To Find Her Place

by Susan Anne Mason

  “Talking is stupid.” Martin’s legs began to shake, and a muscle under his eye twitched.

  Jane feared he’d topple off the desk. If only she had an idea of what had set him off, she might be better equipped to say something that would calm him down. “Well, destroying toys is no way to solve anything. Whatever the problem is, we can find a way to fix it.”

  “No!” His face turned red, right up to the tips of his ears. “You always say that, and nothing ever changes.” He swung the bat in a wide arc in front of him. “I hate it here. I hate them.” He pointed to the door that Miss Tate and the children had disappeared through. “And I hate you too.”

  Jane pushed back the zing of hurt coiling through her system. She knew he didn’t mean it. He was simply taking out his anger and frustration on her, and he’d apologize once this episode was over. Even so, the words sank deep into her bones. She set her jaw, searching for words that would soothe him.

  But before anything came to mind, the boy’s eyes glazed over, and his muscles began to shudder. The bat fell from his stiffened fingers, bouncing off the desk to the ground.

  Jane’s heart pounded, her lungs stretching in her chest like an overfilled balloon as she rushed forward. A seizure. Just what she’d feared might happen.

  She grabbed Martin off the desk, quickly lowering his jerking body to the rug in the middle of the room. “Call Dr. Henshaw,” she barked over her shoulder.

  Mrs. Shaughnessy was already out the door. Fortunately, the other children weren’t here to witness the episode, which could be quite frightening.

  Jane turned Martin on his side and loosened the top button of his shirt. “It’s all right, honey,” she murmured. “I’m right here with you. It’s going to be fine.”

  Garrett kneeled on the other side of the boy. “What can we do?” Furrows stretched across his brow like small trenches.

  Martin’s body continued to convulse.

  “We have to let the seizure run its course,” she said. “All we can do is make sure he doesn’t hurt himself and let him know he’s not alone.”

  She laid a soft hand on Martin’s shoulder, hoping that his brain would register the comfort. “We’re right here, Martin. You’re going to be okay.” Tears clogged her throat, but she swallowed hard. She’d been through this before, and even though she believed he’d be fine, it still ripped her heart out to see him like this.

  Garrett reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, his concerned blue eyes giving her strength.

  “You might want to move back a little,” she advised. “He might vomit.”

  She expected Garrett to shoot up from his position, but his gaze remained steady.

  “I’m not worried.” He glanced down at Martin’s shuddering body. “Poor kid. I can’t imagine having to go through this.”

  Her chest warmed. Most people didn’t have such a stoic reaction to witnessing their first seizure. But it didn’t seem to faze Garrett at all.

  Under Jane’s hand, Martin’s body gradually grew lax, and then finally he stilled. His face was whiter than the walls, his eyes closed. His breathing had evened out, which was a good sign.

  She rubbed his arm. “Martin. Wake up, honey.”

  Garrett frowned. “Shouldn’t we let him rest?”

  “We have to make sure he’s conscious first. Once he comes around, he’ll be quite sleepy, and he can rest then. Dr. Henshaw will tell us if there’s anything else we can do when he gets here.”

  Martin’s eyelashes fluttered, then he blinked and slowly opened his eyes.

  Jane laid a hand on his cheek. “You had a seizure, honey, but you’re all right. Just lie still until the doctor gets here.”

  He stared off somewhere beyond her shoulder. Tears welled in his eyes and slowly rolled down his face.

  Oh, Martin. Jane’s heart squeezed hard. With quiet resolve, she gathered him in her arms and brought his head against her chest. She didn’t care how bad his behavior had been or how many toys he’d destroyed. This child needed love and compassion, and she would give him as much as she could. “Shh. It’s all right. You’re safe here.” A tear escaped and slid down her cheek, but she didn’t care. This boy deserved so much more than her tears.

  So much more than empty words promising a better future.

  If only she knew how to get it for him.

  18

  Garrett paced the lunchroom, feeling more and more like a caged lion as he waited for Jane to return from the shelter. Once the doctor had arrived and moved Martin to his bed in the dormitory, Jane had suggested that Garrett go back to the office since she would have to meet with Mrs. Shaughnessy to get to the bottom of the incident, and there was no point in both of them wasting the morning.

  Unfortunately, he’d found it impossible to concentrate on the columns of figures in front of him, unable to erase Martin’s seizure from his mind. When they’d first entered that playroom amid the destruction Martin had wrought, Jane’s actions in the face of such a volatile situation had astounded him. The calm and assertive manner in which she’d handled Martin’s seizure was nothing less than brilliant. Only her tears at the end had revealed just how deeply she’d been affected. He’d had to hold himself back from taking her in his arms and comforting her the same way she comforted the boy.

  He shook his head. That type of thinking needed to stop. He had to remember he was here to do a job, not get entwined in the drama of everyone’s lives.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall seconds before Jane walked in.

  “Oh, Garrett. I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.” She headed straight for the coffeepot on the stove and poured the strong brew into a mug.

  “How did it go after I left?” he asked.

  She took a long sip. “Not well.”

  He stiffened. “Is Martin going to be okay?”

  “He’ll be fine. Dr. Henshaw gave him a mild sedative to help him sleep better.”

  “What didn’t go well, then? The talk with Mrs. Shaughnessy?”

  Jane nodded and pulled out a chair, seeming to deflate onto it.

  “Did she say what happened to make Martin behave that way?”

  “She wasn’t totally sure. Miss Tate told us that one of the boys said something that set Martin off. And the other kids started laughing, which made everything that much worse.” She glanced over at him. “Martin hates being laughed at. Apparently, he started grabbing the toys away from the other kids and destroying them. He was trying to hurt them the way they’d hurt him.” She shook her head. “Which is not an excuse for his behavior.”

  He sat down across from her. “No, it’s not. But at least you understand why he did it.”

  “I do. However, it doesn’t solve the problem.” She ran a hand over her eyes. “Mrs. Shaughnessy has reached her limit with Martin. She wants him out of the shelter as soon as possible.” Two vertical grooves formed above her nose. “She said if we don’t remove him by the end of the week, she’ll quit.” A loud sigh escaped. “I can’t afford to lose her, Garrett. Without Mrs. Shaughnessy, the shelter would have to close, and where would the other children go?” Her shoulders slumped, and an air of defeat surrounded her.

  “What other options do you have?” Garrett leaned over the table, his mind spinning to come up with possible solutions. He wished his parents’ neighbors still took in foster kids. However, Mrs. O’Neill had passed away a few years back, and Mr. O’Neill had his hands full keeping up with the farm.

  “I’m going to appeal to some of the clergy in the area and see if they might have a parishioner who’d be willing to take Martin temporarily. At least until I have time to do more extensive interviews with the potential foster families I’ve picked out.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.” He narrowed his eyes. “Then why do you seem so discouraged?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been down this road several times before, with no success. And I hate having to tell Martin he’s not welcome at the shelter.” Moisture welled in her
eyes, magnifying their gold flecks.

  His chest tightened. How he wished he could solve all her problems, ease her load so she could simply rest. “Hey, let’s think positive. I’m sure one of those families you’ve chosen will be a good fit for him. We just need an interim solution until then.”

  She looked so defeated that he longed to make her feel better. But there was nothing he could do except pray for her and for Martin.

  He rose and gave a brief nod. “I’d better let you get started making those calls. Let me know if I can do anything.”

  “Thank you, Garrett. It helped having you there today.” Her lips lifted into a semblance of a smile.

  “I’m glad.” He paused in the doorway. “You were amazing, by the way. Martin’s lucky to have you on his side.” Then, before he revealed any more of his feelings, he forced himself to leave.

  Jane’s hands shook as she hung up the receiver. Only one pastor out of the five she’d called had offered to try and find a family to take Martin. The others had turned her down flat. She wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d lost her temper with two of the clergymen who, in her opinion, had displayed an extremely uncharitable response to her request.

  Not her finest moment.

  Not when she prided herself on the good connections she’d developed with the various resources in the city. In truth, she shouldn’t have made those calls when she was already in a heightened state of anxiety. She’d allowed her irritated mood to affect her professionalism, and that was something she usually never did.

  She lowered her head to her hands. Everything in her life seemed to be spinning out of her control. Her head throbbed with all the unanswered questions, and she ached with the uncertainty of Martin’s future.

  The thought of him staying in a place where he clearly wasn’t wanted tore at her conscience. She’d love nothing more than to go in there, scoop him up, and take him somewhere safe. However, in his weakened condition right now, he needed to stay put and rest. But tomorrow, if he was feeling better, and if she still had nowhere to take him, what would she do then?

  Opening her bottom drawer, she rummaged at the very back for a dog-eared folder. With care, she brought it out and removed the top sheet of paper.

  Application to Become Foster Parents

  Name: Mr. and Mrs. Donald Linder

  Status: Approved

  Jane stared at the rest of the information penned on the sheet, remembering the feeling of anticipation she’d had when she’d filled out the forms four years earlier. Before Donald had destroyed Jane’s last hope for ever having a family. Perhaps it had been unwise to start the application without telling him, but she’d reasoned that if they passed the first stage, he would surely change his mind about adopting, and by the time the home inspection started, he would be as eager as she was. How could she have misread her husband so completely?

  Jane stared at the document. Did she dare use this now to become Martin’s temporary guardian?

  Would it constitute a conflict of interest? A violation of ethics? An outright lie?

  She drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. At this particular moment, she didn’t care, not when Martin’s well-being hung in the balance. Tomorrow, she would take him home with her and she’d deal with the consequences later.

  19

  The next day, Garrett parked his car outside Jane’s house and turned off the engine. He sat for several seconds, rubbing his palms on his pant legs in a futile attempt to reduce his apprehension. Was he doing the right thing coming here, or should he let the situation wait until tomorrow before talking to Jane about it?

  Confronting her might only make matters worse, but he couldn’t go back to his room in the boardinghouse knowing she might be making a mistake that could ruin her bid for the director’s job.

  This morning, a very subdued Martin had felt well enough to return to Jane’s tutelage in the staff room. Other than a brief interaction with Martin concerning his schoolwork, Jane had remained behind closed doors, more than likely making more phone calls to find a temporary home for the boy. Garrett did ask Jane if they should talk to the boy about his behavior the day before, but she’d advised against it.

  “I don’t want to upset him and possibly trigger another seizure,” she’d said. “When the time is right, I’ll speak to him about it. For now, I’ll concentrate on finding a temporary placement.”

  Later in the day, the vet had called to say Blackie might be ready to go home sooner than expected, and Garrett thought the good news might cheer Martin up. When he went looking for the boy, he’d found the staff room empty and Jane’s office closed for the day as well. A niggling sense of unease had wound through his system. Had she found a placement for the boy and taken him there? If so, why wouldn’t she have told Garrett about it?

  When he asked Melanie where Martin was, she reluctantly told him that Jane had left early and taken the boy home with her. Only for the night, she’d explained, until further arrangements could be made.

  But Garrett didn’t quite believe that. He had an uneasy suspicion that she planned to keep him indefinitely, which in his mind constituted a conflict of interest.

  He’d hate to have to report it to the board at their scheduled meeting on Monday, along with the fact that he’d found more evidence of missing money. He’d come to care about Jane and didn’t wish to add to her troubles. Yet if she did plan to keep Martin long term and he didn’t report it, he might lose the board’s trust, as well as his own chance of applying for the director’s job.

  Garrett hesitated, his hand hovering above the doorbell. If ever he needed divine guidance it was now. He bowed his head. Heavenly Father, you know the depths of my heart, my motives, and my intentions. Please help me to keep a clear head and act in the best interest of everyone involved.

  The steadiness he’d gained with prayer evaporated the moment Jane answered the door.

  “Garrett? What are you doing here?” Her nervous tone matched the way she didn’t quite meet his eyes. She kept her hand on the door, open only wide enough to see her face.

  “Hello, Jane. May I come in?”

  “That depends on your answer to my question.” A defiant light glowed in her eyes.

  He hesitated, the need to tread carefully very apparent. The wind picked up, ruffling his jacket collar. “Do you mind if we talk inside? I didn’t bring my overcoat.”

  For a second, he thought she’d refuse, but then she reluctantly opened the door and allowed him entry.

  “Come back to the kitchen where we can have some privacy.” She headed down the narrow hallway toward the rear of the house.

  As he passed the opening to the living room, he glanced inside. Martin and Mrs. Mitchell were engrossed in what appeared to be a serious game of checkers.

  “Hello, Mrs. Mitchell,” he said. “Looks like Martin is keeping you busy.”

  The woman lifted her head with a smile. “Hello, Garrett. He is indeed.”

  Her eyes seemed brighter than usual, perhaps due to having a child around. Garrett knew from his own family how youngsters could raise a person’s spirits.

  Martin looked up. “I’m winning, Mr. Wilder. Do you want to watch?”

  Garrett smiled, relieved to see a return to the boy’s good humor. “Maybe later. I have some business to discuss with Mrs. Linder first.”

  He followed the hallway to the kitchen, where he found Jane at the sink, filling a kettle with water. He could almost see the waves of tension vibrating off her stiff frame.

  She turned off the faucet and set the kettle on the stove, all without looking at him.

  He came farther into the kitchen, admiring the hominess of the space—the round table with its checkered cloth, the pots of ivy hanging by the window, the display of blue plates in the corner cabinet. An enticing smell of what might be meatloaf lingered in the air, making Garrett’s stomach grumble, reminding him that he was missing dinner at the boardinghouse.

  “We need to talk,” he said quietly. “Could we sit
down, please?”

  She nodded and gestured to the table.

  He pulled out a chair for her, and once she was seated, he took a spot across from her, giving her as much space as he could. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel attacked.

  “I have some serious concerns about Martin staying here,” he said in a low voice. “It feels like a conflict of interest.”

  Jane squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “It’s a last resort until we can find another foster home. If I’d had any other option, I would have taken it.”

  “What if I told you I have a possible solution?” The idea had come to him on the way over, and he hadn’t had time to fully flesh it out yet. Still, it merited a conversation.

  “What kind of solution?” The guarded look she gave him reminded him of a cornered animal.

  He took a deep breath. “What would you think about Martin staying on the farm with my parents until you find him a foster home?”

  “The farm?” Jane struggled with her first thought—that the farm might be the perfect place for Martin.

  “Yes. I’d have to talk it over with my parents, but I’m fairly confident they’d agree. As a temporary measure, of course.”

  Jane stared, her heart thumping loudly. Martin had just gotten here. Already the house seemed brighter, and Mama seemed happier having the boy around. They couldn’t lose him so soon. “That’s an interesting idea, but I . . . I don’t think it would work.”

  “Why not?” He tilted his head, unblinking in his regard.

  She clamped her mouth shut to keep from gaping at him. She thought Garrett of all people would understand why she was doing this. He knew her complicated history with the boy and how she wanted—no, needed—to protect him. Her mind whirled with possible arguments. “Your parents haven’t been approved. They’d have to fill out the necessary paperwork and pass the requirements for temporary guardianship.”

  “Did you do that?” He speared her with a hard stare.

  “Of course I did.” Guilt trickled through her. She’d completed the paperwork all right. It just happened to be four years old.