Like Dandelion Dust (12 page)

Immediately Molly hit the volume button, bringing the sound down so that it was barely audible. Joey knew nothing about his adoption. Not yet. They were waiting until he started kindergarten to tell him something simple and straightforward.

Across the room, the message had caught Beth’s attention. She stood and looked at Molly as if to say, “What’s the problem?”

Molly waved her off and lowered her head so she could make out the rest of the woman’s words. “I tried to contact the social worker in Florida who handled your case, but she’s not with the department any longer.” The woman released what sounded like a painful breath.

“Anyway,” the message continued, “something’s come up. I need to talk to you as soon as possible. I leave the office at two o’clock, so if you or your husband could call back this afternoon or tomorrow morning, I can update you about what’s going on.” The woman gave her name again and a number. Molly stopped the machine and saved the message.

Her heart slammed about in her chest like a frenzied pinball. What was the woman talking about? What could possibly have come up? The adoption file had been closed since Joey was six months old. The paperwork was signed, the courts had agreed, and that was all there was to it.

So who was this Allyson Bower, and how had she gotten their number?

Beth was at her side, her arm around Molly’s shoulders. “Molly, you’re white as a sheet.” She led Molly to a barstool. “What is it?”

“Joey . . .” Molly couldn’t finish her sentence. She pointed at the boys. “Joey.”

“He’s fine, Molly. I took out the sandwiches and got them set up. Don’t worry about him.”

Molly blinked, and her trance suddenly lifted. Why was she panicking? It was only a phone call, right? She straightened and looked at Beth. “That was a social worker . . . from Ohio. Something’s come up. We have to . . . have to call her back.”

“Okay.” Beth didn’t look worried. “There’s probably some update they need for his file. Isn’t that normal with state adoptions?”

“An update?” Molly’s heartbeat found a more normal rhythm. “The social workers here in Florida do the updates. Once a year until Joey’s five. After that, it’s up to us to provide information for his file, for the . . . the birth parents.”

“So maybe the Social Services in Ohio didn’t get the update this time.” Beth still didn’t look worried. “Isn’t that possible?”

Molly closed her eyes. Yes, that had to be it. Something missing from the file. What else could a social worker from Ohio want with her and Jack? The adoption was as neat as it could be. No loose ends, wasn’t that what her Florida social worker had told her? But a call like this could mean . . .

She looked at Joey, blond hair and laughing eyes, taking the top slice of bread off his sandwich and licking the strawberry jam. She felt her shoulders relax a little. He was fine; he was theirs. She wouldn’t let herself think about it. She’d known very little about Joey’s birth mother. The woman wasn’t on drugs, and she hadn’t been a drinker. The biggest problem was her husband, a man in prison for domestic violence. According to her social worker, the woman had given Joey up for his safety. She had picked Molly and Jack after looking through profiles from a dozen different states.

There couldn’t possibly be a problem.

Beth was saying something, but Molly couldn’t focus. “You’re right. A technicality, something missing in the file.” She forced a quiet laugh. “I panicked for nothing.” She looked at Beth. “We made sure everything was right. No loose ends. That’s what they told us. No loose ends. Nothing to make this a problem down the road when Joey was—”

“Molly!” Beth took hold of her arm and gave her a shake. “Shhh!” She looked behind her at the boys. “Joey’ll hear you.”

Molly held up her hands. “I’m fine.” She lowered her voice. Had she been talking loud? She steadied herself against the back of a barstool. “Sorry. Everything’s fine.”

“Okay, then let it go.” Beth’s voice was urgent. “Come on.”

She searched Beth’s eyes, frantic for a reason to stave off the sudden, intense fear coming at her again. “Nobody would ever . . .” Her voice slipped to a whisper. “Ever try to take Joey from us.” She faced her sister. “Would they?”

“No.” Beth shook her head quickly. “Definitely not. The adoption was final years ago.”

Yes, of course. Molly exhaled long and slow. All the reasons that had reassured her moments ago ran through her mind again. The adoption was final years ago. No one would question it after all this time. She ordered her heartbeat to slow down again.

“Mommy . . .” Suddenly Joey was at her side, tugging on her sleeve. “Are you sick?”

Molly let go of Beth and sat a little straighter. She looked down at Joey. “No, honey.” She was still catching her breath. “Mommy’s fine.”

“How come you’re not eating lunch with us?” He pointed back to the table. “It was a’posed to be a picnic for everyone. Even the moms.”

“Right.” Beth patted Joey’s back and sent him in the direction of the table. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’m on my second half, Mommy.” Jonah held up his sandwich. “Hurry, okay?”

Another clap of thunder shook the house. Molly inhaled sharply and gave a quick shake of her head. “You’re right.” She stood and looked at Beth. “I won’t worry about it.”

“Good call.” Beth spoke the words with certainty and confidence. “It’s nothing—I’m sure.”

“Right.” She looked at the boys in the next room. Her body felt unsteady, but her breathing was normal now. “I guess I just have a phobia of social workers.”

“Yeah.” Beth gave her the cuckoo sign. “I can see that.”

Molly held out her arms and Beth did the same. They came together in a hug that righted Molly’s world. When she pulled back, she grinned at her sister. “What would I do without you?”

Beth smiled, and in that single smile Molly could see a lifetime of moments like this one. “The good news is, we won’t have to find out.”

“You’re right.”

“Okay then . . .” Beth took Molly by the hand and led her to the kitchen table. “I think we have a picnic to attend.” She slid in next to Jonah.

“Yeah.” Joey patted the seat next to him, and when Molly sat down, he put his arms around her neck and kissed the tip of her nose. “Before it’s all finished.”

Her appetite wasn’t what it might’ve been, but Molly put on a good act. While the lightning and thunder continued outside, they ate their peanut butter sandwiches and carrot sticks and drank their juice packs.

Jonah was impressed with the way Beth could take tiny bites from the carrot, leaving a toothpick-thin center before popping it in her mouth. “I think you’re a champion, Mommy.”

“Yes.” Beth raised her hands in the air and took a bow. “When it comes to carrots, no one can eat ’em like me.”

Joey laughed when Molly tried and the carrot cracked in half. “You’re not very good at it, Mommy.”

“I guess not.” She giggled. For the first time since getting the message, she felt her fears subside. Gus had been sleeping by the door, but now he stretched and came to sit between the two of them. Molly tossed her broken carrot pieces onto her plate. “I think Gus could do a better job than me.”

“Hey, Gus-boy . . . I’m almost done with my picnic; then I can play.” Joey cooed at the dog. “Can he have a carrot, Mommy? Please?”

Gus loved it when Joey fed him carrots. Either that, or he just loved Joey. “Okay. But don’t let him lick your fingers. Not while you’re still eating.”

The picnic came to an end, and Beth and her kids went home. Before she left, she shook her finger at Molly and gave her a look that said,
Don’t think about it.
Everything was going to be okay.

Molly nodded. But after Beth was gone, she sat in the living room, watching Joey and Gus. The boy would sit on the floor next to the dog for hours, his head resting on Gus’s back. Every now and then Gus would release a sigh and cast a look at Joey as if to say,
Hey, best friend, don’t ever grow up.
Gus was eight years old and not as spry as he once was. But when the storm let up, he’d match Joey step for step in a race across the back yard.

Joey ran his hand along the dog’s neck. “We went on the merry-go-round today, Gus.”

The dog lifted his head and cast a slow look at Joey.

“I know.” Joey’s sing-song voice filled the house. “I wish you were there, too.” He thought for a minute. “You couldn’t have pushed very good, but I bet you could hold on tight. Know why?”

The dog yawned.

“That’s right.” He patted Gus’s front paws. “’Cause you’ve got good claws in your feet.”

After awhile, Gus put his head down and fell asleep. Joey lifted one furry ear. “You sleeping, Gus?”

When the dog didn’t stir, Joey popped up and wandered toward Molly. Another clap of thunder made him hurry his steps. “Is it naptime?” He looked worried about the possibility.

“An hour ago.” Molly lifted him into her lap and situated him so his legs stuck out to one side. “How ’bout we take a nap together on the couch today?”

“Yay! I like when we do that.”

She stood him up, and stretched out on her side. There was still plenty of room for him, and he hopped up, cuddling against her as he closed his eyes. “Know why this is perfect, Mommy?”

“Why?” She kissed the side of his face. The social worker’s message played in her mind again. It was nothing. A technicality. Something for his file. That’s what Beth said.

“Because . . .” He opened his eyes so he could see her. He smelled like peanut butter and grass and Gus all at the same time. “Storms are ’posed to be shared.”

“Yes, buddy.” She held him a little closer. “They are.”

This storm and any storm. As Joey fell asleep she hoped with all her heart that Beth was right. And that in the coming days the thunder and lightning outside would be the only type of storm they’d have to face.

Chapter Nine

J
ack made the call early the next morning before work.

As soon as he’d gotten home from the office, Molly told him about the message from the social worker and he listened to it himself. He agreed with Beth. This Allyson Bower probably was missing a detail in Joey’s file somewhere, a bit of information that was part of regularly updating the adoption files.

Still, the hour of wrestling on the floor with Joey and carrying him around on his shoulders like King Kong and reading him
Finding Nemo
before bed all took on extra significance. Joey’s laughter filling the living room, the feel of his little-boy hands tucked safely in Jack’s own, the smell of shampoo in his damp hair after bath-time. Jack was aware of every detail.

The boy was everything to them, the heartbeat of their home.

So even though he believed what Beth had told Molly, that the call wasn’t important, that they’d laugh about it tomorrow, Jack had trouble sleeping. Couldn’t the woman have left a more detailed message? Didn’t she know how they’d take it if she told them something had come up?

By seven the next morning, Jack was ready to call the woman and be done with the situation. Joey was still asleep down the hall, and Molly sat on the bed beside him as he dialed the number. The radio played something soft and jazzy in the background. Molly gripped his knee with one hand and the bed with the other.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered to her as the ringing began on the other line. He checked his watch. Five minutes. That’s all the call should take. Then they could wake up Joey, have cereal and bananas, and Jack would leave for work. Just like any other day.

On the second ring, a woman answered. “Allyson Bower, Child Welfare Department.”

Jack’s heart beat hard and then skipped a beat. “Hello.” He used his business tone. “This is Jack Campbell, returning your call about our son, Joey.” He paused. “You mentioned something had come up?”

On the other end, the woman hesitated. “Yes.” She sounded tired or frustrated. He wasn’t sure which. “Mr. Campbell, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

He didn’t want to repeat what the woman said. Not with Molly sitting beside him, taking in every word. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How’s that?”

“Well, it’s a long story. A few weeks ago I took a call from Joey’s birth parents. Apparently his father was recently released from prison, and only then did he learn that his wife had given up their son for adoption. We had the paperwork examined, and the man’s telling the truth. His name was forged on the release document. Which”— she paused—“I’m sorry to say means Joey’s adoption documents are fraudulent.”

His heart tripped over itself. What had she said?
No! No, it isn’t possible—this isn’t happening.
He made a fist and pressed it to his brow.

“What?” Molly’s eyes were wide, terrified. “What’s she saying?”

He shook his head and motioned for her to wait a minute. The woman’s words were swirling in his brain. He closed his eyes tight. Never was he at a loss for words. He made his living as a smooth-talking salesman, after all. But here, now, even if he could think of something to say, he wouldn’t be able to form the words. Nothing she was saying made sense. He reached over and hit the radio switch, killing the music. There. He needed silence.

The social worker was still trying to explain. “We’re not sure who forged the birth father’s signature, but I’m afraid it doesn’t matter.” She sounded beyond frustrated. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Campbell. I took the matter before a judge and the ruling was black and white.” She paused. “Permanent custody of Joey has been reverted back to the boy’s parents, with a shared custody arrangement that will play out over the next few months.”

Jack clutched his throat, his eyes still shut. This time the words came despite his inability to think or reason. “Shared custody?” Next to him he could feel Molly losing control.

“There’ll be a series of supervised visits, where Joey will spend part of a weekend with his birth parents and then return back to you and your wife.” Every word sounded difficult for the woman. “This will happen every few weeks, and on the fourth visit custody of Joey will be turned over completely.”

Jack was on his feet. He made a sound that was part anger, part disbelief. “Just like that? What about our attorney, our voice in the matter?”