Letting Go (Healing Hearts) (4 page)

The tips and beauty secrets that had given her energy and motivation in the past now felt like a noose around her neck. She picked up the phone and canceled each subscription, amazed by the freedom she suddenly felt. She scanned the living room for other offensive items, for things that contributed to her misery.

I knew you’d look great in that, sweetheart. Come here.

She marched into her bedroom and pulled open the top drawer of her dresser. Yanking out several lacy, slinky, revealing garments, she threw each one on the floor. She refused to shop at those specialty stores in the mall again.

She choked when she spied her first real gift from Randy. She lifted her favorite cream-colored silk nightgown from the drawer. Burying her face in the satiny material, she reflected on their first night together in her condo. He had been so loving and tender.

Oh, Randy . . . why did you have to be married?

Having those items in her bedroom dresser only reminded her of the nights she’d spent with him in her home, nearly worshipping him. Her grief turned to anger. She refused to pine away for their lost relationship. She could never forgive him. Somehow she had to kill her feelings and find the strength to move on with her life.

She emptied the drawer, carried the lingerie into the kitchen, and with her eyes closed stuffed them into the trash bin. But her newfound sense of empowerment was no match for the thought that she’d never be able to bear children or that she might even die. White spots danced in her vision, converging on each other.

Twenty-nine seemed so young. Who’d want her now?

She sank into the thick cushions of her couch and laid her head on her arms. The anticipation of her upcoming surgery constricted her lungs. She didn’t know if she could go through with it, especially not alone. She didn’t know a single person who would visit her because they cared. Maybe some people from the office would stop by out of duty, but not because they really wanted to know how she was doing.

Who wanted to marry a woman who could never bear a child? Who would support her and take care of her while she recovered? What about her advocacy cases? And fighting for the children she desperately wanted to protect, the precious children who needed her?

In the midst of her internal clamor, a self-destructive urge clawed at her. The thoughts crowding her mind blended in an eerie, enticing tone.

You don’t have to suffer . . . Go ahead. Take those pain pills in your medicine cabinet. Spare yourself needless suffering.

As she listened to the tormenting thoughts, the desire to give in to them pulled at her. She shuddered. Part of her wanted to fight, to assault the urge to take the easy way out. Yet the worn out, weak woman she’d suddenly become wanted to end it all.

She fell from the couch to her knees. With tears streaming down her face, she cried a scream of agonized rage. “I can’t believe this is my life!”

Crumpling on the floor, she curled into a ball. “Why me, God? Why do you hate me?”

The pills. Take them. You’ll fall asleep. It’ll be so peaceful.

She stopped wailing and scrubbed the tears from her face.

Peace. You’re tired of looking for love. You’ll never find it. What your heart longs for doesn’t exist. Go ahead. Just do it.

Without considering the consequences, she rose and went into the bathroom. Before opening the medicine cabinet, she leaned against the wall and peered at her reflection. Eyes red-rimmed and swollen stared back, bereft of hope. Who was the strange woman in the mirror? She didn’t care anymore.

With trembling hands, Diane grabbed a bottle of Valium. She stared at the label. The words blurred as her eyes flooded with more tears. Endless tears. She hurt so much.

With shoulders shaking, she twisted the lid off the bottle, then filled a glass with water. She tossed the pills into her mouth, dumping many of them on the floor in the process. Tipping her head back, she washed them down, empting the glass.

She stood for a moment, waiting. A strange feeling came over her. Her chest tightened as she realized the severity of what she’d done.

When had her life gotten so out of control? Clutching her stomach, she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.

“Oh, God, help me!”

Chapter 4

 
D
ave paced across the carpet in his bare feet. His hands stuffed in his jean pockets, he stopped in front of the large, flat-screen television that hung on the wall. Ignoring his son’s caseworker, he stared at the picture, trying to calm down, but failing.

Rolling his head to work the kinks out of his neck, he finally bent down and grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned off the news. His life held enough drama.

Marching back across the room, he stopped abruptly in front of Nancy, his eyes narrowed. “How did the State screw up again? Are the clerks in the attorney general’s office overloaded, or just idiots?”

Nancy stared back at him, eyes wide.

Rubbing his face, Dave inhaled deeply and sat on the couch. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I know it’s not your fault.”

She patted his knee. “I forgive you.”

“It’s just that . . . I’m in shock.”

“I’d be upset too if I were you. Stuff like this happens too often, I’m afraid. I think mistakes like this actually burn out caseworkers more than the actual job does. But that’s not all. Um . . . ” She cringed as if she knew he’d be ticked. “They’ve located Joey’s birth mother.”

He jumped off the couch and stalked across the room, his arms flailing. “No! This can’t be happening! I won’t let it.”

Stopping in front of her, he stuck his finger in her face and growled through clenched teeth, “If the state hadn’t missed the deadline again for publishing his mother’s name in the paper, my little boy would be free for adoption right now.”

Nancy remained mute. She knew he was right. He could see it in her eyes.

He scowled at her. “Why can’t anyone see that?”

“Um, well . . . that’s technically true. But now that Joey’s birth mother has been located, Child Protective Services has to give her due process, regardless of what we may think is right.”

“But why can’t they follow through as planned? So you found her. So what?”

“We can’t terminate her parental rights on charges of abandonment until we publish her name in the paper and she fails to come forward to claim her son. Since it wasn’t done within the proper timeframe, it matters a lot. And unfortunately, this time we found her.”

His throat constricted, and he groaned. “But it’s not Joey’s fault. Why punish him for someone else’s mistake?”

She motioned at him to sit. He obeyed.

“I’m sorry I yelled in your face again. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You’re not the one I’m mad at. It’s the system. The system failed my son!”

“I know.” She hesitated. “There’s more.”

He moaned. “No. Don’t tell me it gets worse. Please . . . ”

She stared at the large case file on her lap. “I’m sorry, but it does. His mother claimed she entered a drug treatment program last year and was only allowed one contact upon admission. According to the notes in the case record, she left a message with the former case manager regarding her son. Unfortunately, the call occurred before Joey was six months old.”

“I don’t get it. What does a stupid phone call have to do with anything?”

“Six months is the cutoff. Any contact the parent makes with the state before the child is six months of age completely eliminates abandonment as legal grounds for pursuing termination of parental rights.”

Dave stared at her, unable to breathe. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

She nodded, then stared at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked. “This is exactly what I was afraid of when you placed Joey with us.”

“I wish I could say situations like this are very rare, but that wouldn’t be honest. Mistakes happen. Parents unexpectedly show up. It’s the risk you take when you accept a child who is not yet legally free for adoption.”

“Yeah, but one stupid phone message from his birth mother, and she still has a chance to get him back?” Dave snorted. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“I don’t know what to tell you. The problem lies in the way the law is written.”

He frowned and scratched his head. “Do you have any other proof backing up her claim—I mean, other than case notes?”

“Her counselor at the drug treatment center verified her statement about the phone restriction. She couldn’t make any more phone calls. It was against the rules.”

“And she didn’t complain or try to fight it?”

“Apparently not. But now CPS must work to reunite Joey with his birth mother since she has requested custody.”

The look of pity on her face caused Dave’s breath to shorten. He fought back tears as he sputtered, “They have to?”

“Yes. But remember, just because Mom wants to parent doesn’t mean she’ll win her case in court. But we have to give her a chance.”

Dave’s mouth pulled tight. “No. We don’t.”

“If she loses, it makes his adoption more secure, so it’s in Joey’s best interest.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” Dave scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “His mother has finally been located—and in jail of all places—and now you’re just supposed to drop everything regarding the adoption? That doesn’t make sense. How can she parent her son when she’s in jail?”

Nancy cleared her throat. “She gets out next month.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, great.”

“I know it’s awful.”

“That still doesn’t tell me how she’ll care for him. Does she have family that can help?”

“No. She has no one. Because of her unusual circumstances, the same drug treatment program has guaranteed her a spot in one of their halfway houses. The facility she’ll be living in is a home set up specifically for recovering mothers with children.”

The more Dave thought about all of the ways contact with the birth mother could harm Joey, the more terror gripped his heart. “What about visits? Please tell me Joey won’t have to go to the jail to have contact with his mother.”

“Yes, there’ll be visits. But his mother agreed to wait until she goes to the halfway house. She said she doesn’t want her son’s first memory of her to be associated with the jail.”

“How noble to think of him for one second.”

“I know this is hard, but try to be supportive so the visits will go easier for Joey. You can’t change anything by being negative and hostile. You’ll just upset him.”

Dave grimaced. “I know.”

“Since the name on the birth certificate is Little J, you need to be prepared for her to start calling him by a different name.”

“Just what he needs,” he groaned, “more confusion. It’s bad enough he doesn’t understand what happened to his Momma Merilee. Now he’ll have a split personality.”

“What do you suppose the J stands for?”

Dave exhaled. “I have no idea. Merilee and I figured Joey would work if we never found out his real name.”

“Why Joey?”

Dave offered a sheepish grin. “You’ll think it’s corny, but the name reminded my wife of a baby kangaroo. She had a thing for baby animals, and kangaroos in particular. We went to Australia for our honeymoon, and she loved the baby kangaroos so much she . . . ”

“What?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “She wanted to bring one home with us. I know it’s strange, but that’s why we picked that name. Merilee wanted a baby so much . . . I guess we’ll need to make sure someone asks his birth mother that question.”

“With any luck, it’ll be Joseph, right?”

“Yeah. Hey, what do you know about his father? Where is he?”

Nancy sighed. “Well, that’s good news, at least. The termination of John Doe’s parental rights stands because the birth mother said she doesn’t know who Joey’s real father is.”

Dave rubbed his chin. “How can she not know? Wouldn’t the J stand for his father’s name?” He furrowed his brows, then his eyes widened. “Is she a—?”

Nancy looked up, expressionless.

“Please, tell me I’m wrong.”

Her silence implied enough. Joey’s mother was not only an addict, but she also worked as a prostitute. Probably for drug money. His son’s birth father could be a senator or a serial killer for all anyone knew.

Dave stiffened at the thought. He should fight this. What if Joey’s birth mother had AIDS?

Trust Me.

Dave ignored the inner voice and scowled, his attitude souring again. “What kind of mother names her child Little J? Doesn’t the way she lives count for anything? Can the court seriously consider returning a child to the home of a prostitute and recovering addict?”

She shrugged. “All I can say is that I’m sorry things got so out of hand. I know it’s unfair. I guess I better go now.”

She straightened her skirt and started to rise just as Joey toddled into the room with sleepy eyes and a blanket tucked under his arm. She smiled and eased back into the chair.

“Hi, Joey.”

Joey smiled, turned to Dave and mumbled, “Daddy,” with his thumb still in his mouth.

Dave’s heart leaped with joy at the sound, his anger dissipating at the sight of his son. He would never tire of hearing Joey garble the word
Daddy
around his pudgy little thumb.

Dave opened his arms and Joey fell into them. “I sure love you, bud.”

He rubbed Joey’s head and kissed his hair. Lifting Joey’s shirt, he blew a raspberry on his tummy. An eruption of giggles exploded from the little boy, warming Dave’s heart and chilling it at the same time.

Please, God. Don’t let me lose him. I need him, Lord. He’s all I have left. I’ll do anything. I’ll hire a lawyer if I have to. I can’t give up. I can’t give my son up.

“There’s one more thing, Dave. I was going to tell you later, but—”

His arms formed a protective embrace around Joey. “But?”

“I’m afraid my last day will be at the end of this month, so you’ll be getting another case manager soon. My husband’s company transferred him as part of his promotion package. Try to make the best of this situation, and you’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll be just a matter of time before his mother relapses, then you’ll be home free.”

Stunned, Dave took a deep breath. “I really hate to see you go, Nancy.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. Reaching over, he rested his hand on hers.

“Thanks for all the hard work you’ve done to help get Joey placed with me and for seeing me through that tough time when Merilee died. I don’t know how I would have made it through without your faith in me and in our little family.”

“You’re welcome. I really do believe you are meant to be together. Remember when I brought him to meet you when he was eight months old? I’ll never forget how he smiled at you, touched your face, and laid his head on your shoulder. I’ve never seen a child act that way before. It’s like he knew you were going to be his daddy.” Nancy chucked Joey under the chin.

“Yeah, it still gets to me when I think about it.” He pulled Joey onto his lap. “Give Miss Nancy a hug. She won’t be coming to see us anymore.”

Joey slid from Dave’s lap and opened his arms. Nancy pulled him close.

“We look so much alike no one would suspect he wasn’t my natural child. I think that’s got to be good for him—you know, to look just like his dad.”

Nancy released Joey from her embrace. “I know what you mean. I was adopted, and it certainly made my life easier because I looked like my mom.” She sighed. “Kids can be mean.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m so glad Joey won’t ever have to go to daycare. The money from Merilee’s insurance policy helped me pay off the mortgage so I don’t have to work so many hours, though I'd rather have my wife than no debt. At the most Joey will have to stay at a friend’s overnight if I have to go on a business trip. I thank God every day for giving me a career where I can do most of my work out of my home.”

“That is pretty unusual for a dad to be home most of the time and still support a family.”

“Yeah, not many daddies get to do that.” He grinned at Joey and ruffled his hair.

“You’re certainly more dedicated than most daddies, that’s for sure.”

An awkward silence lingered.

Dave sobered and looked up. “Joey’s the only chance I’ll have to be a father.”

Nancy looked away, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, I better get going. I have tons of paperwork to do before the end of the month.” She rose to leave. “I’ll make a special note in the file for the next case manager so she can read about the situation with Joey’s mother and the visits, okay? Dave, I wish you the best.”

As soon as Nancy left, Dave prayed for wisdom, then called his mother. With tears clogging his throat, he said as soon as she answered the phone, “Mom. You’re not going to believe this.”