Forever Beach Page 6

  I don’t mind. The last place didn’t work out. Surprise, huh? I made sure they got my new address in case you get a mind to write.

  Doesn’t matter, I guess. I write you even when I don’t send the letter. I think someday you might change your mind and want to hear from me. I still want to hear from you.

  Well, that’s all for now.

  Your sister,

  Sarah

  Chapter 5

  Reesa stood at the kitchen sink drinking her first cup of morning coffee and wondering why a garden took so many hours and years of work when nature only took a few weeks to obliterate it.

  There had been a day when she would have rushed out first thing on a Saturday morning. Early with the sun and the birds, to hoe and weed and pick the week’s anxieties away. It had been great therapy. She could also remember why she had quit.

  She drained her mug, put it in the dishwasher, and picked up her briefcase.

  Saturday. A day for family, for gardening, for hanging out at the beach. She would be hanging out at the branch office trying to catch up on her paperwork and praying no removals came in that she would have to try to place on a weekend.

  “Later,” she called to Michael, who had just taken the morning paper and a bowl of cereal into the family room. She was almost to the front door before the television began blaring the sports news.

  She walked out the front door, turned around to lock it, though she didn’t know why she bothered; she lived in a safe neighborhood. Down the front steps, where rosebushes used to grow, the rhododendrons that had replaced them several years earlier had begun to straggle. How could you kill a rhododendron? They grew in the wild.

  Trying to ignore the feeling that the bushes were an indictment of her life, Reesa walked to the curb, threw her overstuffed briefcase onto the passenger seat, and climbed in after it.

  What had happened to her?

  While she was out saving the world, she’d lost herself.

  At the Child Protection and Permanency field office, she parked between a beige Honda and a gray Chevy truck and went inside. There was always someone working in the Main Street CP&P office. And it wasn’t always the most dedicated workers. Today two of the newer recruits, fresh faced and clueless, were plugged into their tablets, most likely playing games or gambling, while they waited for any emergency placements to come in. Eddie Quinones was sitting at his desk behind a stack of folders eating a bagel and drinking coffee from a cardboard cup.

  Reesa should have stopped for another cup, herself. Actually there was no reason not to go out and get one, except that her legs felt like lead this morning. What she should be doing was not cruising Eddie’s bagel but running in the park.

  “Ha,” she said, laughing out loud. Eddie looked up; the two recruits were oblivious.

  “And you find something in this office to laugh about?”

  “No, just imagining me in a spandex running suit.”

  Eddie’s eyebrows flew almost to his bald head. “Not really your look, hon.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Reesa said, as she slipped out of her faded track jacket and hung it over the back of her chair.

  She sat at her desk and booted up the clunker of a computer she’d inherited from an unused cubicle when hers had crapped out five years earlier. While she waited for it to come to life, she called the hospital.

  The White boys were still hospitalized. She learned that on the second transfer. But it took three more transfers and a threat to come to the hospital with a police escort before she could find someone who had the authority to give her an update on the boys’ conditions. The baby had been moved to an NICU in another hospital. Pete was stable, but there was possible kidney damage in the younger one, Jerome.

  Damn, he wouldn’t have a chance if he had to be on dialysis for the rest of his life.

  Reesa pushed down the anger that even years of futility hadn’t quite quenched. That anger, more than anything, was what kept her going.

  She pulled their file to the top. Unless a responsible relative came forward willing to take both the older boys and the baby, Reesa was going to advise they be put directly on a permanency track. Maybe even if a relative did show up. In a better world, they would have a family who would take and love the boys, a family who would already have realized they were in jeopardy and done something to fix it. Hell, in the best of worlds, they would be at home with their loving parents.

  And Reesa would be out of a job, and that would be fine with her.

  There were hundreds of things Reesa could do if she had the time, the money, the energy. Child services ran her dry, beat her down. And just when she thought she would hang it up and quit, a child found a good home, she saved a life—or she’d lose one—and then she knew she couldn’t give it up. She just couldn’t.

  That’s when anger kept her going.

  ILONA WIPED THE sweat from her brow with her wristband. It was time to put this baby away. She concentrated her energy, bounced the tennis ball a couple of times. Good. She liked the feel of it. She touched it to her racket and in one smooth move smashed the ball into the opposite court.

  “Let.”

  Damn. She pulled the second ball out of her pocket; she hadn’t thought she’d need it. Let it fly; the serve was softer, not as powerful. Not as much fun. But it did the trick. Garrett Dunne managed to return it, barely, and she whizzed a passing shot right past his ear. All he could do was grumble.

  “Man, you’re vicious today,” he said, dropping onto the bench where their tennis bags and water bottles were stored.

  Ilona laughed. “You’re just getting soft. All that politicking to make district attorney.”

  “I’m in shape.” He rubbed his face with a pristine white towel and tossed it on his bag. “What say we clean up and meet in the club bar for a drink?”

  Ilona looked at her watch. It was a habit not a ploy. She had nothing to do tonight but go home and read some briefs.

  “Sure, a quick one.”

  “Or two.”

  “One, I have work at home. Twenty minutes?”

  “Do you ever take time off?” Garrett asked.

  “Of course, I’m taking time off now.”

  It didn’t take Ilona twenty minutes to look her after-tennis best. It was one of the many things she’d learned from her parents. Always look your best. No holey socks for Ilona Cartwright. No shirttails sticking out. The message was clear. Don’t let anyone see who you really are.

  She walked out of the women’s locker room, showered, refreshed, hair just as relaxed and straight as when she’d stepped into the shower. Was she a little overdressed for tennis? White linen slacks, silk tee. Not at all. She hadn’t joined the most prestigious country club in the county to dress like a slob.

  But she also made sure it didn’t look like she tried too hard. Being one of the few black women members, even with skin as light as hers, she made a point of being casually perfect.

  Ilona beat Garrett to the bar and took a table on the veranda where there was a hint of a breeze and shelter from the worst of the sun.

  She saw a few people she knew. None of whom she really cared about seeing. If they wanted to say hello, they would wander over sooner or later. She shoved away the little niggle of doubt she’d never been able to completely erase. That one day, they might snub her, deride her, might see her for what she really was.

  Dear Sarah,

  I thought it was going to be nice here. It’s beautiful and has a big yard, and a swimming pool and everything. But it isn’t very nice. I don’t think they’d like you. I’m pretty sure they don’t like me.

  Remember that movie we saw where the aliens had taken over all the women in town. That was funny. Remember. We laughed till we almost pissed ourselves. But I have to remember not to say words like piss. Well, it isn’t funny. I think Mrs. Cartwright is one of them.

  She tells me to call her Mom.

  I call her Mother instead. She just smiles and it scares me. They don’t do anything mean
to me. Mostly they don’t even pay that much attention to me except to tell me what to do and how to act, especially “in public.”

  And I do it. Because I’ve been to places before and I don’t want to go back. I hope you don’t end up in one of those places. The kind where they tell you how to act and then they hurt you. The Cartwrights don’t hurt me, not in any way you can tell. Only in my heart, but nobody can see that.

  And it is cushy living here. I just wished they’d love me.

  I don’t know why they didn’t adopt you. At least you’re white.

  Anyway. It won’t be any good you coming here. I’m going to stay if I can. I can get an education here. They’re some kind of important people. I’m going to get everything I can from them. Then one day I’ll come find you and you won’t have to worry about where you’re going to live ever again.

  Why haven’t you written to me?

  Your sister,

  Nonie

  “Did you order anything yet?” Garrett asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to her.

  Ilona shook her head, momentarily speechless from the unexpected memory. Garrett raised his hand. A waiter appeared at their table. “Gin and tonic with a twist,” Ilona said.

  “I’ll have the same,” Garrett said. “Actually,” he said, leaning closer as the waiter left to get their drinks, “I’d kill for an icy Bud Light right out of the bottle. But the bad taste brigade would blackball me from the veranda bar.”

  Ilona laughed. They were all hiding something.

  Their drinks came, and Ilona’s mind began to wander to her divorce case. The problem with socializing with lawyers was that you could never discuss your work. And she didn’t really think Garrett wanted to hear what the latest interior designer had charged her for the brilliant idea of putting a few colorful pillows around the living room to make it “pop.”

  Ilona felt like popping the designer, but she signed the check and smiled and maneuvered the woman toward the door, while she thought, Next time I’m hiring a man, and don’t have anyone call me for a reference.

  “Oh shit,” Garrett said, drawing her attention back.

  “What? Are you just realizing that I beat your socks off?”

  “No,” he said smiling, his glass half raised to his lips. “Your ex just came in, and with the new wife.”

  “He never comes to the club on Saturday. Saturday is for sailing or polo. Sunday’s the club for brunch, Wednesday for tennis.”

  “Well, he’s here today.” His smile broadened and he lifted his chin. “He’s seen us and he’s headed this way.”

  Ilona shrugged. “And we were having such a lovely time.”

  “And there’s more,” he mumbled before he half stood and shook hands. “Kevin,” he said in his most jovial voice. “Where you been keeping yourself?”

  “Busy,” Ilona’s ex-husband said.

  Kevin Morrissey Blake had been handpicked by her parents. The wedding had been overrun with dignitaries, the dress cost thirty K, and the marriage lasted all of three years.

  Ilona didn’t wish it back. She wasn’t sure she even liked him. Tall, blond, decent enough to look at. A man who knew what he wanted and went after it. And what he wanted was a political career, and the way he went after it was to woo Ilona and then her father.

  He still had her father, and he was welcome to him. They were welcome to each other.

  She fortified her smile and turned to say hello. But her gaze went right past Kevin’s beaming face to his new blond wife. The bitch was pregnant. He’d come to gloat.

  But Ilona had spent the last ten years in a courtroom, and she wasn’t about to fall for this little piece of malice aforethought. “Why, look at you,” she said enthusiastically. “As round as a tomato.”

  She rubbed the model-thin trophy wife’s baby bump.

  The woman, whose name Ilona had conveniently forgotten, blushed, smiled up at Kevin for support. Ilona could have told her that was useless; he was watching Ilona, his head tilted slightly, trying to figure out what she was thinking. He would never get it.

  “So good to see you two,” she continued, like they were all best buds.

  Kevin woke up. “Have you seen your parents lately?”

  Nice segue, Kev. Ilona’s smile stayed securely in place. “Not lately. I’m up to my ears in cases.”

  “I saw them the other day. I didn’t think your mom looked too good. Is she ill?”

  Ilona had no idea. They only spoke in public, and they were rarely in public at the same time. Ilona made sure of that. “A little tired; she just got off the garden club circuit. You know how exhausting these house tours can be.”

  “Well, we’d better get going. Meeting some people for drinks.”

  Ilona smiled. “Orange juice for you, little mama.” She gave the baby bump one more rub. And the couple left.

  “Hell, girl, you are lethal. You were rubbing that tummy like you thought a genie might pop out.”

  Ilona laughed. “And wouldn’t that have been something for the veranda staff to talk about. We’d all be blackballed for sure. I think I’ll have that second gin and tonic.”

  Garrett expelled a breath. “I’m going straight for the Bud in a bottle.”

  REESA DECIDED SHE would knock off and go home at three, but at five till, one of the field caseworkers showed up with a boy, about thirteen, dirty and obese. The caseworker, whose name she remembered was Dominic, looked like he’d had the worst time of it. His shirt was torn, and there was dirt of some kind Reesa chose not to observe too closely on his cheek and hands. As soon as he released the kid, the kid bolted for the door, but he slipped on something, probably whatever was stuck to his shoe, and slammed into a file cabinet.

  The caseworker closed his eyes. “Eddie, help me out here.”

  “I’m not on duty, get Heckle or Jeckle to help you, that’s what they’re here for.” Eddie swiveled his chair so that his back was to Dominic.

  Travis, who Eddie usually called Thing One, looked up from his tablet. “Is he talking about us?”

  “Yep,” Eddie said, not turning around.

  “What did you call us?”

  “Heckle and Jeckle.”

  “Who are they?” Thing Two, real name Carl, asked.

  Eddie groaned and slid down in his chair until only the bald spot showed over the back.

  “Make some calls,” Reesa told them. She walked over to the boy. “Hey, I’m Mrs. Davis. What’s your name?”

  He looked at the ground.

  “Would you like to use the bathroom to clean up?”

  A minute nod of his head.

  “Good. Mr. Hawes will show you where it is.”

  “And Mr. Hawes will clean up a little himself,” Dominic said. “Travis, you can come help out.”

  Reesa smiled encouragingly. This is not what they thought their job would be back in whatever college they graduated from. She just hoped they stuck around long enough to do some good.

  Travis reluctantly followed the other two. Carl waited expectantly.

  “You start on the emergency families,” Reesa said. “I’ll call the group homes.”

  Fortunately they hit pay dirt with the second group home. They had one bed. Reesa claimed it and sent Dominic, Travis, and the kid over with the paperwork.

  Reesa said good night to Eddie who hadn’t turned back around and was probably sleeping. The night shift would be coming on soon. Carl could handle things until then.

  She considered stopping by the grocery, but she didn’t feel like cooking. She’d order out, Greek maybe. Maybe she could convince Michael to get up and go out to the diner or the pub. But who was she kidding; he never wanted to go anywhere.

  As she drove home she considered calling Karen or Sarah to see what they were doing. She knew they’d be glad to have her. But Karen had her family, and hopefully Sarah had managed to apologize to Wyatt and would be with him tonight.

  Reesa wished she could tell Sarah to just let Wyatt help her. So what if it didn’
t last forever? But Reesa had been around foster kids long enough to know they very rarely came out unscathed. Sarah hadn’t. And she still had serious trust issues. Probably always would. But she was one of the lucky ones.

  She had stumbled into a miracle named Sam Gianetti. Reesa had never met him, but she wished she had a hundred more of him to pass around.

  As soon as she opened the house door, she heard the ball game. She dropped her keys on the hall table, left her briefcase next to it, and made her way back to the kitchen.

  “I’m home,” she called into the family room.

  A grunt from Michael.

  She went into the kitchen for a glass of water. There was an open pizza box on the table. Three pieces were gone, and the rest was a hardened mess. But Reesa was suddenly ravenous. She pulled off a triangle. Took a bite. Spit it out and tossed it back into the box.

  “How long has this pizza been here?” she called.

  “Lunch.”

  “You want to go out for dinner?”

  “The game’s on.”

  She closed the box, folded it over, and pushed it into the trash can. She sat down at the table and rested her forehead on the heels of her hands.

  Her stomach growled. It looked like it would be a can of soup for her tonight.

  She opened the cabinet, then changed her mind, went into the hall and opened the closet door. There was a bottle of peach schnapps her sister-in-law had given them for Christmas. She’d never opened it.

  But schnapps over ice sounded like a good thing. She stood on tiptoe and worked it off the shelf. Maybe she’d just forgo the soup and really drink her dinner tonight. She’d just returned to the kitchen when she heard the front door open.

  “Ma.”

  “Back here, Tony.” At twenty, Tony was her baby. The only one of her children who actually lived nearby. Michael Junior had stayed in Chicago once he graduated from business school, and Evelyn was a stewardess and flew out of Philly.

  He came into the kitchen. “Ma, what are you doing sitting in the dark?”