Kathleen O'Brien - A Daughter's Trust / For the Love of Family

Something birthing her own children hadn’t been able to do? Putting the Nitro in Drive, he stepped on the gas.

“Then losing Christy…This is my chance, Ricky. My last chance. I know it with every bone in my body. I have to give this baby everything I couldn’t give you. Or Christy.”

Like that was ever going to make up for the two lives she’d already harmed? One beyond repair?

“I was at the club last night,” Nancy said, her quiet tone not a familiar one. “James said someone was there, looking for me. A man. From his description, it sounded like you. Was it you, Ricky? Were you looking for me?”

“Probably,” he said into his cell phone, when it appeared the woman was going to wait until he’d given her what she wanted.

“We are going to be a family this time, son,” Nancy said. “I don’t blame you for your doubt. And I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life showing you that I mean what I say. I will succeed this time.”

If he had a dollar for every time he’d heard those words, for every time he’d believed them, he’d be rich. No happier, but rich.

“When’s your court hearing?”

“April tenth.”

Three weeks. That didn’t give him much time. Stopped at a light, Rick signaled a lane change, and as soon as green appeared, he cut over, making a right and then another one, heading south of town.

“Would you go with me, Ricky? You don’t have to vouch for me or anything, but it would mean so much to have you there.”

“What time?”

“Ten o’clock. Can you get off work?”

Get off. He was assistant superintendent. Who would he ask? Himself?

He couldn’t blame her for not knowing that. For knowing nothing about him. He’d carefully guarded his life to ensure that she didn’t.

“I don’t know.” He gave the only answer he could.

“Wait until you meet her, Ricky. I’ve only seen her a couple of times, and in pictures. But she’s special. An angel. Our angel.”

At what cost? Her mother’s life?

“Call me if anything changes,” he said. “Or if you hear anything else. At all.”

“I will.” Then she added, “What I did to you, the way I let you down, that’s the worst part of my life, Ricky. You know that, right?”

Worse than your daughter’s suicide? “It doesn’t matter. I made it through, and have a good life.” Good being relative. He had a decent job he enjoyed. A nice home. Enough money.

“I’m very very glad you called.” He heard the tears in her voice and felt a little sick to his stomach.

“Just keep in touch.” He almost choked on the words.

“I will. I love you.”

She needed him to tell her he loved her, too. He opened his mouth, but just couldn’t say the words.

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.