by Beth Shriver
“I have some visitations, but I can work around it.”
“Okay. I’ll check in with you later.”
“Hey, sorry about last night.” What was she sorry about? She felt like she should say something but hadn’t thought things through.
“Forget about it.” An awkward silence pursued.
“Okay...” Her words hung there like dead weight.
“I’ll see you this afternoon, if not earlier.”
After they disconnected, she decided not to bring the subject up again until she knew exactly what the subject was.
Michael knocked on her door and sat across from her in his normal attire. As he leaned forward, Liz noticed his concerned-father look.
“What did I do?” she quipped.
“Norma wants out of response calls.”
Liz knew better than to be surprised at Norma’s version of their talk. “We talked about it. She might take a bigger caseload if she moved to long-term cases.”
Being straightforward was the only way she knew how to operate on the job, so she offered a solution. “I’d like the cases to go through you instead of me.”
He raised a finger to his lips in thought. “That might be an option.”
“I think it would be better coming from you.”
He nodded. “DPD Narcotics are interested in the Harris case. Have they gotten in touch with you?”
“No, Demas is taking that end of it. I’m going to talk with the daughter, Carrie Harris, about it later today. Her boyfriend Pirelli is a recognized dealer.”
Michael moved to the front of his chair, his dark blue eyes scrutinizing hers. “Demas again? It’s almost as if he’s requesting to go out on calls with you.”
“They can’t do that, can they?” She wanted his eyes off her.
“They’re cops. They can do whatever they want.” He sat back in his chair, his expression tight as he stared at the wall.
“He was the original officer on the call with me. We’re just finishing what we started. It’s turned into more than we thought.”
“Are you and Alex interested in one another outside of work?” His gaze was hesitant.
She had to think through her answer so she didn’t tangle herself into a mess. “Not officially.” He could take that either way.
“That would help make things less complicated.” He flashed his boyish smile and got up to leave. “Are you going to take some time off to go back home for Christmas?”
She lifted a single eyebrow, puzzled by the sudden mood swing. “Yeah, that’s why I’m working so hard to lighten my caseload.”
“I just thought you were a hard worker.” He tapped on the door and left.
Then Liz heard Margie’s footsteps pounding down the hall and knew the woman was coming to her office so she sat at her desk looking at the door, waiting. Margie flew into her office. She took a breath and put a hand to her chest, touching the pink, glittery sweater she was wearing.
“Okay, at least let me show you a picture of him.” She had the church directory in her hand and flipped through to a page she had dog-eared.
“See, here he is.” She pointed proudly.
Actually, Ken wasn’t bad looking. He had nice eyes, and was dressed in dress pants and a button down shirt. He looked like a clean-cut, church-going guy, short cut hair and collared shirt, straight smile. “There’s got to be something. You make him sound flawless. I just want to be prepared. I don’t like surprises.”
“Quit trying to find something wrong with him.” Margie dropped her hand down to her side with fervor.
Liz admitted to herself she might be avoiding going out with this guy because of Alex. Her pulse quickened at the thought of being partial in any way due to the uncertain relationship they had.
“All right, one dinner, but if he talks like Mickey Mouse I’m walking out the door.” Liz crossed her arms over her chest to give her decision emphasis.
Margie clapped her hands. “I knew you’d come around. Trust me, you won’t regret it.” She turned on her heel and walked off.
Liz sat staring at the door. What did I get myself into?
****
Cops have it easy. They can wear their uniforms to court, Liz grumbled to herself. She, on the other hand, had to wear heels. She’d put on her gray skirt and gray jacket with a white blouse and low black heels.
She drove around until she found a parking spot with a meter. She got out and started digging in her coin purse for change. Nothing, only pennies and a couple nickels. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone put a ticket on her windshield. She turned to protest and then saw Alex putting a pad in his pocket.
“What are you doing?” She dug deeper with her hand still in her purse.
“I don’t have any change either, and we don’t want to be late.” He grinned that awesome grin that made Liz happy.
“Is that legal?”
He put his hand on her back to get her moving. “You’re on government business, and besides, now you owe me.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Liz shot him a sharp look. “I don’t like the thought of owing you anything.”
“Tough break. That, or get a real ticket.” He took her by the arm and led her forward.
“Are you going to call Dixon?”
He chuckled. “No, I’d write the ticket. But I like it that you owe me better.”
She rolled her eyes and smirked at him as they walked to the courthouse. As they passed by the Harris’s, Liz nodded at them and said hello. Rose nodded, but Tom was leaning over with his hands on his knees and slowly looked up. His solemn face was a reflection of Scotty’s, and just as sad. He shrugged at her, and she understood his regret.
An officer sitting next to him said hello to Alex and he returned the greeting. They found an unoccupied bench in the hallway of the courthouse by the courtroom they were assigned and sat down, waiting for their case to be called.
Alex smiled and tapped her on the knee. “You look good all dressed up.”
“Thanks, and you always look good in that uniform.” Embarrassed, she jumped up and walked toward the courtroom doors. She peeked in and saw that the previous case had finished. She looked back at Alex and motioned for him to come over and then they walked in together.
When the room was situated the bailiff called out their case and started the proceedings. The judge tapped his gavel and looked over the paperwork. Judge Thomas was an older man with gray hair, and glasses on the tip of his nose. He had always been fair when she had dealt with him in the past.
The judge reviewed the materials, including the information on placement, investigations and pictures. He finished reading and removed his glasses. “A report to CPS was filed because of the at-risk nature of the children. However, the client has the right of due process. Please state the problems perceived.”
Alex took the stand and was asked about the threat Tom Harris made. “When I entered the room Mr. Harris was on one knee within a few inches from Social Worker Liz Adams and Mr. Harris’s son, Jimmy. In his attempt to keep his son from being taken from the home he tried by force to take the boy from Ms. Adams.”
After his statement Alex stepped down and Liz took the chair. “I have given suggestions of resources available to the client for primary prevention, which is basically to get a job, counseling and detox.”
The defense attorney put his hands in his pockets and leaned forward slightly on his tiptoes. “Ms. Adams, in checking into the foster home the clients are residing, we have knowledge their license is suspended. If the judge does order them to stay in placement, they will need to be removed and placed into a more suitable facility.”
The blood rose in her cheeks. For anyone to say anything even close to an insult referring to the Bowies called for a rebuttal. “Mr. Flenner, I have very high standards involving placements, and I can vouch for this particular foster home as being the most “suitable” placement for Scotty and Jimmy.”
The defense attorney scoffed. “You speak of these cl
ients as if they were your own children, Ms. Adams. I sincerely hope you have retained your objectivity in this matter.” A small smile appeared at the edge of one side of his mouth.
“Mr. Flenner, many of our laws are influenced by the Latin forms of government and judiciary procedures. Do you agree?”
He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, yes but what does that have to do with—”
“So,” Liz interrupted after getting the answer she wanted. “Consider that the Latin meaning for the word parent means, until God. And I am a licensed social worker through the state of Colorado. And these clients are wards of the state. I most certainly am in fact their ‘parent’ until further action is taken involving returning them to their home or their Heavenly Father decides to take them.”
He put a finger to his lip and smirked. “Okay, Ms. Adams, so you’ve done your homework. But the fact still remains that the foster home they’re presently in is not legally licensed.”
Liz didn’t dare push any further. If what he was saying were true, the boys might have to be moved. Keeping them with the Bowies only involved paperwork, red tape that she would have to push through the system, fast.
“I’ll look into it immediately.”
The judge had been quietly listening to the debate and now gave Liz a smile. “Ms. Adams, you may step down.”
As Liz stood to leave the bench he whispered, “Giving my attorneys a run for it today, Ms. Adams?”
“I didn’t intend any disrespect toward you, your honor.”
“None taken.” Judge Thomas then turned to Tom. “Mr. Harris, my job is to resolve your self-determination to complete the court orders required of you. This will decide when your boys will return to your home.”
Mr. Harris nodded as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead to the ruddy neck that bulged over his white collared shirt.
“You will be required to attend counseling and find employment. Your progress will be evaluated weekly. Do you understand what is expected of you, Mr. Harris?”
Tom nodded again, lowering his gaze.
“Do you have any questions?”
Tom moved forward a couple of steps causing the bailiff to hold up his hand not to come any closer. “When will my boys come home?”
The judge stared down at him through his glasses. “You will be evaluated one week from today by your caseworker. If you have found a job and have enrolled in the required classes and therapy, they will return home upon the caseworker’s assessment.”
Liz was glad to hear Tom ask about his sons. He acted sober. His hands were a little shaky, maybe from nerves, but hopefully from drying out. The Harris’s had their struggles but things were hopefully on the mend.
Rose Harris gave her a weak smile.
“I’ll be praying for you and your family,” Liz told her with a soft smile.
Rose thanked her and followed after Tom. Liz felt the uneasiness between them fade away.
Alex was waiting for Liz when she exited the courtroom. “You were on fire today,” he exclaimed with a grin.
“Yeah, well he sort of asked for it. He didn’t have to get personal.”
“Yeah, he did. I was on your side.” He winked.
“I’m going to have to run by the office and get some paperwork started for the Bowies if what he said is true.”
“Yeah, it sounds like he did his homework too.” They turned and walked past security to the tall, oak doors leading outside.
“How can you be so forgiving to a man who beats his wife and kids?” Alex questioned as they walked down a number of small cement stairs.
Liz tried not to let his words disappoint her. She felt him struggling with his faith, and saying anything self-righteous would only make it worse. “I try to see them through God’s eyes.”
He paused. “I’ve never thought of it like that before.”
Liz released the tightening in her stomach. At least he was open to her way of thinking and that encouraged her. “Do you ever feel led to pray for the people you work with?”
“I haven’t felt led to pray for quite a while.”
She turned to him with soft eyes. “I guess I have something else to pray about.”
He stared at her and remained silent until they were outside the building.
Liz absorbed his words slowly. He had said little, but it meant a lot. The main thing was that he did pray, but something had happened to make him lose faith. Now wasn’t the time, but she had some leads and would probe into them when the time was right.
“I think things will work out for them, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “You’re such a peace maker. We’ll probably be going on a disturbance call to their place next week.”
They walked over to her car. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” He took the ticket from the windshield.
“Hey, I want to keep that. I might need it again, especially for what it’s costing me.” She swiped it from his hand.
“And don’t you forget either.” He leaned against her car, and gave her a knowing grin.
“Guess we’re not going to make it over to Carl’s today.” She stuck the ticket in her purse. She wanted to be the one with the proof of anyone owing anyone anything.
“Nope. Can you make it first thing in the morning?” He tapped his fingers on the car.
“Yeah, that’ll work.” They had been spending a lot of time together, partly because they were working on the same case, but she felt there was more to it than just that. They had never spent this much time together off the job in the past, and Liz hoped it would continue.
“I promised you a rain check dinner at my place. Still interested?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her an enjoyable view of biceps. “Sure, what time?”
She did a mental inventory of her food supply. “How about seven?”
“Have to go grocery shopping, huh?” he asked playfully.
“I didn’t think you’d say yes. It seems like you’re always doing something.”
“Some of the guys are getting together, but I’d rather see what you come up with for dinner,” he teased as he opened her car door.
She frowned at him, taking on the challenge. “Glad you’re enjoying this. Just come over at seven. You might be surprised.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” He gave her hand a squeeze and left.
She was hoping she would surprise herself with a great foolproof meal she could throw together by seven. But he had challenged her so she had to think of something good. Then she had a brilliant idea. She’d call her mom. What a great way to let her know she was cooking for a guy.
The minute Liz told her Alex was coming over for dinner, she started in with her suggestions. “Oh honey, you have to make my lasagna. Be sure and use mozzarella and not Monterrey Jack. I’ll read off the sauce recipe to you. Don’t skimp on the spices. Does he like spicy...”
Liz checked through the ingredients in her head, trying to avoid her mother’s rambling.
“Liz?”
Liz suddenly realized her mother had stopped talking. “Yes, I think he does.”
“If you go to the signature grocer, you can get the fresh noodles. Is he on that low-carb diet? They have low-carb noodles now.”
“Okay, I’m going to have to write all this down. Mom, read me the recipe, and I’ll figure out the rest.”
She rattled of the recipe and then said, “I can’t wait to meet him, maybe at Christmas.”
“I don’t know if he’ll be able to come for Christmas.”
“Why?” Disappointment soaked through the phone.
“It’s a little awkward. I don’t know if we’re ready.” That was an understatement.
“It would sure be nice if he could come.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. But thanks for the recipe.”
Liz wondered if she should ask him. It would make her mother happy, and if she was going to spend time with someone, at least it would be with someone she knew and had se
cretly always wanted to get to know better. Her stomach fluttered with the thought.
Chapter Thirteen
After three stops at two different stores, because she forgot a spice the first time around at the first store and the second one didn’t have it, she finally had everything she needed to make Mom’s lasagna. The only problem was it was six-thirty and it would take more than an hour, at least, to get everything on the table.
She walked in the side door that led into the kitchen and laid the groceries on the counter. She actually enjoyed cooking when she had the time and for special occasions such as this.
Her kitchen was convenient to cook in now that it had been remodeled. She had removed the age-old wallpaper, replacing it with textured, mushroom colored walls. A friend of a friend, who owned a remodeling store, got her a deal to reface her cabinets in a rustic lightwood with brushed silver handles. The stainless steel appliances complimented the room with the earth tones in the rest of the kitchen.
She stopped admiring the room and started using it. She dug in and got busy beginning with the sauce, losing herself in time.
As the sauce simmered, Liz decided to spend some time with the Lord.
She headed to the bedroom and sank onto her down comforter, reaching for the devotional she kept on her bedside table.
Feel that, trust Me. Am I not leading you safely, faithfully? Will you believe Me, your Master, that all this is really to bring the answer to your prayers? Remember I am God, who knows all and can control all. Directly you put your affairs, confusion, and difficulties into My hands so I begin to affect a cure of all the disharmony and disorder. I will do all as tenderly as possible. Tell Me that you trust Me in this.
The devotional had been exactly what she needed to hear. Her thoughts wandered back to Alex and everything they had been through together in the last few days. She felt vulnerable knowing her feelings were growing for him.
She pictured his face filled with concern after both incidents. She knew he had feelings for her, but what they were exactly she didn’t know. Maybe a certain obligation because they worked so closely together, or pity. Oh, what if he felt sorry for her?