The Other Mothers (Chop, Chop Series Book 5)

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The Other Mothers (Chop, Chop Series Book 5) Page 8

by L. N. Cronk


  I glanced at Laci. She looked at me sympathetically.

  “But,” I clarified, “if Karen drinks or takes drugs or drives drunk or anything like that-”

  “Then Amber will remain a ward of the state,” Stacy nodded. A look of relief must have crossed my face because she hastened to add, “But I don’t think anything like that’s going to happen. Karen’s been working very hard and has made every effort to ensure that she’ll regain custody of Amber. She’s been clean since she went into prison over a year ago. I think it would be very reasonable to assume that she’s going to fulfill all of the requirements and that her social worker will be encouraging the judge to grant custody. That’s why we need to begin doing what we can now to help Amber get ready for the adjustment.”

  “When would it happen?” I asked, barely able to find my voice.

  Stacy shuffled through her papers again. “Her final court date is the third Tuesday in August.” She looked up at me and Laci. “I expect that Karen could very likely have physical custody of Amber within three months. Of course the state would retain legal custody for at least six months after that, but – if all goes well – Amber could be living with her mother permanently by the time school starts in the fall. ”

  If all goes well?

  Goes well for whom?

  ~ ~ ~

  AFTER STACY LEFT, Laci and I looked at each other.

  “She’ll never make it,” I said, shaking my head.

  Laci looked at me questioningly.

  “Karen,” I explained. “She’ll never make it. She’ll get drunk or high and she’ll fail her test or she’ll get caught driving under the influence again or something. She’ll never make it.”

  “Is that what you’re hoping for?” Laci asked, obviously taken aback.

  “Well, no,” I said, hesitantly.

  “Yes, you are!” Laci cried, aghast. “I can’t believe this! You’re hoping Karen will get put back in jail or something so that you can have her kid!”

  “No, I’m not!” I argued. “But I just happen to think it’s inevitable that she’s gonna screw up and she’s not going to be able to take care of Amber.”

  “I can’t believe you,” Laci said softly. “You need to be praying for this woman, not pulling for her to fail! You need to be praying for her that God will help her to stay clean and that she’ll be able to be a wonderful mother to Amber.”

  “I am,” I said weakly. Laci looked at me with a combination of disgust and disappointment on her face.

  “I don’t want her to fail,” I insisted. “I . . . I just don’t think that she’s going to get Amber back.”

  “Why?” Laci asked. “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, giving her a small shrug. “That’s just what I think.”

  “But you heard what Stacy just said.”

  “I know,” I admitted, “but I’m pretty sure God’s going to let Amber stay with us.”

  “Why?”

  I paused.

  “I think God told me that,” I finally answered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I dunno,” I shrugged again. “I just think that God told me that.”

  “God talked to you about this?” Laci asked.

  “Well,” I hedged, “He didn’t exactly talk to me, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  I didn’t say anything for another minute. She kept staring at me.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” I confessed. “I’ve always kind of known that . . .”

  I hesitated again.

  “That what?”

  “That she’s always going to be ours,” I said, reluctantly. “I don’t know how to really explain it, but it’s like I can see into the future or something and I just . . . I just somehow know that she’s always going to be ours.”

  “You mean, like, you think we’re going to adopt her?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged.

  She looked at me carefully.

  “David,” she finally said gently, “just because you’ve envisioned a future with Amber in it doesn’t mean that that’s what’s going to happen.”

  “But why would God show me something like that if it wasn’t true?”

  “I don’t think He did,” she said, worriedly. “I don’t think this idea you have is from God.”

  “Why not?”

  She opened her mouth, but then quickly closed it again and just looked at me.

  “Why not?!” I asked again.

  She didn’t answer me.

  “Because God told you that He wants us to move down to Mexico,” I asked her angrily, “and you figure we can’t do that as long as Amber’s still with us?”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “You were thinking it!” I accused.

  “I do want us to do God’s will,” Laci admitted, “but-”

  “And you just assume that if God shows me something different than what He’s told you, then obviously I’m the one who’s wrong. I must be delusional.”

  “I never said that!” Laci cried.

  “You think that you’re the chosen one or something,” I told her. “You think that you’re the only one in this family that God could possibly talk to, don’t you?”

  “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t.”

  “Then why is it so hard for you to believe that maybe God showed me something?”

  “Because I think that you love Amber very much,” she said carefully, “and I think that you really don’t want to lose her . . .”

  I stared at her hard.

  “And I think that it would be only natural for you to hope that she would become a part of our family and that you want her to stay with us.”

  “Don’t you want her to stay with us?”

  “I want what’s best for her.”

  “You don’t think we’re best for her?”

  “I think that if her mom wants her back and can take good care of her, then that’s probably where she needs to be.”

  “And then we could go back to Mexico.”

  “This isn’t about Mexico!” she cried. “This is about a mother being separated from her child! I can’t believe you!”

  “What about me being separated from her?” I asked, feeling tears sting the corners of my eyes for the first time. Laci looked at me sympathetically.

  “You knew,” she asked gently. “You knew right from the start that she was probably going to go back to her mom one day.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head and heading out of the room. “I didn’t know.”

  Until then, I’d never worried that Amber might have to go back to live with her mother. Ever since she had come to live with us, I had felt in my heart that she would always be mine – and I had thought that God was the one who had put that certainty in my heart. I had been so sure that God wanted Amber to stay with me forever . . .

  Until that day, it had never occurred to me that I might lose her.

  I never saw it coming.

  ~ ~ ~

  I FIGURED THAT Tanner was much more likely to see things my way (and I was sure that he wasn’t going to urge me to pray for Amber’s mother).

  “I know it’s just a matter of time before she does drugs again,” I told him when I went over to his place to bemoan what Stacy had told me. “I just hope that she gets caught before she gets Amber back or before she goes out driving again and kills somebody.”

  “What makes you think she’s gonna do drugs again?” Tanner asked. “She’s been clean for a year.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “but only because she was in jail! And right now they’re giving her random drug tests all the time and everything, so if she drinks or does drugs then she’s going right back in the slammer. But I guarantee you that as soon as her parole is over she’s gonna go right back to her old ways.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because that’s what they all do,” I said. “They get cleaned up for a while and then they start again
and then they get cleaned up for a while and then they start back.”

  “They?” he asked, frowning at me.

  “Druggies.”

  “You can’t say that!” he snapped. “Just because somebody had a problem once with drugs doesn’t mean that they can’t get over it and change their lives.”

  I was taken aback by how indignant he suddenly seemed.

  “I didn’t mean-”

  “You’re a piece of work,” he said, cutting me off. “You spend all day preaching at people that they need to clean up their acts and live right and everything, and then when someone actually tries to change, you say that they won’t be able to do it.”

  I couldn’t believe how furious he was, but then I suddenly remembered that his brother, Chase, had had some battles with drugs.

  “I’m not saying people can’t change,” I said carefully. “I know people can change, but I just . . . I also know that it’s not uncommon for someone to struggle with something like this for their whole life.”

  He didn’t say anything. I went on cautiously.

  “And I’m just saying that if Karen is going to have problems, I’d rather it happen now – before Amber goes back to live with her.”

  His face seemed to relax a little bit

  “I don’t want Amber to go back to her mom and get used to being with her and everything and then have to get put in foster care again. And what if her mom gets wasted or something and then drives with Amber in the car?”

  “That’s why she’s got a social worker,” Tanner said, “to make sure nothing like that happens.”

  “Yeah,” I said, sardonically. “Because Social Services has done such a great job taking care of her so far.”

  “I think mostly you’re just upset because you don’t want to lose her.”

  “Well of course I don’t want to lose her!”

  He looked at me for a long moment.

  “Sometimes you have to let go of people that you love,” he said quietly. “It’s not always about what you want, but about what’s best for that person.”

  “I’m best for her.”

  “Look,” he said quietly. “You might be, but if she’s going to go back to her mom and you can’t do anything about it . . .”

  “What?”

  “Then you have to let her go, and you need to do it in a way that’s going to be best for her. This whole thing’s gonna be hard enough on her. You can’t get upset . . . you can’t let her see you cry or anything like that – that’ll just make things worse for her. You’ve gotta act like you’re fine with it. Like it’s what you want.”

  “I don’t think I can do that,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper.

  “Yes, you can,” he assured me. “You’ve just gotta keep telling yourself that you want her to be happy and that you’re going to do everything you can to make this as easy on her as possible.”

  “I still think . . . I still think that maybe we’re not going to lose her,” I said. “I still think that maybe something’s going to happen and she’ll get to stay with me.”

  “Maybe,” Tanner nodded, but he didn’t look hopeful at all.

  ~ ~ ~

  THINGS QUICKLY WENT from bad to worse. Sierra called during the first week of the summer to let me know that the sale of the cabin on Cross Lake had been finalized.

  “I ran a search,” she told me, “and there’s a mobile home on the west shore that’s got about one acre with it if you want to go see that.”

  “No thanks,” I said miserably.

  “I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know when something else comes available,” she offered.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said. “That would be great.”

  Sierra never did call me again, but that was the least of my worries. Amber’s unsupervised visits started the week before school got out and they increased in length and frequency all summer.

  Each week we went to the pool as much as we could, letting Amber show off her new-found swimming skills to Dorito. Tanner took us every chance he had to Cross Lake so that we could pull the kids along behind his bass boat on an inner tube and let them catch bream and crappies from the deck of his pontoon. And every day I did everything I could think of to build wonderful memories with Amber and to enjoy every minute that I had with her.

  But the reality that I was losing Amber – one unsupervised visit at a time – hung over every experience like a dark cloud. By the time August arrived, Amber was spending entire weekends with her mother and it was inevitable that she was going to be leaving us soon. All that stood between me and losing her forever was a final court hearing that was scheduled to take place a week and a half before school started.

  I attended the hearing alone, hoping against hope that somebody was going to say something to the judge to let him know that Amber needed to stay with me. But Karen’s social worker, Amber’s counselor, her guardian ad litem and Stacy Reed all stated that they believed returning Amber to her mother was the best thing for everybody involved.

  Nobody asked me what I thought.

  After hearing what everybody had to say, the judge finally spoke.

  “The court finds that the petitioner should regain physical custody of the child at this time. Legal custody will be retained by the state. Transfer should be completed within one week. After a period of six months, the petitioner may request that permanent, legal custody be restored and the court will consider such a request at that time. Is there anything else?”

  Apparently not. The judge tapped his desk and adjourned for lunch.

  Oh, God, I buried my face in my hands, covering my eyes. Why are you doing this? WHY are you doing this? She has come so far with us and we’ve been so happy. There is no way that going back to live with that woman is going to be the best thing for Amber – for any of us.

  One week! How was I going to be able to let her go in one week?

  “I know it’s hard,” I heard a soft voice say. I lifted my head from my hands and saw Stacy Reed looking down at me gently. I couldn’t even nod or I was going to cry. She sat down next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Even though we know it’s for the best, it’s hard to say goodbye, isn’t it? It’ll be like this with every child you take in – some harder than others – but the pain is just something you’re willing to endure because you know that you’re helping these kids so much.”

  “Every child?” I asked.

  “Most people – once they’ve fostered a child – decide they want to do it again. It’s such a rewarding experience . . .”

  I managed to shake my head at her. She looked at me sympathetically.

  “You may feel differently after a while,” she promised, “and we’d love to have you and Laci foster another child when you’re ready.”

  I couldn’t believe that I had just been told that Amber was going to be gone in less than a week and she was asking me to think about fostering another child.

  “When will you take her?” I asked.

  “I think she should have one more full-weekend visit beginning tomorrow, okay?” I managed a feeble nod. “Then she’ll return to you late Sunday afternoon like usual and have a few days for closure at your house . . . to say goodbye. I’ll pick her up Thursday morning – one week from today.”

  Say goodbye?

  How was I ever going to be able to say goodbye to Amber?

  ~ ~ ~

  WHEN STACY CAME to pick up Amber the next day, I asked her a question once Amber was buckled in the car and the doors were closed.

  “I was wondering,” I asked Stacy, “if we could still see Amber sometimes – after she’s back with Karen?”

  “It’s usually a better idea to immerse the child in her new life and let her move forward.”

  “But is it – I mean, is it prohibited? Is it out of the question?”

  “Well, no,” Stacy hedged. “Ultimately it’ll be up to Karen who Amber sees and who she doesn’t see.”

  “So,” I clarified, “if Karen agrees, then
we can see her again, right?”

  Stacy nodded.

  “Would you ask her?” I begged. “Would you just ask her if we can see Amber sometimes? It doesn’t have to be anything big, just getting together at a restaurant to have a hamburger or meeting her in the park or something like that?”

  “I’ll ask her,” Stacy agreed, opening her car door and sliding in. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Amber was going to know that she was leaving us by the time she came back on Sunday afternoon. That meant that Dorito was going to need to know by then too. Laci and I sat down with him on the couch on Saturday and broke the news to him.

  “When?” he asked in a small voice, looking up at Laci in dismay.

  “Thursday,” she said softly.

  “Thursday!?” he cried.

  She nodded at him and he jumped up from the couch and ran up the stairs into his bedroom. We heard his door slam and I leaned across the empty spot where he’d been and buried my face on Laci’s shoulder. She reached her hand up to the back of my head and stroked my hair, resting her cheek on the top of my head. After a while I sat back up and wiped my eyes.

  “I’ll go talk to him,” I whispered hoarsely, standing and trudging up the stairs toward his room.

  I knocked on his door, but he didn’t answer, so I tried the handle. It was locked.

  “Dorito,” I said, “let me in.”

  No answer.

  I reached onto the top of the doorframe, grabbed the key we always kept there, and unlocked his door. He was lying on his bed – face down – with his head buried in his pillow.

  “Dorito,” I said quietly, sitting down on the edge of his bed. I rubbed my hand across his back. “Dorito, I’m sorry.”

  A sob racked his body. I leaned down and put my head on his, kissing his hair. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “I don’t want her to leave!” he wept.

 

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