Forever Beach Page 2

  Karen was a success story. She’d gotten pregnant at sixteen, and her baby was put in foster care. Amy was almost five when Karen was able to take her back full-time. Then she’d married Stu and he’d adopted Amy, who was now a senior at Rutgers University. Karen was an inspiration to the other parents who often felt confused, inadequate, and alone. And she was a lifeline to Sarah.

  Bessie and Tammy came running out of the house as soon as Sarah parked the car.

  Leila was pulling on the straps of her car seat, and Sarah hurried to the back to help her get out.

  “Oh dear,” Karen said, once the kids had run past her and into the house, herding Leila with them. She fisted her hands on her hips. “Girl, you look like you’re having a rough day. Come on back to the kitchen.”

  “You could call it that.” Sarah stepped through the door and followed her through the house. She could hear the girls chattering away in the family room. She didn’t hear Leila, and she had to fight the urge to go check on her. That was crazy. She had to act normal for both their sakes.

  “There’s coffee or . . .” Karen opened the fridge and looked inside. “Not much. I have to get to the store today. Let’s see. Milk, some disgusting cherry-flavored kiddie drink, ginger ale?”

  “Nothing thanks.”

  Karen swung around. “Okay, girlfriend. What’s wrong?”

  “They—” Sarah pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Karen sat down across from her and frowned. “You’re shaking. What’s happened?”

  Sarah looked toward the door.

  Karen went over to shut it, then sat in the chair closer to Sarah. “Spill.”

  Sarah reached down for her purse and pulled out the letter from child services. Slapped it on the table in front of Karen.

  She looked at Sarah, then opened it and read. “I thought her parental rights had been terminated.”

  “They were.”

  “It must be a glitch in the system,” Karen said, looking at it again.

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t sound like a form letter.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Comply. What else can I do? Jeez. When are they going to get it that Leila belongs with me? I love her more than Carmen ever did.” Or could.

  Karen sighed. “I know, hon, I know.”

  “You saw what happened the last two times they sent her back. All the progress she’d made was out the window. She wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t look at me. The tantrums came back, the nightmares. It took weeks before she began to relax again. And she’s been doing so well.” Her voice caught. “And I can’t even tell her that I don’t want her to go.”

  Sarah was careful to follow the directives in the training session. Make the visit positive. Tell her she gets to visit her bio mother and then she’ll come back. Don’t dis the bio mother. Your mother misses you. Don’t promise her a “forever” home until adoption is imminent. You’ll always be welcome here and I’ll always love you. Just make the transition as smooth as possible. Right.

  It went against everything that Sarah felt. Sure kids loved their bio mothers. She even loved hers though she didn’t have much of a memory of her, just as a phantom person who appeared and disappeared for reasons Sarah didn’t understand until much later. She didn’t remember her father at all. Wasn’t even sure if she’d had one. A real father.

  “It’s the rules.”

  “Yeah, I get that they want to keep families together. But Carmen isn’t some poor woman who lost her job and is having temporary housing issues. Or who’s in the hospital and needs someone to care for her kids. Carmen is a longtime addict with a string of men who pimp her, or beat her, or both. She’s had seven children, and every one of them is in foster care. Her apartment is filthy. I have no idea what she feeds Leila while she’s there or if she even feeds her . . . And I’m supposed to make Leila feel good about visiting that?”

  “Sarah, they’re doing the best they can.”

  “Yeah, well, I was one of those kids. I survived, but it wasn’t until I aged out and wandered into the clock shop that I found my forever family.”

  She slumped in the chair. “I just want Leila to grow up happy, and safe, and not afraid of where her next meal is coming from.”

  She wanted that for Leila now. Now. Wanted to watch her grow to a height not stunted by malnutrition, gain weight that would be normal if her mother had bought food instead of crack. Feel safe enough to let her personality shine. To not fear Sarah or Sarah’s friends. To unconditionally accept Sarah’s love.

  “I need to make some calls, and I want to talk to Reesa before I do anything. But I didn’t want Leila to know because she always gets fretful when one of the social workers comes to the house or we have to meet with the ‘team.’ I know she’s afraid they’re going to take her back. And shit—” Her voice cracked. “So am I.”

  Karen dropped the letter and stretched across the table to clasp her hand. “Take all the time you want. Leila can stay here for as long as you need.”

  “But you have to go to the store.” It was such a stupid thing to say.

  “I’ll go tomorrow. What’s a little mac ’n’ cheese and chicken fingers two days in a row? The kids will be ecstatic. Or, heck, we can splurge and order a pizza.”

  “I can pay for pizza.” Sarah reached for her bag.

  “Stop right there. This is what friends are for. Go do what you have to do.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try not to be gone long. I’ll just say good-bye to Leila, explain that I’ll be back.”

  “Sarah, stop it. She’ll be fine as long as you don’t act like something’s wrong. Go to the door and wave good-bye and leave.” Karen touched her arm. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”

  “I know. I have to pull myself together. It’s just . . . I was expecting the adoption papers; instead I got a kick to the gut. I don’t want her to be scared.”

  “She won’t be, if you aren’t.” Karen was a sink-or-swim kind of mother, within reason. Let them try, and be there to save their little butts if they got in over their heads.

  Sarah was overprotective, tended to hover. Not a healthy way to raise a kid, she knew that, and she planned to work on it just as soon as Leila’s adoption was final.

  They looked in at the family room, a bright sunny space at the back of the house that was filled with toys, a craft table, a huge media center, a fireplace covered by a glass door, two cats sleeping beneath the chair, and a yellow lab named Casper who was currently serving as a pillow for the three girls watching Sesame Street on the huge flat-screen television.

  Karen put her finger to her lips and they tiptoed away.

  “She’ll be fine. Now go.” Karen nudged Sarah toward the door, but as they stood on the porch, Sarah pulled out the big Mickey Mouse clock she always carried in her tote. She handed it to Karen. “Tell her I’ll be back by the time the little hand is here and the big hand is here.”

  Karen smiled. “You mean three thirty?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I’m a nutcase. I just can’t believe this is happening.”

  “It’s all right. Give me the clock. You have every right to be a little bonkers today. Go get things fixed.” Karen gave her a quick hug. “Then come back for some mac ’n’ cheese.”

  “Thanks.” At first Sarah thought about just pulling to the end of Karen’s block to make her calls, but she might need paperwork, so she drove back to Main Street. Traffic was heavy in the three-block shopping area, and when she got to her driveway, it was blocked by a truck making a delivery.

  The hell with paperwork—she needed to talk to Reesa now. She drove straight down the street to the beach, where she found a parking place between two SUVs whose drivers were out sitting on their boards in the almost nonexistent waves, waiting for the big one. She knew exactly how they felt.

  She pulled out her cell and called Reesa Davis, left her name and number on Reesa’s voice mail, and waited for an incredibly long half hour before Reesa finally called her back.

 
; “I just heard,” she said without even saying hello. “I was going to call you.”

  “How can they do this? Now of all times.”

  “I have no idea. I’m in my car; I haven’t even seen my desk today. I’ll check into it as soon as I can. You just stay calm.”

  “I’m trying.” Sarah took a breath. Did she sound like a hysterical mother? Well, she was. They’d been so close to being a family—a legal family—a “forever” family.

  “I just don’t understand. The termination papers were filed, the adoption papers are in the pipeline. Randy Phelps said it was just a matter of time.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “What? What’s happened? Were you included in the decision?”

  “Sarah. I don’t have time to talk right now. I have three kids literally starving to death that I need to get into emergency care. I’ll get back to you. Don’t panic.”

  “Sorry. I know you’re needed everywhere, I just . . .”

  “I know, and we will see this through. Now try to calm down and not pass on your agitation to Leila. I’ll try to get by sometime in the next couple of days and help you prepare her for the visit.”

  “Can’t we get some kind of stay? You know what happened the last time she went back.”

  “Evidently Carmen passed the last drug test and has been going, albeit sporadically, to the therapy sessions. And I might as well tell you, she was making rumblings about wanting her children back.”

  “What?”

  “It seems unlikely that she’s anywhere close to being able to take care of children. But I thought you should be prepared.”

  “But I already filed for adoption. She signed the agreement.”

  “This is just a visit.”

  “And we know where that leads.”

  “Not always.”

  “It has twice already, back to home visitations. Are they going to guarantee that she won’t hurt Leila, traumatize her, let her newest boyfriend—and I use the word loosely—abuse her and take her monthly stipend—which is probably what this is all about—and spend it on drugs? Oh, God, Reesa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it. But it’s so unfair.”

  “I know you’re upset, Sarah, and I won’t sugarcoat it. You’ve been through the system yourself, and you know that shit happens. And you know we’re obligated to give Carmen a second chance.”

  “She’s had her second chance. What about Leila, what about her chances? Will she make it through a third time without being permanently damaged?”

  “Look, I don’t know that anything more will come of this, but if it does, you will need a good lawyer.”

  “You mean not Randy Phelps.”

  “Randy is perfectly fine in certain cases, but if Carmen insists on going forward with this, it will probably end up in court. I’ll bring you up to speed when I see you. But I think you should contact Leila’s court-appointed advocate. I think they will try to keep the same CASA for her if it does go to court. And talk to your adoption caseworker. And you should start looking about for an attorney for yourself, someone articulate and persuasive. Just in case.”

  Just in case. How can this be happening?

  “Do you know of anyone?”

  “I might. But she’s in demand and expensive.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll pay what it takes.”

  “Okay. I’ll give her a call, see if she’s even interested in looking at your case if—and I stress the if—it comes to that. Here comes my police support, gotta go. I’ll get back to you.” Reesa hung up.

  Sarah dropped her cell onto the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Shit happens. She’d had a hard enough time finding Randy. The other parents she knew in the foster support group didn’t have any recommendations. Most of them hadn’t needed a lawyer. And now she needed a better lawyer. And court? What the hell was going on?

  How much could this other lawyer cost? Sam had left her all he had. The clock store was doing fine, she was okay financially, but could she pay out thousands and thousands of dollars?

  Would it come to that?

  Maybe this was just a hitch in the process. Maybe this was Carmen’s last hurrah. Maybe she wouldn’t even show up for the visit. Maybe she would die of an overdose before then.

  Sarah drooped forward, rested her head on the steering wheel, shocked that she would even think such a thing. She just wished Carmen would go away . . .

  IT’S BEEN TWO months since Nonie left. I write her every week, but she hasn’t written back once. And she promised. Promised. Maybe she’s dead and that’s why she hasn’t written.

  “This looks like the real deal,” she’d said when she came back to get the rest of her stuff. “Mrs. J says they’re rich; he’s some big deal in the state government or something. If it works out, I’ll ask them to take you, too. Tell them you’re my sister.”

  I tried to smile ’cause we don’t look anything alike.

  “Just watch your back and hang tough. You can do it. I’ll write to you every week.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise, and you write, too.”

  “Every week,” I told her. I was afraid I was going to cry. Worse. I was afraid Nonie was.

  I’d never seen her look like that. She was the tough one, the knowing one. The kick-ass one who didn’t take shit from nobody, the one who always had my back

  But today, right before she turned away, I saw something I’d never seen before.

  Nonie was scared.

  I watched her walk away. She didn’t look back; I was glad ’cause I didn’t want her to see me crying. You couldn’t cry, or they’d be in your face, the other kids. But that day I couldn’t stop. I can feel them trying to get out of my eyes now. But I push them back, or maybe I just don’t have any tears left.

  I kept my promise. I write every week. I wait for the mail every day, but nothing comes. Mrs. J feels sorry for me, I can tell.

  She’s always coming over to me saying, “You’re a pretty girl, Sarah, and smart. Don’t you worry, you’ll get placed somewhere nice, too.”

  I don’t want to get placed. I want Nonie to write and say she’s convinced her wonderful, rich new family to take me, too.

  “She’s probably busy getting used to her new life. Be patient.”

  I almost laugh. That’s one thing you learn if you don’t learn anything else. You don’t have a choice about being patient . . .

  A KNOCK ON the window made Sarah jump. She blinked. She couldn’t have been asleep, but she felt disoriented. For a moment she’d been somewhere else, some other time. Being patient. Like now.

  Another knock. She turned on the ignition and lowered the window.

  Wyatt Monroe braced his hands on the top of the car and leaned in toward her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Not really. I don’t know.”

  Wyatt smiled at her, which was more than she deserved. They’d been friends for years. More like friends with benefits . . . until recently. She’d pushed him away since she began fostering Leila. Leila had been afraid of men when she first came home with Sarah. She’d taken one look at Wyatt and screamed until she made herself sick.

  He was a big guy, tall and muscular, with dark hair, dark eyes, a skin tanned to a deep olive from his work on the water rescue team. And though he was always kind to Leila, he could be a little intimidating.

  Sarah had made him leave; he was pissed at the time, but she could tell he was also relieved. He hadn’t signed on for anything more than a good time.

  But Leila had been back on an adoption track for months now, and Wyatt had slowly become a part of their life again. Leila began to warm to him, then actually accepted him. Wyatt seemed comfortable with the two of them, and Sarah had begun to breathe. And now, just when it was supposed to be smooth sailing ahead, Carmen changed her mind and could wreck everything. When would Sarah learn that there would never be smooth sailing for her?

  “I thought the adoption had gone through. Instead, the bio mother wants
visitation rights, and the court granted them.”

  “Again? What is wrong with those people?”

  Sarah shrugged.

  Wyatt peered into the backseat. “Where is the little one?”

  “At Karen’s. I had to call my caseworker and I didn’t want to upset her.”

  He opened the car door.

  “I need to get back.”

  “You can take ten minutes for yourself. Sit on the boardwalk with me and regroup.”

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Sarah. Don’t start pushing me away again. It isn’t good for any of us.”

  She reached for the ignition. “I can’t.”

  “You can. You just won’t.” He shut the door before she could even think about changing her mind. “You’re not doing yourself or Leila any favors by being wound this tight all the time. Take a good look at the work you do, how many clocks have come in for the same damn reason. Wound so tight they broke.”

  “I’m sorry.” She put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking place. Had to slam on the brakes as two kids on bicycles pedaled past.

  Sorry, she thought—Sorry to the kids and sorry to Wyatt—he was a good man. He was still standing there, watching her. She just needed to concentrate on making Leila happy right now.

  Sarah knew she tried too hard to keep everything under control. She didn’t know why. The one time she had let fate intervene, it had brought her to Sam Gianetti and his love of old clocks. And her real family.

  Why was it so hard to trust someone now?

  REESA DAVIS WAS out of breath by the time she’d followed the four police officers up the three flights of stairs to apartment 3G. The hallway was stifling and smelled like urine and smoke and mold.

  She tried to breathe shallowly. She’d been a caseworker for years, but sometimes, things just got to her. This was getting to her.

  She’d been sent to a neighbor’s apartment earlier. The neighbor had found one of the boys in 3G scavenging food from the trash bins. She’d taken him in and fed him while she called Child Protection.

  My God, he looked like he’d come from a prison camp. So thin that his arms were almost skeletal. His cheeks and eyes were sunken like an old man. He said his name was Pete. He’d sneaked out the fire escape to find food for his brothers. The baby wasn’t crying anymore.