by K. N. Casper
Jim chuckled. “Serves him right for showing off. Don’t worry. He’ll get over it.” He grew more serious. “I’ll pay whatever you charge for lessons. I don’t want him receiving any special treatment.”
“Let’s set up a schedule,” Ethan offered. He’d already decided this kid didn’t belong in the therapeutic group. With Kerwin it would be standard riding lessons.
* * *
KAYLA LAY AWAKE most of Monday night worrying.
What would become of Heather and Brad if they were separated? If they could no longer come out to the Broken Spoke?
And the vineyard. Suppose her father couldn’t find enough cuttings suitable to this area?
Most of all, what about the feelings developing between her and Ethan? She’d vowed after her divorce not to get involved with anyone. It made things too complicated, not just for her, but for Megan. Life was difficult enough for an eight-year-old with asthma who’d been abandoned by her dad.
After seeing Megan off to school Tuesday, Kayla decided she had no choice.
The Child Protective Services office for Loveless County was located in a small stucco building a block behind the courthouse. The inside was as bleak as the outside, soulless, crowded with file cabinets and untidy stacks of paper. Kayla walked up to the counter.
“May I help you?” the woman at a desk in the far corner asked across the room.
“I’d like to apply to become a foster parent.”
The woman didn’t seem in the least impressed, much less cheered at the announcement.
“Actually for two particular children,” Kayla added. “I understand the people who are taking care of them now will be leaving the area. I know the children and would like them to come and live with us.”
“Are you related to them?”
Kayla shook her head. “They’re in the same class as my daughter.”
The woman dropped the papers she’d been sorting onto the cluttered desktop and rose. She was a mountain of a woman in a dark blue dress that hung on her like a tent.
“I can’t help you,” she said. “We’ll be closing this office in a few weeks.” She waved her hand at the chaos. “I’m sorting through records now, purging before transferring the lot to the San Antonio office.”
“Closing? But why?”
“Homestead doesn’t meet the population requirements to have its own office.”
“But with all the new people moving in to take advantage of the Home Free program—”
“The decision to close was made last year. At that time the town had been in decline for several years.”
“But surely now—”
“A few new families have recently located here, but not enough to reverse the decision. Homestead’s status will be reevaluated in three years.”
“Three years?”
“Officials at the state level can consider opening a satellite office here before then, but I wouldn’t count on it. Everybody’s consolidating these days. Can’t afford to keep a staff in every little town and village. Inefficient.”
“What’s going to happen to the children who are already in foster care here?”
“You say the family is relocating. Where to, do you know?”
“Chicago, I think.”
“Leaving the state. In that case, the children will eventually be sent to other families within Texas.”
“Eventually?” Kayla was aghast. “Where will they go in the meantime?”
“There’s a group home in San Antonio,” the woman responded without any indication the sentence she’d just pronounced bothered her in the least. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe she really didn’t care. Maybe to her they were simply statistics on a chart.
“There must be something I can do,” Kayla insisted. “Those kids have been through so much already.”
“They all have.” For the first time Kayla glimpsed compassion. The woman gave a slight shrug. “You might talk to the people in the San Antonio office. They might be able to help you.”
Kayla felt a sense of despair. “Where are they?”
The woman found a notepad among the piles of folders on the counter and wrote down the address.
CHAPTER NINE
KAYLA HAD JUST STARTED her car when her cell phone rang. Digging the instrument out of her purse, she checked the screen. Her dad calling from home. She hit a button and put the phone to her ear.
“Good news,” he said.
“You found us a tractor.” The one he’d checked on the previous week had been too big, and the cultivator that went with it needed too much work.
“Something else.”
“Hey,” she said, “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
She hadn’t told her father yet about her plans to become a foster parent for Heather and Brad. For one thing, she didn’t want him giving her all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t do it. For another, he’d be leaving in a few months, so ultimately the decision wasn’t his. Besides, it hadn’t been made yet. She was simply exploring the idea.
“I just got off the phone with Mata in Longview,” Boyd explained.
Mata Koroniakos owned one of the biggest and most productive vineyards in the Columbia River valley. “She’s willing to sell us chardonnay cuttings at a really good price, but she wants me to go and personally take charge of the harvesting and packing.”
That relieved Mata of liability if they didn’t take, but it was also in Kayla’s best interest. There was no one she trusted more to handle this than her father. “When would you have to leave?”
“Right away. Today, in fact, but I don’t like leaving you and Megan alone with all the stuff that’s going on—”
“Don’t worry about us, Dad. We’ll be fine.”
“Ethan is only a few minutes away. I know he’ll help in any way he can.”
“We’ll be fine,” she repeated, remembering her neighbor sitting at their kitchen table two evenings before and the sense of security she felt having him around. Well...maybe more than just a sense of security. The truth was she’d been thinking about his kiss far more than she should.
“There’s a flight out of San Antonio in three hours.”
“We’d better get moving, then. That’s not much time. Confirm your reservations and pack. I’ll be home in a few minutes to drive you.”
“I hate to put you to all that trouble. I can take my truck and leave it at the airport.”
“I need to go to San Antonio anyway. Besides, I might want to use the truck.”
He was waiting for her, a small suitcase at his feet, when she pulled up in front of the house. He climbed in without her turning off the engine.
“Considering the price Mata’s offering us,” he said once they were under way, “I didn’t think we’d want to pass this up.”
“She has good stock, the best. How long do you expect to be away?”
“Probably not more than four or five days.”
Kayla bypassed Loop 1610 on the outskirts of the city and proceeded to the inner ring of Loop 410. Daytime traffic was heavy even between rush hours; fortunately it was moving. She took the exit at McAllister Freeway north to the international airport.
“Call me when you get there,” she said, dropping him off at the airline terminal.
“I will.”
“And, Dad—thanks.”
“No need for that, honey. I love doing it.” The smile on his face confirmed it. “Give Megan a great big kiss for me.”
“We’ll miss you.” It was true. She and her dad had always been close but they’d become better friends since her divorce from Daryl. Boyd had been unconditional in his love for her, whether it was marrying a guy he didn’t approve of or starting her own vineyard fifteen hundred miles from the only place they’d ever called home.
It took almost half an hour for Kayla to penetrate the heart of San Antonio’s commercial district and find parking—four blocks from the address she was looking for.
This CPS office was bigger, but the atmosphere was no warmer.
Framed signs on the walls warned of dire consequences for failure to provide accurate information on official documents, followed by lists of applicable state regulations and criminal statutes.
Instead of one woman, however, this office was populated with half a dozen or more workers, all looking harassed, overworked or bored.
A Hispanic woman in her midthirties came up to the counter and brushed back a stray wisp of frizzy red hair that nature had had no part in creating.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a Texas twang.
“I’d like to apply to be a foster parent, Livy,” Kayla said, reading the name tag on the woman’s blue smock.
Livy walked along the counter gathering papers and forms from beneath it and dropped them in front of Kayla. “Fill these out, being especially careful to answer all the questions in parts two and seven of the personal history statement. You must furnish us with three character references. You’ll also have to sign a release for us to access your credit report and any police files.”
The stack contained at least twenty pages.
As if reading her mind, Livy added, “You don’t have to fill them out right now. Probably don’t have all the information with you anyway. Take them home and return them at your convenience. It’ll take about six weeks to review your application, assuming we don’t have a big backlog. Could be longer then, up to six months. If you’re approved, we’ll be in touch and set up an interview.”
Six weeks just to get an interview? Not encouraging at all.
“Actually, there are two particular children I want to foster.”
“Are they currently in the system?”
Kayla explained that they were living with a family in Homestead, but that the foster parents were planning to relocate to another state.
“Well, you can still complete the paperwork,” Livy said, “but we won’t be able to accept the request for those children until they’re released to our jurisdiction.”
“But they will be as soon as the Homestead office closes. That’s what the woman there told me.”
“Could be,” Livy admitted. “I don’t know anything about that. All I can tell is that those children don’t belong to us. Oh, wait, did you say Homestead? Is that your place of residence?”
“Yes, I have a small vin—”
She withdrew the stack of papers, as if they were forbidden candy. “No point in even filling these out, then. Sorry, but you’re outside our area.”
Kayla could feel her blood pressure rising. This was insane. She was on the verge of arguing with the woman, so she paused and took a deep breath. “I’d like to speak with the head of this office.”
Livy eyed her suspiciously, then shrugged. “Sure, but it won’t do any good. Her answers’ll be the same as mine. She’s the one who tells me what to say.”
She secreted the papers under the counter, strolled over to a desk in the opposite corner from the one she’d occupied and pointed to Kayla. The other woman nodded, put down her pen and came forward.
“I’m Mrs. Caswell,” she told Kayla. “How may I help you?”
Kayla explained the situation.
The woman nodded sympathetically. “Unfortunately there’s nothing I can do until the children are actually transferred to our jurisdiction.”
Kayla fought to hide her aggravation. “I’m trying to help these children.”
Mrs. Caswell sounded genuinely compassionate. “I appreciate that, and believe me, I wish I could accommodate you. I’m not trying to defend the system. Frankly, I think it stinks, but I have to obey the law. I can’t accept your application, no matter how much I’d like to. The children don’t come under my control, therefore there’s nothing I can do about them, either.” She shrugged helplessly. “I know how frustrating this is. You sound like just the kind of caring person we’re looking for. When the Homestead office is officially closed, and if the children are transferred to this office, I’ll be able to determine what’s best for them. Until then... I have hundreds of other cases I have to devote myself to.”
The woman spoke kindly, diverting Kayla’s anger from her to the system they were both stuck with.
“The best advice I can offer at this point is that you keep checking back with us.”
“Can I at least fill out the paperwork so it will be on file when that happens?”
Mrs. Caswell considered her question a moment. “I’ll give you the paperwork so you can have it ready to turn in as soon as we take over, but I can’t accept it or process it until then. You must understand we have lots of people with legitimate applications on file who must be investigated first. I can’t tie up resources on a request I know to be invalid.”
Kayla felt as if she were caught in a Kafka story.
“Our first concern is, of course, for the children. They’ll most likely be transferred here, since we’re the largest, closest office, but it’s possible Homestead will be annexed to another district.”
“Are there no other options?”
The woman considered the question. “The children have no family to take them?”
“The girl’s parents were killed in a car accident last summer. She has no one else. The boy... He was taken away from an abusive situation that cost him his right foot.”
The woman lowered her eyes and pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
“Suppose I adopted them,” Kayla blurted out.
The woman’s brows rose. “You’d be willing to do that?”
“They’re good kids. They don’t deserve to be bounced around this way.”
“None of them do,” she said with a flash of genuine anger. “But adoption is a big step, a big responsibility. Are you married? Do you have other children?”
“I’m divorced, but I have full custody of my eight-year-old daughter.”
“We prefer married couples. We wouldn’t turn down your application, but we’d look at married people first.”
“Would the children have any say-so?”
“They’re eight and nine? A judge might consider their opinion, but he would have no obligation to honor it. A stable two-parent home is almost always given preference over individuals, unless they’re related by blood or marriage.”
“But I have a history with them. They know me and my daughter. We’re almost like family now.”
“That would certainly help, of course, but it’s still no guarantee.”
Kayla looked at her watch. She’d have to hurry to get home before Megan’s bus dropped her off, and the afternoon rush hour was already beginning. She took the application packet and left, more depressed than when she’d entered. Fearful that she might not be able to make it home in time, she used her cell phone to call Ethan.
He answered on the second ring.
“I hate to bother you,” she said, “but I’m stuck in San Antonio—”
“What are you doing there?”
“I had to drop my dad at the airport. He’s gone to Washington state to get us new stock.”
“You work fast.” She liked the approval she heard in his voice.
“I should be home in about forty-five minutes, but just in case I’m held up, would you go over and meet Megan? I don’t want her to come home to an empty house.”
“No trouble at all. I’ll bring her over here and give her a riding lesson.”
“You’re a doll.”
“Really?” he asked in amusement.
More than you know, and that makes you even more adorable.
“She’ll love that. I’ll pay you back somehow, in addition to the fee for the extra lesson, I mean.”
“No need for either. I told you, neighbors help neighbors here.”
She sighed. “Still, I feel I should do something.”
“How about letting me take you out to dinner tonight?”
An image of white linen, sparkling crystal and candlelight came to mind.
“Only if you let me buy.” The idea was enticing, but... “Where?” she asked.
“What’s open at night in Homestead? Besides, I don’t have a babysitter for Megan now with Dad gone.”
“She can come along.”
Kayla was glad he couldn’t see her face, because it was hot and probably beet-red. She should be pleased he was including her daughter, but her immediate reaction had been letdown. Even though she wasn’t interested in Ethan—she wouldn’t allow herself to be interested—as anyone more than a friend and neighbor. Even if he was more a temptation than a doll.
“Oh, okay.”
“And since you’re buying, you can pick it up on the way home. I had barbecue in mind, but it’s your choice. We’ll have a picnic. I know the perfect spot.”
“Sounds like fun. Give me a little extra time, then, for the food. Say an hour and a half?”
“We’ll be here.”
They disconnected. A picnic. Well, Megan would enjoy that.
Now the big decision: Barbecued chicken, beef or pork sausage? Megan liked macaroni salad, so she’d get some of that and...
* * *
ETHAN LAUGHED as he clicked off his cell phone. He hadn’t missed the disappointment in Kayla’s voice when she realized he was suggesting a family picnic. He would have liked something more intimate, too, but this wasn’t about romance, it was about friendship.
Carter’s words came back to him. She’s falling in love with you.
Worse, he was falling in love with her. He didn’t want to be, but he was beyond helping himself when it came to Kayla. They were going to play family tonight. Another mistake. Before this went too far, he would have to pull back. After tonight. He’d already made a commitment. He couldn’t renege.
He finished replacing the kick panel in a stall one of his recent boarders had damaged, checked his watch and put his tools away before hopping into his pickup and driving over to Stony Hill. Kayla probably didn’t realize all the land she could see from her house had once been part of the Broken Spoke or that he knew every nook and cranny on the place.
Megan was surprised to see him waiting for her when she trudged up the driveway. It took a moment for her to realize something must be wrong.
“Is Mom all right? Where is she? Where’s Grandpa? Why are you here?”