by Amanda Perry
FOSTERING HOPE
ALSO BY AMANDA PERRY
Chosen Storm
Hidden Embers
Knock on Wood
Fostering Hope
FOSTERING HOPE
KNOCK ON WOOD
BOOK 1
AMANDA PERRY
COVEY PUBLISHING
FOSTERING HOPE: KNOCK ON WOOD BOOK 1
COVEY PUBLISHING, LLC
Published by Covey Publishing, LLC
PO Box 550219, Gastonia, NC 28055-0219
Copyright © 2017 by Amanda Perry
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design Copyright © 2017 Covey Publishing, LLC
Book Design by Covey Publishing, LLC, www.coveypublishing.com
Copy Editing by Covey Publishing, LLC
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN: 978-1-948185-24-0
First Printing, 2017
For my mom. I’d give almost anything to hug you one more time. I hope you’re proud of me for finally following my dreams.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
“This new family will love you. I’m sure of it,” Rebecca assures me as we slide into her newer model ford sedan. I buckle my seatbelt and settle in while admiring the clean interior and new car smell.
Rebecca Ship, who replaced my old social worker, showed up at my last foster home with the proper documentation. Anyone who can get me away from Mr. Track is a Godsend in my eyes. Rebecca has shown me nothing but kindness, but I don’t trust her. Even though she seems nice enough and removed me from the filth of Track’s house, people always come across that way at first. It never lasts, and I learned early on no one can ever be fully trusted. My last foster father, Track, epitomizes this with the way he worked to lure me closer to him. Dealing with men like him before, I wised up quickly to his advances and made myself scarce. Because of this, when Rebecca chats to me about the foster home she found, I listen to her and smile or nod when appropriate. But when she asks if I have questions or concerns, I simply shake my head. No matter what I say, it won’t change the outcome of my situation.
I’ve managed to survive this long. The few months until my birthday and graduation should be a breeze. In theory, it won’t be hard to keep my head down and my mouth closed for three months. Then again, I tend to lack a filter at times. It gets me smacked around on occasion. Calling Track an ass got me the bruise on my cheek.
“This is a large family, Parker,” Rebecca admits, tapping her fingers nervously on the steering wheel as we zoom down the freeway. “The parents have been together for a long time. They’ve been fostering for nearly as long as they’ve been married, though they haven’t taken in anyone new in quite a while. They have biological children and adopted children. Seven kids in all, though the older ones don’t live at home anymore.”
My breath catches at this new information. Seven kids. While not uncommon for a foster family, it usually means I’m more of a pain in the ass to them. Those families generally end up being the worst to live with. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for the inevitable crap show awaiting me.
As we continue to twist and turn through the streets, I become confused. Rebecca heads into a ritzy suburban area. The houses grow larger and larger. Rebecca never told me where these people live, but this doesn’t seem right. Houses as nice as these belong in magazines or movies. I sure as hell don’t belong in one, even as a guest.
We pull to a stop outside a massive three-story brick house. Rebecca parallel parks her car on the side of the quiet street. A large iron gate blocking the driveway opens automatically when we exit the car. I search around, trying to figure out who opened it, but I don’t find anyone. Rebecca gestures for me to follow her. Wordlessly, I push my bag higher onto my shoulder and trail behind her. Going into such a lovely place wearing baggie cut off jean shorts and an old shirt makes me uncomfortable. I don’t own anything better, though. With no other way for me to change my appearance, I go about undoing my ponytail, smoothing my long dark blonde hair back, and tying it up again.
Rebecca gets to the door and rings the bell, turning to me and offering a reassuring look. Her genuine smile and happy demeanor make me uneasy. I don’t dwell on it for long before the front door swings open, and a woman in her forties stands in front of us. Her red hair hits right above her shoulders, framing her freckled face. She and Rebecca both stand a few inches taller than me.
“Rebecca!” She smiles when she spots the social worker but her smile falters when she notices me standing next to her. Her bright green eyes bounce from me to Rebecca and back again. She recovers herself quickly, and her smile reappears, directed at me. “You must be Parker!”
Her arms spread wide, and she takes a quick step towards me. Instinct takes over, and I flinch away from her, stumbling backward a few feet, nearly falling down the steps of the front deck.
Squeezing my eyes shut with embarrassment, I take a few breaths before peeking up at the woman in front of me. She gapes at me with wide eyes. Her hand covers her mouth, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. Leave it to me to make a great first impression on this lady. She probably thinks I’m a nutcase now.
Rebecca drops her head down, and she rubs her hand through her dark hair in frustration. Before I can apologize for acting like an idiot, a man’s voice floats to us from inside the house.
“Maggie? Is that Rebecca at the door?” He calls out, causing the woman, Maggie, to spin around.
“Yeah, Honey! We’ll be inside in a second,” she calls back with a slightly shaky voice. Her shoulders rise and fall heavily as if she took a deep breath before she turns back to us. She blinks quickly a few times, clearing her eyes of any moisture. Briefly, I wonder if she might want to cry because she already realized her mistake in agreeing to take me in. Her big smile softens significantly as she steps to the side and holds the front door open. “Would you like to come in?”
I stay quiet, allowing Rebecca to take the lead. She nods and gestures for me to follow Maggie into the house. Trailing behind Maggie, I allow my gaze to wander. The beauty of the home stuns me.
Polished hardwood floors and light tan walls make the home warm and inviting. Dark wooden furniture matches perfectly. Everything is pristine. “This place is amazing,” I murmur softly, taking everything in as we walk along.
“Thank you, dear,” Maggie chirps happily. “I have a great interior decorator.”
The air leaves my lungs in a quiet huff. It makes sense these people have the means to hire a decorator, but it shocks me to be staying in such an upscale place.
Maggie leads us through the enormous entry way, past a picture-perfect living room, and into a state of the art kitchen. The table in the dining room off to the side of the kitchen seats twelve, and I suddenly wonder what their children might be like. Rebecca said seven kids make up the family, biological and adopted, but there aren’t any around to back up her claim.
When Maggie moves out of the way, I find a man close to Maggie’s age standing at the kitchen island. His dark brown hair falls in waves to his ears. His apron reads I’m not aging. I’m marinating. The vegetables on a chopping board and the knife in his hand surprise me a bit. Perhaps he’s their chef or something. If they can afford an interior decorator, they can surely afford a personal chef. I don’t expect it when he glances up with a friendly smile. His grin widens when he notices Rebecca and Maggie in the room.
The mystery man sets his knife down and wipes his hands on a dish towel. “Hello again, Rebecca,” he greets her, putting his hand around Maggie’s shoulders and pulling her gently to his side. Probably not the chef, then. I don’t remember ever seeing a man cooking before, not food anyway. How weird. “It’s been a long time.”
His gaze falls on me and, like Maggie, his smile falters slightly as he looks me over. He sighs quietly, giving Rebecca a meaningful glance before addressing me. “You must be Parker. I’m Collin Harper. I’m Maggie’s husband. It’s great to have you here.”
I try to smile, but it comes across as a grimace. Their reactions to me make it clear they’re anything but happy about my presence here. Rebecca probably offered them extra money to take me in or something. I can’t come up with any other reason for them to agree to this. Not being used to attention, their gazes have me fidgeting with the hem of my shirt and chewing on my thumb nail. My anxiety bubbles up, twisting my stomach in knots. The three of them stand in awkward silence and stare at me as if I’m some sort of alien. If they’re waiting for me to get chatty, they’ll be waiting a while. My mouth always gets me into trouble, and I don’t want to screw this up yet.
Collin clears his throat and breaks the silence. “Well, how about Maggie shows you to your room and you can get settled while I do the paperwork with Rebecca?”
I nod slightly and follow Maggie when she leads the way out of the room. She takes the stairs right off the kitchen to the second floor and turns down a hallway to the right. She opens the third door on the left and walks right in. I stand at the threshold and gape in awe.
Everything from the bed frame to the decor includes some shade of white or sunny yellow. Maggie bringing me to this room must be some kind of joke. No way in hell would this beautiful room be for someone like me.
Maggie turns around and notices me still in the doorway. She must take my silence and hesitation as disapproval because her brow wrinkles, and she begins rambling. “I’ll help you decorate it if you’d like. I’m sure you want it to be more personal. It was just a guest room, but now it’s yours so do whatever you want with it. Austyn and I decorated it. We made it bright and airy, so guests felt at home. Though, I’m sure you have different ideas of what you’d want.”
Shaking my head to stop her rambling, my mouth drops open, and I step slightly into the room. She can’t seriously believe I hate the room.
“It’s amazing,” I assure her, still taking it all in. “I’ve never—” An unfamiliar male voice yelling up the stairs cut off my words.
“Mom! Greyson and I are home!” the voice shouts. It startles me, and I press my back into the door frame, ensuring no one can sneak up on me.
“Be right down, Duncan!” Maggie shouts back, smiling happily at me. “Ready to meet Duncan and Greyson?”
I want to say, “Not even close”, but instead I nod and follow her back downstairs after depositing my bag in the corner of the bedroom at Maggie’s urging.
CHAPTER TWO
Making our way to the kitchen once more, I hesitate when all of the voices drift from the room. I'm awkward and stupid around new people. They make me anxious which increases the chances of me having a panic attack or saying something idiotic. I held a small amount of hope I would be able to ease into meeting the whole family, but it seems impossible now.
Keeping my expression neutral, I continue on after Maggie. Entering the kitchen, I search out the new people. While I don’t consider myself to be a wimp, my anxiety gets the best of me sometimes. My breathing comes out in short bursts. My chest tightens and my throat begins to close up, almost as if I’m having an allergic reaction. I roll my eyes mentally. Leave it to me to be allergic to new people. Doing my best to keep myself together, I stop when Maggie does. Stepping around her slightly, I spot the two strangers.
“Duncan, Greyson,” Maggie addresses the two of them, calling the older guy Duncan. “This is Parker Thomison. Parker, this is Duncan and Greyson.”
I make eye contact with the older guy at the same time he takes a step in my direction. Stiffening, I wait for him to make a move. Whatever his intentions might have been, my awkward reaction stops him in his tracks. His eyes widen, and he glances from Maggie to Collin, then back to me, his gaze zeroing in on the bruise I have on my cheek; a parting gift from Track after I told him he was an ass and shouldn't be allowed near humans let alone allowed to foster children. I take a moment to allow my eyes to roam over him as he takes another step back. This guy probably assumes I came fresh from the sewers with the way he’s dressed.
Duncan stands taller than me by at least six inches. With his short strawberry blonde hair brushed neatly back, his wide, grayish-green eyes stand out. He wears a pair of tan slacks and a perfectly pressed blue button up shirt that accentuates his slim, defined muscles. He clearly belongs in the rich part of town.
The little boy next to him has to be the cutest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. He watches me with bright grey eyes and a wide smile. I can’t help smiling back at him as I take in his muddy clothes and face. He only comes up to Duncan’s hip. His light blonde hair has been shaved short in a buzz cut. He takes a few quick steps toward me, and I notice Maggie and Collin stiffen. They obviously don’t want their little boy near a dirty lowlife like me. My eyes burn with tears I refuse to allow. The little boy, completely oblivious to his parents’ discomfort, hops right up to me, craning his neck to make eye contact with me.
“I’m Greyson, I’m four,” he states, holding his hand out to me to shake.
Slowly placing my hand in his, giving his parents enough time to protest if they want to, I give his small hand a shake. “I’m Parker, I’m seventeen.”
“You’re a girl,” he informs me, tilting his adorable head to the side. “I’m not a girl. I’m a boy.”
A chuckle draws my attention before I answer Greyson. Duncan tries to cover his laughter with a cough, failing miserably. “It’s nice to meet you, Parker.” Duncan’s deep voice causes my cheeks to heat for some reason. A soft smile graces his lips, and I suddenly find myself staring at his mouth. If he catches me creeping on him, he may find me insane or something, but I can’t seem to turn away from him and his smile. Somehow it comforts me. It calms me slightly from all the chaos of the day. An odd reaction to a simple smile, but I welcome the comfort.
“Is there a reason you’re covered in mud, little man?” Collin interrupts with his focus on Greyson. My nerves flare again, and I ready myself to step in to help Gr
eyson if needed. Defending younger kids in foster homes isn’t new to me. Over my dead body will I allow a child to get hurt when I can do something about it.
Greyson simply giggles. “I did ‘struction stuff,” he admits proudly.
“He was at the site with your brothers today, wasn’t he?” Maggie chuckles and waits for Duncan to answer her. Though, she clearly knows the answer already.
“I got a call from Declan telling me to pick up the trouble maker,” Duncan confirms. “He was worse when I showed up, but I was able to hose him off a little before we left. The guys are lucky I keep towels in my trunk, or they’d be cleaning the inside of my car out tonight.”
“Come on, little man.” Collin sighs, taking Greyson’s small hand in his. “Let’s finish cleaning all the mud out of your ears before it gets stuck.”
“Daddy.” Greyson laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Mud can’t get stuck in there. That’s just silly.”
“Yeah, that’s the silly part of this.” Collin snorts, clearly amused by his son. My defenses lower as they walk away happily.
“Duncan,” Maggie calls, gaining his attention. “It’s getting close to dinner time. Where are your brothers? Did they get my message from earlier?”
Duncan pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and presses a few buttons before nodding and turning to his mom. “They’re all working for the most part. We got your message about the new situation, and they said they would come home as soon as they can. Most are working late or have plans tonight, though. We’ll probably see them tomorrow. The only two that are wild cards are Lochlan and Dom. They’re up to their ears in work and haven’t answered my messages. I have no idea if they know what’s up.”