Читать книгу Finally a Mother - Dana Corbit - Страница 12

Chapter Three

“There’s good news and bad news.”

Shannon startled at the sound of Trooper Shoffner’s voice. She turned as he strode back into the interview room of the Brighton Post and took a seat at a long table against the wall. She had to be jumpy over the officer catching her staring at Blake again because it couldn’t be that the man himself unnerved her. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stop looking at her son, even if Blake had no problem ignoring her. Sometimes she could almost feel the boy’s gaze on her, but when she would look over, Blake would be fidgeting or biting his nails.

“So what did you find out?” She craned her neck to look through the doorway to the open area of the squad room. The caseworker from the Department of Human Services was still at one of the desks, talking on her cell phone.

“Which first, good or bad?”

“I vote for good,” Shannon said, though the question hadn’t been for her.

Maybe some good news was just what Blake needed to help him forget about his anger for a while. She hated that he hadn’t spoken to her during the car ride, but she refused to give up hope of establishing a relationship with her son. They were together, and she could ride for a long time on the adrenaline of that answered prayer.

“Blake? What do you think?” Mark pressed again.

Whatever Mark had planned to say had him grinning at Blake, but when the boy didn’t look up, he turned that smile Shannon’s way. Her breath caught. Though she’d noticed the trooper’s straight white teeth when he’d spoken earlier, she couldn’t imagine now how she’d missed those dimples. And for that matter, how had she failed to notice those intense, dark eyes that seemed to see straight through a person? Even women like her, who’d sworn off men, and those with as much on their minds as she had today couldn’t avoid noticing such appealing scenery.

“The bad.”

It was Blake’s voice that startled her this time. Instantly, she was ashamed. After waiting so long to be reunited with her child, what kind of mother was she to allow her attention to be drawn away from him, even for a second? With her son blaming her for his life after the adoption and with her girls feeling betrayed that she’d kept her secret, she had no time for other distractions. Particularly a man.

“Why the bad first?” Mark wanted to know.

But Shannon suspected she knew why, and that only made the braid of ache inside of her stomach twist tighter. Someone who’d experienced as much bad news as Blake had couldn’t trust anything masquerading as good news.

Mark closed his notebook. “Okay, the bad news. Your foster parents reported you as a runaway, which adds to a pretty impressive juvenile record. And because you did run, they have refused to let you return there. You’ll be a bad example for their other foster children.”

“No big loss.”

“No big loss?” Mark repeated his words.

Blake lifted a bony shoulder but didn’t look up from his hands. “Is that it?”

Shannon exchanged a quizzical look with Mark but managed to hold back her own questions. Why didn’t Blake see the rejection of his current foster parents as a loss? Had they abused him? Assumptions crowded her thoughts, each one more horrific than the last. Then the realization struck her that whether or not that couple had hurt him, others probably had. Worse than that, she was responsible for placing him in the care of his first abusers.

“Miss Lafferty’s out there right now, working with the private agency responsible for your initial foster placement. They’re looking for another one,” Mark continued.

I’m right here, Shannon wanted to shout. It was difficult to think of another placement for her son besides with her, but her social-work training told her it wasn’t so simple. She hadn’t proved yet that she was Blake’s birth mother, let alone that she could properly care for him.

“Have fun with that.” Blake’s chuckle held no humor.

Now Shannon couldn’t stop herself. “What do you mean, ‘Have fun?’”

“I’m what they call a ‘placement challenge.’”

“Why?” She tried to ignore that he’d spoken to Mark instead of her.

“ADHD.” This time Blake stared directly at her as he spat the acronym for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. He seemed to have forgotten that he hadn’t sent a single syllable her way since they’d left Hope Haven.

“That’s not a big deal,” Shannon assured him. “A lot of kids have that diagnosis.”

That Blake happened to be one of them didn’t surprise her, either. She’d been with him only a few hours, and she’d already picked up on his distractibility and fidgetiness. While before she’d been uncomfortable with the idea of her son being placed with another family, she bristled now that some foster parents wouldn’t want him. How could they be so cruel as to reject her child?

Blake crossed his arms. “ADHD kids aren’t the ones that foster parents are begging to bring home with them. Low on the cute-little-kid scale. Older kids and those who’ve had trips to juvie are even tougher sales.”

Shannon took an unsteady breath as the impact of his words became clear. Blake was a member of all three groups. Three strikes against him in a state system where the statistics weren’t on his side. A system she’d subjected him to when she’d signed that voluntary release of parental rights.

“Trooper Shoffner, didn’t you say you had good news, too?” She managed to keep her voice level, though she was tempted to beg him to say something offering a little hope.

“Right.”

But he waited as if he expected Blake to look over at him. Instead, the boy continued picking at his cuticles, his gaze darting to the side. He was curious, all right. Finally, he sat up and looked at the officer.

“The grocery store owner decided not to press charges. Because of mitigating circumstances, we might be able to have the runaway charges reduced.”

Blake’s expression remained carefully neutral, the mask of a child who’d learned never to hope for too much. Finally, he nodded. It was something.

Trooper Shoffner didn’t take credit for convincing the store owner not to press charges or for speaking to the Oakland County prosecutor, but Shannon suspected he’d done both. She’d practiced adult maneuvering like that when a few of her girls had continued making poor decisions. A fleeting thought reminded her that Hope Haven residents might not wish to be called “her girls” after today, but she couldn’t think about that until Blake’s situation was under control. And she was beginning to wonder if that was even possible.

Two uniformed officers suddenly filled the doorway. Shannon remembered the muscular male trooper. He was the one who’d taken a report when a boy involved with one of her residents had shown up to cause trouble. She didn’t recognize the female trooper, an attractive blonde with her hair tied in a loose bun.

“Now, let me get this right.” The man paused, one side of his mouth lifting. “You let a juvenile suspect convince you to take him back to his house, and, instead, he led you to a home for teen mothers? Priceless!”

“Was he hoping to enroll there?” The female trooper laughed at her own joke, and then her gaze narrowed. “Didn’t you know about Hope Haven?”

“I do now.” Mark gestured toward the other officers. “Trooper Angela Vincent and Trooper Brody Davison, meet Shannon Lyndon and Blake Wilson.”

“We’ve met.” Shannon shook Trooper Davison’s hand.

He studied her for a few seconds and then nodded. “I remember. A suspect was harassing one of the girls. A real Dad-of-the-Year. But Trooper Shoffner here will have a better story about his visit to Hope Haven.”

Mark frowned as his fellow officer patted him on the back. “Have I mentioned that Mr. Wilson believes Miss Lyndon is his birth mother or that Miss Lyndon does not dispute the claim?”

“What?” Trooper Davison asked.

“Excuse me?” Trooper Vincent chimed.

The officers looked from Mark to Shannon and back to Mark again.

The female officer pressed her hands together. “Clearly we don’t have the whole story, so we’ll let you get back to it.” Already, she started backing away from the door, with the other trooper copying her exit.

“Is there a problem in here?”

Another uniformed officer stood just outside the doorway, blocking their exit in the already cramped space. He had eyeglasses and a boyish face that made him look like a teenager, but from the way the three other officers straightened at his appearance, he was in charge.

“No, Lieutenant.” His jaw tightening, Trooper Shoffner shot an annoyed look at his fellow troopers and then gestured to his superior officer. “Everyone, please meet Lt. Matt Dawson.”

He made another round of introductions and gestured toward the other troopers. “They were just leaving.”

“Uh, he’s right,” Trooper Davison said. “We have to get back out on patrol.”

Lt. Dawson nodded. “I’m sure the residents of Michigan will appreciate your diligence.”

Once they had disappeared down the hall, the lieutenant turned back to Mark. “I assume you have this under control, Trooper Shoffner?”

“Yes, sir.” But as soon as the officer stepped away, Mark pursed his lips, and his hand thudded on the desktop. “That went well. New guy perks.”

Something was going on with Trooper Shoffner at work, but she had more important things than that to worry about right now. Out in the squad room, the state worker was still on her cell phone.

“How do you think she’s doing?”

“I’m sure she’ll find something soon.” Mark looked far less certain than his claim.

“...and thanks so much for your time,” the woman said before ending the call.

As the state caseworker reentered the interview room, Shannon held her breath. Something was squeezing her heart from the inside out. She’d felt pain like this only once before. The empty receiving blanket. The void in her arms. She’d just found Blake, and he was being taken away again. Would he be placed far away so she wouldn’t have the chance to get to know him? How could she earn his forgiveness if she couldn’t be near him?

“I’ve been making some calls,” Miss Lafferty began, “but unfortunately, we’ve been unable to find a foster placement for Blake this morning—”

“What about an emergency placement?” Mark asked.

“I’ve tried that, too, but our numbers are really high right now, and with Thanksgiving just days away... Well, even our emergency homes are...unable to house him at this time.” As she sat in the only available chair, the woman’s gaze shifted to Blake, but then she looked away.

Shannon’s pulse thudded in her ears. How dare they turn away her son? But her breath caught as another idea sprang into her thoughts, eclipsing the righteous anger in its wake. Was it possible? Could there be a chance?

She took a deep breath, grasping for calm. “So you’re saying that Blake has no place to go?”

The state worker shook her head. “Of course not. There’s a spot for him at the Community Children’s Center.”

“You can’t take him there!”

Even Shannon heard the shriek in her voice, so she didn’t try to convince herself that the others had missed it. Blake and the trooper shot questioning glances her way. The caseworker stared at her with wide eyes.

“I mean, that’s not...er...the most appropriate placement for him.”

“It would be a temporary placement, of course,” the social worker said with a sigh.

Mark pushed back from the desk, gripping its edge with both hands. “Wait. Community Children’s Center is where we incarcerate teens, isn’t it?”

Miss Lafferty nodded. “Yes, but it’s also an emergency placement location for teens who’ve been removed from their homes for various reasons.”

“You put them together? In the same facility?”

At Mark’s incredulous look, the woman blanched. “Well, the boys and girls are kept separate at all times, and—”

“I mean, those serving juvenile sentences and the victims of abuse or neglect,” he pressed.

Miss Lafferty opened her mouth as if to offer another explanation, but she clicked it shut. “It’s not a perfect solution. But sometimes it’s the only option we have to keep the children safe.”

“Safe?”

A hard edge had come into the officer’s voice, but Shannon had no time to debate the advisability of placing juvenile offenders with victims of neglect or abuse. Right now she had to protect her own child, the son she’d failed to shield before.

“The center isn’t Blake’s only option.”

The other two adults turned to stare at her.

“Well, it isn’t.” No longer able to sit, Shannon sprang from her chair and paced toward the door. When she turned back, Miss Lafferty was shaking her head.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Wait.” The woman stopped and studied her. “You’re not suggesting...”

“Of course I am. I’m Blake’s mother...his biological mother. And I am a licensed social worker with a master’s in social work, so I could easily receive emergency foster parent certification. I could become his temporary guardian until I—”

“Miss Lyndon,” the woman said to interrupt her. “I understand that this has been an emotional day for you and Mr. Wilson, but this...”

Miss Lafferty offered one of those placating smiles that Shannon had used herself with parents enrolling their pregnant teens at Hope Haven. She promised herself never to smile at them that way again.

“You haven’t thought this through. You work and live in a center for pregnant girls, not the most appropriate place for an adolescent boy.”

“We have a few details to work out, but—”

That annoying smile was enough to stop her. Shannon crossed her arms over her chest.

“You have to know that it isn’t as easy as that,” Miss Lafferty continued. “There is no proof yet that Mr. Wilson is even your child.”

“Of course he’s my son. I knew his name was Blake, and he had the letter, and he looks just like—”

She stopped herself and jerked her head to see Blake glaring at her, accusation clear in his eyes. Yes, she had a lot to explain to him about his birth father, among other things, but if she didn’t fight right now, she might never have the chance.

“I understand that you’re convinced, but the state will need more proof.” The woman cleared her throat. “Not to mention the courts.”

The last had Shannon tearing her gaze away from her son. “What do you mean by that?”

“Even if we can prove that Mr. Wilson is your biological child, then there’s that whole matter of your completing a voluntary release of parental rights. You don’t have any—”

“I was fifteen years old!”

“Why do you talk about me as if I’m not sitting right here?” Blake shouted.

He came out of his seat, and although the trooper stood as well and stepped between them to stop the boy if he approached, Mark made no attempt to restrain him. Even he had to realize that Blake had every right to be angry.

Blake pinned the state worker with his stare. “You talk about me like I’m a piece of property.”

He pointed at Shannon.

“And you.” He paused, his jaw flexing as he gritted his teeth. “You didn’t want me then, and you don’t really want me now. You just feel guilty because you sent me to live with...them.”

Her tears came instantly, and Shannon didn’t bother trying to stop them. “No. You’re wrong. I always wanted you. They just wouldn’t let—”

“I don’t want your excuses.”

“They’re not excuses. Please. Just let me explain.”

“I don’t want to live with you. I don’t want anything to do with you!”

A sob broke loose before Shannon could stop it. The world was crushing her with its unforgiving weight. She’d waited a lifetime to be reunited with Blake. She’d dreamed of it. Prayed for it. Now her chance to even get to know him was slipping away, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Worse than even the prospect that he would be placed far away from her, if he was sent to the children’s center, he might spiral further into delinquency. Would he be lost to her forever?

Miss Lafferty slowly stood. “Many details will have to be taken care of in the coming weeks. For now, I will put in another call to Community Children’s Center.”

Mark turned to her. “There’s another option.”

The woman pressed her lips together, losing her patience. “Trooper Shoffner, you called me in to assist here. It’s kind of you to be concerned, but this is a complicated situation, and you aren’t aware of all of the legalities in it. Now, please allow me to do my job.”

“I said, there’s another option.”

With a long-suffering sigh, the woman met his gaze. “And what might that be?”

“The boy can stay with me.”