Forever Beach Page 24

  Carmen stood, but she kept her head lowered as if she were afraid to make eye contact.

  The judge opened a folder. “I see we have a full house today.” Everyone looked around and smiled, acknowledging his attempt to lighten the mood. “Mr. Costas.”

  The DAG nodded.

  “Mr. Columbine?” The judge looked toward Carmen and her lawyer.

  “Here.” The lawyer half stood.

  “And your client is here?”

  Mr. Columbine nudged Carmen, who stood up. “Here, Your Honor.”

  “And does the child Leila Rodrigues have representation here today?”

  The CASA looked around the courtroom and slowly stood.

  “Here, Your Honor, I’m Katherine Joyce, I was Leila’s CASA on the original case. I was told to come.”

  “Well, thank you for coming, Miss Joyce.”

  The judge looked up.

  “Mrs. Davis?”

  “Good morning, Judge Whitaker.”

  “I thought that Mr.”—he consulted his folder—“Noyes was the child’s caseworker.”

  “The adoption caseworker, Your Honor. I was caseworker on the original permanency track. I’m just here in support of the foster mother, Sarah Hargreave. And to help the court if needed.”

  “I see. Well, anyone else I’ve left out?”

  Another half smile from the attendees who were all anxious to get to their next appointments.

  The back door opened. The judge looked up, frowned, then his eyebrows rose.

  “Sorry, Your Honor. My case upstairs ran long. I’m here as attorney ad litem for the child Leila Rodrigues.”

  “I completely understand. It’s an honor to have you in court, Ms. Cartwright.”

  Chapter 22

  Sarah stared as Ilona Cartwright walked down the aisle. She wore a sleek pencil skirt and jacket, silk blouse, and expensive high heels. It made everyone else in the room look shabby.

  Then it hit her full force. Ilona Cartwright was Leila’s attorney. Instinct took over. “No.” Sarah surged from her chair. Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her back down.

  “Stay calm,” Reesa hissed in her ear.

  Calm? The person with the means to sabotage her case had just walked in the door and was representing her daughter.

  “What’s she doing here?” Sarah whispered. “Did you ask her to come?”

  Reesa shook her head. “No, but maybe she’s had a change of heart.”

  “Not Nonie—Ms. Cartwright. She knows how to be vindictive. She’s come to pay me back for something I did or didn’t do in the past. I can’t believe it. She’ll undermine this whole case, put Leila in jeopardy just to get back at me.”

  Reesa took her hand, though whether to comfort her or keep her from running amok in the courtroom, Sarah couldn’t tell.

  “We don’t know that.”

  Well, Sarah did. If Nonie had the reputation of being a barracuda in the courtroom, they should see her on the street. She shook her head to clear it. That was then; surely they both had left that all behind them.

  Except here was Nonie walking down the aisle like she owned the place and from the look on the judge’s face, Sarah was pretty sure she did.

  Sarah wasn’t the only one who was staring. Evidently it was unusual for Nonie to . . . what? . . . stoop so low? Even the judge had said it was an honor to have her in his courtroom. What was with that?

  Sarah smelled imminent disaster. She leaned over to Randy. “Did you know about this?” she whispered.

  “No. As far as I knew it was Elaine Gardo from the last pretermination hearing.”

  “Can we object?”

  “Why would I?”

  Because she hates me, Sarah thought, but a look from Reesa stopped her from saying it.

  “Ms. Cartwright is well respected for her pro bono work. Leila will be well represented by her.”

  Ilona handed the judge a paper and sat down at the table with Carmen and her lawyer. She hadn’t even looked at Sarah as she walked down the aisle, and she didn’t look at Carmen either, just a quick nod to the DAG and then to Carmen’s lawyer, before sitting down.

  “As you all know,” the judge began. “This is a review to consider extending supervised visits of Leila Delgado Rodrigues with her birth mother, Carmen Delgado, pending the outcome of Ms. Delgado’s appeal. It’s a given that we are all concerned about the welfare of the child, but may I remind you we’re not here today to decide what long-term plan is best for her.” He gave the assembled group a sweeping look. “That was already decided by another court, which ruled in favor of permanency. However, while we are waiting for the outcome of the appeal, we are taking the recommendations of the caseworkers about the visitations under consideration.”

  He looked over to the DAG. “Mr. Costas, when is the scheduled hearing for that appeal?”

  Costas rifled through some papers. “Next month, the fourteenth.”

  “We’ll hear the reports from the CP&P now.”

  The drug counselor began. Carmen had made most of her drug testing appointments, only missing those when she couldn’t get off work.

  Sarah looked over at Randy. He wasn’t taking notes. She shot an urgent look to Reesa, who nodded slightly and patted her hand.

  One report followed another. To listen to them, you’d think Carmen was an exemplary success story. But Sarah had been there for her other two exemplary failures.

  The reports went by quickly. Everyone was agreed that short unsupervised visits would not place the child in any danger. Sarah understood. CP&P needed success stories. There was so much that was out of their control. They could offer all the services on earth, but if they couldn’t get people to take advantage of them, it did nothing but keep them on the streets.

  The judge consulted his notes. “Mr. Noyes.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “You are the child’s adoption caseworker?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what is your evaluation?”

  Danny glanced at Sarah. “The child has been in foster care for nearly three years with the same foster mother. She was originally placed on a concurrent course, until Ms. Delgado voluntarily terminated her parental rights at which point she was transferred to adoption. The child, Leila, has a very close relationship with the foster mother.”

  “And you have accompanied the child on all supervised visits.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And were the conditions clean and safe?”

  “Well, two were in the CP&P building. But the last two were at Ms. Delgado’s apartment, which was clean and safe as far as I could tell. The mother was sober and patient with the child.” Danny hesitated. “I’ve seen no incidences that would lead me to believe the child would be in danger if left alone with her mother, though I would not recommend overnight visits at this time. The child is used to living with her foster mother, she’s comfortable there, and she’s had every reason to believe she would be adopted soon. She becomes very upset because of the disruption. And since the appellate court date is just a few weeks away, I think it’s in the best interest of the child not to disrupt her life more than necessary until the outcome of the appeal is known.”

  “Our concern today is cleanliness and safety. From your observation, do the living space and the mother fit these criteria?”

  “From my two visits, yes.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Noyes.”

  “Mr. Columbine?”

  “My client was hoping for extended weekend visits, since she works during the week and the child is in school. We feel two hours a week inadequate for necessary bonding.”

  The judge held Columbine’s look. “Your client terminated her rights, which means at this point she has no right to this child at all until her appeal is heard.”

  “She wasn’t advised of the permanent status of termination.”

  “That is not what we are discussing here, as you well know.”

  A young woman sitting behind Carmen stood. “I’m Josie
Green, and I’m Ms. Delgado’s caseworker. And I can vouch that these criteria have been met by Ms. Delgado.”

  She sat down again.

  “Ms. Cartwright. What do you recommend?”

  “She’s never even met Leila,” Sarah said.

  “Shh,” Reesa said.

  “I came to this case recently.”

  Sarah held her breath. Could it be possible Nonie was going to help them after all?

  “But I’ve talked with the mother’s caseworker, and it is my opinion that no harm will be done by granting unsupervised visitation while waiting for the outcome of the appeal.”

  Judge Whitaker looked over the courtroom, then closed his file. “After hearing the reports of the Child Protection and Permanency staff, the court will allow short unsupervised visits in the home of Ms. Carmen Delgado until the appellate court decision. Thank you all for your time.”

  Everyone began gathering up their papers and belongings, except Sarah. She just sat, not quite believing that they were going to put Leila and herself through all this again. No one had mentioned Carmen’s past failures. How she slapped and hit Leila or left her with men she had living with her. No one even mentioned that.

  She was vaguely aware of Ilona Cartwright walking past her, going toward the door. Brisk, in control. She’d won something she knew nothing about.

  Sarah grabbed her bag and followed her out.

  “Sarah,” Reesa called. “Stop. Wait for me.”

  But Sarah had no intention of waiting. This time security would have to drag her out kicking and screaming, because she was going to have her say.

  She reached Ilona as she went through the front doors. Sarah pushed through after her, ran down the steps, and stepped in front of her as she reached the walk.

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Please, Ms. Hargreave. Do you really want me to have to call security? Again? Perhaps you should do something about your anger issues. I can’t imagine a judge would let someone who can’t control their temper actually adopt a child.”

  Sarah’s fists clenched. And she was catapulted back to another time. Nonie and her walking back to the home late at night. Sarah was scared, maybe Nonie was too, but that changed when this kid from the streets jumped out and demanded money and more. Sarah started to run, but Nonie grabbed her wrist so hard it hurt. Then Nonie sank onto one hip like she couldn’t care less and said to the guy, “Do you really think you can get it up before I run to the end of the block and get the cop car there to put your fat ass in jail? Do you know what they do to fat pervs in jail?”

  He made a grab for her, and Nonie kneed him in the balls. They ran, leaving him vomiting in the alley.

  The guy never bothered them again.

  Well, Sarah had learned from the best. And she wasn’t backing off.

  “Sarah,” Reesa huffed and grabbed at her elbow. “Let’s go. There’s nothing you can do here. Not today.”

  Sarah shook her off. Ilona hadn’t moved; she just stood there. She hadn’t slouched to one hip, but the attitude was there.

  “What is wrong with you? You said we would always be friends. That you’d write me every week. But you walked away and forgot about me. I wrote you every week and I never heard from you again. I was alone and scared, and I had lost my best friend. My sister. And I never knew what I did, and I still don’t, but whatever it was, you made me pay. Can’t you be satisfied? Are you willing to jeopardize the life of a child just to get back at me?”

  Ilona just stood there, cold and immovable, a perfect, upscale, tough-ass Nonie. Not Nonie. Nonie was dead.

  Sarah swallowed a sob, clutched her jacket with both hands to keep from hitting the cold bitch that stood expressionless in front of her. “If something happens to my child, it will be on your head. See if you can live with that.”

  She let Reesa pull her away.

  When they reached the street, Reesa stopped her. “Wait here.” She let Sarah go and strode back to Ilona, who was still standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

  Reesa rose to her full frumpy five feet two inches, a head and a half shorter than the immaculate lawyer, and crowded her space. “This was low, even for you, Ilona.” She didn’t wait for a reaction—which was good since Ilona didn’t have one—but turned and strode back to Sarah. Ilona stood frozen to the spot. Cold as ice in the morning sun.

  It was the last image Sarah had of her, when Reesa pulled her away and trundled her down the sidewalk to the parking lot.

  They were both shaking.

  As soon as they got to Sarah’s car, they jumped in and locked the doors. The interior was sweltering from sitting in the sun.

  “Why is she doing this?”

  “I don’t know. She’s always been an advocate for the children. Not the bio family or the foster family. But unless I’ve completely lost my judgment, it’s a mistake to leave Leila alone with Carmen. She might be fine, until another man comes along or someone offers her drugs. Then it will be back to square one. God, how many times do we have to go through this same scenario?”

  Sarah frowned at her. Reesa looked terribly pained. Sarah had been so wrapped up in Leila and her predicament that she forgot that Reesa did this every day and did some things that were even worse. And she was hurting from the futility of it all. Sarah recognized that pain. Had often felt it when she was younger. But that had been when she was on Leila’s side of the problem.

  “It’s okay, Reesa. You did what you could. And I really appreciate it. We’ll just have to hope for the best, I guess.”

  Reesa leaned back and closed her eyes. “I guess.”

  WHAT THE—? FOR a full two minutes, Ilona stood on the sidewalk trying to process what had just happened. What was the crazy bitch talking about? Trying to turn it back on Ilona, saying she never wrote. What bull. The bitch was getting what she deserved. A kid shouldn’t grow up with a lying, crazy, angry mother.

  She’d done good today. Set a child back on the road to unification with her bio mother. So Carmen Delgado had had a few failures. She looked like she was in great shape now. She had a chance of being reunited with her child. One of her seven children, Ilona reminded herself, and she felt the first niggle of doubt.

  She pushed it aside. Reunification of a family while putting the screws to Sarah Hargreave. Not bad for a morning’s work. So why did she feel so restless? So . . . Hell, she never second-guessed herself; she realized she was standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring down an empty street. Damn. She wrenched her gaze away and headed to the car park.

  But as she drove back to her office, Ilona couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off-kilter. What had the bitch meant, she wrote every week? She never wrote. Nonie—Ilona—had been the one who wrote. And wrote and wrote and never received one damn postcard even.

  Revisionist history, Sarah. She’d been Nonie’s best friend, Nonie trusted her, loved her like a sister, but she was no better than any of the others, pretending to care about her. But they’d just been using her. June Cartwright had never loved her like a mother, hadn’t loved her at all. And Sarah? June might not have loved her, but Sarah was the only person in the world who had seen Nonie afraid. One brief second of weakness and Sarah had seen it. Had seen and had betrayed her.

  Everything Ilona had thought they were had been a lie. And now Sarah had the balls to stand there and accuse Ilona of never writing, turning things around to make it all Nonie’s fault, when it was Sarah who hadn’t sent one damn letter.

  No wonder June didn’t want her hanging out with her old friends from the group home. They were bad influences. Even Sarah. Especially Sarah. She’d made Nonie soft—just a little part that cared about what happened to the younger girl, the frightened kid who breathed on her ear and was annoying as hell. It was just a little piece of soft, but any soft place was an Achilles heel. Fatal for life on the streets.

  But she didn’t have to live on the streets. She lived in a big old mansion in a rich town on the ocean. She could have been soft there.
But she’d left her soft spot behind at the home with Sarah Hargreave.

  WHEN SARAH DROPPED her off at home, Reesa didn’t go inside; she waited for Sarah to drive away, then she got into her car and drove to the Child Protection office.

  It looked the same as it always did, the way it always would. Desks crammed wherever there was space. Computers of every year, make, and model wherever they would fit. Stacks of hard copy folders, papers, printers, photocopiers, fax machines.

  A few caseworkers were on the phones or leaning over keyboards. Fingers in the dike.

  Reesa bypassed her desk and crossed the room to the door to the supervisor’s office. She tapped at the glass. Paula Finch, hair disheveled, glasses balanced on the tip of her nose, a pen behind one ear, a pencil behind the other, looked up. She motioned for Reesa to come in.

  “Have a seat.”

  Reesa moved a pile of folders off a chair and pulled it up to the desk.

  She had a moment of sheer panic, the urge to change her mind and run. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Mrs. Finch pushed the glasses up her nose and gave Reesa her full attention.

  “I’m . . . I’ve . . . decided to leave child services.” She blurted out the last words without stopping to think.

  Paula Finch nodded slowly. “I don’t guess I can change your mind?”

  Reesa shook her head. She felt absurdly close to tears. She’d spent almost twenty years as a caseworker. But she couldn’t do it anymore.

  “I have some vacation time coming up. I’d like to finish up the paperwork on my open cases and finish the White boys’ permanency hearing. But no new cases. Then I’ll use my vacation for the rest of my notice.”

  “That’s doable. I’ll send you the forms.” Paula chuckled. “Forms. We couldn’t figure out how to get to the john without them. Ah hell.” She sat back in her chair, then looked up at the ceiling and back to Reesa. “I’ll hate to lose you, but I’m not surprised.”

  “You’re not?”

  “I’ve seen it coming. You’ve been a great caseworker, an even better case manager, passionate, indefatigable, and most of all organized and you can type with more than two fingers.”