First Sight (24 page)

“Probably, in time,” Sister Anne said, in answer to her question about his speech. “We’ve seen others like him before, and so have you,” she said wisely. “Many worse. It takes time. One day they feel comfortable and start to open up. You got a long way with him tonight. Come back and visit him again. It’ll do you both good.” She smiled. She thought Timmie looked well these days, although she worked too hard, as they all knew. There was an openness and peace about her eyes suddenly, as though a burden had been lifted from her. Timmie wasn’t aware of it, or that it was visible, but ending the relationship with Zack had been good for her. She looked younger and happier than she had in a long time. What had started as a plus for her had ended up weighing on her in the end. Zack took more than he gave. It had only been a week since she ended it, but Jade and David had noticed too that she looked better every day.

“Maybe I’ll come by on Sunday, on my way home from the beach,” Timmie said, and a moment later they saw Blake scurry past the door to the living room and run upstairs. Timmie watched him go, and didn’t follow him. He obviously wanted to be alone, and was still frightened of all of them. He was only six after all, and a lot of scary things had happened to him in the past few days. St. Cecilia’s was new to him, and he wasn’t sure yet if he was safe. He had never been before.

She left a few minutes later, after saying good night to the children and the nuns, and an hour later she was sitting on her deck at the beach, bundled up in a cashmere blanket, looking out at the water and the moon. It was a beautiful star-filled night, and she felt peaceful and alive. As she sat there, listening to the waves, all she could think of was Blake. She felt as though she’d been hit by a train. She was already longing to go back and see him again. Something had happened between them that night, or to her at least. He was the first child she had ever desperately wanted to take home with her. She ached to hold him in her arms.

She went back to St. Cecilia’s on Sunday afternoon, after a relaxing weekend at the beach. She hadn’t been able to get Blake out of her head, with his enormous terrified green eyes, and beautiful little face. He looked like a child in a fairy tale, and she realized now that he looked a lot like Mark. She wondered if this was the hand of God at work, or fate.

She mentioned wanting to take him home, to Sister Anne, when she went back, and the older nun looked at her with interest.

“And why is that, Timmie? Why him? Because he looks like you?” She seemed to be questioning Timmie’s motives, which wasn’t a bad thing. She’d questioned them herself all weekend. Was it just some form of narcissism that was drawing her to him, because he looked like her, or like Mark? Or was it something more? Was it about Blake himself, or her? Or maybe to fill a void in her life that was aeons old, and had never filled. She had no idea.

“I don’t know. Something about him just pulls at my heart and won’t let go. I thought about him all weekend. Do you suppose I could take him home sometime? Just for a meal and a bath, or the night? I could take him to the beach. It might be fun for him.” She was groping for ideas, and for a way to fill a need, a need for him, and someone to love. This was so much better than a man, and she could do him some good and give him a better life. She couldn’t believe she was thinking as she was. Sister Anne didn’t look surprised.

“And then what, Timmie?” she asked quietly. “Where are you going with this?”

“I don’t know … I’m not sure …” She looked troubled, tortured by the same questions she had asked herself all weekend, and had no answers to yet. She hadn’t expected this when she had come to visit on Friday night. She had been haunted ever since, by this small, redheaded, silent, deeply troubled boy. It would be a lot to take on, if she did. And then what? She couldn’t adopt him, his mother hadn’t relinquished him, and said she wouldn’t. Did she really want a foster child? She had always said that foster care was a recipe for heartbreak, children you love as your own, and can lose at any time. It was the last thing she needed, with a history of loss and abandonment like her own. And yet, here she was, thinking of just that. Why? She didn’t know, and neither did Sister Anne.

“It’s good that you come to visit him,” Sister Anne said quietly. “But if you take him home with you for a day or a night, then what? You bring him back, he still lives here, and he feels abandoned, just as you did as a child. He still has a lot of adjusting to do. Emotional trauma of any kind could set him back. And it might not be good for you either,” she said gently. “It may bring up a lot of old memories for you.” She knew something of Timmie’s history, although not all of it, and that it was why Timmie had started the house. She didn’t want her to perpetuate the same agony for Blake that she had experienced again and again herself as a child, of always being sent back. Even if in this case it was well meant. But it might do more harm than good, for them both.

It was something to think about. No decisions had to be made yet, about anything. Blake wasn’t going anywhere. He had just arrived. Yet Timmie had a sense of urgency about it, as though she wanted to sweep him under her wing immediately, and make him feel safe as fast as she could. She hated knowing all the terror he must be feeling now. She wanted to make it instantly better for him, and the reality was that she couldn’t. It was going to take a long time, no matter what happened.

“Why don’t you visit him here for a while, and see how it goes?” Sister Anne said sensibly. “See how you feel. He’s not going into foster care, for now anyway. He’s staying here. He’s the poster child for what we do, thanks to you.” She smiled at Timmie, and gave her a warm hug.

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, Timmie sat near Blake, smiling at him occasionally, and playing with the other children. He sat at her feet again at dinner, and she fed him chicken and mashed potatoes and carrots from a bowl she set down under the table. He ate it all. She left an empty chair next to her, for him, in case he wanted to join them at the table, but he never left where he was sitting, next to her legs. And once again she stroked his hair, as he leaned on her, and rested his head against her knees. He seemed more peaceful to her than he had two days before, and he smiled broadly at her this time, at the end of the meal, when she handed him a bowl of ice cream and a cookie. The other children were making s’mores, but he refused to approach or join them, or even eat one. He was still extremely cautious about approaching the other children, and looked frightened. And because he wouldn’t speak to them, the other children ignored him. Even the nuns gave him a wide berth. Timmie was the only one who spoke to him directly, and he made eye contact with her several times before she left on Sunday night. She would have loved to hug him, but didn’t dare.

As she had been on Friday night and all weekend, she was haunted by him again on Sunday. She lay awake all that night, thinking about him, and on Monday before she left for work, she called Sister Anne at St. Cecilia’s. Timmie sounded breathless when the nun answered.

“I want to adopt him,” she said without preamble. She knew she had to, it was all she could think about and all she wanted. She wanted to make a difference for Blake, and she was sure he had been brought to her for a reason. And for the briefest instant, Sister Anne sounded slightly startled. She had sensed that Timmie was heading that way, but she thought it would take her a long time to get there. Timmie had already arrived.

“He’s not available for adoption, Timmie. You know that. His mother won’t relinquish.”

“Won’t she lose her rights or something, if she goes to prison for a long time?”

“She could, but that’s not a quick or easy process. It could be in the courts, and with social services, for a long time, depending on what they recommend. And we’re not sure there are no other living relatives. I know they’re doing some investigative work on that now. At best, he might be eligible for foster care, once he’s in better shape than he is now. But even that won’t be for quite a while. That could be a good thing,” she said quietly. “It would give you time to really make up your mind.” She had never known Timmie to behave impulsively, and the decision she had made the night before was more than a little unusual for her. Timmie had seen many children come through St. Cecilia’s over the years, many of them in far worse shape than Blake, and some so adorable that they were impossible to resist falling in love with. But this was the first time she had lost her heart to a child, since her own son had died, and she suddenly felt her destiny was somehow intertwined with Blake’s. She knew she was doing the right thing, and she was falling head over heels in love with a silent, six-year-old redheaded little boy.

“I think I’ve made up my mind,” Timmie said, sounding certain, and Sister Anne was impressed, but cautious anyway.

“Let’s give it some time, and see how you two relate. It would be nice to get him talking again, and see how it feels then.” He didn’t seem like a hostile or aggressive child, just one who, like so many others they saw, had been neglected, abused, and badly hurt, in many ways. “There’s no rush on this, Timmie. He’s not going anywhere.”

“What if they turn up relatives somewhere? They could be as bad as his mother, and take him away. What do we do then?”

“Let’s see how things unfold. It all takes time. You’re not going to have a problem prevailing over a natural father in prison somewhere, or grandparents who deal drugs,” which was usually what turned up in searches for relatives, who didn’t want to be burdened with their children or grandchildren in any case. Their own lives were complicated enough. Very few children they saw ever went to live with relatives, they were either given up for adoption, or went into group homes or foster care. Timmie was not going to have a problem competing with any of that. “Why don’t you come and visit him whenever you can? Maybe you’ll get him talking one of these days. And given what you have in mind, maybe you can take him home for a day or two after he settles in here.” Timmie knew she would do everything she could to help. The nun who ran St. Cecilia’s was not only good at what she did, but she had become a friend. And she was impressed by what she was hearing from Timmie now. She had always wondered if Timmie would wind up taking one of the children home with her for good one day. She wasn’t entirely surprised, given her own history, and everything that had motivated her to start St. Cecilia’s. But this was clearly the first time Timmie had fallen head over heels in love with a child. More than that, she seemed to feel compelled. And if it was meant to be, Sister Anne felt sure it would all happen in good time.

Timmie was absolutely glowing when she got to work that day. David saw it the moment she walked in, and Jade looked worried as Timmie smiled ecstatically at her.

“Uh-oh.” David was the first to comment on it, as she set her handbag down on his desk and beamed at him. “Don’t tell me. You’re in love.”

“How did you know?” she asked with a four-thousand-watt smile.

“Are you kidding? I could see it from fifty miles away. What happened?” The ice queen phase had ended quickly this time. He had never seen her look like that before, nor had Jade.

“Who is it?” Jade asked, looking panicked. She hated to see Timmie fall for the wrong guy again. And this time she looked as though she had fallen head over heels in love. She had. With Blake.

“His name is Blake.” Timmie played with them for a minute. “He’s absolutely gorgeous, he has red hair and green eyes. He’s younger than I am, but that’s never been a problem before.” Jade felt her stomach sink. It was one of them again. Another replay of Zack. But at least she wasn’t hiding it, and was telling them. She always did in the end.

“How young?” David asked cautiously, as worried about her as Jade. She was one of the smartest women he knew, yet she had a vulnerable side to her that left her wide open sometimes to the wrong guys. He hated to see it happen again.

“Very young this time,” she said, looking mischievous, as both her assistants tried not to groan. She waited an interminable length of time to answer him, and then finally smiled, with a sigh, and said, “Six.”

“Six what?” David looked confused.

“He’s six.” She smiled even more widely than before.

“Six? As in six years old?”

“I’m afraid so. Blake is six. We met on Friday night, at St. Cecilia’s. His mother is going to prison, for the next hundred years, I hope. I think Mark sent him to me. It was love at first sight.”

David leaned back in his chair with a broad grin, and laughed out loud. “Well, I’ll be damned. In that case, I approve. When do I get to meet him?” He was happy for her, and like Sister Anne, he wasn’t surprised. He had expected something like that to happen years before, and was surprised it never had.

“You’re adopting him?” Jade looked shocked. She didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic as David. She knew how busy Timmie was, she couldn’t imagine her taking on a child, although David could. He thought it was a great idea.

“Not yet,” Timmie answered Jade’s question. “He’s not up for adoption at the moment. His mother won’t relinquish him, or at least not yet. We’ll see what happens. They’re doing a search for other relatives now. But from the sound of it, no one is likely to turn up. No one worth worrying about anyway. The kid’s mother sounds like a total mess. She had him when she was homeless on the streets in San Francisco at sixteen, and he’s been kicked around in her drug life ever since.” Her eyes grew sad as she thought about it and then added, “Right now he doesn’t speak.”

“That’s a lot for you to take on,” Jade said, looking worried. “What if he’s too damaged and he turns out to be an ax murderer, or a drug addict like his mother? You don’t know what’s in his genes.” Timmie looked sadder still as she heard the words.

“I know what’s in his eyes. I don’t want him to have a life like I did, living in an orphanage all his life. I was a year younger than he was when my parents died. The least I can do, or maybe the best I can do, is spare him that. What else am I going to do with the rest of my life?” She said it as though the obvious conclusion was that she devote the rest of her life to Blake. It didn’t even occur to her not to step up to the plate. In Timmie’s mind, he was already hers.