“We are moving forward,” she said reflexively.
“I mean together. I’ve thought a lot about where my life is going, and I realize now that writing articles for the local paper is not going to make a difference in this world. I saw that tonight, in that apartment. But I can change the future for these kids. I can take something horrible and make it happy. It’s my hope that you’d do that with me.”
All Isabelle could do was stare at him. “You just got through saying we were best friends, but you don’t know me at all. You of all people know that I just won the chance of my lifetime. A shot at a gallery show! The one thing I’ve worked for since high school.” Her voice cracked. “It might be selfish, but it’s my chance, Scott. The one I dreamed about while I was raising my siblings.” Her palms were sweating and her heart rammed against her chest like a caged animal. She shot to her feet. “You are not asking me this right now.”
“Oh, but I am,” he replied quietly.
“I don’t believe this,” she said, raking her hand through her hair and turning from him.
“You don’t want to be together?”
“I don’t want children,” she said in a rush.
“You never told me that before.”
“Not in so many words.” How could he have missed this obvious fact about her? She’d often confided how heavily the responsibility for her brothers and sisters had fallen on her. How she valued her independence above all.
“Why?”
“I’ve told you, Scott. My whole childhood was cooking, cleaning, doing my siblings’ laundry while they played on the swing set or went to football practice or piano lessons. I was sweeping and changing diapers. I walked Violet in the middle of the night when she had bronchitis, so my mother could sleep and go to work.”
Isabelle’s voice rose and tears streamed down her cheeks. She could feel resentment in every teardrop. She hated that she felt that way, but she did. “I rarely had time to draw. I desperately wanted to be in the art club in high school. You remember. But most of the time I had to drive one of the other kids to their lessons or the library or whatever when they were supposed to meet. There was never any time for me.” Her cheeks were blazing hot.
“I knew you resented the responsibilities...”
“Resented?” She snorted. “All I dreamed about was drawing and painting. No one ever asked me what I wanted. What kind of lessons I wanted.”
Her tears were coming in torrents and as she dropped her face to her hands, Scott enfolded her in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Isabelle. I didn’t realize how deep this went. There’s so much emotion in your paintings... I should have understood.”
She sniffed and pulled back. She placed her palms on his chest and felt his thundering heart.
She was hurting him, but she didn’t know what course to take other than escape. “Don’t you see, Scott? This is my chance to be free. My art has always meant freedom to me. I can explore the entire universe if I make this sale. With the Lodges closed for the winter, I have time to paint what Malcolm wants. I can do this. It will be my grand adventure.”
“Your new life,” he said huskily.
“Yes.”
He smoothed her hair back from her face and traced the edge of her cheek with his thumb. “You go for it, Isabelle. Be the best you can be.”
“I intend to.”
Then he kissed her with so much longing and passion, she felt weak.
He pulled her closer, and she melted into him, catching the faint scent of the spicy cologne he always wore.
“Isabelle,” he whispered, as he released her. “I have to go.”
She lowered her head. “I understand. Bye, Scott,” she said, her voice quaking.
He gave her his usual two finger salute. Then he walked out of the door.
Isabelle struggled to smile as her mind frantically scrambled for logic. She had visions of them sitting in a Chicago restaurant overlooking Lake Michigan toasting her success with champagne. Not once in all the sketches of her future had she penciled in children or erased Scott out of the drawing.
And she wasn’t about to do it now.
Eventually, Scott would understand. It was important that he give her this time. This opportunity. That’s what she needed right now.
Time.
CHAPTER NINE
SCOTT DIDN’T KNOW what to expect as he drove through a heavy snowfall to the address of the child services center that Trent had given him.
He’d told Zoey that he wanted to take the kids for an outing. She’d explained that she wanted to have a discussion with him first. Then she’d asked if he had child safety seats for the car. He told her he’d have them by the time he arrived.
He’d stopped off at the Indian Lake grocery, which was thankfully open for four hours on New Year’s Day. With the help of a woman in the baby aisle, he’d bought diapers, diaper rash cream, a pacifier, a couple sleepers with feet in them, shirts and a pair of “jeans” for Michael.
Next door at the Tractor Supply, open all day, he’d found excellent quality child safety seats for the car, a proper crib for Michael and a high chair. There were aisles of warm children’s parkas and he bought one for Bella in pink and one for Michael in blue with the Cubs emblem on it, which was on sale.
He would have bought shoes and boots but he wanted to make certain of their sizes. The next time he went shopping, he intended to bring them with him. If the director of DCS would allow.
Scott rubbed his eyes and turned up the windshield wipers. The snow was coming down fast, but his bleary vision was due to the fact that he hadn’t slept all night. After he’d left Isabelle’s apartment and come back to his shop, his mind and emotions had been on overload.
He’d grabbed an armful of books and puzzles from his shelves, hoping Bella liked books. He hadn’t seen a single toy in the sparse room the night before.
Everything he’d witnessed about Bella and Michael’s situation made his heart reach out to them, yet listening to Isabelle divulge her own history and deep-seated fears to him last night had deepened his compassion for Bella.
Isabelle had her reasons for everything she was doing. Good ones. She was determined to move on with her art, wherever it would lead her. It was going to take him a long time to imagine a life without Isabelle in it.
He supposed he was in shock.
He’d gone to her apartment essentially to propose, but she’d cut him off at the pass. Come to think of it, he’d never told her that he loved her. She’d never said she loved him back.
That would have been a good place to start.
He and Isabelle had come to a fork in the road last night and gone in two different directions. Scott hadn’t seen it coming. He realized now that he’d done them both a disservice over the years. He’d indulged himself in some dangerous passive behavior that had given Isabelle the impression that he shared her feelings about not wanting a family.
He’d never pressed her. He’d never expressed much about his feelings. In fact, it had only been recently, that he’d started thinking about what he truly wanted out of life—other than Isabelle.
It wasn’t until he’d seen little Bella and Michael that he knew: he wanted kids.
And he wanted these kids.
At least, he wanted to help them. And overnight, he’d come to the realization that he could do more for Bella and Michael as a foster parent than by writing about them for the Indian Lake Herald. For Scott, the idea of being a foster parent was about as far-fetched as his illusions about winning a Pulitzer. Foster parenting was something “other” people did. Dedicated and trained parental guides was the description given on the DCS website.
Scott would muster “dedicated” and the training was a matter of time and effort.
He pulled his truck into the circular drive at the newly b
uilt DCS building. The slate-gray-and-white trimmed building was surrounded by a thick grove of snow-covered trees.
He gathered his purchases and tromped up the unshoveled walk to the entrance. He wiped his feet on the mat and went to the reception desk.
“Hello. Scott Abbott. I’m here to see Zoey Phillips.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Abbott,” the blonde, sixtyish woman replied as she eyed his parcels. “Won’t you have a seat? She’s on the phone, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”
Scott sat and glanced around the room, noticing dozens of parenting pamphlets, magazines and journals. Before he had time to pick up a magazine, Zoey came down the hallway.
“Mr. Abbott. How nice to see you,” she said, holding out her hand.
Scott shifted the bags to his left arm and smiled. “Call me Scott, please. I was a bit surprised to get your text—I didn’t think you’d be open on New Year’s Day.”
Zoey led the way to her private office, a small room just off the reception area. There was only space for a small metal desk, her chair and two chairs opposite her. Her files sat in piles against the far wall, but there was a huge window at her back that looked out into the forest.
Scott put his bags on the chair next to him as they both sat.
Zoey was a pretty blonde woman, whom he guessed to be around the same age as him and Isabelle. Isabelle. His mind started to wander.
He studied the wall on his right where she’d hung a dozen framed certificates and licenses attesting to her expertise in child protection. “These are from downstate,” he said.
“Indianapolis mostly,” she replied, glancing up. “That’s where I met Sarah Jensen. Er, Bosworth.”
He smiled. “Luke’s my best friend. How do you know Sarah?”
“We were at IU together. We met at a party her senior year. I was just a freshman then, but she was so kind and generous I never forgot her. We stayed in touch. Then when I broke up with my fiancé a few months ago, I emailed her and she suggested I look into the opening up here.” She spread her palms in front of her. “And that is the story of my life.” She grinned.
“I doubt that.” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning back.
But just as quickly, Zoey grew more somber. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you because Bella was quite distressed about leaving you last night. This interested me a great deal since the two of you had only met. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes. I was only there at the bust as a reporter. Believe me, I wasn’t prepared for what happened.”
She folded her hands on the desk. “That’s what I wanted to hear from you. What, precisely, did happen?”
Scott looked down at his hand, the one Bella had held. How did he say to a professional social worker that a complete stranger had stolen his heart? How did he tell Zoey that he wanted to help Bella and Michael segue into their new life? How could he explain the protective emotions he felt? “As you know, the police have proof that Bella’s mother was indeed dealing drugs.”
“I do. Detective Davis tells me they also believe she was an accomplice in making the meth with her boyfriend.”
“I didn’t know that.” Scott frowned. “So, there’s no question she’ll go to prison.”
“None. She confessed to the charges, hoping her sentence will be lessened.”
“And will it?”
“That’s up to the judge, but it will go in her favor.”
“How long do you think she’ll be in for?” Scott asked.
“I don’t know. Ten, fifteen years. That much is certain.”
“Fifteen...” He rubbed his eyes. “That’s nearly all of Bella’s childhood. And Michael’s, too.”
“I know.”
“What happens to them?”
“Right now, we are in a...situation. Because of the holiday, our foster parents have taken on extra kids from the group home. We all want the children to have as happy an experience over the holidays as possible. It’s been an extra burden for our foster families, but at Christmas, everyone is very gracious. Kids should have Christmas, I believe. So, we’ve all worked very hard to place them.”
Scott lowered his head. “And Bella and Michael came late to the party.”
She nodded. “There are no foster homes for them right now.”
His head jerked up. “Where are they, then?”
“I stayed here with them last night,” Zoey replied. “I couldn’t leave them alone, and there was no place...”
“Nowhere at all?” Scott knew his voice held shock but he couldn’t help it.
“Scott, there are over twelve thousand children in foster care in the state of Indiana alone. And the numbers rise every day. I have checked all my foster families, sources and I have no place for them right now. We’re so overloaded and you wouldn’t believe how sad some of the stories are.”
“I’m beginning to,” he replied morosely. “Where will they stay tonight?”
She leaned forward. “That’s what I wanted to discuss. We need your help over the next few days.”
“I want to help Bella and Michael in any way I can.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Actually, I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t. Could you take care of them? I mean, not just for an outing, but for possibly the next week?”
“Of course I would. I’d be thrilled. But isn’t there a great deal of protocol and paperwork?”
“There is, but this is somewhat of an emergency,” Zoey said. “However, I’ve done some preliminary checks on you—obviously, hoping you would agree.” She smiled.
“It’s okay,” he assured her.
“So that you know, I called Sarah and spoke to her about you. She gave me a very high recommendation about you, your character. She gave me several other people to call. Mrs. Beabots. Gina Barzonni. Sam Crenshaw. In addition to Detective Davis’s recommendation, I couldn’t ask for a more qualified foster parent.”
“Except that I’m single.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “That isn’t as great a deterrent as it once was,” she replied. “Not with so many children in need.”
“I understand.”
“I’m required to run a complete background check. So, if you’ll fill out these papers,” she said, handing him several documents. “Please understand, Scott, this is not standard procedure...”
Scott picked up a pen and started writing. “It’s fine.”
Zoey exhaled. “And this would be just a few days...until our personnel comes back from holiday. We’ll find a foster home for them—”
“How long?” he interrupted and stopped writing.
“How long what?”
“How long will they stay in that house until they’re moved again?”
Shrugging, she replied, “Six months. Maybe not that long—depending.”
“On what?”
“If they get adopted. Placing Michael would be easy. He’s only a year and half and we have requests for babies all the time. Bella is a different story.”
“I’ll take them.” He choked back a fiery ball in his throat. The thought that Bella and Michael might be split apart seared through his mind. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Thank you, Scott. This is such a big help.”
“Zoey, I’m not just talking about the next few days. I’d like to become a foster parent for Bella and Michael. I know how much work this will be, but I don’t want them being shuffled around like checkers. I want them to learn what a real home is like. My home.”
“Scott, I wasn’t intending to ask you to...”
“I know that. I’m making this decision. Look, I realize I’m single, that I’ve never been a parent before, but something happened the minute I saw Bella and Michael. They’ve already changed my life. I’ll do anything to make this happen. Tell me, is
it possible to be a single foster father?”
“Yes. It is. There are licensing requirements—you have to pay for your own proof of financial stability and you’ll have to complete ten hours of parental training. You pay for the course up front, but the state will reimburse you.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“There are home study courses through this county but since we are the governing agency, I can help you with that. Here is a checklist of our requirements. We’ll need your medical records. You’ll need to complete a CPR and First Aid course. We have parent support groups and we plan special events for the children that you might find fun and helpful.”
“That sounds great. Zoey, Bella told the police during some of their questioning that she didn’t know her exact birthday. Is there a way of finding that out?”
“The police will question the mother and see if there are any records. If she can remember the hospital and the city, we can generally track down what we need.”
“That would be good. If she’s five, next year she’ll be ready for kindergarten.”
Zoey smiled broadly. “You’ve really thought this through.”
He put his hand over his heart. “I can’t walk away from them.” He already loved them like they were his own.
Zoey heaved a deep breath. “You are an exceptional man, Scott Abbott.”
“I don’t know about that. All I know is that I want to help.”
Zoey stood up. “Well, all right then. Oh, before I take you to them, did you get those safety seats for the car?”
“Got a great deal at the Tractor Supply. They’re installed and ready to go.”
She nodded. “I’ll gather the rest of the paperwork. I need to inspect your home, Scott. If I came by your place on Wednesday, would that be all right?”
“Sure.” He paused. “Zoey, I’ll make certain I do everything required to take care of the children. If not, I’ll fix it. I don’t care what it takes.”
Scott had finished filling out the documents by the time Zoey returned with a folder of papers, pamphlets and schedules of parent meetings.
Family of His Own Page 8