Forever Beach (29 page)

They all looked out to where the three younger girls were throwing water-filled slinky balls at a plastic basket while laughing and falling down on purpose, and Jenny scanned the horizon . . . for boys?

“What are you going to do?” Sarah asked, turning her attention back to Reesa.

“I'm working as development director at Hands Around the World.”

“Wow.”

“And I'm going back to school.”

“I bet they're really going to miss you at Child Protection.”

“For a while. But it's time for me to move on and let younger, more agile and energetic workers take over. It won't be long before I'm a dim memory.”

“Not to us.”

“Thank you for that. And I'll still be doing goody-two-shoes stuff. I'm thinking school psychologist. That's what I was studying before I veered into social work. And it pays more.”

“But what about you and Michael. Do you want to get back together with him?”

“Depends. We've been together for a long time, had three kids, probably will have grandchildren soon. He's always been a good man. Good enough, anyway. But I can't stand to be around the lump he's become. I doubt if he likes me much these days. It's not good for either of us. We both have to change. I'm on my way. I don't know that Michael can or even wants to.”

“What a weekend,” Sarah said and opened her water bottle. She lay back, relaxing in the sun, trying not to worry, trying not to be on edge waiting for the next shoe to drop. Really how many more shoes could drop at this point?

The girls came up for snacks and a few minutes under the umbrella. They had just been given another spray of sunscreen when they saw Wyatt walking up the beach.

Tammy and Bessie cried, “Wy!” And ran toward him. Leila followed after them.

“Poor guy, the girls just love him. All the girls.” She lifted her chin toward Jenny who pulled down the leg of her two-piece and tried to look nonchalant.

“It's starting,” Karen said. “Boy craziness.”

Leila was close to Wyatt when she suddenly stopped. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs and ran in the opposite direction.

“What the—” Karen said.

Sarah was already up when Leila came flying toward her as if her life depended on it. She grabbed her and lifted her off her feet, looked to where Wyatt had stopped cold, the other two girls standing beside him looking toward Leila.

“It's Wyatt, you like him,” Sarah said, but Leila was scream
ing too loud to hear her. She cast a frantic look back at Karen and Reesa. Reesa was immediately on her feet and came over to Sarah.

“Bring her over here and try to calm her.” Reesa guided them back to the beach chair and held it while Sarah practically fell into it. Leila tried to climb over her.

Reesa knelt down beside her. “Leila. Stop it, now. You're safe. Stop it.”

Leila just tried to bury herself between Sarah and the chair arm.

“Leila, sweetie,” Sarah said as soothingly as she could muster. She was completely unnerved. Wyatt had never hurt Leila. He was the kindest, most understanding man that anyone could hope for. He played Candy Land, for Pete's sake. And he'd interrupted his dinner with Caitlyn to bring her diapers.

“Leila, stop crying.” Sarah gave her a little shake. “Stop it now. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise. Now stop it, you're going to make yourself sick.”

But she didn't stop.

“What is that all about?” Wyatt asked.

Standing over Sarah, he did seem intimidating. As soon as she thought about it, he knelt down and reached over to tickle Leila's arm. “Hey, hokey-pokey girl. What's up?”

Leila peeked out at him and screamed. Wyatt looked taken aback; Sarah felt like she was drowning. How could she make Leila understand that nothing would happen to her? And after all the progress they were making, and the fun they had when Wyatt was with them.

“Leila,” he said.

Leila screamed louder. Sarah began to worry that someone
would call the police, and that would be mortifying to Wyatt, who had done nothing wrong but befriend her and her foster daughter.

“Stop, Leila,” Sarah said. “Enough is enough. Look at Bessie and Tammy. They don't know what to think. Just stop this nonsense now.”

Leila didn't stop. Just bucked against Sarah until they both almost fell out of the chair.

“Wyatt, I'm sorry.”

He shook his head.

“I think you better go.”

He stood there looking down at her.

“Please.”

He sucked in his breath. “Fine . . . fine.” He turned and strode away. She watched him go. Watched him break into a run across the sand.

“Okay, he's gone, Leila. The man you wanted to be your daddy just left because you were mean to him. After he brought you those stupid diapers and did hokey pokey with you. He's gone.”

“Daddy?” said Karen. “I'll take Leila. Go after him.”

Sarah shoved Leila at Karen and started to run. She hadn't gone a hundred feet when she heard “Mommee!” behind her. Leila was trying to run across the loose sand. Her arms stretched out toward Sarah. Sarah turned to look for Wyatt, but already he was looking small and distant. She would never catch up with him now.

She started back, scooped Leila up. “Be quiet now,” she said barely above a whisper. “You're safe. You're always safe with me.”

“Sorry, I couldn't hold her,” Karen said.

“She socked Mom,” Jenny said. “There was no reason to do that. What's wrong with her?”

“I'm sorry,” Sarah told Karen. “I'd better take her home.”

“No. Stay,” Leila cried.

“No. You can't behave properly. So we're going home.”

She started to cry. Sarah tried to ignore her, but she was shaking with hurt, mortification, and sheer exhaustion. She was failing.

“No, Mommee. Stay.”

“No. You hit Karen and me. You hurt Wyatt's feelings, and he's always been good to you. So we're going home where we can think about how we treat our friends.”

Leila sat down in the sand. Sarah handed Reesa her beach bag and picked Leila up.

Reesa slipped the bag over Sarah's shoulder. “Can you manage by yourself?”

“I'd better start, hadn't I?” She turned to the others. “I'm sorry we ruined everyone's day.” And she trudged over the sand to the stairs to the boardwalk, aware of the looks and the why-can't-she-shut-that-kid-up stares that followed her.

“W
ELL,”
K
AREN SAID
as she and Reesa watched Sarah's head disappear from view. “You don't think Wyatt . . . ?”

“No. But somebody from yesterday's visit scared her. And from her reaction to Wyatt, I bet there was a man with Carmen yesterday, possibly a tall muscular man. I've seen it happen more times than I care to remember. Still, Sarah needs to figure out how to nip this behavior before Leila understands that she can use it to manipulate Sarah and everybody else.”

“I don't remember having that kind of trouble with Amy when I finally got her back.”

“Probably because she was staying with your parents in a loving environment, and you visited her a lot. Leila has definitely been mistreated. I don't know about this expedited track or reunification. Six weeks isn't a lot of time for a mother to get it together and keep it together. It's hard enough when she's only got herself to worry about. This may be a question of too much too soon.”

“I don't think Sarah or Leila can survive much more of this bouncing around.”

“No. I think it's about time someone spoke to Carmen Delgado.”

I
LONA GAVE THE
box a cursory look as she paced before the window waiting for her call to Judge Whitaker to connect or go to voice mail. She would never, ever call a judge on a weekend if it weren't an emergency. This was an emergency.

“Hello, Judge Whitaker. It's Ilona Cartwright. I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but something has come to my attention that I believe needs to be dealt with quickly.”

“Ms. Cartwright, think nothing of it. What seems to be the problem.”

“The Leila Rodrigues case. I'm the child's legal advocate if you recall.”

“Of course I recall. I just wish I could see more lawyers of your caliber in family court hearings.”

“Thank you, sir.” He wouldn't be saying that for long after he heard her out.

“The birth mother was granted unsupervised visits last week. Her record is clean and all the team members involved were very pleased with her progress. And I concurred.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“Well, an unsupervised visit was paid yesterday and there are a few details concerning the visit that may or may not be significant but that are disturbing enough that I intend to file for a stay until we've had time to investigate further.”

“Abuse?”

“Possibly. And questionable enough to stop further visits immediately until they can be substantiated, and either dismissed as within normalcy, or rectified if they aren't.”

“I've got a full docket for the rest of the month and next. And we have to give both sides fair notification of the hearing.”

“I realize that, Your Honor. And I mainly need a stay of visitation until we can be placed on the docket.”

“Sounds reasonable, though I can guess the bio mother, what's her name, Delgado, will not be happy.”

“Better one unhappy mother than a child put in jeopardy.”

“True. Call my office in the morning. Have Priscilla draw up the forms for me to sign, then we'll send out notices of the stay in time to prevent the next visit.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I truly appreciate it.”

“Not at all; enjoy the rest of your weekend.” He hung up. She hung up, placed her cell phone carefully on the coffee table, and picked up the utility knife. It was time to face the contents of the box from her mother.

Ilona flipped open the knife, ran the blade evenly around the edges of the box, wondering if she'd be pleased with the things her mother had decided to keep. She lifted off the top, looked inside.

They were sitting on top. Held together by a rubber band. She recognized her own handwriting.

The room went out of focus as the words swam before her eyes. What were they doing in the box? Had they all been re
turned? Or . . . Had they never been mailed? Ilona lifted them out with a hand that wasn't her own.

Pulled at the rubber band. It was brittle and it snapped apart and flew across the table. There were a lot of them. June must have saved them all. But she'd never sent them.

A cry escaped from somewhere deep inside her. From a place that had been forgotten and should have stayed forgotten. Everything she knew, that she thought she knew, was wrong. She carefully placed the stack of envelopes on the table. They slid to one side, but Ilona didn't try to catch them.

Something else had her attention. Beneath where they had been was another stack of letters. A different handwriting. And she recognized that handwriting, too. It belonged to Sarah Hargreave.

T
he first thing Monday morning, Sarah told Alice that she was closing the store for two weeks.

Alice was concerned, and Sarah had to reassure her that she and Leila were due for a vacation and once she understood that she'd still be paid, she gladly acquiesced. Sarah hung a sign to that effect, including a number where repairs could be picked up. Then she locked up and went home to the cottage—and Leila.

Sarah had no illusions about having any vacation. But she intended to enjoy Leila as much as the stress they were both feeling allowed. And she intended to face whatever would be when it came and not a moment before.

She was tempted to take the calendar off the wall, but that might be too unsettling. And might be futile, so she left it in place, hating the very sight of it.

She didn't go to the Brew or stop by Wyatt's store. Leila had calmed down considerably overnight. She seemed fine when
Sarah reminded her that school was over. No need to tell her that Sarah had taken her out, because it was just too much to have to handle. Besides, Leila could use a break, too.

After breakfast she put Leila in front of
Sesame Street
and called Randy Phelps.

“I was going to call you back,” he said before he even said hello.

Sarah had no doubt he was sick of the case. Well, too bad. So was she. She explained about the Saturday visit and the subsequent events. Yes, she had documented everything.

“I'll see how soon we can get a hearing on the docket,” Randy said. “But it's getting along in summer and a lot of people are on vacation.”

“Just try. I don't want her being exposed to that kind of treatment again.”

“Sarah, unless child services deems it a threat to her safety . . .”

“Well, it is a threat. Please do something.”

She could hear his sigh even though she suspected he moved the phone away.

“Just try.”

She called Wyatt to explain what was happening. Her call went to voice mail. She wondered if that was on purpose. And made herself accept the fact that maybe this time she had pushed him away for good.

She called Danny who was out on a call. She left another message.

She and Leila walked to the library and took back the books they'd checked out except for
Green Eggs and Ham,
which they renewed.

In the afternoon, they made cookies with funny faces.

It wasn't all fun. There were times that laughter dissolved into tears, and sometimes she looked at Leila and saw sheer terror in her eyes, and she'd try to soothe her, to make her feel safe in a world she couldn't control and that made no sense.

And every whimper, every scream, every kick, every scratch and “I hate you” cut to the quick. Hit that place inside Sarah where her own fear and anger were buried so deep that she sometimes forgot they were there. Forever residing within her.

When she'd been a kid, she blamed everyone around her, pushed them away when they got too close, because she knew what would happen. She'd get sent away, or they would show their true colors and hurt her, or turn their backs on her; so she did it to them first.

Now that she was on the other side of that life, she knew Leila's life would always be like that, too. Maybe not as bad because she'd been fostered since early childhood, but it still would be there. Because sometimes Sarah still felt the same way. But now she was the one who could help, who could love, and, if the system let her, could promise to be Leila's forever family. Like Sam who had taken in a girl off the street and become her forever.

Looking back on it, she wished she could go back and change some of the things she'd done. But then she wouldn't have found Sam, and without him, she knew she would have become just another hardened ex-foster kid, screwed up about her place in the world and afraid to let people love her.

Or she would have become a person like Ilona Cartwright. Hard, driven, and uncaring. Is that what happened to Nonie? Had it been too late when she was finally adopted and became a Cartwright to be able to accept their love. Had she just been too old?

Sarah looked over to Leila, sitting on the couch, legs stuck straight out in front of her, “reading”
Thomas the Train
. She was sucking her thumb . . . again . . . At least she'd stopped wearing the diaper.

Was Leila already too old to come out of this unscathed?

R
EESA SET UP
her laptop on one of the tables in the front of the courtroom. She'd just received the strangest call from Ilona Cartwright. She wanted to talk to Carmen and she wanted to meet Leila Rodrigues, and she wanted Reesa to accompany her to both meetings.

A day late and a dollar short,
Reesa thought. Or else the lawyer was planning something devious, something that a few months ago Reesa would never have thought Ilona capable of doing. Not until this last case.

She understood that Ilona and Sarah had unfinished business—“issues” as they called them today—and she also knew that people brought up in the foster system had a harder time overcoming some things. But the animosity between Saran and Ilona seemed extreme.

Reesa couldn't imagine what pain they must have felt as young girls. Were still feeling now.

So in spite of her reservations, Reesa made a date with Ilona for the next day. They could talk to Carmen on her lunch break at her work and then drive over to Sarah's to interview Leila. “Leila gets home from school around three,” Reesa told her. “I'll have to call Sarah and tell her. It's not fair to just spring this on her.”

“Of course,” Ilona said, and Reesa tried to read between the lines. With no success.

Now Reesa shoved the conversation out of her mind as she
set up for the Whites' hearing. She didn't know when she'd finally decided to go with a PowerPoint presentation of the White emergency removal. Normally she would print out a few of the more pertinent photos and hand them in to the judge as documentation.

Maybe she had gone a little overboard during the preparation, revisiting that day through her photos, feeling the same horror and revulsion she held felt then. But she had a fire in her gut about this case.

That's why she'd decided to go with the slide presentation for her documentation, instead of passing around a handful of supporting photos that might be looked at quickly by a few of those involved, and then just as quickly be relegated to the evidence table. No one wanted to dwell on the reality. The reality could drive you crazy.

This way everyone would be forced to acknowledge what was going on all around them.

She was early. Only a few others had arrived at the courthouse. But the White hearing was first on the docket, and she was anxious to get it over with.

Over with.
For her maybe—this was the last hearing on her bucket list before she left child services. For the boys it was a beginning, but for their teams there was just more of the same ahead.

She'd been in touch with Pete and Jerome's caseworker, Pete's therapist, and Jerome's and the baby's treatment teams. Pediatricians and psychologists. All three children had been appointed guardians ad litem. If the baby thrived, he would have a good chance of being adopted. But the older boys . . . Jerome might never have fully functioning kidneys, and it would take more than most families had to give to see him through. She
just hoped they would find him a loving, patient home—hoped, but she didn't have much faith.

Reesa had no illusions about Pete's future. What that boy had been through had marked him for life. Maybe not physically, like his brother, but forever. She'd do what she could for him before she left the agency for good. And she had actually talked about him to one of the volunteers at Hands who had fostered several young boys. Reesa thought they might be a good match. She planned to take him by the center for a trial run just as soon as this case was resolved.

The courtroom began to fill. There were a lot of cases on the docket today and most everyone was ready to get on with it.

Well, half of them anyway, those caseworkers eager to wrap this up and get back in the field. The ones who still had the fire, the passion. And then there were the others who would gladly sit in the tepidly air-conditioned courtroom as long as possible before being pushed into the sometimes sweltering, sometimes squalid, sometimes dangerous investigations in the field.

Reesa guessed now she was one of the latter group. So be it. She was moving on.

Judge Whitaker entered and everyone rose to their feet and sat as soon as he sat. The bailiff announced the first case.

Reesa felt a wave of anticipation, determination, and just a little trepidation. This would be her last case. She wanted it to be successful on so many levels. She didn't see how the judge could fail to grant a permanency track for the three boys.

Then again, look at the problems Sarah was facing.

When Reesa was called, she repeated the details of her Dowd emergency removal. Her eyes kept wavering from the judge, stark in his black robe, but betrayed by his eyes—warm with sympathy and understanding.

“If I may, Your Honor. I've prepared a PowerPoint presentation that will be truer than what my memory might be.”

“Proceed.”

She walked over to the table on wobbling legs. Powered up the first slide.

“I left Pete downstairs with Ms. McKinney and took the stairs to the White apartment on the fourth floor. The police met me there.”

She clicked on the first photo and flinched as the picture filled the screen. The two individuals sprawled on a sagging couch, surrounded by unspeakable filth.

Click. A close-up of beer, drugs, and drug paraphernalia.

Click. The living room. The kitchen. The doorway to the second room.

She slowed to let everyone get the full effect of the photos. At least that's what she told herself. But it was really to give herself time to prepare to relive those horrifying moments over again. Only today it would be even worse, because today she already knew exactly what she'd find.

“The room was dark and hideously hot. The smell was—” She swallowed.

Click. Jerome on the filthy bed, too weak to move.

Her hand was shaking so much she could barely click on the next photo. The crib filled with clothes.

The courtroom was completely silent except for her own breathing. Twenty years of triumphs and tragedies, successes and failures, and the faces of hundreds and hundreds of children and parents paraded through her mind.

“I found the baby underneath the clothes. He was unresponsive, but still alive.”

She felt the courtroom exhale. It was her undoing. She man
aged to grab the back of a chair and sit down before she fell. Next to her one of the guardian ad litems took a tissue from her purse and handed it to Reesa. Used another for herself. And blew her nose.

Even Judge Whitaker looked stunned. Pete, Jerome, and Baby White had ceased to be just another docket number in a slew of docket numbers.

“The children were removed to the county hospital where Pete was given a full physical and psychological evaluation and checked into the hospital. Jerome and the baby were checked into critical care.”

The testimony continued. The lawyers for the two parents put up a minimal defense. They were both in jail.

The judge ruled in favor for permanency for all three boys.

All those involved in the case were excused.

Reesa shoved the stack of papers into her briefcase. So much paperwork for such small boys. But today she didn't resent it. She knew as well as most, they hadn't found a better way to run the system. And in its way, the mountains of paper helped them cope with the brutality of their job.

But not for Reesa. Not anymore.

The parties involved in the next hearing exchanged places with those who had just finished, and who for the most part made their way up the aisle toward the coffee shop to wait for their next hearing.

She slid her laptop into her briefcase and lugged it up the aisle to the courtroom door.

A man was standing at the back and opened the door for her. She looked up to thank him.

It was Michael.

“Michael. What are you doing here?”

“I got a job. Temporary but a job. I called your cell, but you didn't answer.”

“They're not allowed in the courtroom.”

“So I called your work. They said you were here.”

Reesa didn't know what to think or how to react. “I'm glad you found work, Michael. I am.”

She stepped through the door and kept walking.

He caught up to her. “I didn't know. I'm sorry. I had no idea what you went through every day. I'm sorry.”

Reesa kept walking. She was just so tired. She'd reached the street and stopped to wait for traffic to pass.

“I want to come home.”

“No one is stopping you.” She stepped off the curb and headed toward her car. She just wanted to get out. She didn't want to deal with Michael or the problems with their marriage. She needed to get to the center, no, she needed to go to the beach. Breathe the clean air. Feel the pull of the waves. Why did they never go to the beach?

“I know I've been an ass. I was hoping you'd forgive me.”

“I quit my job, Michael. I'm not going back.”

“You don't have to.”

She stopped. Looked at him. “No, I don't. I don't have to do any of it.”

“Including me?”

“Including you.”

“What are you saying?”

“That this isn't about your not having a job or about the job I've had.”

“Then what?”

Reesa took a breath. “The job thing is a part of it, but it just made me realize that it's about us, Michael, and has been for a while.”

“But you could give us another chance.”

“I could. But I'm not going back to what it was.”

His brow furrowed. She did love him, had for a long time, but she'd just lost it in the other stuff.
But you might be able to find love again. It might be possible.