The Children of Main Street

by Merilyn Howton Marriott

  Dinner dragged into the longest meal ever. Still, after we ate, we sang Jumbo the Elephant. As quick as possible, I turned on the television, shoved Finding Nemo into the DVR for Bailey, and then asked her to watch it while Jordan and I stepped outside.

  I giggled, feeling anxious as a schoolgirl when I sat.

  He beamed as he lowered himself into his rocking chair.

  He wasted no time. “Katie, I want to come home.”

  What had he just said? I’d hoped. I’d waited. My heart pounded with excitement … and something else. What else was there? He wanted to come back home.

  But I’d lived every day for months knowing something he didn’t. Something I should have told him the evening I brought Bailey into our home … our lives. I meant to tell him. Oh, Lord, help me. I meant to tell him …

  Never had I wanted to jump up and shout with excitement more than at that moment. Get up, Katie. I sat there, stuck to the swing, Glued with guilt. With deceit. “You don’t know how I’ve prayed to hear these words. I love you. I’ve missed you so much. Nothing is right without you.” Hug him. But I still couldn’t move. “Nothing is okay without you here.” I leaned toward him, my heart pulling me forward. “Missing you has become another full-time job.” Then, on unsure legs, I stood, walked to his chair, and sat on his lap.

  He pulled me into his arms, which brought a moan from the old rocker.

  “I love you, Katie. I haven’t meant to be difficult or break your heart.” He massaged my arms with his fingertips. “My own heart has broken. The phrase ‘broken heart’ is tossed around lightly, but now I know what it means.” He took a deep breath. “I have felt the physical force of my heart being ripped apart, and I want to come home.”

  But another question remained. “What do you want me to do about Bailey?” I hardly breathed as I asked him.

  “I’ve been praying about that more than you can imagine.”

  “Okay.”

  “I see how much you love her, Katie. I see how happy she makes you. I love how you laugh with her.” His fingers made little circles up my arms. “She needs you.” He paused. “She needs both of us.”

  I thought I would die—this time from happiness—hearing his words. Had I dreamed all this? And this time not as a nightmare. “Do you mean that? Can I really have you and Bailey?”

  My body responded to his touch when he turned me around in his lap and kissed me. With my fingertips I traced the face of the man I loved more than my own life. Though I’d failed to show him, he was and would always be the love of my life. “Tell me everything you’ve been thinking. Tell me all of it. When?”

  “I love you, Katie Girl. I love Bailey too. I want us to adopt her.”

  “You do?”

  “Is she up for immediate adoption or will we have to go through a period of foster care? Whichever one, I’m willing to start either process with you. We’ll start tomorrow if possible.”

  I verged on passing out. How could I tell him now, what I’d been withholding from him? That she wasn’t available for either.

  Chapter 20

  My unsuspecting husband kept talking. “It’ll go much faster if we can adopt, but whatever we have to do, I’m in. I want to be Bailey’s father.” His thumbs outlined my cheekbones. “I just needed time to think and, of course, pray. If this is how God wants us to be parents, then so be it.” He chuckled. “The little turkey stole my heart. She’s a precious kid who deserves a great home. I believe we can provide that for her.”

  I couldn’t find air. I should’ve given him all the information. I should have done it when I brought Bailey home.

  “Katie, you’re not usually this quiet after I give you good news.” He pulled himself back and looked at me. “What’s wrong? I just told you I want to come home, and I want to adopt Bailey.”

  “Oh … Jordan.”

  “Oh, Jordan what?”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t know what to say?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  Surprise crooked his mouth and pinched his brows. “What about, Jordan this is wonderful news? What about, I’m so happy?”

  “Oh Jordan, this is wonderful news. And I am so happy.”

  “I have my suitcase in my car, and there’s a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge.” He cocked his head to the side. “I planned a celebration.” He stared, squinting at me. “But your face isn’t celebrating.”

  I pulled myself from his lap, walked across the porch then settled back onto my swing. “She’s—Bailey’s not up for adoption or foster care.”

  He didn’t speak or move for five full minutes. Then, “What are you talking about?” Confusion clouded his eyes. “You told me her father and stepmother didn’t want her. You said they asked you to place her somewhere, and you brought her home.” He swallowed hard. “If they don’t want her, of course she’s up for adoption.” He sat as if glued to his chair.

  I dropped my face into my hands.

  “Katie?”

  “They don’t want her, but they won’t place her for any formal arrangement because they do want her social security check.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Just exactly what I said. They gave her to me on a per diem basis while they receive her social security check monthly … and keep it.”

  “No. No.” He shook his head. “I’ll call our attorney first thing tomorrow. That’s social security fraud. It’s illegal. And certainly immoral and reprehensible.”

  “But we can’t call.”

  “What do you mean we can’t call?” He blinked. “Of course, we can call.”

  Something mean squeezed my chest. This conversation was too soon after Bubba, but it couldn’t wait either. “Jordan … we cannot call.” He stared at me.

  “What have you done?”

  “I agreed to take Bailey any way they would give her to me. If you call an attorney, they may come and take her from me. From us. Her father and stepmom want the check that badly. With all they’ve purchased, they won’t let that check go.”

  Jordan shook with anger. “You agreed to parent a child … that is what you’re doing … you are parenting a child on … how did you say it?” He didn’t slow down for an answer. “Parenting a child on a per diem basis. She can never be ours? You’ve given your heart and soul to a child you could lose on the whim of two unscrupulous people I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Catherine, you always have a choice. You chose to bring her here … you let me love her without knowing the whole story.” He stood. “You withheld valuable information from me that you had the whole time. From day one?”

  I fisted my hands. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “The truth would always be the right thing to tell me.” He looked up, toward the darkening sky. “I guess I knew you would do pretty much anything to have a child. But Kate—”

  “I love you,” I said, the words nearly strangling me.

  “You have a strange way of showing it. I know you are a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants girl, and I know I can think things to death. But you let me believe a lie.”

  I had to save this. I had to … “I have never lied to you.”

  “In this case, you lied by omission.” He took a step toward me. “If I understand the situation, first you and now I, love a child that can be taken away at any moment.” Like me, he clenched both hands into fists. “We cannot get any legal right to her whatsoever?”

  Without opening my mouth, my face told the truth.

  “I won’t do it. I will not do it.”

  “But you just said—”

  “Even if I could love like that, you can’t. I’m watching the woman I love give herself to a child that may be here another day, another week, another month. What I will not stay and watch, is what happens to you when someone knocks on the door and says, ‘Thanks for taking care of her, but she’s coming with me now.”’

/>   “They’re not coming,” I said, keeping my voice calm for fear that Bailey had eased herself away from the movie to listen to what we had to say. “They don’t want her.”

  “And you have that in writing?”

  “No … no.” My eyes pleaded with him. “She called me Mommy.”

  “Listen to yourself. If anything, that’s worse.” He pushed trembling fingers through his curly hair. “You think you’re her mommy, and nothing about this is permanent. I cannot and will not stay and watch as it falls apart. And it will fall apart.”

  “She’s been here for months.”

  He looked at me and shook his head. Brokenness threatened to crack his face. “Are you in possession of signed papers giving you permission to obtain medical care for Bailey if something should happen to her?”

  I looked at him.

  “Well,” he said, “that would be a no. Do you realize you could get into legal trouble yourself?” He scratched his head.

  I didn’t answer.

  “It’s late.” He turned from me toward the door. “I need to go.”

  “You said you were staying. And that you love me.”

  “I do, and I’d intended to stay.” His voice broke. “How could you not tell me everything?”

  “I’m so sorry, but I’m telling you now.”

  He turned back, leaned down, and kissed my cheek. “Goodnight. I’ll say goodnight to Bailey on my way out.”

  I couldn’t look upon the enormity of his pain. Would this nightmare never end?

  I turned and looked through the window into the living room. Jordan hadn’t just stopped to say goodnight to Bailey. She stood to hug him. He knelt to pull her into his arms, to his chest and stayed a long time holding her … gently rubbing her small back.

  Watching them, I understood the depth of harm I’d caused them both.

  Much later, I went inside and found Bailey mesmerized by the movie, then hugged her until she protested, saying that I’d squashed her.

  I crept through the house, ghost-like again, reeling from the evening before … weeping. The tears that wouldn’t come when I faced Jordan wouldn’t stop now. I’d begun a slow waltz with the knowledge that he no longer lived here. Only to have him come home. Leave again. The second leaving, another death.

  Bella had collected Bailey earlier to work on her arithmetic, and I endured the time alone in the house, hearing yet again every word he’d said. By the time he’d reached the door leading back through the garage, tears had begun to slip from his eyes. Down his cheeks. Jordan—my rock of strength—had left the house weeping again.

  I’d find a way to make things right … I just didn’t know how.

  I’d taken all grief time from work that I could. On the designated Monday, I showered, dressed, and painted happy on my face with makeup brushes.

  When I arrived that afternoon after teaching my classes, Bailey appeared engrossed in sidewalk art with Bella. I watched them seek shady patches on the driveway to draw pictures and solve math problems while hunting relief from the late-August broiler. Both gals looked warm but happy. Bailey spotted me, jumped up, abandoned her work, and skipped toward my convertible.

  I parked, opened the door, stepped out and caught her as she leapt into my arms. I pressed my lips to her hair, feeling the joy of her arms tighten around me.

  “I was waiting to tell you something very important.” She beamed at me. “I got all my spellin’ words right for Bella today.” She nuzzled my neck. “She gave me a sticker.”

  “How’s the math?” I asked.

  “Good.” She grinned. “But no sticker.”

  I’d keep putting one foot in front of the other for this child. “Good is still good. You had peanut butter for your after-lesson snack.”

  “How’d ya know?”

  “You smell like peanut butter and chalk.”

  She giggled.

  Over her shoulder, I spotted a little girl standing on the front sidewalk, casting short nervous glances toward us. She appeared rather small, maybe six or seven, her dark hair—cut just below her chin—fell around a head too large for her body. She had a sweet but sad face. She noticed Bailey’s sidewalk art but held herself aloof, like maybe she felt shy.

  “Who’s your friend?” I asked Bailey.

  “Don’t know yet,” she said, turning to look at the little girl. “We just tooked a break right before you drove up. I was about to ask her, though.”

  Still holding Bailey, I walked toward the little girl. “Hi.”

  She ducked her head but whispered, “Hi.”

  “Are you waiting for someone?” I asked.

  “My mom,” she said, pointing to my office. When she turned to face us, troubled brown eyes pulled at me.

  She wasn’t just shy, I decided. The little girl acted scared, with eyes that darted everywhere but settled on nothing.

  I smiled at her. “Do you want to wait inside, or stay out here with Isabella and Bailey?” I touched Bailey’s forehead with mine, then nodded toward Bella.

  The child looked unsure. Her eyes darted first toward the office then toward Bailey.

  Isabella offered an over-sized piece of pink chalk. “We would love to have you draw with us.”

  She smiled at the dark-haired child. “I’m Isabella … or Bella.”

  Bailey slid from my hip. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Derrien,” the mini-brunette whispered. “I’d like to draw, but I don’t know what my mom would say.” As she spoke, she reached toward the chalk but then dropped her hand.

  “And how old are you, Miss Derrien?”

  “Eight.”

  I reached and shook her hand. “My name is Miss Katie and Derrien? How ’bout I tell your mom it was my idea for you to play, and if she’s unhappy, I bet I can make it all right. Your mom’s probably here to see me, so I give you permission to play with Bailey and Bella. What do ya’ say?”

  Derrien looked at me. “You really think it’ll be all right?”

  “I do.”

  Derrien looked dressed for Sunday church. More than that. In a wash-and-wear age, this child had been starched from head to toe.

  Bailey offered her chalk to Derrien. “Hi, Derrien,” she said. “I’m Bailey.”

  Derrien ducked her head again, but the tiniest smile graced her lips as she reached for the chalk. Even after she smiled, she grappled with maintaining eye contact, showing more top of her head than face.

  I instinctively felt concern for this child. Kate, not every child needs help. Maybe she’s just shy. Maybe you’re just crazy from almost having your husband home. I brushed chalk from my skirt. “I’m going to leave you gals out here playing because I have a client.” I leaned to kiss the top of Bailey’s head. “If y’all need anything, let Isabella know.” I tossed a smile at both girls. “Alicia is inside too. Lovely to meet you, Derrien.”

  I started climbing the front steps but turned around and said, “Hey, Bella, good job with the spelling words.”

  “She’s smart.” She beamed. “We’re getting there.”

  We exchanged thumbs up.

  I reached down to rumple Bailey’s hair before I climbed the last two steps and opened the front door. The new little girl—Derrien—was beyond pale; she looked unhealthy. She measured small too. Bailey towered her by four inches, and she’d reported being eight.

  Let it go, Kate.

  As I drew the door shut, I heard Derrien ask, “Who is Alicia?”

  Bailey eagerly answered, “Oh, Ali’sha is just Ali’sha.”

  I decided to hold the door open a moment longer.

  “Is she nice?”

  “Are you kidding?” Bailey said, “Ali’sha has chocolate milk, cookies, hugs, and the money to take us to Dairy Queen.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I can do that,” Derrien said.

  “Sure you can,” Bailey said. “Bella will invite you.”

  “I don’t know if my mom would let me go.”

  “That’s why we’ll ask Bella a
nd Ali’sha,” Bailey conspired.

  I chuckled and clicked the heavy door. So what if we were creating a monster? There are worse things.

  Chapter 21

  Alicia worked away as I entered. She looked up with her perpetual smile. “Hey, you have chalk on your face. Isn’t it a beautiful day? I noticed you had the top down on your car.” She shuffled insurance forms. “One of these days I’m gonna get myself a convertible. I deserve it.” She grinned. “I think mine will be red, though. Not that I have anything against your black one.”

  Silently, I agreed, but the most I could do was nod that, yes, she deserved a convertible, and swipe at the chalk on my face.

  “Your new client is in your room.” She pushed her hair behind her right ear. “She said she didn’t want to wait out here.” She grabbed a wayward pen and stuck it in the cup. “And good luck,” she mumbled then sorted through piled papers. “You might need it with this one.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Of course not. People come to see you because they’re blissfully happy, gloriously successful, in love with their spouses, wild about their careers, delighted with their mothers-in-law, and parenting the only perfect children in Port Arthur.” She grinned sarcastically at me. “She’s waiting.”

  She motioned with her hand for me to get down the hallway and into my treatment room. As I walked away, she muttered “good luck” again. But when I looked back, she had her head down, working.

  I scanned the chart as I headed toward the room. Tracia Dickman. I noted that she worked as a paralegal, had a husband named Jim, and helped parent an eight-year-old stepdaughter named Derrien who lived with them.

  That would be the sad-eyed brunette outside with Bailey.

  Derrien’s mother had died—killed in a car crash. Tracia reported being here because she knew it was God’s will for her to stay married, but she didn’t enjoy the marriage or the step-mothering. She’d married Jim, she wrote, because God instructed her to do so after the tragic death of his first wife.

  And so, she needed help … my help.

  I’d read my yellow-page ad. I’d penned the wording. No part of the listing said: Catherine understands and deals with the God-stuff. But I could guarantee that information traveled through the underground railroad. Two out of three charts mentioned something about God on the intake form.