Wade caught her staring at him and cocked his head, a question in his blue-gray eyes.
She looked away, embarrassed.
She felt his eyes on her briefly before he turned to the kids. “Maybe we could put a puzzle together or––”
“I know!” Beau said. “Let’s play Spoons!”
“Yeah, Spoons! Spoons!” the little girls squealed, as though their brother had just suggested a trip to Disneyland.
“Okay, Spoons it is.” Wade turned to Dee. “Do you know how to play?”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never played.”
Wade winked at the kids. “I think somebody’s in for a treat. What do you guys think?”
They laughed conspiratorially, and Dee shot them a wary glance, but Wade seemed to ignore her and ushered them all into the house.
Until today, the majority of their time here had been spent outdoors––playing catch or Frisbee on the lawn, romping with Shadow, or just sitting under the shade of the front porch, talking.
Now Wade led the way through the entryway and up several steps to the kitchen. As Dee’s eyes adjusted to the light, she was reminded again of her first impression of Wade's house. It really was quite charming—tidy and cozy, and still showing evidence of a woman's touch... Lace curtains hung at the kitchen window, and here and there the walls were stenciled with tendrils of ivy.
“Wow!” Dani said, her upturned gaze sweeping the kitchen. “The house is clean!”
Wade shot Dee a sheepish grin, then tickled Dani under the chin. “Of course it’s clean,” he said. “You’re never here to mess it up.” He knelt and wrapped her in a hug. “I’d rather have it messy,” he said in a stage whisper.
Dani rewarded him with the sweetest smile this side of the Mississippi. Dee was struck again by how unspoiled these children had remained, in spite of the upheavals and tragedy in their short lives. Karen Xavier was smitten with all three of them and had even made noises about adopting them if somehow neither man managed to gain custody. That possibility was highly unlikely, but the mere fact Karen had broached the subject spoke volumes of her love for the children.
Beau walked over to a desk in the corner of the room and rummaged in a drawer, coming back to the table with a tatty deck of Cinderella playing cards.
“Get the spoons, Lacey Daisy,” Wade said, pulling out a chair. “We’ll need four of them.”
Dee took a step back, folded her arms, and leaned against the kitchen counter, glad the visit was turning out so well, despite the fact they couldn’t be outside. Often it was like pulling teeth to get family members to interact. Too many of them thought an hour of reality TV or video games qualified as “quality family time.”
Wade went to the living room and came back with another chair. The kids scampered for seats, and Wade pulled out a chair for Dee. She took it but pulled the chair away from the table before she sat. She wouldn’t intrude on their family time, but she did need to be close enough to observe.
Lacey arranged the four stainless steel spoons in a starburst pattern in the center of the table. Wade expertly shuffled the deck of cards and handed it to Beau. “Wanna deal first, buddy?”
Beau went around the table, methodically counting out four cards for each person. When he laid the cards in front of Dee, she put up a hand. “That’s okay, Beau. I’ll just watch.”
“No!” Lacey pleaded. “You hafta play.”
Dee tipped her head toward the table. “But…there’re only four spoons.”
The kids giggled, and Wade quieted them with an upraised hand. “Hang on. We forgot to explain the rules.” He turned to Dee. “It’s kind of like musical chairs. There’s always one less spoon than there are people. When you get the right cards, you grab a spoon.” He demonstrated, snapping up one of the spoons with a curvy S engraved on the handle. “As soon as the first person grabs a spoon, it’s everybody get a spoon or––”
“Or sing a tune!” the kids yelled in unison, clapping with glee.
Wade tipped his head to one side and rubbed his chin, looking almost shy. “It’s a little different twist that Starr––their mother––put on the game. If you’re the one left without a spoon, you have to sing one line of a song.”
Dee laughed nervously and folded her arms again. “Then I’m definitely not playing. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
“Mama said Wade can’t carry one in a pickup truck,” Dani said matter-of-factly.
They all laughed as Dani looked from one to the next with a what’s-so-funny expression on her face.
Wade gave Dee a pleading look. “Come on… It’s really not so bad. And if you’re really good, you’ll never have to sing anyway.”
“Wade, it’s really better if just you and the children interact. My job is to be an observer, not a participant.”
He bristled visibly. “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s a little difficult to interact naturally when we have an audience. It would really be more comfortable for all of us if you’d just pretend to be our guest and play the game with us.” His tone was resolute, but not unkind.
She stared at him for a minute before reluctantly scooting her chair up to the table. “Okay. I’ll play. But how about giving me an out this first game? If I lose, I don’t sing.”
He eyed her, and a slow grin came to his lips. “Fair enough. But only the first time.” He picked up the cards Beau had dealt him and arranged them in a neat fan shape. “Okay, here’s how it works: we’re going for four of a kind. You can save numbers or face cards, and the first one to get all four grabs a spoon. As soon as one spoon gets picked up, everybody goes for a spoon, and the one left without gets to serenade us.”
“But I get an out,” she reminded him.
“Everybody hear that?” He looked around the table at the kids, that same sly grin on his face. “Dee doesn’t have to sing the first time she loses.”
“Aw, no fair,” Dani pouted.
“Hey…” Wade whispered conspiratorially. “We’ll get her on the second time around.”
Dani rubbed her hands together and giggled. “Okay,” she whispered back.
Three rounds later Beau had sung twice and Dani once, and Dee was feeling guilty she was still in the game, but also a little smug that she’d managed to escape the dreaded solo so far. And she still had that free pass Wade had proffered.
“Your turn to deal,” Beau said, handing her the deck. She brushed her bangs away from her face and shuffled the deck. She probably shouldn’t have agreed to play the game with them. As she’d told Wade, her role was simply to be an observer––and mediator, if necessary. The whole idea of these visits was to give the family an opportunity to interact. But she hadn’t wanted to upset Wade. And he did have a point. It had to be awkward for him to have her scrutinizing everything they did. Even with her in the game, they were interacting beautifully. It seemed to come easily and naturally for Wade and the children.
Dee was surprised at how welcome they’d all made her feel. As though she were an honored guest here rather than the loathsome intruder most parents she supervised––and even sometimes the children––perceived her to be.
She dealt the cards and another fast-paced round began. Within minutes she garnered two aces to add to the one she’d dealt herself. All she had to do now was watch for the ace of spades to come her way. Piece of cake. Watching closely, she took the cards Lacey laid beside her and passed them on to Beau.
The sound of raucous laughter jolted her aware. She looked around the table, and her mouth dropped open when she saw Wade and each of the children hold a spoon up in triumph.
“Sing! Sing!” the children chanted.
“No.” Wade came to her rescue. “Remember, she gets one out.”
She really should bow out of the game, let them play by themselves. But if she purposely lost this round, she’d be forced to sing. It was not a possibility she relished.
She squeaked safely through four more rounds before glancing at her watch.
“Oh! I’ve got to get you guys back. Karen is going to wonder what in the world happened to us.”
“Just one more round!” Dani yelled.
“We really can’t, honey. Karen will be worried. Besides, I need to get back to the office.” She couldn’t believe she’d let the time get away from her like this.
“You just don’t want to sing,” Beau accused. But the impish grin on his face told her he was teasing.
Wade tipped his head toward the phone on the desk. “Do you need to make a call?”
“Thanks, but I can call from my cell on the way back.” She pushed her chair away from the table.
“Be careful. Those things are the biggest hazard on the road as far as I’m concerned.”
The playful mood had evaporated, and she thought Wade sounded rather peeved with her. “I think I can handle it, thanks.”
He drew back. “Okay…sure.”
She hadn’t meant her words to come out so tersely, but she felt unaccountably defensive. She had gotten so wrapped up in the card game––in her own enjoyment of it––that she’d forgotten she was working. She shouldn’t have let her guard down. “Come on, guys,” she told the children, avoiding Wade’s eyes. “We need to hustle.”
“Beau, girls…you heard what Dee said. You need to hurry.” Wade went to the back door and held it open for them.
They filed outside and started for the car, Wade following behind.
“Wait!” Lacey cried, turning with a look of desperation on her face. “We never got to see Shadow!”
“Oh, dear,” Dee said. She looked at her watch, and then at Wade. Well, he had promised them. There was no school today on account of a teachers’ in-service and she didn’t have any meetings scheduled until the afternoon. “I guess we can stay a couple more minutes.”
Without warning, Wade put his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. The children looked expectantly toward the back of the house where the yard ambled down to the river. Within seconds, a graceful black form came bounding up the hill.
“Shadow!”
Like vultures, they swooped down on the black Lab. Dee let them love on the dog for a few minutes before looking pointedly at her watch. “Guys, I’m sorry, but we really do need to get you back now. Tell Shadow good-bye. Oh, and Wade, too.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said with a wry grin.
“I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” she said, returning the grin. She felt bad to have raised her hackles with him before.
The kids had the routine down by now, and the good-byes were no longer teary. While Dee unlocked the car, they each gave Wade and the dog one last hug before piling into the backseat.
“See you next week,” Wade hollered, stooping to look into the car window. He raised a hand, then dropped it quickly to his side as she backed the car around.
Dee watched him in her rearview mirror as she maneuvered the car down the lane to the main road. He stood in front of the house with one hand on Shadow’s neck, the other raised to shade his eyes. His head was slightly bent, and there was a slump to his shoulders that hadn’t been there earlier.
Compassion and sympathy were emotions that had always come easily toward the children she worked with. But suddenly, Dee realized she was feeling something that, until now, had been foreign when it came to the parents of those children. Yet there was no denying it.
Her heart ached for Wade Sullivan.
Chapter 29
Wade went back into the house and quickly changed into work clothes. Poor Pete had been pulling more than his share of weight in the business for weeks now. One more thing to feel guilty about.
Back in the kitchen, he fixed a jug of ice water, grabbed an apple from the fridge, and dashed out to the pickup.
The cab of the truck was like a sauna. Sinking his teeth into the apple, he tore off a chunk and chewed, letting the sweet juice cool his parched mouth. He rolled down the windows and pulled out of the drive, not caring that the dust blew back into the truck, coating his skin with a film of grit and peppering the damp flesh of the apple where he’d taken a bite.
Dear God, I miss the kids. I miss them like crazy. They’d been in foster care for almost six weeks. If he were honest, in some ways his life was easier now. No more worrying about picking them up at daycare on time, no more keeping up with Beau’s ballgames, no more dentist appointments or frantically prepared suppers. Of course the meetings with caseworkers and his attorney, and the initial hearings at the county courthouse, had eaten up a lot of that time.
But he missed the constancy of having Beau and Lacey and Dani around. Their voices, their laughter, even their childish arguments. They had become the thing that mattered most to him in life. His family. They were the inheritance Starr had left him, and they’d added a cadence to his days that comforted him in ways he hadn’t realized until he’d lost it.
Thoughts of Starr filled him with remorse again. In spite of Pete’s compassionate counsel, Wade still had trouble shaking the guilt for the way she had died. No one questioned that it had been purely accidental, but never had he regretted anything so deeply as his carelessness at leaving those pills in his medicine cabinet. Every time he thought about it, something twisted inside him.
Oh, for the chance to go back and change things. He’d cleaned out that cabinet a thousand times in his mind, visualized himself flushing the pills and tossing the bottle in the wastebasket beside the sink. But when he shook himself back to reality, Starr was still gone. Her children were still lost to him. He was still alone.
“God,” he whispered. “I can’t do this anymore.” His words vanished in the hot wind that rushed past the open window, scattered with the dust of the road. He couldn’t seem to pray anymore. He could never find the right words.
He flipped on the radio and cranked up the volume. Garth Brooks’ voice carried over the wind. As the chorus repeated for the second time, Wade listened to the words. He was taken aback by the lyrics. They wove a story from the old cliché, “Blood is thicker than water.” But it was the last line of the song that caused his throat to tighten and a knot to form in his gut. “But love is thicker than blood.”
He hoped a certain judge at the Coyote County courthouse believed that.
Some twenty miles later, he pulled in behind Pete’s truck at the work site and cut the engine. Thankfully, the combination great room and master bedroom addition was enclosed now. Pete had planned to work on the plumbing in the master bath while he waited on Wade to help put up the sheetrock. On a scorcher like today it would be a relief to work inside out of the sun.
He could hear the steady rhythm of his partner’s hammer even before he opened the French doors leading into the great room. Inside, two large box fans hummed and rattled the plastic tarp hanging between the house proper and the new addition.
Pete greeted Wade with his easy, perpetual smile. “Hey, buddy. How’d it go today…with the kids?”
“Good. It went real good. We played Spoons.”
Pete looked up. “Spoons, huh?”
“Yeah. It was fun. She played with us.”
“You mean the social worker? Dee?”
Wade nodded.
Mischief tinged Pete’s grin. “Did she have to sing?”
Wade returned the grin. “Not yet.”
The Doleceks had often been included in rowdy games of Spoons with him and Starr and the kids. It had been a great way to pass the dreary winter months last year. More often than not their card parties turned into bona fide sing-a-longs. Pete and Margie both sang in the choir at church and had beautiful voices. Wade had relished those times, regardless of his own lack in the musical department.
He was surprised to find the recollection sweet now, the accompanying ache not quite so sharp as memories of Starr often were. But, he was surprised to find a new wrinkle to the remembrance.
Dee.
It had been good to have a woman at his table today. Almost as though he had a family again. He thought Dee had enjoyed it to
o. He shook his head, startled at the emotion her name evoked. What was wrong with him? He’d buried Starr barely six months ago. He hardly knew Dee Thackery.
He sloughed off the thoughts and looked at Pete. “We’ll get her next time. She’ll have to sing eventually.” He paused, then shook his head. “Just so it’s not me that has to sing.”
Pete cocked his head and eyed Wade. “You like her, don’t you?”
Wade grabbed the other end of the piece of sheetrock his partner was manhandling. With practiced precision, they jutted it up to the one Pete had just finished nailing down.
“What do you mean?” In spite of the cool air billowing over him from the fan at his feet, he felt his face grow warm.
“Seems like I’ve heard her name an awful lot lately.”
“She…she’s my connection to the kids…that’s all.” He grabbed his hammer and went to work.
Together they beat out a rhythm as familiar to Wade as his own heartbeat. Bam. Bam-bam-bam. Bam.
Finally Pete spoke. “I’m wondering if it’s more than that…”
Placing another nail, Wade aimed his reply at the wall. “Forget it, Pete. Sure…she’s nice. I was expecting to hate her, and I’m glad I don’t. She’s made it easier for me. For all of us. But don’t go making this out to be something it’s not.”
Pete didn’t push the issue. But all afternoon Wade thought about what he’d said. He did like Dee. Though they’d only spent a few short hours together, there was a sort of bond between them. It was the children, of course. He knew that, knew it would never be anything more. Still, it was a pleasant surprise finding an unlikely friend in the midst of this whole ordeal with the kids.
Like a well-oiled machine, he and Pete hoisted another unwieldy slab of sheetrock into place, and in a comfortable absence of conversation, they resumed their steady hammering.
Sophie Braden was surprised to realize she was trembling as she drove her decrepit Plymouth out to Wade’s place. She turned the air conditioner down and took her hands off the steering wheel long enough to rub her bare arms vigorously. But she knew it wasn’t the cool air causing her hands to shake and her insides to flutter.
A Nest of Sparrows Page 20