Читать книгу Reuniting His Family - Jean Gordon C. - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Renee had trouble quelling the emotion that welled inside her as she watched father and son part ways in the driveway of the Hills’ home. How did the other CPS workers maintain their professional distance? Would this be a problem at Building Bridges, too, working so closely with kids?

Owen began peppering his father with questions such as “When will I see you again? Can I come and see the house you got us?” and “When can Dylan and I come live with you?”

She listened as his father calmly answered, reassuring the boy that he was as anxious as Owen to be a family again, but not giving his son any direct answers that could mislead him. Rhys had asked her the same questions when they’d met before the visit. The only answer she’d had for him then was that the Family Court judge would make those decisions.

After giving his son a final hug, Rhys climbed into his truck and drove away. She walked Owen into the house.

“Did you have a good time?” Suzi asked.

“The best,” Owen said. “Alex and his dad were there, too.”

“Dylan’s been waiting for you to come home. He’s up in your room.”

“Okay. I’ll go so you can talk to Ms. Delacroix.”

Renee and Suzi laughed.

“Too perceptive for his own good,” Suzi said once he was gone. “Did you have a chance to ask Mr. Maddox—Rhys—about Sunday dinner?”

“No, I didn’t even think of it.”

The original plan had been for Suzi to invite him to dinner after the ice-cream outing if everything had gone well, which Renee thought it had—with Owen, at least. But the episode with Dylan at the Social Services office had prevented Suzi from going to get ice cream with Rhys and having the opportunity to ask.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Renee said. Her heart raced at the prospect of hearing his deep voice, a voice that held the same hint of danger as his eyes and posture. But observing him with Owen, she’d seen a man who didn’t match her earlier impressions.

“Or I can,” Suzi offered.

“No, I’ll do it.” Suzi would have to call her or the Maddox’s caseworker with the details anyway.

“Okay, let me know what he says. Although I think I already know what his answer will be.”

Renee nodded. “Talk to you later.”

She walked to her car, her pulse still skittering. What was she afraid of? This wasn’t Haiti. It was only a phone call, and one he’d welcome.

* * *

A half hour later Renee arrived at the three-family house in Ticonderoga where she and her sister Claire had an apartment. Before unlocking the front door she retrieved their mail, including a large padded envelope for Claire that was wedged between the mailbox and the house siding.

“Hey. Is that what I think it is?”

Renee jumped.

Claire stood at the bottom of the porch steps. “I hope whatever thought you were lost in was a good one,” she said.

Not really. The picture in her mind of Rhys leaving his son faded and her anxiety returned. She waved the padded envelope to divert Claire’s attention. “You’re expecting something from Texas A&M maybe?”

Claire broke into a wide smile. “You know I am.” She grabbed the envelope and clutched it to her chest as Renee opened the door.

“After you,” Renee said, smiling as she followed Claire up to their second-floor apartment. Maybe she should order in or take Claire out to celebrate and clear her mind of work.

“How does it look on me?” Claire asked, draping her newly earned Masters in Agricultural Development degree in front of her.

“Fabulous. It really matches your ivory complexion.”

“Don’t you think?” Claire lifted the paper closer to her face and tilted her head.

“I’m proud of you,” Renee said. “And I know Mom and Dad are, too.”

She was proud of Claire. Her sister had decided what she’d wanted—a hands-on position at the Cornell Experimental Farm, and to eventually work her way up to director—and she’d focused all of her energy on what she’d needed to do to get there. All of her siblings were like that.

“I really admire your drive.”

“You’re no slacker yourself,” Claire said.

“But sometimes I feel like I am, like I have no direction. The rest of you all knew what you wanted to do and were on your way there by the time you were my age.”

Beginning with her oldest sister, they’d all achieved their dreams—mother, chef, newscaster. Even her twin, Paul, who’d wanted to take over the family dairy farm since he’d seen his first baby calf.

“You’re on your way with your graduate work, the internship you’re wrapping up and your new job.”

Renee pushed her hair off her forehead. “I’m headed somewhere, but I’m not sure it’s where I want to be or where I’m supposed to be headed.”

“I knew something’s been bothering you. Talk to me,” Claire said, placing her degree on an end table and motioning Renee to sit.

Renee dropped onto the couch. “I got my BA in sociology because I wanted to help people. When I graduated, I thought my calling was health care, so I went to Haiti. It wasn’t health care. But—” for the most part, she added silently “—I made a difference working with the families that came into the clinic. I came back knowing I wanted to work with children and their families.”

“Now you don’t?” Claire asked.

“I do, but my internship has showed me that I don’t want to work in child protection services.” She peered into her sister’s sympathetic face. “I don’t want the responsibility of taking a child from or placing a child back with a parent and having something go wrong with the placement.”

Claire draped her arm around Renee’s shoulder, making Renee feel all the more the baby of the family.

“You did everything you could have done with what happened in Haiti. You said so yourself.”

Renee dropped her head to her chest and drew a deep breath. “Everything but heed a dying mother’s warning. The girl went willingly with her father.” Just like Owen was ready to move right in with his father. “She was too young to know better.”

“You did everything within your power,” Claire reassured her. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“So, I’m home and back to square one, trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Ending my internship earlier than planned to change my job focus again, and throwing money away on a degree I may not use.”

“Are you saying you think you should stay at CPS through August now, finish the internship?” Claire asked.

“No.” Renee sighed. “But what if the Action Coalition and Building Bridges isn’t my place, either? Didn’t any of you have second or third thoughts about what you wanted to do?”

Claire wavered. “I can only speak for myself, but no. Sorry. A lot of people go through several ‘first’ jobs before settling into a career, though. You know we’ll all be behind you, whatever you decide.”

“Yes, I do.” And maybe that was the problem. Her family members had always been right there to pick her up and set her on her feet, to baby her—even Paul.

Her thoughts skittered to Rhys Maddox, who had no one but himself to support him. Yet, through his barely concealed anger he’d radiated confidence in his ability to get custody of his sons.

Renee blew out a breath with a whoosh that made Claire look at her. It was about time she stood on her own two feet—and her faith—and made a plan with no one holding her hand.

* * *

Rhys strode up to the oversize barn-style garage set across the driveway from a large log home. Neal Hazard hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said they were neighbors. The house and garage office were well within walking distance from the house he was renting on Hazard Cove Road. The buildings, nestled in the thick pinewoods that lined both sides of the private road, weren’t visible from the main road.

He slapped the bright red folder he clenched in his right hand against his leg. He’d worn black chinos and a dress shirt—his only dress shirt—for the interview, but had had to settle for his new work boots. They’d seemed a better choice than his athletic shoes.

Although he’d used the library to apply online for a dozen other jobs, this was his first interview. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, not sure what to expect.

Neal’s office looked like any guy’s garage with the addition of a desk pushed back in the corner, facing the door. “Right on time,” Neal said, looking over the computer monitor in front of him. “Come in, sit down.”

He took a seat in the chair to the left of the desk, and Neal swiveled to face him head-on. Rhys placed the red folder on the desk and pushed it toward Neal. “My résumé.”

Neal handed him a paper in exchange. “Our job application. You can write ‘on résumé’ for previous employment.”

Rhys pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and went to work on the application, shutting down the urge to look up at Neal’s expression while he reviewed his résumé.

“How much of the apprenticeship had you completed when you...” Neal paused, as if searching for the right word.

“Before I was arrested,” Rhys finished for him. No sense in tiptoeing around the facts. He’d done his time for his actions. Actions he no longer justified with needing to make back payments on their mortgage and taxes to avoid his family ending up homeless. He knew now that he’d broken God’s commandment, and had asked for and received forgiveness. “I had about three and a half years of the apprenticeship done. I’ve reapplied to pick up the Associate of Applied Science degree in general technology I was pursuing online as part of the apprenticeship.”

“Good.”

Rhys finished the application and looked up.

“I can contact your references for more information?” Neal asked, tapping the letter from the electrician who’d supervised Rhys’s work in Albany.

“About my work, yes.” The electrician had assured Rhys he’d have no problem discussing with potential employers the progress he’d made in the apprenticeship program.

“And Connor Donnelly? You participated in his ministry at Dannemora?”

“I—”

“Wait, you don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, I put it in the references. I have no problem talking about it.” If Neal was going to hold his faith against him in any way, he wasn’t a person Rhys wanted to work for, despite how badly he needed work. “I’m indebted to Pastor Connor for leading me to Christ and for helping Gwen, my wife, relocate here so I could see her and the boys more.” Rhys leaned forward. “And Owen and Dylan are registered for The Kids Place summer and after-school child-care program at Connor’s church when CPS gives the go-ahead for them to live with me.”

Neal raised his hand in a sign of surrender and Rhys’s heart dropped. Him and his big mouth. Gwen had always said he didn’t talk much, but when he had something to say, he had no filter.

“Hey, I know where you’re coming from. I was a single father for nineteen years.”

Rhys leaned back.

“My oldest daughter, Autumn, was born when I was seventeen, and she was practically my whole life until she graduated high school. She and Pastor Connor were classmates. Autumn’s a midwife at the birthing center in Ticonderoga. I raised her myself. Granted, I had help from my mom and dad, but she was my responsibility.”

“So you understand.” Rhys accepted the kinship Neal offered. That’s what he planned to do: make Owen and Dylan the center of his life. He couldn’t imagine marrying again, as Neal had, or having more kids. He owed his boys too much to have anything left over for anyone else.

“But you’re probably more interested in knowing about the job than my kids,” Neal said.

Rhys kept a rein on his excitement as Neal outlined the responsibilities of the position, but almost lost it when he heard the generous starting salary.

“Any questions?” Neal asked when he’d finished.

Rhys hesitated. “Health insurance?” He didn’t care so much for himself, but he needed it for the boys. It would be another positive he could report to CPS.

“Good insurance. Better than most small employers can offer. It’s through GreenSpaces’ multi-company plan. And we have a retirement savings plan, too.”

He tried to look appreciative. For now, all he wanted was to be able to make a secure home for his family.

“Anything else?” Neal asked.

“Not that I can think of.”

“All right, then.” Neal rose.

Rhys followed suit. “Thank you for the opportunity to interview.”

“I’ll give you a call within the next couple of days. If your references check out, you have the job.” Neal smiled. “Anyone else in the area with your training and experience already works for me.”

“I look forward to hearing from you.” Rhys walked out of the office at a controlled pace, rather than bounding to the door in leaps of joy, as he wanted to. He couldn’t imagine either his former supervisor or Pastor Connor telling Neal anything derogatory about him. He whistled his way to his truck, which started with the first turn of the key. Nothing could dampen his spirits.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and Rhys pulled it out and saw the CPS number.

Well, almost nothing.

* * *

“Is that him?” Owen asked Renee for the third time in the past five minutes.

She went to the front window, pushed back the curtain and spotted Rhys’s truck slowing to turn into the Hills’ driveway. She brushed her moist palms against the skirt of her black-and-white crinkle-cotton summer dress.

“Yes, your dad is pulling in the driveway.”

Owen reached the door at the same time Rhys knocked.

“You’re supposed to ask before you open the door, Owen,” Dylan said. “Mrs. Hill said so. It could be a stranger.”

“It’s Dad. Ms. Delacroix said so.” Owen looked over his shoulder at Renee.

“Go ahead.”

Owen swung the door open. “You’re here.”

A broad smile spread across Rhys’s face, softening the angular, almost harsh edges of his features.

“Of course I’m here. I told you at church this morning I would be.”

“I know, but I’m just so glad.”

“Me, too.” Rhys moved his gaze from Owen to Dylan, who stood next to Renee but edged closer. Rhys’s smile faltered a bit. “Hi, Dylan.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Dylan said before turning his face into the side of her leg.

“Ms. Delacroix.”

“Hi. The boys have been checking every few minutes to see if you were here yet.” She was only slightly exaggerating. Owen had been checking enough for both of them.

“Yeah, we have a bunch of stuff to show you,” Owen said.

“And I want to see it all. Give me a minute with Ms. Delacroix and to check in with the Hills.” He glanced around the living room as if he’d just noticed they weren’t there.

“Boys,” she said. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and get those cookies you made for your dad, and the milk and paper cups?”

Owen looked from her to his father. “So you can tell Dad about the Hills?”

Something flickered in his father’s eyes. If it was anyone else, she would call it fear, but she couldn’t imagine him being afraid of anything or anyone.

“Can I carry the milk?” Dylan asked into her skirt.

She said yes and Dylan loosened his clutch. The boys ran off into the next room.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Rhys said. “I mean, the other day when you called, you said dinner at the Hills with the boys.” He straightened, looming over her. “Where are the Hills?”

“It’s nothing bad.”

He knitted his eyebrows.

Great. Now she had him on edge. Not what she wanted. Her job should have been simple enough—be there in the background with him and the boys until Jack got back.

“On their way home from church, Suzi got a call from her grandmother’s neighbor in Saranac Lake. Her grandmother took a fall this morning. She’s all right. Nothing broken, but she’s shaken up. Suzi drove up there and is staying with her for the afternoon.”

“And Jack?”

“He got a towing call about an hour ago. He should be back any time now.”

Rhys scrutinized her. “So you had to come and cover for them.”

“I volunteered.” Her internship wasn’t just a job. She cared about the children. The people she worked with did, too. “The Hills didn’t want to cancel and disappoint you and the boys.”

“Ms. Delacroix, look at how strong I am.” Dylan entered the room, lifting the gallon jug of milk for her to see and filling the silence that had stretched between her and his father.

She felt the pain that flickered across the man’s face at his younger son turning to her, not him, for approval.

Owen followed with a plate of four cookies and cups. “Dylan, put the milk on the table before you drop it.” He placed the cookies on the coffee table next to the jug. “Ms. Delacroix said we could only have one each so we don’t spoil our appetite for dinner. We’re having lasagna with meatballs.”

“We certainly wouldn’t want to spoil our appetites for that,” Rhys said.

“I told Mrs. Hill that it’s your favorite,” Owen said.

“Me, too,” Dylan said, grabbing his cookie and jumping up on the couch.

Rhys gave the boys a thumbs-up, sat on the couch next to, but not touching, his youngest son and poured him a cup of milk.

It was good to see Dylan interacting with his father. Maybe she’d imagined Rhys’s resentment earlier. It might have been nerves. As stoic as he seemed, Rhys Maddox was human.

“Come on, Ms. Delacroix,” Owen said, sidling up next to his father to make room for her on the couch. “There’s space for you, too.”

“In a minute. I need to check the lasagna.” And give your father a moment with you. “I’d better stir the sauce and meatballs, too. I told Mr. Hill I wouldn’t let it burn.”

“We wouldn’t want burned sauce, would we, guys?” Rhys asked.

“No!” the boys shouted.

From the stove, she could see directly across the kitchen and dining room to where they were in the living room. “I’ll be right back.”

Rhys nodded in her direction as he listened to Owen give a play-by-play of baking the cookies with Mrs. Hill.

In the kitchen, Renee lifted the lid of the saucepan and breathed in the spicy tomato smell. After giving the sauce a stir, she looked over her shoulder into the living room. Owen was still talking. She opened the oven and checked the lasagna. Silence from the other room made her spin around, heart pounding. The oven door snapped shut. They were still there. Relief flooded her. Of course they were. Rhys Maddox wouldn’t do anything stupid to jeopardize his regaining custody.

“Everything looks good,” she said as she reentered the living room. “The timer’s set for the lasagna. Mr. Hill should be back by the time it’s done.”

“Eat your cookie, Ms. Delacroix,” Owen said. “We want to show Dad our room and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Mrs. Hill said you’d stay right with us.”

His father stiffened against the back of the couch.

“I can wait on the cookie. I know you’re anxious to show your dad your things.”

Owen leaped off the couch and grabbed his father’s hand, pulling him toward the stairway. “Our room is upstairs.”

“Wait for your brother,” Rhys said.

Dylan slid off the couch. “I’ll show you, Ms. Delacroix.” He slipped his hand in hers.

Rhys’s shoulders slumped for a moment. Straightening, he said, “Lead the way Owen.”

Upstairs in the boys’ room, Renee relaxed as they caught their father up on what they were doing in their lives. Their exuberant—and their father’s more restrained—joy flowed over her, drawing her in.

“And this is my shirt drawer,” Owen said once he ran out of other things to show his father.

The sound of the stove timer startled Renee away from the adoring grin on Rhys’s face that had captivated her. He was a different person around Owen and Dylan.

“Hello? Where is everyone?” came a voice from below before she could excuse herself to check the pasta.

“That’s Mr. Hill. I’ll tell him you’re here, Dad.” Owen raced down the stairs with Dylan shadowing him.

Their father stopped halfway down. “Before we have dinner, I have a question.”

“Certainly, Mr. Maddox.” She reassumed her professional demeanor that she’d let slip watching him and the boys.

“If we’re going to be doing this visitation stuff...” He waved down the stairs. “Can you call me Rhys?”

“I can.” Despite her best effort, she’d already started thinking of him as Rhys. “And please call me Renee, except in front of the boys.” Not that she expected to have much contact with him and his sons once she started her new job a week from Monday.

“Gotcha,” he said with the same smile that had softened her when he’d used it with his sons upstairs. The smile that cracked his armor and showed the dichotomy of Rhys Maddox—both the off-putting, cold, aloof male and the adoring father who tugged at her heartstrings.

Her departure from CPS couldn’t come too soon.