Love on Mimosa Lane (A Seasons of the Heart Novel)

by Anna DeStefano

  She’d have been a teacher, if life hadn’t made other choices for her and Joe. Instead, her job had become raising the ragtag brood of children she and her husband had fostered for decades and then helping them leave. Their very first generation of kids was grown and gone now, and yet her family was still going strong, thriving through daily challenges and unconditional love that came with adding new children to the mix almost yearly.

  She was a teacher after all, she’d learned. It was just that the lessons she and Joe had mastered were about living, instead of math or science or reading. The two of them were far from perfect. They’d made their share of mistakes early on. But they’d made a difference in the young lives entrusted to them. Some of their kids brought baggage and special needs that couldn’t be loved away in the few short years she and Joe were given to help. But she and her husband had yet to lose a mind or a spirit. They’d never had a child returned to the system because they simply couldn’t make it work.

  The young adults who aged out of their home were prepared to face life in their own ways, stronger and more confident and prouder of their individual gifts than when they’d first arrived. The world wasn’t always easy to live in. But her kids learned how to do what they had to do, to live honestly and claim the future they deserved. Even the most damaged of the children she and Joe worked with could learn how to hope. That was their goal with each and every one.

  Only this time, maybe they’d met their match.

  They’d been warned that Fin would be a challenge. His detachment disorder was an obstacle, as was his track record of running from earlier residential homes he’d been placed with. While she and Joe had firmly explained the ground rules for living with them, they’d privately grieved for Fin’s losses. His very early childhood had shaped the distrustful, isolated young adult he’d be growing into soon, if something didn’t get through to him.

  How could it not damage a six-year-old boy to lose his mother to the drugs he’d watched her take day after day, and then to have no one to turn to once she was gone? The father had never been in the picture. There were no grandparents. Fin’s mother had been a product of the foster care system herself. There’d only been a small child, already too cynical and self-dependent for his age, not thinking he needed anyone but himself. Because what was the point, when he was only going to end up like his mother had, when she’d aged out of the system?

  Marsha and Joe would do whatever good they could for Fin, for as long as they could. They’d try to make their home a place he knew he’d always be welcome, no matter how old he got or when the county stopped sending money for his care. But would he ever be ready to believe them?

  In the month they’d had him so far, not so much.

  She sighed and tried to tune back in to what Chandler’s assistant principal was saying about Fin’s latest rebellion, this time running out of the lunchroom and the school and to who knew where next. It was entirely possible that their eighteenth foster child was worse off now than when CFS moved him to Chandlerville from a nearby community.

  “We knew his behavior at school had become increasingly disruptive to Mrs. Glover,” she said to Kristen.

  From the very start, the AP had taken a personal interest in Fin’s situation. And Marsha had taken a personal interest in Kristen long before that. Especially this year, Chandler’s very efficient, very professional assistant principal had seemed more in need of mothering than most any other adult Marsha knew. And surprisingly, the younger woman hadn’t altogether balked at the support and encouragement that Marsha had tried to subtly offer while things had been so horribly chaotic. They’d formed a tenuous, unspoken friendship that Marsha checked in on each time she was in the school for whatever latest hands-on attention one of her kids needed.

  When Kristen had called just a while ago, she’d sounded genuinely distraught.

  “But Fin’s misbehaving has been harmless enough until now,” Marsha continued. “He and a few of the other boys have been too rambunctious and teasing some of the girls.”

  “Well, there’s rambunctious,” Kristen said, “and there’s bullying. And after what happened in the lunchroom and at recess yesterday, Mrs. Glover is concerned Fin and his friends and a group of the girls in their class may be crossing that line. I’m sure you can understand why we’re speaking with all of the parents about it, not just you. And in Fin’s case, we have records of him becoming physical with students at previous schools he’s attended before he came to Chandler. Which means that even if Fin hadn’t cut class after lunch, we’d still be dealing with his behavior issues in a more formal way from here on out. Perhaps he knew that, and that’s why he took off?”

  “I don’t think so. Authority issues aren’t what spook him.”

  Love was, but Marsha stopped short of sharing that insight.

  The boy’s sense of betrayal was a soul-deep wound they might never fully understand. The last thing she and Joe could afford was to add to that. And maybe she already had—with her conversation two days ago with Kristen, searching for answers for Fin that she hadn’t found on her own.

  “I spoke with Law Beaumont yesterday about coaching,” the AP said, her voice shaking a little, when Kristen was usually the calmest port in an emotional storm. “He was here, and he spent a few moments with Fin.”

  Marsha scooted to the edge of her chair. “He actually came to school? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at Chandler.”

  “I haven’t either.” Kristen wasn’t quite making eye contact. “Having him show up in the middle of recess evidently wasn’t easy for either Chloe or Fin.”

  Marsha couldn’t help being pleased. Was something brewing between Kristen and little Chloe’s father? “Easy isn’t always what gets things done.”

  “I think I made a mistake.” Kristen’s gaze steadied. “When you mentioned Fin’s love for soccer, I was so sure…”

  “Are you certain it was Law’s visit that upset Fin?”

  Marsha wasn’t going to bother Kristen, asking for details about what had happened on the playground. She was certain she’d get an earful of gossip at tonight’s grand-opening party for what would likely become Chandlerville’s newest family hangout: a bowling center that had been dubbed Pockets by its proud owner, Walter Davis.

  “Fin and Chloe have been agitated ever since,” Kristen said. “Daphne saw them talking together just before Fin ran from lunch today. Some of their friends joined them, and things got ugly, just like they did at the end of recess yesterday.”

  “After Law showed up.”

  Kristen nodded.

  “So, we have Fin’s attention now.” Marsha squared her shoulders. “That’s a change, at least. Joe and I haven’t been able to get anything out of the boy. He’s hardly said a word since he came to us. He shows practically no emotion at all, no matter what trouble he’s in, or how much we explain the consequences if he doesn’t settle down.”

  “This isn’t the kind of change we were hoping for.”

  “It’s a change. And I choose to believe it’s a good thing. That boy loves soccer. And he’s remarkable at it, from what we’ve been able to gather from Family Services. If Law offered Fin a chance to play on one of his teams, I think we’re making progress. Now we wait and see what Fin decides he wants most—to keep going through life alone, or to become an actual part of this community that’s clearly scaring him as much as every other foster home he’s been in.”

  “He may have good reason to be afraid after today, Marsha.”

  Kristen looked miserable. Which pretty much described how Marsha always felt when she had to address the unavoidable consequences of one of her kids’ poor choices. But dealing with life was dealing with life. There was no running from the good or the bad of it.

  “Okay.” Marsha sat taller in her chair. “Hit me with it. What’s the damage?”

  “I need to file a formal report with the county this t
ime. He’s in their records as a runner. It’s a pattern, and I can’t sweep that part of this under the rug, no matter how responsible I personally feel for contributing to what’s upset him. I’ll also have to let them know about the disruptive behavior in Daphne’s class. Given Fin’s history, we can’t afford for things here to escalate without the county weighing in.”

  “I understand. Joe and I fully support Chandler’s no-tolerance bullying policy.”

  After what their close-knit town had been through—healing from January’s tragedy—everyone was committed to preventing anything similar from happening again. That desire was even partially responsible for Walter Davis, a former corporate CPA, building and running a bowling alley as his new career path—in addition to freelancing accounting services to every business and family in town who’d hire him.

  Walter wanted what they all wanted: to bring their community back together. He wanted to see folks building one another up again. He wanted to believe that was what Chandlerville would always be about—caring for the people who lived here, even lost little boys who didn’t want to be cared for. Marsha believed that, too. And she believed that the woman sitting across the desk from her was equally determined to help Fin and the rest of Chandler Elementary’s children.

  But that passion for helping kids was also tormenting their AP at the moment.

  Kristen sighed. “I’ve made a mess of things.”

  “Nope.” Marsha suspected her friend was talking about more than Fin. “I think you’ve struck just the right balance between Fin wanting more and the sheer terror of believing he belongs.” She laughed at Kristen’s surprise. “When everyone’s out of their comfort zones, that’s when the good stuff in relationships starts to happen. Fin’s off balance. He’s been biding his time, and maybe he was already planning to run from school like he has from everywhere else. Except we’ve given him something to think about coming home for. Joe and I have our chance now to make something good happen when the boy does make it back.”

  “I should have had you and your husband talk with Law, instead of doing it myself.”

  “I’m not sure we’d have made any more of a dent with him than we have with Fin.” The only time the boy had ever shouted at Marsha and Joe had been when they’d suggested he start playing again. And no one around besides Libby and Chloe—and now Kristen—had gotten much of a reaction out of Law before yesterday, not even the man’s brother. “You’re looking at this all wrong. Your reporting what happened today to the county will be a bit of a setback. But the fact that Fin didn’t pitch a fit the second Law started talking to him about soccer is remarkable.”

  Kristen sat straighter and rested her forearms on top of Fin’s file. “Daphne and I both swore we saw Fin apologize to Law for picking on Chloe.”

  “That’s marvelous.”

  “He ran away, Marsha.”

  “He’ll be back.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “He’s come back every other time.” Three times, to be exact, though Marsha and Joe had kept that bit of trivia to themselves.

  Kristen’s shock was immediate, as was the type of scolding glare that must work miracles keeping rowdy kids in line. “Marsha...”

  “I know we should have reported it to Family Services already, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do now. But Joe and I didn’t see the harm. Fin’s come back to us each time—the same day he’s run off. And he never willingly returned to any of his other homes. Something different is happening for him in Chandlerville. I can feel it. Like something different happened for him here yesterday, thanks to you and Law. Now we give him time to figure things out, and to accept that his life doesn’t have to always feel as bad as it has since he lost his mom.”

  Kristen nodded. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “He’s going to have to stop running. The county won’t let him stay if he doesn’t.”

  “He’ll stop, here with us. I’m sure of it. You’ve tempted him with just the thing he’ll want badly enough to finally make somewhere a real home.”

  “Do you have any idea where he’s gone?”

  Marsha shook her head. “But he’s always come home before dark. He never says where he’s been. A kid that smart’s probably got places to disappear to all over town. You said he was talking with Chloe before he ran. Did he say anything to her that might help?”

  “Not that Daphne can tell. But Chloe’s pretty upset. She’s not talking with her friends this afternoon, or anyone else in her class.”

  “I’m sorry,” Marsha said, when she wasn’t completely certain she was.

  “I pushed Law to try to get Chloe to play, too. Another bad idea.”

  “You suggested it because you care about the child.”

  And about the father?

  It would do Marsha’s heart good to see Kristen happily settled with someone who did her heart good. Law might be too intense and brooding for most other woman to tangle with. But Marsha had to wonder whether his unfailing loyalty to Chloe wasn’t just the temptation to attract someone like Kristen, who’d proved time and again that she’d give everything she had for their community.

  “You had the best of intentions,” Marsha said. “Trust that. That’s what Fin needs, to find himself a better path. Trust and time.”

  Kristen’s next nod was less than enthusiastic.

  Marsha’s heart sank.

  “Joe and I trust you completely,” she made herself say. “You do what you think is best, reporting about all of this to the county. We’ll stand behind you and Fin for as long as CFS lets us have him.”

  Kristen flashed a fierce smile and leaned back in her chair. Marsha could almost see her typically all-business companion considering each alternative.

  “How about I hold off on informing Family Services about Fin’s latest outburst until he comes home? Call my cell when he does. Hopefully by the time school opens in the morning, you’ll have him safely back with you and Joe, and I’ll be able to limit my report to what happened at lunch today.”

  “Thank you. Mrs. Sewel, his caseworker, has pretty much said that we’re his last shot. If Family Services hears that he’s run again, that he’s not attaching to our home, they’re talking about moving him to a more institutionalized setting where he can be monitored around the clock. I think that would be the end of anyone being able to reach him.” Marsha gripped her hands together, refusing to believe that it might already be too late. “We’ll call you as soon as we find him. Then we’ll see if we can make some real progress, after what happened with Law and Chloe. If he’s home in time, we’ll bring him and the other kids to the Pockets grand opening this evening. We’ll see you there.”

  Kristen shook her head. “I can’t make it. One of my girls’ teams has practice.”

  “At the YMCA?”

  Kristen nodded. “And I’m already leaving work earlier than normal to make it.”

  Kristen coached girls’ basketball every season, often several teams in the same season. Marsha had suspected for some time now that it was one of the many ways Kristen got to participate in the community without having to invest too much of her heart.

  “It’s a school night,” Marsha said. “Practice should be over early enough to free the kids up for dinner and bedtime.”

  “Around six or so.”

  “Then stop by Pockets on your way home. Hopefully we’ll have Fin with us by then.”

  “I…” Kristen shook her head, but she said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I expect one of the Beaumont parents will be there with Chloe.” Marsha couldn’t stop hoping that something had sparked between one of her favorite people and a man she believed deserved better than the hassles he was patiently enduring with his ex. “Don’t you want to see for yourself how Chloe’s doing, once she’s away from school for a few hours?”

  Despite Marsha’s best effort to hide her enthusi
asm, Kristen’s eyes narrowed. The AP flattened her palms on top of her desk.

  “Marsha…” Kristen inhaled, not finishing whatever she’d begun to say. Her professional mask slipped back in place. “I’ll see what I can do about tonight. But let’s plan on regrouping here in the morning, hopefully with Fin, to discuss things more formally before I touch base with Family Services.”

  “Whatever you got on tap’s fine,” Vic Creighton said to Law. “I’ve gotta finish up quick and get back to the site.”

  “Sure thing.” Law pulled a beer for the foreman of the Pockets construction project.

  The Davises’ grand opening bash tonight—free bowling and food and games and door prizes and even dancing—had been the talk of Chandlerville for weeks. Everyone was going—everyone who liked that sort of thing. Law had pretty much burned out on good times when his and Libby’s bad choices earned him eighteen months in prison for DUI and reckless endangerment, after an accident that left another driver severely injured.

  When he’d been called into McC’s at noon to cover the midday rush, after he’d worked until midnight again last night, Vic had been right behind him, raring to turn his soon-to-be stressful afternoon into an excuse for having a beer and watching a half hour of ESPN, all while he expensed the bill to the Davises. He’d said his final responsibility before he signed off on overseeing the near-completed Pockets build was to manage the last of the landscaping installation.

  Law handed over the mug. “I thought the construction on Walter and Julia’s place was complete.”

  “It is.” Vic raised his beer in a toast and sipped. “Mostly. The nursery put off handling the border plants and shrubs for the beds out front until this afternoon. You know, because no owner is going to get nervous that the landscaping for the entrance to their building still looks like rot the day of the opening. Julia’s having a cow. I’m promising her everything will be taken care of by five, after promising it would be done by ten this morning. My new ETA for delivery of her handpicked shrubs is one o’clock. Between you and me, I’m guessing we’re looking at closer to two. Maybe three.”