Forever Beach (9 page)

And then Sarah understood why.

Reesa looked past her to the receptionist who was apparently looking for something on her desk. “And you can take that right in to your boss. We're leaving.”

Sarah just caught a glimpse of the receptionist reaching for the phone before Reesa propelled her out the door.

And the import of what had just happened hit her full force.

The best lawyer, in the county at least, had refused to take her case, cut and dried she'd said, or something like that.

She and Reesa didn't speak until they were on the sidewalk again. The heat was already oppressive, and Sarah longed just to get back to the store and try to forget the entire morning, the entire situation, but she couldn't.

“Am I being unreasonable?” she asked.

Reesa frowned at her. It was the same expression she'd worn as she'd stormed out of the office, and it hadn't changed. “What?”

“Am I the one in the wrong?”

“What?” Reesa asked more loudly. “Are you just giving up? Is that how much Leila means to you?”

“She means everything to me. But am I being selfish? Deluding myself that I can make her a better home, love her more. Can Carmen change? Should she really have Leila back?” Sarah listened to herself say the words she'd feared, but they had to be said. “Will Leila be better off with Carmen?”

At first Reesa didn't answer, then much more quietly she said, “Send her back and see.”

Sarah reared back, physically and emotionally. She was staring at someone she didn't know. Not the positive, nurturing, cheerleading person Sarah knew. But someone with a depth of anger so strong that it rolled from her in heated waves in an already hot atmosphere.

The briefcase fell from Reesa's hand, and she covered her face. “God, I am so sorry. I don't know what's come over me. I never lose my cool. I'm so sorry.”

Sarah reached out her hand. Touched Reesa's shoulder. “It's all right. You tried. We'll do something. I'll talk to Randy. Get
another lawyer if we have to. If you believe Leila belongs with me. If you don't . . . well, I'll still fight to keep her.”
And let them fight to take her away.

            
Dear Nonie,

                
I've been back at group home for a few weeks now. I had a nice family, but they had to move to Connecticut for work. They said they wanted to take me with them, but in the end they didn't. I heard them talking and he said, “There's just too much damn red tape.” So I came back.

                
Now, Mrs. J just came in with the “good” news. I'm going to another home, this will be number four. Nothing seems to work out for me. But don't think I'm whining. I'm hanging tough like you said, though I really wish you would write me. I don't even ask Mrs. J anymore if there's a letter for me, though I still send one to you.

                
I gotta go pack my things.

                
Later.

Your sister??

Sarah

Impulsively Sarah dropped her own briefcase and wrapped her arms around Reesa. Just a light hug to let her know she didn't blame her for the morning's fiasco.

But Reesa slipped out of her grasp. “I'm your friend, Sarah. Maybe I'm not seeing this case clearly. Maybe I'm not—”

“Don't,” Sarah said. “Don't backpedal. If you don't believe I'm the right mother for Leila, fine. Sort of.” Sarah swallowed. It was one thing to fight for Leila's security, or even her own
survival but— “I can lose you as a caseworker and adviser, but don't say that you can't be my friend.”

“What? You're not going to lose me as an advocate or a friend. We just have to readjust. This situation is not going to happen overnight. There are supervised visits and unsupervised. Then extended visits. A lot can happen before we need to panic. But, Sarah, if Carmen can provide a stable, loving home for Leila—”

“I know. I'm trying to be fair. Abide by what's best for ‘the child.' I think I'm what's best for her. But I understand the rationale. And I know that sometimes the foster home is worse than the bio home, but not in this case. And I don't think I'm just being selfish to think that.”

“Sarah, you are never selfish. Don't start worrying yet. There is a long way between ‘I'm clean this week and I want my child back,' to ‘I've stayed clean, kept my job, and I'm able to cope with raising a child to maturity.'”

Sarah nodded. She knew this, but what a toll it could take.

                
PS.

                
I don't know why they make me take everything, I'll just be back again.

                
When they come for me, I can tell they're nervous. That makes me nervous. I make sure they give Mrs. J my new address in case you send a letter. But I don't have much hope.

                
Now I have no friends. Not even the asshole boys who make fun of me and try to feel me up when Mrs. J isn't looking. Now I got this couple. And they're yammering all the time, telling me about their family and how they got several foster children living with them.

                
Great, one more monthly stipend coming their way.

                
“Don't give my bed away,” I say to Mrs. J as I pass by.

                
She frowns at me like she's disappointed in my attitude, but she knows I'm right. I climb in the backseat of this white Impala. It smells all musty, and there's a hamburger wrapper on the floor. They don't even tell me to buckle up.

I
LONA DIDN'T SUMMON
her secretary until she was sure she could hand her a folder without her hands shaking. It took longer than she expected. She'd seen the intercom light up, but it wasn't Inez's voice that came through the speaker. It was Reesa Davis.

It was a ploy they often used, listening to the conversations of clients as they entered or left. Reesa was usually careful about speaking while in the waiting room. Any good lawyer would be, and Reesa in another life would have been a good lawyer, except her penchant for helping the underdog.

But she'd lost it today. Big-time. Ilona knew she was considered a cold, hard-hearted bitch. She knew they called her “Barracuda” behind her back. She took that as a compliment. But the one-way street barb from Reesa hit its mark. It was true, but people didn't always want to examine the truth about themselves. Not often anyway.

And she'd be damned if Reesa Davis and her lost causes would make her introspective today. Her latest divorce case was heating up. And she had others she needed to prep for.

She shoved Sarah Hargreave's folder to the side. She didn't even try to pick it up. Adrenaline was still coursing through her and she knew her hands wouldn't be steady yet. She didn't want to see it. Another minute or two should do the trick.

Ilona reached for the the divorce case folder; fumbled with
the edge. Spit out an expletive as Sarah Hargreave appeared like the ghost of Marley on Scrooge's front door.

Ilona barked out a laugh at the analogy, surprising herself. She was no Scrooge. She went the extra mile for her clients. She sent money to the appropriate charities. She had a standing date every Saturday. People respected her. Of course they were all lawyers, but still . . .

But still. There was that one dark empty space that never went away. That space had been gouged out by Sarah Hargreave and picked at by Ilona's ceaseless loneliness ever since. And she'd never learned why—until today.

She took a breath, reached for the intercom. Better. She was calm again. She tapped the intercom button. “Inez.”

“Yes, Ms. Cartwright?”

She'd meant to make a quip about a good spat giving her an appetite and have Inez send out for a bagel and coffee, but her lips closed on the request. “Get one of the interns to find out what they can about the Sarah Hargreave who just left, and bring me a cup of coffee. ASAP.”

“Yes, Ms. Cartwright.”

Ilona leaned back in her lush leather chair. She was just curious. Who wouldn't be? She would find out once and for all why Sarah had bailed on her, what happened that made it so easy for her to forget her “sister.” And then she could file it away with the rest of her dead cases.

R
eesa waited until she was sure Sarah was calm before she drove to the courthouse. She was on the docket for that morning to substantiate the reasons for her Dodd removal on Thursday and to get a court order for the removal. A no-brainer, if you asked Reesa. One comatose baby, a kid with kidney failure, and another not thriving, the parents in jail for a slew of crimes. She would ask the judge to put the children on a permanency track.

She tried to push away the anger at the unfairness of it all, but it was getting more and more difficult. She needed to find a way to recapture her distance or she'd do no one any good.

Once through the security check, she detoured to the courthouse cafeteria. She hadn't slept well and had awakened with just enough time to dress and have a quick cup of coffee. She still had a few minutes left before she needed to sign in.

Breakfast was in order. Reesa ran her plastic tray past juices and pastries and ordered eggs and bacon. Popped two slices
of bread in the toaster and collected utensils and condiments while she waited for the toast. Then she took a table against the wall.

There weren't too many people sitting at the tables. It was after ten and everybody was grabbing fruit and coffee to carry to their respective floors. She saw a couple of lawyers she knew. A couple of caseworkers who looked tired and disheveled. And knew she was looking at herself.

She finished her food and headed for the ladies' room to freshen up her makeup and smooth down her suit. She added extra lipstick then wiped it off. After twenty-three years as a caseworker, she looked like one. Most days she didn't even think about it, but today, for some reason it rankled.

Her poor mother, rest her soul. “Don't let yourself go, or he'll find somebody younger and prettier.” Hell, she couldn't even get Michael off the recliner. And as far as finding someone younger—Reesa sighed—she wished he would.

She put the lipstick back on. Surely, she didn't mean that. They'd had a good life. They couldn't give up just because Michael was going through a rough patch and she was burned out at her job. Surely there was more to their relationship than that.

A
S SOON AS
she'd signed in, Reesa took her place on the bench outside the courtroom. There were a couple of Formica tables and plastic chairs in the wider section of the hallway, but here it was easier to ignore the complaints, the whispers, the negotiations that took place before ever going into court.

Today the hallway was surprisingly quiet. And the people sitting along the bench were wrapped in their own thoughts or paperwork. She reached in her briefcase and pulled out the
newspaper she'd picked up from her front door step. She usually left it for Michael, but this morning, she'd crammed it into her briefcase—a little act of passive-aggressive retaliation.

The newspaper rattled as she turned the page. Not a soul looked up, not the processor, not any of the line of people waiting to give depositions, file paperwork, and receive more paperwork in return.

Reesa had to admit as she moved from the sports section to the crossword puzzle, she'd rather be sitting here in the slightly fetid, under-air-conditioned hallway of family court than out on the streets inspecting squalid, hot apartments or even in Ilona Cartwright's sterile offices.

But the morning was marching on, and she hoped the judge would get to her before they broke for lunch. She had a stack of paperwork waiting for her at the office—a stack that never seemed to grow any shorter.

She glanced up at the no-cell-phone notice and realized she'd forgotten to call Tanya Aguda about getting Ms. McKinney placed in a subsidized senior living facility. The older woman had stepped up to the plate to report the abuse. Put her life in jeopardy to do it. And she lived in constant fear. Who wouldn't living in that environment?

Reesa would call in a couple of favors if she needed to. See if she could get her something nice, maybe with a little garden.

She keyed a note to self into her phone, folded the newspaper, and placed it on the empty seat beside her. She doubted Michael would want to read it after she had “messed it up.”

She pulled out a yellow legal pad and a manila folder for another case coming up the following week. She read and made notes and glanced at her watch as eleven became noon and her appointment time came and went. Nothing unusual in that.

But if they didn't get to it soon, she'd have to come back for the afternoon. And she'd get further behind.

“Docket number . . .”

At last. Reesa hastily closed the folder. Clutching it to her chest, she grabbed her briefcase, then stood and made her way to the heavy mahogany door. Her knees were stiff, her back hurt; she needed to go to a lady's exercise class, one where they wore sweatpants and oversized T-shirts, not skimpy neon short shorts.

She nodded to the clerk and made her way to the deputy attorney general who was repping the division for the White hearing.

Across the courtroom, the court-appointed attorneys for Mrs. White and “Darrell” looked bored. The Whites were not in the courtroom.

The defendants' attorneys explained that their clients were under indictment for drug possession and child endangerment. They were still in jail, not being able to make bail.

The judge was shown the photos Reesa had taken during the removal. She explained step by step and in detail the timeline of the actual removal. The report of the abuse, the request for emergency removal. The violence of the male resident, finding the comatose baby, the mother's reaction. She followed this with a report of her subsequent follow-up on the boys' health.

“They are all still hospitalized, Your Honor. One may need lifelong continual care.”

The DAG presented a police report of the incident.

The defending lawyers had no objections.

The judge okayed the removal, and Reesa was out on the sidewalk before he adjourned for lunch. The first thing she did was call Tanya Aguda and arrange an appointment for Ms.
McKinney, who had saved the lives of two young boys and a baby and who deserved to live without fear.

S
ARAH WAS GETTING
out of the car when she saw Wyatt striding up the driveway from the street.

“Looking very beautiful in your power suit,” he said and leaned over to give her a quick kiss. “How did it go?”

“It didn't.” Sarah had been driving aimlessly around, wondering why Ilona Cartwright had turned them down without even looking at the case. Worrying about Reesa's reaction and trying to figure out what to do next. Reesa said there was a long time before they had to have a game plan in place. But Sarah didn't like not knowing. She wanted a game plan and wanted to know that it would work. And she wanted it now.

Wyatt smothered her in a hug. He smelled clean and strong and Sarah had to fight the urge to just let down, let someone take care of her for a change. “She just said she couldn't take the case. Then Reesa got very upset. Wyatt, I've never seen her so angry before.”

“I think she's been under a lot of stress lately between Michael's injury and her job.”

“I don't know, it was more than that.” She looked up at him. “How did you know I'd come back?”

“I was going to lunch and saw you drive by.” He flicked her chin. “Which still sounds like a good idea. Come on, we'll splurge and go to TailSpin.”

“I need to get back to work, then I have to pick up Leila at the bus.”

“And you need to eat before you can do any of those things. Humor me.”

Hadn't she just been thinking that she wanted someone to take care of her? “Thanks, I'd like that.”

They walked back to the street, past the clock shop, and toward the center of town. Since it was Monday, some of the stores and restaurants were closed. But most would be open seven days a week until the season was over. The clock shop was a block closer to the ocean than most of the stores, which meant it didn't get as many browsers as the other stores did. That was fine with Sarah. She wasn't dependent on foot traffic. She didn't sell souvenirs or beach paraphernalia. Just clocks and watches. Most of her merchandise was pricey and not something you'd pick up on your way to the beach.

They strolled down the sidewalk. And Sarah thought how comforting it was to live in a small town where everyone at least recognized one another, even if they didn't know you outright. Despite the influx of summer tourists, the locals still waved at each other, always had time to stop and chat.

“This is my family.”

“Who is?”

Sarah looked up at Wyatt, who was frowning curiously at her. “Who is what?”

“You said this is my family.”

“I did?” Sarah's stomach twisted. “I meant all of this. The people here. Since Sam died my friends, my . . .”

Wyatt smiled the way he did when he didn't quite believe something but was giving her the benefit of the doubt.

Please don't ask if I mean you,
she thought and mentally crossed her fingers. She'd already blurted that stupid thing to Reesa about being her friend. She'd sounded like she was in third grade or something. Anything she might say to Wyatt would be
laughable. And she wasn't even sure what she would say.
I love you? I think I love you? I want to love you?

Sam had loved her. And she had loved him. She'd scored big-time with him, but she wasn't sure she could be that lucky twice in this life. And she was afraid to let go of Sam and take a chance on nothing.

The TailSpin was a nouvelle fish restaurant that catered to tourists looking for a dining experience after a day of sand and sun and residents who were looking for a place to dine away from the rackety noise of the beach.

It was a streamlined space, with curved booths along both walls and two rows of tables in the center of the long room. It was light and airy with aqua-wash walls and a minimalist industrial-shore ambiance.

The hostess, a young girl who only had eyes for Wyatt, showed them to a booth. Sarah slid in. Instead of going to the other side, Wyatt slid in beside her. The hostess handed them menus and went back to her post.

“Let's order, then you can tell me about the nonevent this morning.”

Sarah nodded. She'd slipped into a momentary comfort zone, but Wyatt's reminder brought it all back. Her appetite flew south, but he was right, she needed to eat. And, besides, he'd badger her until she did.

As soon as the waiter had taken their order, Wyatt turned to her, “Okay, spill.”

Sarah started at the beginning, filling him in about meeting Reesa, about the sterile office and Ilona Cartwright.

“When Reesa introduced me to her, she turned to me with such a weird expression. I tried to look her in the eye, you know, like equals, confident, but it was like looking into a black hole.
I swear. Just blank, grabbing me and pushing me away at the same time. I don't know. We shook hands, I think. She told us to sit down, that she hadn't had time to look at the information Reesa had sent her. She opened the folder. Then suddenly she closed it and said, ‘I'm sorry, I can't take the case.' Reesa got really upset. And practically shoved me out of the office. And that was it. It doesn't make sense.”

“She didn't explain why?” Wyatt asked and handed her a breadstick.

Unthinking, Sarah broke it in half and took a bite. Swallowed. “No, just that she couldn't help us.”

“What did Reesa say?”

“I don't even know. Something about being too close to the case because she was my friend, and I freaked and begged her not to stop being my friend.” She dropped the breadstick halves onto her plate. “Like, that was the stupidest thing I could have thought of, like it was even important when Leila's future is at stake.”

Wyatt laughed and gave her a quick hug. “Of course it's important. You like to compartmentalize . . . and it may work with clock parts, but life is a lot messier and it doesn't like being put nicely away. Get used to it, love. You'll be a lot happier when you do.”

“I am happy,” Sarah protested as the waiter placed a bowl of mussels in red sauce between them. “At least I will be when this is all completed.” She mentally crossed her fingers. “If it works out right.”

“It will or it won't. We'll all do our best. Now let's worry about right now and eat.” He'd reached for a mussel just like it was any ordinary day. Like he was oblivious or clueless. But he was none of those.

Fix the now.
And right now she was hungry.

“Reesa said the lawyer's pro bono work might be filled for the month,” Sarah said when they were halfway through the bowl of mussels. “But I think she was being sarcastic. I told Reesa I could pay. But she said I wouldn't have enough for Ms. Cartwright's fees.”

“There are other lawyers. Are you sure you even need a different lawyer?”

Sarah shrugged. “I didn't think so. I thought it was just a matter of the paperwork working its way through the system. Surprise on me. I don't want to be caught unprepared again.”

She leaned back while the waiter replaced the mussels with two rectangular plates of broiled flounder and pilaf with a ratatouille condiment.

“If I don't have enough money on hand, I'll have to borrow it.” She dropped the fork she'd just picked up. “I don't mean borrow it from anyone or anything like that. I meant take a second mortgage on the house or sell it outright.”

“And then where would you live?” He picked up her fork and wiggled it at her, before handing it back.

“Or I could sell the store.”

“And become one of the idle rich?”

She speared a piece of flaky fish. “In my dreams.”

Wyatt cut a piece of fish, piled pilaf on the back of the fork English style, slid it into his mouth, and chewed, savoring the taste. “Why don't you just hold off on anything extreme until we know how serious Carmen really is.”