by Gay Courter
“Well, I hate it when Jared and Zane use the bathroom first. They leave a big mess and then I get blamed for their towels on the floor.”
“Yeah, and if you pick them up, they’ll expect you’ll do it every time and if you don’t, you get in trouble, right?” She nodded somberly. “What else?”
We went down the list. I made certain to reflect back Julie’s problems to demonstrate that I took them seriously. I didn’t consider them trivial and I didn’t blame her. After all, I was not her parent or her therapist, I was her voice, and what I was trying to do was to help her see ways she could deal with the complexities of her new family. I sympathized with the fact that she suddenly was the middle child, when up until then she had been the baby. She was also distressed because she was going to have to repeat sixth grade. I reminded her that the situation was hardly her fault and that she was young for sixth grade anyway and would be at the top of her class the next semester.
When we were back in the car, Julie said, “I thought you were going to be mad at me for calling my father.”
“You can phone him anytime you want.”
“What if I don’t want to be adopted?”
“Then you won’t be. Since you are over twelve, you have to go to court and sign your own adoption papers anyway. Nobody can force you to do it.”
“What if my sisters want it?”
“Then they will be. But you are an individual and you will do what is best for Julie and nobody else.”
“What if I don’t want to live with the Slaters anymore?”
“That’s a problem, but not an insurmountable one.” I then told Julie about some of the other foster homes and that she wouldn’t necessarily remain in the same school district or be near her sisters.
“I don’t want to leave the Slaters,” she said.
“Okay, so you won’t leave this week. Tell me how you feel next week.”
The next one to blow was Nicole.
Vic called and said, “I don’t know if we are going to be able to keep Nicole.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure, that’s the crazy part. Nicole had been folding laundry and putting it out on everyone’s beds like we do around here, when Jeanne told her she should also pick up the clothes that were draped across the furniture. She flew off the handle and tossed the boys’ clothes at Jeanne and began screaming at the top of her lungs, ‘You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.’ She turned purple and her whole face was twisted. She backed into a corner and crossed her hands over her face and kept screaming and screaming, then she ran into her room and didn’t come out for the rest of the night.”
“She needs to talk to Dr. Abernathy about this right away, but I’ll be seeing her tonight when we go to her father’s for a barbecue. Maybe she’ll have something to say about it then.”
“All right,” Vic said, “but we don’t know if we can take this. Jeanne was frightened and nobody could calm Nicole down.”
“You have to remember that Nicole has been the most brutally abused of the children. Maybe something that happened triggered a memory or maybe a lot of other tensions just built up and exploded. In a way this might be a compliment to you and Jeanne.”
“How could that be?”
“If she wasn’t beginning to feel secure in the relationship with you, she might not have felt she could let out her feelings of helplessness and rage.”
“She’s normally so sweet and helpful …”
“I know, Vic. She thinks she has to be that way or nobody will take care of her. This could be a breakthrough in your relationship.”
“Felt more like a breakup to me.”
“Why don’t you make an appointment with Dr. Abernathy too? She might have hints for how to deal with your confusion as well as how to manage these outbursts better.”
The next evening Nicole was in the front seat as the three sisters and I headed toward Buddy Colby’s house. I didn’t bring up Vic’s conversation, but Simone did.
“Now don’t you go telling Daddy about what happened with Jeanne,” Simone warned Nicole in her big sister tone. “Julie’s already caused enough trouble.”
“Simone, I know you want everything to work out with the Slaters,” I said, “but Julie and Nicole are separate individuals and each will make up her own mind.”
“It’s time they thought of someone else besides themselves. I left the Baldwins’ to be with them and what thanks do I get?”
“Would you rather be there still?”
“No, I like the Slaters. They are trying to do their best and they want us all to get along.”
“Why do you think the Slaters are doing this?”
“To show off,” Nicole responded snidely, “to get the precious Mother-of-the-Year award and prove they are so wonderful to everyone in church.”
“Why else?”
“For money?” Julie asked.
“No, definitely not for money. They haven’t even gotten the first foster care check and they’ve fed and clothed Nicole for months, and the rest of you for many weeks, not to mention the trips, church camp, riding lessons, and everything else. They’ve sold their house and are moving into an inconvenient rental so they can build a bigger house. They need to trade their compact car for a van.”
“They are doing it for God,” Simone explained matter-of-factly. “The Lord came to them and told them to take us even before they met us, so it is spiritual.”
“If that is true, why did Jeanne attack me last night?” Nicole snapped.
“She didn’t attack you,” Simone retorted. “You freaked out.”
Nicole began to tremble. We were almost at the turn for her father’s lane, so I pulled over on a grassy lot, and parked the car. “What happened, Nicole?”
“Jeanne came at me.”
“No she didn’t!” Simone shot from the back.
I turned around. “Simone, let’s hear how Nicole feels about it.” I placed my hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “Show me what Jeanne did.”
“That’s how it begins. That’s how it always begins …” Nicole’s voice had become lower, more ominous. Her eyes flashed and her knees were shaking. She shook her finger at me and her mouth twisted. “She had this smirk on her face. I hate it when they get like that. That’s when they hit you.”
“Who hits you?”
“People who don’t like what you do.”
“Did Jeanne hit you?”
“She was going to.”
“Did she hit you?” I repeated.
“She wanted to. It was like a hit … I don’t know. It hurt like a hit.”
“Then what happened?”
“I screamed at her to get away. Nobody can come at me like that, nobody!” Nicole’s voice became more normal. “I lost it. Do you think I am crazy?”
“No. I think you have scary memories. What did Jeanne do?”
“She yelled at me.”
“That didn’t help, did it?”
“No, it was like adding sticks to my fire.”
“How’s the fire now?”
“Better.”
“Are you ready to see your father?”
“I guess.”
I gave Nicole a hug. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“All you need is some extra attention.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because there are times when everyone does. And you know something? Your father loves you in his way, your mother loves you in her way, the Slaters love you, even the Lambs do too. And don’t forget you are very special to me. I’m sure there are others on that list. Here’s a little secret: you can never have too many people who love you.”
Buddy Colby barbecued pork chops and served sweet ice tea, baked beans, and sliced tomatoes. The television was on during the meal and from time to time he glanced up at the country music channel. He talked about the problems he was having with his car, his abscessed tooth, and a relative who arrived for a few d
ays but showed no signs of leaving. I mentioned that Julie was learning to ride a horse, Nicole was earning money baby-sitting, and Simone had an application in to work for a fast-food restaurant. He listened, but never asked his daughters any questions.
While the girls were cleaning up the paper plates and putting away the television tables, Buddy Colby turned. “You sure this is the right thing to do?”
“You mean signing the papers?”
“Yeah. My lawyer sent me a big packet of crap and I burned it, but now I’m thinking on it again.”
“You burned the termination papers?”
“No, I just said that.” He glanced up at Garth Brooks singing, “The Dance.” As he sipped from his cup, I wondered if he had spiked it this time as well. “What do my girls want?”
“Ask them.”
I called the sisters into the room and waited, but Buddy Colby was silent. “Your father wants to know if he should sign the termination papers.”
“It would make everything easier, Dad,” Simone said.
“HRS tells us where we can sleep overnight and I can’t visit my friend in Alabama unless I get out of foster care,” Nicole added.
“What about you, Julie?” he asked. “You told me they weren’t being nice to you.”
“They are, Dad. I just was mad at them.”
“The Slaters are planning to live in this county so you can watch your girls grow up. Simone is driving now. She can come over to visit you whenever she wants. Nobody will keep you away from them.”
“They’d better not,” Buddy replied in a guttural voice. Then he wiped his eyes. “Okay, girls, you win. I’ll do it whenever the lady says I should.”
“What lady?” Julie asked.
Her father pointed to me.
“The time is now, Mr. Colby.”
“Has their mother done it?”
“She has an appointment this week. Why don’t you go to your attorney’s office and sign and then ask him to hold the papers until he sees Mrs. Hunt’s papers? That way you are protected.”
“Got to go nearby there on Tuesday. Is that soon enough?”
“Tuesday would be fine. And thank you.”
Two days later Julie called me. “Is it normal to wake up from a dream and you’ve been crying in the dream and then you find out you are crying for real?”
“If the dream was very sad. Want to tell me about it?”
“We were having dinner at Daddy’s house, just like the other night. You were there and Daddy and my sisters.” Her voice splintered and she continued in a whisper. “Then there was a big storm, like a tornado. Branches were flying off the trees and then a huge one fell on the house. We ducked under the table, but when we looked up we saw that the trunk had come through the roof and killed Daddy. It was raining really hard, but you said we had better bury him, so we dragged him outside near the dog pen. Simone and Nicole dug a deep hole and I was sliding around in the mud. Finally, we pushed him in the hole, although it was harder than we thought it was going to be. We were standing there saying some prayers and I started crying and then I woke up.”
“That’s a really sad dream, isn’t it?”
“What does it mean?” Julie sobbed.
“You want to think about it and tell me?”
“No, I want you to say it.”
“You want me to say that the other night was like killing off your dad, that by signing away his rights he is no longer going to be your daddy anymore.”
“I want a regular life like everyone else, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“You deserve that, but your father is not gone forever. He wants to see you and you want to see him.”
“What if Vic and Jeanne have been lying and as soon as they adopt us they turn mean and break their promises?”
“I suppose it could happen, but what would they get out of it?”
“Why does anyone want to hurt a kid?”
“Good question, but I think Vic and Jeanne have the best intentions. They aren’t perfect, but then nobody is. And if you can’t stand living with them, you can always go back into foster care.”
“I can?”
“Sure. Nothing is forever.”
“Okay!” Julie said so much more brightly that I marveled at her resilience. “Talk to you later,” she said, then hung up.
I remained with my hand on the phone for a long time. The image of the tree hitting Buddy Colby, of the grave in the garden, the rain, and Julie’s tears soon had me crying. In a way she had been telling me that I had helped to kill her family.
The next court appearance after the Colby children were ordered into foster care was for the review of the permanent placement plan. Since parental rights had not been terminated, adoption was not yet legally possible. Every child put in the state’s care is supposed to have a plan to get out of foster care. Usually the first goal is family reunification, but those days had long passed for the Colbys. Everyone agreed that foster care would be continued with the goal being the termination of parental rights.
Only the attorneys for the parents were present. Mrs. Hunt’s lawyer stated that she was ready and willing to sign the terminations when Mr. Colby executed his. Mr. Colby’s attorney said that his client had not yet agreed to do so. I explained that on two occasions Mr. Colby had told me that he was ready to sign, and in fact, had said he would see his attorney before this hearing. The attorney claimed this was news to him. The judge continued the case for two weeks to give Mr. Colby an opportunity to sign the papers. I also used the hearing to get the Colby children an exception to the strict foster care rules that did not permit them overnights in unlicensed foster homes. I wanted them to have visits with their mother, if desired, for Julie and Simone to stay with the Baldwins, as well as for them all to be able to attend slumber parties like other normal teenagers.
“What if they are sexually abused in a friend’s home?” asked Jenny Clinch, the new foster care counselor, who had replaced Iris Quinones because the children were now in another department.
I rolled my eyes. “The goal is for these children to have a regular life for a change. They have friends at their church and their crowd is one of the best in town.”
The judge asked Calvin Reynolds what he thought. “As long as we are informed about where the children are staying, it is fine with me.”
“So ruled,” said the judge, annoying Jenny Clinch.
After court Jenny said to me, “The father didn’t sign, and I bet he never will. This case is going to blow up in your face, and then I’ll be the first one to say I told you so.”
In the past I had locked horns with Jenny over several other children. For some reason we never agreed about the disposition of a case. I tried to smile as I replied, “I shall take full responsibility, but I cannot understand why someone in your position wouldn’t want to root for the team that has put this together. We’d like you to join and make this transition as easy as possible, but if you won’t, why would you bet against us?”
“Adoption is hardly a football contest. It’s damn serious business.”
“Have you met the Colby children yet?” I asked to defuse the moment.
“No, I’m going out to the Slaters’ tomorrow.”
“Then I suggest you talk to them and then get back to me. In the meantime, I have the terminations to worry about.”
Mrs. Hunt accompanied her attorney to the next hearing to review the permanent placement plan. She also brought along Wanda, her therapist, as a support person, and the judge allowed Wanda into his chambers even though she wasn’t a party to the case. Mr. Colby didn’t appear, although he had promised his attorney he would. Embarrassed, the attorney phoned his office. Mr. Colby had left a message that he was having “car trouble.”
Mrs. Hunt’s attorney demonstrated that she had signed the termination of parental rights forms, but these would only be given to the court when Mr. Colby had done the same.
“Your Honor,” I said, “Mr. Colby has stated to me that he
does not wish to come to court or to be in the same room with his ex-wife, so this no-show is part of a pattern. I don’t think it is fair to leave these children in limbo.” Then I reiterated the history of the case. “I’d like to suggest that if Mr. Colby does not do what he promised, then we take steps to begin an involuntary termination proceeding against him. I do not think this would be in the children’s best interests, though, because I hoped they could continue to have friendly relations with their natural father. However, they have told me they are willing to testify against him if necessary.”
“I’ll continue the case for one week,” Judge Donovan said. “By then I expect both parents to have the terminations signed or I will expect the department to have the documents ready to proceed against Mr. Colby.”
“May I have the court’s permission to go to Mr. Colby’s house to get the consents?” his attorney asked, since he was court-appointed and this would probably incur an additional fee charged to the court. The judge approved the motion.
Four days later Lillian phoned me at eight in the morning to say that Mr. Colby was trying to get hold of me. I called him back at once.
“I fired that damn lawyer,” he said, then explained how his attorney had come to his house to get the papers signed, but he hadn’t been there and had told his visiting relative to tell the attorney to leave the papers, but the attorney had refused. Then the lawyer had called him and dressed him down for not being there at the appointed time. “And he lied about the papers. I thought I was giving my girls to the Slaters, but it says here that the children are released to HRS. What kind of a dirty switch is that?”
“The adoption cannot go directly between you and the Slaters and still receive state subsidy. We’re doing it this way so the children have financial support and medical insurance until they are eighteen.”
“I won’t give HRS my children.”
I explained what the judge had ruled and that if the papers were not signed by the next day, HRS would proceed against him. “That is not what your daughters want. They will resent having to tell their story again in court. Why not make it easier for them?”
“That’s what Vic Slater said when I talked to him last night.”