Cassie’s brother-in-law grimaced as he pushed himself off the couch and handed her the book-sized gift. “Sorry,” he said under his breath.
“You don’t suppose this is a hammer to put me out of my misery?” Cassie whispered back, grinning as she took the present from his hands. The close-up of a woman in an overwhelming amount of pink winked on the cover titled: The Magic of Singleness: Live Your Best Life Now.
“Wow. Seems like this’ll be the year of reading for me. Thank you, Mom.” Cassie smiled politely to her mother, who was now reaching on top of the ceiling fan with her reacher. She set the book on top of the foot-and-a-half-high stack. At this point, she had enough titles to cover a shelf at Barnes & Nobles. Raising Them Alone. Living a Month on One Hundred Dollars. Crockpot Cooking for Families.
Waving hands caught her attention, and she looked above the crowd to see her uncle and father. They stood halfway down the stairs. Sweat matted her uncle’s salt-and-pepper hair. Her father lifted the hem of his red cardigan and wiped his face. Both grinned with triumph. Her dad gave her a thumbs-up.
It was time. The present she’d been waiting to give all morning.
Cassie moved around the wasteland of presents and across the room to put her hands on the girls’ shoulders. “Girls, I think we found one more present for you upstairs.”
Kennedy dropped the doll in her hands like a hot potato. Together, the girls bounded up the stairs behind Cassie.
A slow procession up the stairs began, and when Cassie looked over her shoulder, she saw the family following behind. She could see the excitement on their faces. Her sister, one arm gripping the handrail, the other beneath her protruding, eight-month pregnant belly, beamed as she carefully dodged the hem of her long, striped skirt and mounted the stairs. Bree, squeezing the life out of Star’s arm as she nudged her onto the top floor. Her mother, clipping off dust balls and stray lint with her reacher as she followed them up each step.
But as much as everyone had gathered together this morning acting as if it was like any other day, each and every one of them was acutely aware that it wasn’t. The gathering place was new. The monkey bread Cassie and the girls had clumsily prepared replaced over twenty years of her father’s eggs Benedict. It felt like at any given time someone’s phone was upraised, snapping pictures. Seemed everyone wanted to know and remember this Christmas day as special, as the first of many.
Cassie’s uncle pushed the door open, and Deidre and Kennedy ran beneath his arm.
Star stopped inside the door, and Cassie stood beside her. “I figured if you girls insisted on sleeping together, I might as well get something big enough for you all.”
Star ran her fingers down the king-sized black-and-white comforter replicating a map of New York. She picked up the green pillow declaring in cursive “morning sunshine” and set it back next to the mustard-green one with a winking face. Photo frames lined the bookcase headboard, including the one of them standing arms-over-shoulders with the girls and surprise Santa at Girls Haven.
“You like it? We can still trade the comforter out for something different. I tried to think like you, but I may have missed it altogether.”
Faces framed the door as everyone tried to get a good view of the room’s makeover.
“Miss C—Cassie—I love it.” Star hugged her tightly.
When Star started taking pictures and texting furiously, and the girls were bouncing on the bed, Bree stepped beside Cassie and whispered, “Now, I’m no parent, but I think that’s the twenty-first-century way of knowing if something was a hit.”
Deidre ran around to the other side of the bed, opened the waist-high, old-fashioned Coca-Cola fridge. All the snacks Cassie had been supplying before were set in neat rows inside.
Suddenly her nephew was tugging on her sister’s skirt, the new skateboard forgotten as he begged for a fridge of his own.
The moment was perfect.
“Honey?”
Cassie heard people’s voices drop off as she turned and saw her mother parting the doorway crowd. She held the reacher limp at her side.
She took a step forward, looking at no one but Cassie.
“Honey, a woman is here to see you.”
It was her mother’s eyes that frightened her.
“Who?”
“A woman from DCS. She says her name is Rachel.”
As if on impulse, Cassie picked up Kennedy. Cassie’s tone lifted. “Thanks. I’ll just . . . be a minute.”
Her mother reached her hands out for Kennedy, but as if her instincts were on high alert as well, Kennedy’s knees pressed tightly into Cassie’s ribs.
Cassie’s legs numbly took her down the stairs, chest pounding so hard her heart threatened to fall right out and tumble down. She shouldn’t expect the worst. And yet, every detail in her surroundings right now was an immediate reminder of what today was for: celebrating Christmas. Family was welcome today. Yards of crinkled wrapping paper and the scent of cinnamon cloves from homemade eggnog—these were welcome. Case workers making house calls were not.
Rachel’s legs came into view first, a parka still hanging loosely over her as she stood beside the piles of visitors’ shoes. In the last seconds before she saw Rachel’s face, Cassie wanted to be naïve, wanted to coax her fretful mind to believe there was nothing to worry about. But instead she found herself pressing her cheek against the cornrow braids of the child in her arms. Found herself kissing the top of Kennedy’s head.
She would know when she saw Rachel’s face what this meant.
Her knees weakened and she gripped the railing. She didn’t think she had the heart to find out.
But there, she took one more step. And knew.
Rachel’s voice came low as she fidgeted with her keys. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I’ve been trying to call all morning.”
Cassie felt like she couldn’t breathe. Slowly, she started to lower Kennedy to the ground. Kennedy only gripped tighter, however, the tulle of her velvety red dress covering both of Cassie’s arms.
Her mouth felt numb, her throat numb, as though it belonged to somebody else. “Sure. Thanks for coming by. What’s going on?”
An ocean of sympathy lay in Rachel’s eyes. “I checked with all the relatives first. In our initial call he told me he couldn’t take them on—”
“Who?”
“Their uncle.” She wrapped the parka tighter around her chest. “Their uncle came back to claim the girls. Seems he had a conversation with their mother and decided. He’s taking immediate custody.”
“He can’t do that!”
Though Cassie felt every word, it was Star who spoke, who was now tripping down the stairs two and three at a time. She looked down at Cassie. “I’m fourteen, right? I can stay here if I want. I’m fourteen.”
Rachel took a breath, turning her eyes on Star. “Yes, legally you have the right to stay. But the younger ones . . .”
Cassie held Kennedy tighter, disbelief in her voice. “You would separate them?”
“No. The last thing DCS wants is sibling separation. But if Star chooses to stay here, with you . . .” She hesitated.
Star’s eyes bulged. “I don’t want to be separated from them. I choose here. We all want to stay together here.”
“Sweetie, he is your uncle, your mother’s brother—”
“So?” Star’s voice cracked. “Miss C is a hundred times the family he’s ever been. We don’t even know him! We haven’t ever even met him!”
“What you must remember is that he cares about your well-being—”
“If that were true, where has he been all my life?” Star’s voice was cracking as it rose higher and higher, her movements becoming jerky and sporadic. “Tell them, Miss C! Tell them you want to keep us!”
“I know she does, Star,” Rachel said. “I know it. And I feel for you both. But legally, she has no right—”
Star flung her finger toward the upstairs. “Just now she got us a new bed! We’re already settled here. You’ll just have to te
ll him it’s too late. Come see!”
But as Star tried to coerce Rachel up the stairs to her bedroom, all Cassie could hear was the pulse in her eardrums. Vision started to blur, her body reminding her at random intervals to breathe. She couldn’t trust her arms to hold Kennedy, and yet she couldn’t manage to let her go. She sank onto the steps, Kennedy’s dress fanning around them.
Her mind was groggy, fighting and yet unable to keep up. She’d seen this situation before, watched the same thing happen to foster girls at the Haven. She’d known her heart could take a beating, that it was just the way the story played out sometimes. But this was different. Yesterday she’d been close enough in the system to be kin. She had kept her hopes tethered tightly while Rachel checked around for relatives, while she figured out the situation with Star’s mother. Only when Rachel had called, giving her the news of the termination of rights, did she start to even let her imagination go.
“Where is he?” Waves of nausea threatened as Cassie spoke.
Rachel took a heavy breath. “Spartanburg, South Carolina.”
“This is ridiculous.” Vaguely she heard her mother push around people and down the stairs, felt her hand squeezing against her shoulder. The words spat from her mother’s lips with a tone as close to cussing as she had ever heard. “My daughter hasn’t once wavered in her decision to protect and care for these youths. From moment one. If some man these girls don’t even know can change his mind like flipping pancakes, you can just tell him he missed the boat. These girls deserve more than a wishy-washy—”
“Mom, please.”
Awareness of Kennedy’s trembling body alerted Cassie to speak up, gave her strength to stand. Kennedy, Deidre, and Star didn’t need more drama to remember, another scene of raised, chaotic voices to replay from their childhood. Raising her voice, showing her weakness, wouldn’t help.
Cassie tried to speak calmly. “What about their schools? I know the state recognizes the value in keeping children in the same community, with as many familiar faces as possible. Surely they would agree that moving states isn’t in the best interest of the children.”
“I know. Moving states isn’t ideal, but it’s best, always, to stick with family.”
Cassie continued, undeterred. “What about Star’s attendance at the Haven? The state itself funds the program. I have the statistics regarding the success rate of those who stay loyal through graduation.”
Rachel nodded through it all, was still nodding when she finished. The tenderness in her voice, though she hadn’t moved a muscle off the welcome mat, was clear. “I know, Cassie. Believe me. If there was any chance I could work around these regulations, I would. But as far as the facts go, you’ve provided emergency shelter for a number of weeks. Not months. Not years. This relative is stepping up in a comparatively short amount of time, stating he wants to take charge of his nieces. His background check clears. He and his wife have the appropriate housing and funds required to take on three children. This . . . as much as it pains me to say right now, is truly in their best interest.” She glanced at the other children on the stairs. “Wouldn’t you fight for the right to parent your siblings’ children if something were to happen to them? Wouldn’t you jump on a plane for your nieces if you could?”
Yes, but where was he three weeks ago? Cassie stopped herself from repeating the fruitless words.
Not a foot moved.
Not a voice spoke, except good ol’ Frank Sinatra.
She closed her eyes, letting herself embrace every selfish thought one moment more. When she opened them again, dimly, as through a heavy rain, she tried to see things from the other side. He was their uncle. And Rachel was dead on: Cassie would fight tooth and nail to get her nephews and nieces back if the state tried to give them to a stranger.
She’d also heard the fact tagged on in Rachel’s final plea—that the kids would be getting an uncle and an aunt. A father and a mother figure. Two people to split their duties and twice the amount of love to go around. Spartanburg was only a two-and-a-half-hour drive. If she played her cards right and didn’t resist, maybe she could get on good enough terms to visit sometimes . . .
Still, she felt sick.
Cassie smoothed down Kennedy’s dress. Kissed her temple. She didn’t trust her voice as she spoke. “I suppose we ought to pack.”
A scream raged behind her.
Cassie turned, seeing tears filling Star’s eyes. “You can’t do this!” Her voice was hysterical. “You can’t just give us up, Miss C!”
Deidre started crying behind her, and Cassie’s mother bent to pick her up.
The anger, the horror, on Star’s face was unquenchable as she jerked her head around the group like they were complete strangers. Worse, like they were exactly what they were: bystanders watching as something she didn’t understand happened to her—and not lifting a finger to defend.
Star bounded down the stairs, tripping on the bottom step. She pushed off Cassie when she reached out to help. “I hate you! I hate all of you!” came her hoarse voice, choking as tears streamed down her cheeks. The black, mascara-mixed drops splattered on her fresh red sweater. Cassie had let her borrow that mascara only hours ago.
Cassie pushed Kennedy into Bree’s arms and ran.
The pastureland was frozen, slick to the touch. A cold wind ripped through Cassie’s soft pink, billowed sleeves as she followed. Smoke curled from the neighbor’s chimney as Star ran through their front yard, through the back of the carport.
“Star!” Cassie shouted, gravel driving into her bare feet. “Star! Stop!”
But Star climbed up the pasture gate and jumped over, running as though her life depended on it. The wind propelled her down the cow pasture like a kite about to take flight.
Cassie ran around the chicken gate, stumbling over stray corn. She pressed harder into her muscles. Ran faster.
The gap between them lessened with each step, with each stride Cassie took down the hill.
“Star! Please stop!” Cassie yelled again, close enough now to hear the breaths piping through the girl’s lungs, to see white clouds forming at her lips.
Star’s barefoot feet danced around a group of cows at the creek, her jeans splashing between rocks.
If Cassie stopped, if she slowed down, she knew what that would mean to Star.
The gate bordering the neighbor’s land came into view, with nothing but the mass of shadowy, leafless woods beyond. Cassie watched as Star tripped and tumbled into the grass. She heaved herself up a foot, paused, then slumped back down.
Breathless, Cassie knelt beside her.
Wrapped her arms around her.
Above their heavy breathing the wind whistled through the grass, the creek bubbling as the cows lifted their heads on occasion then lowered for another drink. Smoke still curled from the neighbor’s chimney, though the ranch itself, and the road, was some distance away. Frozen blades of grass were melting on Cassie’s jeans, making the cold shiver down her spine. One toe bled from a sharp rock encountered sometime before.
Still, Cassie held on. And eventually she felt Star’s breaths slow.
Then, suddenly, Star’s breaths turned into sobs.
“Oh, Star.” Cassie didn’t let go, didn’t move while Star released into the wind what sounded like the cry of a lifetime of pain. She clung tightly as the dampness soaked through her jeans, through her shirt, the cold settling somewhere far deeper, far further, than any physical thing could reach.
There were no words.
* * *
Three hours later, Cassie’s heart poured all over the road as she stood, again barefoot, in the driveway. Deidre looked out the window as Rachel’s car began to move. She held onto her doll with one hand and waved.
Cassie lifted her own hand. Waved back.
The living room was empty as her numb feet walked onto the tinsel-laden rug. Her mother and Bree stood beside the tree, waiting. Gifts and family members had swiftly gathered into their vehicles, giving space while the few who remai
ned set about packing. The dining room table, once so full, lay empty, the mahogany glossed over with fresh polish while the fridge was stuffed with hastily Saran-wrapped plates. Everything had been put back in order. No trace left of the children.
No trace besides a long red streak of crayon across the couch.
22
Jett
If Sarah was any clearer about her interest, their names would’ve been written together in sky writing. Or in this case, knitted in a winter hat.
“It’s just so cold out, and I was already making hats for the kids.” Sarah shrugged. “The yarn was there so I kept going.”
“These are awesome.” Sunny checked his new look with the orange-and-white beanie in the mirror.
“Wow. Thank you.” Jett didn’t feel like mentioning that the yarn of the crocheted hat in his hands looked nothing like the pink of Dakota’s or dinosaur green of Timothy’s and Drew’s.
He wasn’t a crocheting expert, but he had a feeling the yarn couldn’t have “kept going” from pink to orange. No, the fact that she had knit a total of three baby blankets, six pairs of toddler socks, and not one, not three, but five hats since the night Trina had come, unsuccessfully, to retrieve her kids six weeks ago was the writing on the wall.
Timothy rolled from his stomach to his back on the baby blanket, eyes widening as he surprised himself, as he did every time since the first one week ago. He started squeaking, and Dakota, seated at the dining room table, pointed with her pink marker, her cheeks stuffed with Cheerios.
“Timmy’s fussin’,” she declared, marker scribbled all over her hand. She went back to coloring her paper heart.
Sarah picked up the baby, placed him on her hip as though she’d done it a thousand times—which at this point, wasn’t too far from the truth. She touched the back of Sunny’s beanie, inspecting what appeared to be a loose yarn.
“I like the stripes. Nice touch.” Sunny gave her a wink and she backed up immediately, turning to Jett.
Suddenly her perfume was washing up in his face. And as she tugged nervously on the skirt of the satin number she was wearing, Jett suddenly knew. It was time for a sit-down chat.
The Dating Charade Page 21