a low mist that veiled the woods. The lights were on inside the inn and two cars with out-of-state license plates were parked in the driveway. “Are you sure your parents have room for us?”
“I didn’t even ask if they had guests. I . . . I don’t know. Surely Mom would have said something.”
They went quietly into the house, and Austin came running before they even got past the foyer. Audrey was right behind him.
“Shhh, buddy, people might be sleeping.” Dallas lifted Austin into his arms, overwhelmed with sadness.
“Come on in,” Audrey said. “Our guests are all at the game in Cape, so you don’t have to worry about being quiet just yet.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Danae said. “I didn’t even think about you having guests this weekend.”
“It’s OK. Your room is open and the guests are in the two far rooms, so it shouldn’t be a problem. They won’t get in till late tonight, and they asked for an early breakfast, so they won’t even know you’re here.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Dallas could see that Danae was near tears. “Is Grant around? We wanted to talk to you two before we talk to this one—” He angled his head toward Austin pointedly.
“Of course. Let me get him. You guys come on in the kitchen. I just took some cookies out of the oven. Your favorite, Dallas.”
He wasn’t hungry, but he never turned down one of Audrey’s famous chocolate chip cookies.
“Can I have one, Mr. Dallas?” Austin wiggled to get down, and Dallas released him.
“Has he already had a cookie?” Danae asked.
“No, I made him wait for you to get here.”
Dallas gave Austin a thumbs up. “Yep, you can have one. But you have to sit at the table with it. Let Gram show you where to sit.”
He’d called Audrey by her grandmother name without even thinking. Dallas wondered if anyone else had noticed.
But they seemed not to, intent instead on getting cookies and milk set up at the small table in the kitchen. He watched Austin devour a cookie, and it struck him that the scene was like something straight out of a Norman Rockwell print.
If only they didn’t have to deal with the grim reality that was about to unfold.
21
Austin? Hey, buddy, look at me.” Danae sent up a prayer that she would be able to tell him as much as he could understand.
Her parents had added so much wisdom to the discussion, and she felt relieved that Mom and Dad didn’t feel they needed to give too many details to the little boy—at least until they knew what would happen to Misty, and whether Austin would be able to see her. Her parents had felt—and Dallas agreed—that Danae should be the one to tell him. As much as the boy clung to and looked up to Dallas, Danae was the one Austin had the longest and closest relationship to.
He looked up at her now, his big brown eyes bright, as if she was about to reveal a wonderful surprise. “We need to tell you something really important, OK?”
He nodded, and tugged at the string on his hoodie, unable to sit still.
“Your mama is going to stay in St. Louis for a while, and she asked me and Dallas if you could stay at our house until she gets back. Is that OK with you, sport?”
“I play bassetball with Mr. Dallas. And I make a basset!” He shot an invisible three-pointer.
Danae could almost hear the nothing-but-net swoosh.
“You sure did, buddy. High five.” Dallas put up a hand and Austin stretched to match palms with him.
The infernal lump came back to Danae’s throat and she tried unsuccessfully to swallow it. At her dad’s suggestion, they’d decided it was best not to even mention Hank or the fact that Misty was in trouble. Her mom agreed. “If he was even a year older,” Mom had said, “my advice would probably be different, but I think all he needs to know at this point is that his mom will be away for a while, but that she’s made provisions for him, and that he’ll be safe and taken care of.”
Something about hearing her mom voice it that way—that Misty had made provisions for Austin, and she and Dallas were the provisions—helped Danae feel a bit more comfortable about taking Austin into their home and into their care.
Dallas seemed so sure of the decision. And that, frankly, surprised her. She was afraid his certainty was because this might all be very temporary. Ironic when most of her own anxiety was wrapped in the possibility that they would have Austin just long enough to fall in love with him. If that were to happen, she didn’t know how she could ever face losing him.
She snuggled closer and put an arm around Austin. “Buddy, you know your mama loves you, right?”
“Uh-huh.” His thumb went to his mouth.
“It might be a while before you get to see her, but your mama is making sure everything is OK for you, do you understand?”
“And my mama will come an’ pick me up in a little bit, right, Miss Danae?”
She threw Dallas a desperate glance.
“Well, not today. It might be a while. But you can stay with Miss Danae and me as long as—”
“Dallas . . .” She cleared her throat.
“As long as you need a place to stay,” he finished weakly.
She sighed, supposing Dallas’s words didn’t exactly constitute a commitment on their part, but desperate not to make Austin promises they couldn’t keep.
They would know more after they met with Misty and her attorney. She didn’t know when that would be or how she would face Austin’s mother when the time came. And she had no clue what the outcome might be. But she would be glad when that meeting was over and they knew what the next hurdle was.
* * *
“Mom? You there?”
“Up here, honey . . . laundry room.” Audrey pulled another load of warm towels from the dryer and started folding.
Danae appeared at the top of the stairs. “I thought I heard the dryer. Can I help?”
“Always. We have two couples coming in this evening and I’m behind on getting the rooms made up.” Audrey sorted hand towels and washcloths from the bath towels and piled them in front of her daughter. “Where’s Austin?”
“He finally fell asleep. I just hope he doesn’t sleep until supper like he did yesterday.”
“It’s not the sleeping till supper part that’s bad. It’s the waking up at five a.m. rarin’ to go.”
“Ha. You’ve got that right.”
“Maybe you should wake him up if he’s not up by four or so.”
“Yes. I think I will. Actually, Mom, we’re thinking about going back home to sleep tonight. It’s been three days and nobody’s tried to call us or t
he shelter. It’s almost like they’ve forgotten Austin existed.”
Audrey shook her head, frowning. “That’s kind of sad.”
“It really is. But it’s a relief too.”
“I’m sure it is. Just knowing he’s safe. But you know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to. I’ve appreciated your help with the laundry and cooking.”
“I knew there was an ulterior motive in wanting us to stay on.” Danae’s grin faded. “Only one problem.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Mary—the director of the shelter—called, and we’re supposed to meet with Misty and her lawyer in St. Louis tomorrow. Would you guys be willing to keep Austin for the day? We need to leave by eight. I’m guessing we’ll be home before supper. Would that work?”
“I’ll check with your dad, but I don’t know why it wouldn’t.”
They folded the fragrant linens in silence for a few minutes, but Audrey’s mind roiled with worries. She finally worked up the courage to broach a subject she couldn’t quit thinking about. “How do you think he’s handling everything?”
Danae shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. To me, he seems like he’s taking it in stride. He’s had a few meltdowns, but to be honest, I saw him have a couple of those in the shelter. It’s hard to know whether he’s reacting to his mom being gone—or everything he went through with his dad before. I suppose at some point it might be wise to look into some counseling.” She creased a towel into thirds and added it to the stack. “Does that sound crazy to you? Putting a three-year-old in counseling?”
“I’m not sure what I think. And it’s not my decision to make.”
Danae cocked her head and eyed her. “It sounds like you’re saying it’s not really my decision either.”
“I—” She released a slow breath and put down the stack of towels she’d been folding. “I suppose that is what I was saying. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place to say it. I . . . I don’t want to see you and Dallas get hurt over this.”
“You don’t think we should be taking care of Austin?”
Another Way Home Page 15
