Like Dandelion Dust (15 page)

“Yes.” His lips turned up just a little. “Thanks, Wendy. You’re so good for me.”

As soon as he was gone, the theater people called. “Have your husband contact us, please. He got the job.”

Wendy kept her excitement down until she hung up. Then she ran out the door and down the sidewalk until she caught up with Rip. “You did it!” She took him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“I did?” His face lit up.

“Yes!” She squealed. Rip was right, things were all going their way.

Rip gave a victory shout. He picked her up and swung her around, the way he did when he was his happiest. And in that moment, Wendy knew she had nothing to worry about. Yes, it would be tough for the Florida couple to lose Joey, but they would be okay. The judge wouldn’t have ruled for the change in custody if he was worried about them, right? And now that Rip had a job, he wouldn’t be nearly so tense. They’d survived even the home study.

Now all they had to do was wait for Joey.

Chapter Eleven

J
ack Campbell stayed in the slow lane all the way home from Miami. He was in no hurry to face Molly, to tell her that even the most high-powered attorney in all of Florida had nothing to offer them.

He wouldn’t give up, of course. There had to be other attorneys, someone willing to take the case. But for now the news was horrible. It was shocking, the emergency conversation he’d had with the attorney completely hopeless.

“If the papers were forged, it’s an open-and-shut case.” The man was dressed to the nines, sitting behind an impressive desk in a corner office overlooking the city and the harbor beyond. At least he was kind. “Look, I cleared my calendar to meet with you. Your lawyer’s a very good friend of mine.” He slid his chair back and stretched out his legs. “If there was anything I could do to help you, I’d be on it.”

Jack felt like a man slipping into quicksand. “Maybe I’m not making the facts clear.” He sat on the edge of the chair, desperate to change the attorney’s mind. “We were given signed and sealed adoption papers almost five years ago. The social worker promised us the birth parents could never come back looking for Joey.” His voice had grown loud, and he lowered it again. “It was a closed adoption.” He gripped the arms of the chair. “This was never supposed to happen.”

The attorney stood and gazed out the window. “I realize that, Mr. Campbell.” He turned around and faced Jack. “But those statements were made under the assumption that the documents were accurate, that the signatures truly belonged to the people who were supposed to sign them.”

“Okay, so how often does something like this happen? What protection do adoptive parents really have?”

“Most departments are requiring notarized signatures now.” He frowned. “That wasn’t the case when your adoption was being handled.”

Jack was stunned. “So you’re saying that would’ve averted the problem? If we would’ve insisted on a notarized signature, even though the department didn’t require it?”

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, but a shadow fell over the attorney’s face. “The way I understand it, the birth father in this case wouldn’t have signed the papers, Mr. Campbell. He had no idea his wife had given birth. So, yes, it would’ve solved the problem to ask for a notarization.” He sat back down and leveled his gaze at Jack. “But you never would’ve gotten Joey in the first place.”

They went round and round the situation for half an hour before the attorney looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, Mr. Campbell. I really wish there was something I could do to help you.” He sighed. “Try to look at it from the position of the birth father. He gets out of jail and finds out his wife had a baby and gave it up for adoption without anyone telling him.” The attorney pursed his lips. “Wouldn’t you feel outraged?”

Jack didn’t want to consider such a thing. He stood, shook the attorney’s hand, and thanked him for his time. Somehow he made it down the elevator, out of the building, and back to his car, though he had no memory of any of it. Now he was on the freeway trying to imagine what he was going to tell Molly.

Traffic was heavy, but it was moving. He’d be home far too soon, and then what? He’d promised her he would take care of the situation, that no one would take their son from him. The idea was ludicrous. Only now, it wasn’t so crazy after all. If the top family attorney in the state couldn’t think of a single legal reason to fight the Ohio judge’s order, then who would help them?

The air in the car was stuffy, and he couldn’t grab a full breath. He hit a button and the passenger-side window lowered halfway. Warm air rushed at him, but even so he couldn’t fully inhale. Was it really going to happen? In two weeks would they watch Joey leave for a visit to Ohio? And a few months after that, would he really be taken from their lives forever? Their only son?

His throat felt thick, and wetness clouded his eyes. Joey was theirs. He didn’t belong with a couple in Ohio, with a father who just got of prison for domestic violence. Even a single visit could hurt Joey, right? Jack blew the air from his lungs and tried again for a full breath. He worked the muscles in his jaw. No one was taking Joey from them, no one. The courts might be crazy, the social workers and attorneys might be nuts, but at least he and Molly still had their common sense.

Joey was their son. Period.

He tightened his hold on the steering wheel, and as he did, a billboard on the side of the road caught his attention. “Go International in Less Than an Hour! Roundtrips to Haiti for Under $200!”

It was an American Airlines ad, and for a minute Jack forgot he was even on the freeway. His foot eased up off the gas, and behind him the driver of an eighteen-wheeler laid on the horn. Jack jerked back into motion and pressed hard on the pedal. International in less than an hour?

The wheels in his head began to turn. What if no one would listen to them? What if no attorney took the case? Were they supposed to help Joey pack his bag and then stand by and watch him disappear from their lives? Would they be good parents if they let Joey be placed in a home with a dangerous man?

A fierce determination welled up in Jack like a building tidal wave. He’d try a few more attorneys, of course. But if they couldn’t do anything to help him, then he and Molly would have no choice. They could take Joey and leave the country, start a new life somewhere else. Maybe not Haiti, but on some island with miles of empty beach and no social services departments.

They could live off of the equity in their house and rental homes for several years, couldn’t they? It would be only a matter of disconnecting from society and finding a way out of the country. What did they have that mattered more than Joey? His job? Their house? The friends they’d made? Family? No, nothing was worth losing their son.

As he got closer to home, the idea seemed more realistic. It could be done, couldn’t it? They could get fake passports and make their way out of the country. Find a place to hide for a time, and then take Joey to Europe. They could continue living under their new identities, maybe in Sweden or Germany, send Joey to a private school, and no one would be the wiser. By then people would’ve stopped looking for them, maybe even assumed they’d died. Fleeing the country could work, couldn’t it? He settled back into his seat and focused on the road ahead. If that’s what it took to stop the courts from taking Joey, he would gladly move to the moon. Satisfaction welled up inside him. No one was going to paint him and his family into a corner. He would protect Joey with his life, whatever that meant.

Now it was just a matter of convincing Molly.

The kids had grown restless after the movie and naps, and now Molly and Beth were playing with them on Fuller Park’s jungle gym. Jack had called, so Molly wasn’t surprised when she saw him pull into the parking lot, get out of his car, and walk toward them. His steps were determined. She climbed down the ladder and shaded her eyes. Yes, it was him. And he was certainly upbeat, wasn’t he?

“Hey, Beth. . . . Jack’s here.”

Beth climbed down and stood next to her. “He looks okay.”

“That’s what I thought.” She grabbed onto the metal structure. “It must be good news.”

“See?” Beth gave her a quick hug. “That’s what happens when you pray. God’s will gets accomplished.”

“God’s will . . .” It was an idea Molly hadn’t thought much about. “You think He has a way He wants this to go, is that it? His will?”

“Definitely.” The boys were laughing, giggling as they slid down the slide and rounded the corner. Beth leaned back against the ladder. “When you pray, God doesn’t always answer with a yes. But you always get His will.” She gave Molly a half-smile. “I can’t imagine God’s will is for Joey to be anywhere else but in your arms.”

Molly felt her smile warm all the way to the most terrified places in her heart. “Thanks, Beth.”

Joey spotted Jack. “Daddy!” He ran across the field of dandelions, stirring up clouds of seeds. “Daddy, you’re here!”

“Mommy?” Jonah tugged on Beth’s sleeve. “Where’s our daddy?”

“He’s at work, honey.”

Molly squinted, taking in the sight of her husband and son. Jack swung Joey up into his arms and held him close. Longer than usual. When he eased him back down to the grass, the two held hands and kept walking closer.

Beth was watching. She grinned at Jonah. “Tell you what . . . Let’s go get the big kids and get some ice cream.”

“But, Mom”—Jonah whined her name—“I like playing with Joey’s daddy. He’s a good pirate.”

“Well, today I think Joey’s mommy and daddy need to talk.” She pointed to the nearby swings. “Go get your sister and brothers.”

Molly flashed Beth a silent thank-you.

“Ah, really, Mom?” Jonah bounced a little.

“That’s right.” Beth patted Jonah on the shoulder. “No pirates today.”

“Ah, okay.” Jonah kicked at the dirt. But after a few seconds his face brightened. “Can we have chocolate sprinkles?”

“Of course.” Beth took Jonah to the bench and gathered their things. “What’s an ice cream cone without chocolate sprinkles?”

“Can George Brett have some, too?”

“No . . . ice cream isn’t good for doggies.” Beth watched Jonah run for his siblings. When they were all gathered, Beth waved, and the group started toward the car. She held her hand to her ear. “Call me.”

“I will.” Molly turned her attention to Jack and Joey. They were twenty feet away, and she could make out Jack’s expression better now. Maybe it wasn’t exactly upbeat. But it wasn’t defeated, either. She braced herself for whatever was about to come.

Beth and the kids waved to Jack and Joey as they passed on their way toward the parking lot. They stopped for a few seconds and then continued in opposite directions. Molly met Jack and Joey in a patch of dandelions. Jack dropped to Joey’s level and kissed their son on the cheek. “I have an idea.”

“Cops and robbers?”

“No.” Jack worked his jaw, his eyes never leaving Joey’s. “Not cops and robbers. Not today. Mommy and I have to talk.” He pointed to the swings. “How about you pretend the swings are a great big airplane and you’re the pilot?”

“The chief pilot?” Joey’s eyes were wide and innocent, all of life as simple as a game of make-believe.

Jack smiled. But Molly could see that his eyes looked serious, almost frightened. “That’s right, sport. The chief pilot.” He stood up. “Show me how well you can fly that plane.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Joey stood straight at attention and gave Jack a crooked salute. He ran toward the swings. “Just watch me fly!”

Jack still hadn’t said anything to her, hadn’t even acknowledged her. He stood stone-still, watching Joey climb onto the swing and start to pump his legs. Then he jolted into action. “Wait . . . I’ll give you a push.” Still in his dress shoes and slacks, Jack jogged through the few yards of weeds and grass, onto the sand, and to the place behind Joey’s swing. He gave their son a couple strong pushes. “Now you’re flying, okay, sport?”

Joey beamed. “Thanks, Dad. The skies are clear up here. You should fly with me.”

“Maybe later.” Jack looked at Molly, and only then did his smile fade. “Mommy and I will watch from the bench.”

Molly realized she hadn’t moved since she first saw him kiss Joey’s cheek. Now her legs carried her to the bench, but she had the strangest sense that her body wasn’t actually attached. That whatever was about to take place wasn’t even happening to her, but to someone else. Someone in a movie scene, maybe, or a nightmare.

Jack sat down on the bench first, and she took the spot beside him. If she didn’t ask him, they might never have to talk about it. The awful “it.” They could sit here watching Joey fly his imaginary plane and bask in the Florida sunshine without ever giving a thought to something as insane as losing him.

Next to her, she felt Jack shift. He spoke without ever taking his eyes off Joey. “I met with the attorney.”

“In Miami?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes and turned to face her. “I waited an hour to see him. It was a short meeting.”

A short meeting? What did that mean? How was she supposed to read that? She felt sick to her stomach. “Jack, don’t do this.” Her words were breathy. “What’s the bottom line?”

He drew a long breath and released it slowly. He faced Joey again. “There’s nothing the guy can do. If the birth father’s name was forged, the law is clear-cut. The judge has to assume that the birth father never intended to give his child up for adoption.” He slid his hands into his pockets and stretched out his legs. “The birth father, in this case, becomes the victim, and the law works entirely on his behalf.”

Molly wanted to scream or cover her ears, but neither action seemed appropriate. They were at a public park, after all. Two moms with strollers were heading toward another bench a dozen yards away. Anyway, it wasn’t possible—the words Jack had just spoken couldn’t be true. So she did the only thing she could do. She released a single bitter laugh. “I can’t believe this.”

“Me, neither.” Jack took hold of her hand. “I asked him to take the case anyway. We need someone fighting for us.”

“What did he say?” The feel of Jack’s fingers between hers lent some sense of normalcy to the moment, as if maybe Jack had gotten off work an hour early and here they were, enjoying a late afternoon with their son. Rather than talking about how quickly they might lose him. She looked at Jack. “He’ll do it, right?”