Jacqueline Diamond - Daddy Protector

Between the boy’s independent spirit and his foster mother’s preoccupation with the pending birth of a grandchild, he roamed far too freely around town. Anxious to provide sorely lacking supervision, Connie had brought Skip home several afternoons with the permission of his foster mother. If he’d wandered this way in search of her today, then she’d better retrieve him and drive him home.

To avoid any more contact with her neighbor than necessary, she took out her cell phone and dialed Hale’s number. Once he learned about the little intruder, he’d likely send the kid straight out.

A machine picked up. Why didn’t the man answer? And he refused to provide the number of his cell. Probably he didn’t care to listen to her complain whenever he threw one of his loud parties, Connie admitted, but still…

She glared at his ranch-style home. Even under the best of circumstances, she disliked setting foot inside it. Too many uncomfortable memories from when her husband used to hang out there. Come to think of it, there were no best circumstances.

Marching along the walkway, she tried to ignore the weeds peeping through the cracks and the brown fronds dangling from an overgrown bird-of-paradise plant. At the top of the steps, she pressed the bell twice, waited and then knocked loudly. Zilch.

Being ignored had never stopped her before when she had a bone of contention with her neighbor, and it wouldn’t prevent her now from collecting the boy to whom she’d grown so attached.

Turning the knob, she went in, hit by the lingering smell of cigarette and cigar smoke. Although Hale didn’t indulge, his guests obviously did.

A billiards table dominated the living room amid mismatched chairs and a couch. On the walls, motorcycle posters reinforced the pool-hall theme. A crumpled potato chip bag lay in one corner.

She passed a den dominated by a vast TV screen and videogame system, and reached the kitchen. Skip was perched at the kitchen counter munching what appeared to be cheese puffs. Above him, doorless cabinets revealed a tooth-rotting supply of cookies and chips. Simply allowing a youngster in this kitchen ought to count as child abuse!

Hale, his head in the kitchen sink as he sprayed water over his upper body, either didn’t notice the boy or didn’t mind. Averting her eyes from the masculine figure, Connie addressed Skip. “Hi, fella. What brings you here?”

The boy grinned. “Cool place, huh?”

“If you say so.” Despite the possible damage to her suit from his soiled clothing, she gave him a hug.

The half-naked host switched off the water, grabbed a frayed towel from the counter and rubbed his hair as he swung around. Moisture beaded on bare flesh…as if Connie cared!

Only a slight hesitation betrayed his reaction on spotting her. “Aha. The princess braves the ogre’s lair.”

“Are you aware that this little boy followed you inside?” she demanded.

“I may be stupid but I’m not blind.” He seemed to take pride in ducking the issue.

Irked, Connie continued, “Didn’t it occur to you to find out where he belongs?”

The towel draped across his bare shoulders, Hale regarded her with feigned innocence. “Hey, he’s a guy. Why can’t he just hang out?” He tossed a handful of cheese puffs one by one into the air and caught them in his mouth. Missed one, picked it up and ate it anyway.

“Hale…”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “A lady named Paula was trying to drop him off at your place. I said he could stay here ’til you showed up.”

That would be Paula Layton, Skip’s foster mother. Apparently she hadn’t bothered to call. “She left him with a complete stranger?” That was scary. Just because someone lived next door didn’t make him trustworthy.

“She saw my picture in the paper last year when I got a commendation.” Hale had been honored for recognizing an L.A. robbery suspect at the supermarket. He’d quietly called for backup and trailed the man outside to collar him without endangering shoppers. “What can I say? I stick in some people’s minds.”

“Like a piece of chewing gum on their shoe,” Connie mocked. Of course, she’d been impressed by Hale’s actions, too, but admitting as much would only give him an advantage in their ongoing game of one-upmanship.

Skip seemed to find her remark funny. His laughter bubbled up, wonderfully free and open. He retained a warm spirit, despite a history of neglect that included removal from his birth home after neighbors repeatedly called social services about his lack of supervision. He’d been returned to his parents briefly, until their arrest for selling drugs. Eventually they’d agreed to relinquish custody.

“The kid’s been here about an hour,” Hale added. “This Paula person said her daughter was in labor and she had to rush off to the hospital. She wasn’t sure but he might have to stay overnight.”

“She might have phoned!” Connie wondered what the woman would have done with Skip if Hale hadn’t been available. “I understand her desire to be at the hospital, but she could have made babysitting arrangements. Her daughter’s full-term, so this hardly comes as a surprise.”

The real problem wasn’t today’s drop-off but Paula’s increasing inattentiveness to her ward. With a grandchild on the way, the woman seemed to have lost the motivation that had inspired her to begin foster parenting in the first place.

As his foster mom became emotionally detached, Connie became more attached to Skip. Maybe he’d awakened her long-dormant maternal instincts. Maybe his personality, combined with the approach of her thirtieth birthday, had done the trick, but regardless of the reason, she’d grown to love him. And from there, an impulse to provide him with a home had developed into a powerful longing.

Foster parents had priority in an adoption. However, in response to Connie’s inquiry, Paula, whose married daughter had then just announced her pregnancy, had conceded that she might be willing to give him up. To learn whether she’d be allowed to adopt as a single parent, Connie had consulted a lawyer. He’d explained that school-age children were hard to place compared to infants and toddlers, and someone like her who’d already formed a connection with Skip ought to encounter no problems.

She’d applied to adopt and undergone the required home study. Then, to her disappointment, Paula had changed her mind. Her grandchild-to-be was a girl, and her husband liked having a boy around. Yet however sincere Mr. Layton’s interest, the trucker spent weeks at a stretch on the road.

Still, Paula’s lackadaisical style hadn’t quite crossed the gap into negligence, and her opposition would doom any attempt to gain permanent custody. Since Connie couldn’t afford a legal battle and wasn’t sure she’d win, anyway, she simply did her best to provide support.

“Okay if I take you to the store with me for a couple of hours?” she asked Skip. She maintained a stash of toys to occupy customers’ children.

“Sure!”

Connie removed the snack bag and rolled it shut. “Let’s eat at my place. Frozen dinners okay?” She hoped he liked fish or chicken. Those were all she’d stocked.

“Cool!”

Hale tugged an old T-shirt over his head. Clinging to his damp torso, it revealed almost as much as it hid. “I’d offer to watch him myself if I didn’t have plans for the evening.”

“You’ve done plenty already.” The boy needed stability and order. The less contact he had with this man, the better, in Connie’s opinion. “Thanks for filling in.”

“No problem.” He flashed a teasing smile. “I’ll stop by a garden center tomorrow and pick out your posies. Nothing I enjoy more than spending a Sunday afternoon digging in the dirt, getting back to my ancestral roots as a farmer.”