Fay Robinson - Coming Home To You

“But he’s a baby! How could a parent do that to a child?”

“We’ve seen them as young as nine and ten selling themselves to finance their parents’ drug habits.”

“How is that possible?”

“I know it’s hard to believe. I had trouble believing it myself, but it happens, and more often than you’d imagine.”

“And Henry? What’s his story?”

He shifted on the pier, making the old boards creak. This story he wasn’t sure he could share without breaking down.

“Henry’s mother…” He stopped and swallowed as the bile rose in his throat. “Henry’s mother had a new boyfriend, and having the kids cramped her style. She was also heavily in debt. So she talked the boyfriend into helping her set fire to the house, a little two-for-one special. Her idea was to collect the insurance money and get rid of the kids at the same time. They tried to make the fire look like an accident, set by the kids playing with matches. As best we can figure, she told four-year-old Sarah that some bad men wanted to hurt them and she should take Henry and hide in the closet and not come out until she came for them. Because she trusted her mother, Sarah did it. Then they set fire to the adjoining bedroom.”

“What happened to Sarah?”

“She died a few hours after the fire of smoke inhalation and burns. Henry spent nearly two months in the hospital recovering from pneumonia and the damage the smoke did to his lungs, but thankfully, he wasn’t badly burned. Sarah had shielded him from the fire with her own body.”

“What happened to his mother and her boyfriend?”

“He made a deal with the district attorney to testify against her and got fifteen years. She pleaded not guilty, and her trial comes up in a couple of months. It’s a capital-murder case, so she’s still in jail, but that hasn’t stopped her from using Henry to get sympathy from the court. She won’t sign over custody of him because it would hurt her case, and the state won’t sever her parental rights because, until she’s convicted, she’s considered innocent.”

“So Henry’s in legal limbo because the state can’t place him until there’s a disposition of the case?”

“Yes,” Bret said, slipping his cap back on. “It stinks because her rights are being placed above Henry’s.”

“And Henry’s father? Where is he?”

“He was a one-night stand she picked up in a bar. I doubt she even knows the guy’s name.”

The laughter of the children drifted toward them on the gentle breeze. He smiled as he watched Henry toddling after the older kids in their game of tag.

“Will you adopt him when he becomes available?” she asked.

“I can’t.”

“But single men can adopt. These days it’s done all the time.”

“I know, but it’s not an option for me.” He stood abruptly, wishing he’d never allowed her to pursue this. He walked toward the tree where they’d tied the horses. She ran to catch up with him.

“Hey, wait! I don’t understand. Why isn’t it an option for you? Anyone with eyes can see you love that little boy and he loves you. He hangs on every word you say.”

“I can’t adopt him. Drop the subject.” They had reached the horses and he snatched down the reins, which had been looped over a branch. He put his foot in the stirrup and started to mount, but she touched his arm.

“But if you love—”

He whirled and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I said I can’t,” he yelled, making both her and the horse jump. “Why won’t you listen to me, Morgan? I can’t adopt him. I can never adopt him. I’m no better than his mother.”

“Why do you say that?”

His face contorted with the pain he felt in his heart. “Because,” he said in anguish, “I killed my own brother.”

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