Their gleeful laughter was the best medicine he could imagine.
The following afternoon Wade was waiting in line at the lumberyard, shooting the breeze with Charlie McCauley, when his cell phone jangled. He tried to ignore it for a couple rings while Charlie finished a story.
Finally the old man waved him off. “Aw, go ahead and get it…you young people with your crazy gizmos. Time was a fellow went to work to get away from the telephone.”
Smiling an apology, Wade fished the phone out of his pocket and turned away from Charlie. “Yeah, this is Wade.”
“Wade?”
“Beau?” He looked at his watch. It was after five. “Hey, bud. Where are you?”
“At daycare.”
“Aunt Sophie hasn’t picked you up yet?”
“Huh-uh.”
“She didn’t call?”
“I don’t think so. Miss Marti said to call you.”
He gave an angry shake of his head and stepped out of the queue. “Okay. I’ll be right there. You guys stay put. If Sophie comes before I get there, tell her I’m on my way.” Wade clicked off the phone and tucked it back in his pocket.
Charlie stepped aside and motioned for Wade to take his place back in line. “Thanks, but go ahead, Charlie. I’ve got to run. Tell Lurene I’ll come back later and get my order, will you?”
As he weaved his way back to the front of the store, he dialed Sophie. A recording told him her number had been disconnected or was no longer in service. She must not have paid her phone bill again.
He ran out to the pickup and broke the speed limits racing to the daycare center. Beau and the girls, along with four or five other kids, were waiting in front of the building with one of the teachers. At least he wasn’t the last one to pick up his kids.
He could’ve wrung Sophie’s neck. She knew how important it was to pick up the kids on time. He’d depended on her. She knew he was skating on thin ice with this whole situation with the kids.
He leaned across the seat and opened the passenger side door. “Hi, guys. Hop in.”
Lacey climbed onto the running board, and Wade offered a hand and pulled her up into the cab beside him. Beau clambered in behind her.
“Buckle up,” he told them.
“Can you drive faster,” Beau said. “I’m missing my show.”
“Sorry, bud. I need to run by Aunt Sophie’s.”
“Oh, good. I can watch my show there.”
“No. I want you guys to wait in the car. I just need to talk to her for a minute. And then I’ve got to run out to a site and talk to Pete before we go home.”
“Aw, come on,” Beau moaned. “It’ll be over by then.”
“Sorry,” he shrugged. Which program did Beau consider “my show”? It bothered him that he didn’t have a clue.
They drove to Sophie’s apartment on the other side of town. Her car wasn’t in her parking space. Maybe she got called in to work early. She could have at least let him know.
“Stay in the truck,” he warned the kids. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Despite his pounding, nobody came to the door. He leaned against the railing on Sophie’s stoop, keeping an eye on the truck. He pulled out his phone and dialed the café.
The owner’s cheery voice came on the line. “Coyote Café.”
“Hey, Berta. Is Sophie in yet?”
There was a long pause. “Oh, Wade. Didn’t anybody call you?”
“Call me?” He didn’t like the quaver in Berta’s voice.
“You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Lydia’s new boyfriend found Sophie unconscious outside the café last night.”
“What!”
“I’m sorry, Wade. I figured Lydia called you.”
“Where is she now? Is she okay? What happened?”
“Lydia and Bobby took her to the emergency room, and she stayed at Lydia’s house last night. I imagine she’s still there. Fred told her and Lydia both to take the night off.”
“Yes, but what happened? Was she…passed out?” Sophie had fallen off the wagon once a couple years ago, but Wade was pretty sure she hadn’t had so much as a sip of anything stronger than Fred and Berta’s famous homemade root beer since then.
“Somebody beat the snot out of her,” Berta said.
“What?” Wade slumped against the railing. “Somebody beat her up? Who?”
“She told Lydia she doesn’t remember, but… You don’t know if Sophie was seeing somebody, do you?”
“No…not that I know of, anyway. Did anybody call the police?”
“I guess Sophie didn’t want them to. At least that’s what Lydia said.”
“Where does Lydia live?”
“Up on Sixth Street. She has that apartment over Johnny Seldridge’s house.”
“Okay. Thanks, Berta. The kids and I will head over there.”
“Wade––um…” Berta cleared her throat. “You might not want to take the kids with you. Lydia said she looks pretty bad.”
Chapter 20
Wade drove to Sixth Street and parked in the drive beside the old Victorian house. After everything Frank Locke had said, it made him nervous to leave the kids in the truck, but it would be too upsetting to them if Sophie was wounded as badly as Berta made it sound.
“You guys stay put. I won’t be long.” He lowered his voice an octave and shook a finger at them. “And I mean it. You stay in this truck.”
“Whose house is this?” Beau asked.
“A friend of Aunt Sophie’s,” he said, rolling down his window and making sure the passenger side window was open as well.
Dani tilted her head and looked up at him. “Hows come we can’t go in, Wade?”
He ignored the question and jumped out of the truck. “I won’t be but a couple minutes,” he said, slamming the door.
The entrance to Lydia’s apartment was at the back of the house. Wade followed the sidewalk around and climbed the steep stairway to the landing.
There was a doorbell, but he opened the screen door and rapped on the inner door instead.
After a minute, Lydia opened the door a crack. “Wade––”
“Where is she? Why didn’t somebody call me?” He put a hand up to push open the door, but Lydia held it wide and led the way to the small kitchen at the back of the apartment. The place smelled of mold and stale cigarette smoke.
Lydia poked her head into the kitchen. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, Sophe.”
She stepped aside and let Wade through.
He took in a sharp breath.
If he’d seen Sophie on the street, he wouldn’t have recognized her. She sat at the small dinette table, cradling a steaming mug in her hands. Her upper lip was puffed up like a water balloon, and there were eggplant-colored circles under her eyes. She had a butterfly bandage over a cut on one cheek, and by the cautious way she held herself, he guessed it wasn’t just her face that had taken the beating.
He took a halting step toward her. “Sophie? What in the world happened?”
She started crying, silently, her shoulders heaving, tears streaking her swollen face.
Wade didn’t think he’d ever seen Sophia Braden cry. He wasn’t sure how to react. He pulled out the chair beside her, took the mug from her hands, and set it on the table. Even her hands were bruised and scratched. Feeling awkward, he wrapped his large hands gently around hers.
“Who did this to you?”
She shook her head, still unable to speak.
“Why didn’t you let Lydia call the police?”
A flame came to her eyes. Was it fueled by anger––or fear?
“I just want to forget about it, Wade. I’m fine. It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal! Look at you! Who did this?” he repeated.
“I…I don’t know.”
“You didn’t see him?” Something wasn’t right. Sophie wasn’t telling everything she knew. Suddenly, Darrin Parnell’s image flashed through his mind.<
br />
“It wasn’t Parnell, was it? He hasn’t been around again, has he?”
“No!” Sophie said, a little too quickly. “I…I told you, I don’t know who it was.” Her words were muffled, coming through swollen lips.
“Well, what did he look like? Did he get your purse? Your tip money?”
She shook her head.
“Sophie…you honestly don’t know who it was? Do you think it was a customer from the café? Did anybody at your tables hassle you last night?”
She pulled her hands away and picked up her mug, wincing as the hot liquid reached her lips. “I told you, I don’t know who it was.” Her voice had taken on an edge.
He pulled a pencil and notepad bearing the lumberyard’s logo from his shirt pocket. Lowering his voice, he said, “Well, tell me what you do know. What did he look like?”
“Forget it, Wade. I’m okay. I don’t want this to go anywhere. Just leave it be.”
Wade shook his head slowly. She was as stubborn as her sister. He looked at Sophie again and saw Starr’s eyes staring back at him. And for the first time he comprehended what Starr must have gone through at Darrin Parnell’s hands. What made men do such things?
Like Sophie, Starr had never wanted to talk about it. She’d even used the words “no big deal” once with Wade. Only once. He’d told her in no uncertain terms, it was a big deal.
He jammed the pencil and pad in his pocket and pushed back his chair. “The kids are waiting in the truck. I’ve got to go. You staying here tonight?”
“Probably.”
“Are you afraid?” He looked at her hard and saw something unreadable flit across her battered face. “Is there more to this than you’re telling me?”
“No, Wade. Just go.”
He stared for a moment. “Okay, then.”
He turned and walked back through the apartment, giving Lydia a terse nod as he passed.
Something didn’t feel right. If he had to guess, he’d say Sophie was lying about not knowing her attacker. He thought about Berta’s question about a new boyfriend.
He hoped Sophie hadn’t fallen in with a bad crowd again. He knew she’d taken Starr’s death harder than she let on. She was all alone in the world now. That couldn’t be easy. It would be tempting to find solace in the bottle and the pills again. He understood that, and his heart went out to her.
Still, this was the last thing he needed to deal with on top of everything else.
“It’s not good, Wade.” Frank Locke looked up from his massive mahogany desk, rested his elbows on the polished surface, and steepled his fingers. “The judge has directed the County Attorney to file a CINC petition on behalf of the Parnell children.”
“I don’t understand. Sink? What does that mean?” Wade didn’t like the somber tone in his attorney’s voice.
“C-I-N-C. It stands for Child in Need of Care. This isn’t good,” he repeated. “It means the judge is turning the children over to the custody of the state––SRS.”
“Custody? But what does that mean exactly?”
“It most likely means they’ll put the kids in foster care.”
Wade exploded. “Foster care? But why?”
Locke held up a hand. “Just temporarily. The judge apparently determined that neither of you––you or Parnell––have been proven competent to raise the children.”
A flush of heat crawled up his neck. “That’s crazy! Not competent? You mean they’d send the kids to live with strangers?”
“Sometimes that is in the best interest of the children.”
“Well, not this time. You don’t believe that, do you?”
Locke shook his head, but Wade wasn’t sure he saw the conviction he needed from this man who was supposed to be his ally.
“Did he even try to find out about Parnell?”
“Believe me, if he hadn’t, the kids would be with Parnell right now. You’ve got to understand the way the system works, Wade. There’s a big push for family preservation in these situations. Any time there’s a possibility the courts can keep––or in your case, reunite––children with their natural parents, that is going to be their primary goal.”
Locke took a pencil from a mug on his desk and absently drew geometric shapes on the legal pad in front of him. “You should know that…Judge Paxton lost a custody battle for his own son years ago, so he’s probably going to come out pretty strong for keeping these kids with their father.”
“But he’s supposed to be impartial!”
“Sure he is. And he’s a good judge, Wade. But you can talk about impartiality all you want…people can’t help their experience shaping what they believe. I just want you to know what you’re up against if you decide to continue pursuing this.”
Wade combed unsteady fingers through his hair. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“I could move for another judge, use the peremptory challenge. But that’s a roll of the dice. We could end up with someone worse.”
Wade shrugged, defeated. “What choice do I have? I am not going to let those kids spend one day with that man. I know what he’s capable of.”
“Then we have our work cut out for us.”
Wade pushed his chair away from the desk and rose to pace the plush, rose-colored carpet. “So what happens now? When will the kids have to go?”
“Probably right away. I’ve got a call in to the SRS office.”
“Right away? You mean like this week?”
“Maybe today…”
Wade glared at him in disbelief.
“I’m sorry. It depends on how soon they can get all the papers in order. I’m checking on it. I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything. But you might want to explain to the kids what will be happening.”
Wade felt as if he’d been struck by a two-by-four. “How the––” He stopped pacing and bent over Locke’s desk, gripping opposite edges, wanting to heave the thing across the room. “How can I explain what I don’t understand myself?”
“We’re going to fight this, Wade. We’re going to get your kids back for you. If Parnell is as bad as you say, there’s no way he’s going to end up with those kids.”
Wade’s mind raced. “But what do I do in the meantime? Can I still see them?”
“Most likely. You need to understand that every decision is going to be determined by what is deemed best for the children. It’s highly likely the judge will grant you visitation rights. Probably supervised visitation, you understand? More than likely once a week.”
Wade staggered back a step and glared at Locke. “You’re telling me I can only see the kids once a week? And somebody is going to be breathing down our necks every minute? You can’t be serious! Dear God! This can’t be happening!” He pounded a fist on the desk, causing Locke to rear back in his chair.
Wade put his head down and rubbed his temples, trying to compose himself. After a long minute he looked up. “I am begging you. You can’t let them send the kids to live with some stranger. They’ve just lost their mother. This will kill them.”
Locke pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry.”
“Come on. Please. This makes no sense at all. This is not right.” He threw his hands up, trembling, out of words. He’d never felt so powerless. “What if…what if they went with a neutral third party? Somebody they know. My business partner…Pete and Margie. There has to be some other way. There has to!”
By the way Locke closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, Wade knew his suggestion was absurd.
“Those wouldn’t be neutral parties,” the attorney said finally.
“Then…what about Starr’s sister. The kids could stay at Sophie’s. Surely Starr’s only sibling has a right to the kids.”
“I thought you said she wasn’t an option. That she wouldn’t be willing to take them even if she was fit to parent them.”
A disturbing vision of Sophie’s swollen, bruised face filled his thoughts. But in spite of his nagging suspicion that she was in trouble ag
ain, he felt a spark of hope ignite. “At least they know her,” he told Locke. “At least then I could still see them every day.” Maybe he could talk Sophie into taking the kids for a while. He could supervise and make sure the kids were taken care of, even keep them at his house most of the time. Nothing would have to change.
Frank Locke doused the flame of hope. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that now, even if Sophie were willing. Once SRS is involved, the kids become their wards, and all decisions concerning their well-being are up to the state. Besides, from what you told me before, I’m not sure Sophie would be deemed any more fit to care for the children than Parnell.”
Wade knew he was right. And for a minute he hated Sophie for it.
Chapter 21
The hosts of the video bloopers show exchanged inane banter as the credits rolled. Wade eased Dani off his lap, unearthed the remote from the couch cushions, and flipped off the television. He tried to ignore the knot growing ever tighter in his gut. He’d put it off as long as he could. Now it was half an hour past the kids’ bedtime, and Wade had yet to let them know that tomorrow night they would sleeping at some foster home. The energy drained out of him at the thought.
“Okay, kiddos,” he said, ruffling Dani’s hair, “time to get ready for bed. Everybody go get your PJs on and brush your teeth, and then come back down here. There’s something we need to talk about.”
Beau raised his eyebrows, and a look of hopeful expectation washed his sun-browned face. When he and Lacey exchanged glances, Wade realized his forced cheerfulness had them thinking they were in for a treat.
“No,” he said soberly, shaking his head. “This is serious.”
“Uh-oh,” Beau said, rolling his eyes. “What’d we do now?”
“You’re not in trouble, either,” Wade said. “Just go get ready and then we’ll talk.” He corralled the three of them into a huddle and gave them a gentle shove in the direction of the stairway.
They raced up the stairs and Wade listened to the everyday sounds of his house––the patter of the kids’ bare feet on the hardwood floors, the creaking of the house’s old pipes as the kids turned the water off and on, the lilt of their thin voices wafting downstairs. He’d taken it all for granted. Too late, he recognized it as music. A melodic air that had changed keys and been transposed to a dirge before he’d made time to appreciate the happy tune.
A Nest of Sparrows Page 14
