Читать книгу A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family - Kathleen O'Brien - Страница 14

SHE’D BEEN OFF THE PHONE from her parents less than fifteen minutes, not nearly enough time to deep breathe her way back to calm, when someone knocked. With Carrie on her hip, Sue did a visual check of her sleeping young men and pulled open the door.

Rick Kraynick, looking too good in jeans and a button-up denim shirt, stood there.

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, swinging the door closed again. She was already having enough trouble getting the man out of her thoughts.

“Wait. Please.” The hand administering resistance against the solid wood panel wasn’t violent. Or particularly pushy. But it was firm. “I need to speak with you.”

There was something about him. A sense of vulnerability mixed with toughness that she couldn’t ignore.

And she couldn’t give in to it, either.

“You know my number.”

“In person,” he said. “I need to speak with you in person.” He swallowed, his eyes beseeching her far more than anything he could say. “Please.”

“We’ve been through this, Mr. Kraynick. Talk to social services. Or better yet, get yourself into some kind of counseling. You don’t seem to be able to take no for an answer.”

“I called my mother.”

Christy’s mother. Carrie’s Grandma. Sue didn’t want to care. She repositioned the baby, holding her up against her, with Carrie facing back into the house.

“You have to leave now.” She wished she felt the conviction behind her words.

With a glance behind her, Sue verified that both boys were still sleeping. Chances were that wouldn’t last long. William was eating every two hours.

All night long.

As well as during the day.

And Michael wasn’t sleeping through the night yet, either. Or at least, if he was, he’d stopped since his move to a new home. Which meant, since she also used her evenings to do Joe’s bookwork, Sue was coming off a night with very little sleep.

“My mother just told me she’s adopting Carrie,” the man said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

Dressed casually today, he looked no less serious about himself. Or his business. He had no less effect on her. Sue rubbed Carrie’s back, bobbing to keep the baby entertained.

To keep her close.

To ignore how drawn she was to this intense man.

“She says Carrie’s birth changed her. I guess she was there for the last couple of months of the pregnancy and was with Christy for the birth.”

“And she wants Carrie.”

“Yes.”

“If she’s the junkie you say she is, she’ll never get her.”

“She got me back enough times. And Christy, too.”

“Yes, but…”

“She’s older now. She’s already got a job, working in a preschool. And she’s renting an apartment from a preacher and his wife. And I just found out from my lawyer yesterday that there was a suicide note. In it, Christy said she wanted the baby to go to her mother.”

“Which could carry some weight, of course, but a judge could just as easily decide that Christy’s suicide meant she was unstable—not fit to be making decisions for her baby.” For the baby in Sue’s arms. Why was she still talking to him? Anyone else and she’d have shooed him away immediately.

“I’m not willing to take that risk. Carrie might be one in a hundred to you, Ms. Bookman, but she’s the only child of my dead sister. She’s all the family I have left. And I, apparently, am all the family she has as well—discounting a junkie who’s already had two chances at motherhood and failed. I can’t just stand back and let the system take its course.”

“Did Christy know she had a brother?”

“No. My mother never told her. Just like she didn’t tell me about Christy.”

Carrie’s feet jabbed Sue’s stomach. The infant was going to be wanting her lunch soon. And before that, to get down and move around. The little girl was busy developing. She had places to explore, things to learn. Muscles to strengthen.

“Before finding out about Christy, how long had it been since you’d been in contact with your mother?”

“Years.”

“Your choice or hers?”

“Mine.”

“And yet you want me to believe family means so much to you?”

“My mother…I’d like a chance to discuss this with you. Please.”

Carrie grabbed for her ponytail. Missed. Tried again. Rick Kraynick followed the action with his eyes. And grinned. Sue’s insides quivered. Pulling the ponytail over her opposite shoulder, Sue reminded herself that she was a foster mother not only because she loved what she did, but because she was truly good at it.

For most people, loving from afar was difficult, especially loving babies. Many foster mothers of infants burned out quickly or petitioned to adopt their charges. Giving them up was too hard.

But Sue could do it. Loving from afar was what she did. The only way she could love.

The system needed her.

And she needed it.

“I don’t see any point in further discussion,” she finally told the man waiting in front of her. And plenty of reason not to further their acquaintance if every expression that crossed his face seemed to be permanently implanted in her memory banks. “There’s nothing I can do with any knowledge you give me, except to keep sending you to social services.”

“And there’s no legal reason why you can’t just listen,” he persisted. “You’re allowed to have guests in your home. I’d like to come in as your guest. I won’t touch the baby. I’ll be here only to speak with you.”

“On her behalf.”

“As one person involved in the foster system to another who grew up in the system. Period. Just talk. Can you give me that much?”

Leaning back, the baby in her arms put her hands on each side of Sue’s chin, her big round eyes focusing somewhere around Sue’s mouth. As though she could understand that the answer was important. Sue didn’t want to help Rick, but he was asking her for something she wanted as well. Information about Carrie. And for Carrie’s sake, she really wanted to know what he had to say.

“I don’t feel good about this.”

The man was entirely too…everything.

“But you’ll listen?”

“You have twenty minutes.”

Stepping back, Sue knew she was making a mistake.

“MY MOTHER IS A DANGEROUS woman.” Rick came right to the point as soon as he sat down on one end of the couch in Sue Bookman’s home. Pulling a blanket from the changing table shelf, Sue laid Carrie on the floor several feet from two other babies—both sleeping—and then joined her there. Setting herself up as a human barrier between him and his niece.

Carrie’s temporary mother was a definite distraction, he’d give her that. The woman wore baby barf as easily as other women wore silk scarves. That alone impressed him.

“How is she dangerous?” Sue looked him straight in the eye.

“She’s intelligent, keeps herself attractive, and, most dangerous of all, she knows how to pretend that she cares.”

“I’m not getting the danger element.”

“She’s a fake, Ms. Bookman. A lie.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, call me Sue.”

He couldn’t be distracted. There was no place in his life for an attractive woman. Not now. And probably not ever again. Not a nice woman like Sue Bookman. She had to be nice to be approved for the responsibility of caring for needy babies.

“Aside from the fact that my mother doesn’t know the meaning of love, other than wanting it for herself, she’s dangerous because she doesn’t look, speak or act like what she is.”

“And what, exactly, is she?”

“A drug addict. Her parents died when she was a teenager, leaving her with nothing. She ran away from her foster home and got into drugs as a way to make money, at first. At least that’s how she tells it. She was a good front for the dealers on the streets. No one suspected her.”

He was saying more than he’d meant to. Sue Bookman was easy to talk to. “She had me when she was seventeen,” he continued. “I don’t think even she knows who my father is.”

Rick focused on his hostess, but was still aware every second of the baby lying on the floor with his blood in her veins, could see her out of the corner of his eye. Carrie was on her back. Staring at him.

“And there followed eighteen years of chaos,” Rick said. “When she was sober, my mother looked like a candidate for mother of the year. She was funny and attentive in public. She was in all the right places at the right times. Showed an interest in my days, in my little happenings.”

“You loved her.”

What kid didn’t love his mother?

“I learned very quickly not to believe in her,” he countered. “Because she never stayed sober long. I don’t know, maybe the memories were too strong for her to fight, to avoid or get away from. I’ve wasted too much of my life trying to justify why she did what she did.”

“People are complicated.”

Hannah hadn’t been.

“Life shouldn’t be that complicated. Not for kids. As soon as I’d get settled in a new school or apartment, or both, I’d come home to find someone from child protective services waiting for me, to take me to yet another foster home.”

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want her pity. Or her compassion. Not for himself. Not unless it had to do with helping him get Carrie.

“I was lucky. Every single home I was placed in provided a loving environment, a chance to be a kid. Problem was, I didn’t get to stay in any of them. My mother wouldn’t give me up. And it didn’t seem to matter how many times she faltered, she still managed to convince the state that she would get better. And that I was better off with her—my real mother.”

“She’d get well, you’d go home and then she’d use again.”

“Right.”

“You think she did the same thing with Christy?”

“I know she did.”

“And you think she’ll do the same thing with Carrie.”

With his gaze steady, and implacable, he faced her. “Don’t you?”

“I’ve never met the woman. How could I possibly know…”

Sue’s hand had found Carrie’s foot, her fingers caressing the skin just above the baby’s ankle. The unconscious response of a mother?

“You’re a professional,” Rick said. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, but he knew that he needed her. Carrie needed her. “You hear the stories. And have to be familiar enough with the statistics to at least have an opinion.”

“But it’s not a professional one and…”

Carrie rolled, her downy curls flattening and springing back as she moved. And Sue Bookman caressed the baby’s cheek. Rubbed a hand over the top of her head.

“Do you want Carrie going to my mother?” Rick asked.

“Come on, pumpkin, it’s time for you to eat,” Sue said, pulling the baby into her arms as she stood.

“I still have five minutes.”

“Do you have more to say?”

Rick didn’t stand. He wasn’t ready to leave. This woman. This home. And he hadn’t done what he’d come to do. “Do you want her going to my mother?”

“I take good care of my children,” Sue said, standing there with his niece cuddled securely in her arms. “And when they leave here, I have to let them go. I don’t think beyond that. If I worried about the future of every baby I care for, if I analyzed the statistics on happy placements, I’d lose my sanity.”

“But you have input before they go. You can influence where they go.”

Spinning around, she crossed the room, rewinding the swing. Checking on the baby still asleep in the carrier. And then she turned back to look at him.

“Your time’s up.”

Rick stood. Pissing her off wasn’t going to help anything. “My mother told me today that scheduled visitations here will be a part of her adoption process.”

Sue Bookman didn’t say anything. Her expression didn’t change, not in any perceptible way. But Rick knew he had her full attention.

She was a mama bear protecting her cubs. The quintessential mother. The kind of woman he’d fall for.

“I wanted you to know who she really is so she doesn’t fool you, too,” he said quietly. And at her continued silence, he added, “You’ll be giving reports to the committee and they’ll listen to you—”

“Get out, Mr. Kraynick.”

He did.