Like Dandelion Dust (13 page)

Molly stood and began to pace. “No . . . no, this isn’t happening.” Her face was a pasty gray. She stopped and searched his eyes for answers, but he held his finger up and mouthed, “Wait!”

The social worker was going on. “Mr. Campbell, I’m sorry. In a case where adoption papers have been fraudulently signed, the law is clear-cut.” She hesitated. “I was able to get just that one concession for you.”

Concession? Concession about the custody of their son? Maybe this was the part where she’d tell him it was all a mistake and that the judge had changed his mind and tossed out the whole possibility of taking Joey away from them. Jack massaged his brow and tried to find a center of gravity. Everything was out of order, off balance. It was a nightmare, that was it. Joey had been theirs for almost five years. What judge in his right mind would grant custody of their son to someone else?

He forced himself to focus. “What . . . what concession?”

“The shared custody I told you about.” She stopped, as if maybe he would express some sort of gratitude. He didn’t, and she continued. “That’s the best I could do.”

Jack grabbed a deep breath and hung his head. Something inside him clicked, and he found center once again. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Allyson Bower. I’m with the Child Welfare Department in Ohio.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bower, well, I’m afraid your best isn’t good enough in this case. I’ll be contacting my attorney later this morning and we’ll fight this as far and long as we have to fight it.” He gathered his strength. Handling the social worker was nothing to the task that lay ahead—explaining the situation to Molly.

“Mr. Campbell, I’m afraid there’s no further legal recourse in this matter, and that seeing your attorney would be a waste of—”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bower. My attorney will be in touch with you.”

The minute he hung up, Molly grabbed his elbow, her eyes darting as she searched his face. “What is it? Tell me! Why do we have to call our attorney?” Her words came sharp and fast, saturated with a crazed fear. A fear he’d never heard in her voice before now.

Jack looked at the woman he loved more than life, and in that instant he would’ve given anything to make the entire situation go away. Somehow, by opening his mouth and answering her question, the sudden crisis they faced would be unquestionably real. But what choice did he have? He had to tell her; there was no way around it.

He faced her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Joey’s birth father never signed the adoption papers.” The words sounded like they belonged to someone else, as if any minute he should blink and apologize and none of what he was saying would be anything more than a bad joke.

“He never signed them?” Molly began to shake. Tears built up in her eyes. “So what does . . . what does that mean?”

“It means the adoption papers are fraudulent.” He felt the tears welling in his own eyes, but at the same time a fierce anger began to build.

“Fraudulent?” The word was little more than a painful whisper. Her chest began working hard, her breaths coming twice as fast as before. “Meaning what, Jack? Just tell me!”

“Molly, calm down.” His anger was taking the upper hand. This was all a mistake. He had access to some of the best attorneys in South Florida. Everything would work out fine in the end. He gritted his teeth. “A judge in Ohio has awarded permanent custody of Joey to his birth parents. The social worker said it was a black-and-white case. There’s nothing more she can do.”

“What?” Molly shrieked. She stood and stormed halfway to the door, and then back again. “Are they coming to get him? Right now?”

“No.” He caught her arm and gently guided her back to the bed. “Don’t panic.” They sat down side by side, and he framed her cheek with his hand. “We’ll hire an attorney.” His reassurance was as much for him as for her. “Joey’s not going anywhere.”

She was shaking harder now. “W-w-when do they want him?”

“It won’t happen.” Jack didn’t want to talk about the possibility.

“But if it does . . . how much time do we have?” Molly gripped his knee and leaned hard against him. She looked about to collapse.

“Molly, breathe. . . . We’re going to fight this; I promise you.”

She jerked away from him and stood. “I don’t want to breathe!” Her voice was loud, shrill, the voice of a crazy person. Her expression changed and she started to melt. Slowly, she collapsed against him. Frightening sobs came over her and she looked like she might be sick. She lifted her eyes to his. “Jack . . . help me!”

“Molly . . .” He held her up by her shoulders, his arm around her. “No one’s going to take him. I won’t let it happen.”

“I can’t do this, Jack, I can’t . . . let him go.” Her sobs grew softer. But they were gut-wrenching, coming from a place so deep inside her even he didn’t know his way around it. She squeezed her eyes shut, rocking and weeping. “He’s my baby, my only baby. Please . . . don’t let him go.”

“Shhh. . .” He covered her with his arms, protecting her the only way he knew. “Joey’s not leaving us. It won’t happen.” He talked to her that way for ten minutes, saying only what he could, what little bit made sense, until finally she lifted herself halfway up.

“I can’t lose him.” Her words were weak, childlike.

He stroked her back. “You won’t have to, honey. Come on, pull yourself together.”

Another sob washed over her, and then she drew a deep breath and faced him. “When do they want him? I have to know.”

Jack understood. Worst case scenario, she had to hear the truth. He kept one arm around her shoulders. “She said something about a visit every few weeks.” He could barely speak the words, as if doing so might somehow make them true. “On the fourth visit, Joey would move there permanently.” Before she could respond, he rushed ahead. “But don’t think about that. It won’t happen. It won’t.”

She pushed herself to sit up the rest of the way, and after a few seconds she worked her way to her feet. “I need to wake Joey up. We’re going to the pool with Beth and the kids today.”

“That can wait. We have a lot to figure out.”

“No.” Her eyes were swollen, and she rubbed them with her palms, drying what was left of her tears. “He needs a normal life, Jack. A day at the pool will be good for him.” She gave him a pointed look. “Like you said, they won’t take him away. You won’t let them, and I won’t either.” Her eyes grew so hard she barely looked like herself. “They’d have to kill me first.”

And those were the words that stayed with Jack all day, as he called his lawyer and got a recommendation for a high-powered family attorney in downtown Miami, as he drove south into the city, the adoption paperwork at his side. This wasn’t a simple custody battle he was trying to ward off.

It was a fight for the heart and soul and breath of their family.

The pool was wonderful.

Three hours of sunshine and splashing with Joey, and not for a minute did she allow her mind to venture to the unthinkable places of earlier that morning. Jack would take care of everything. She’d meant what she said. They’d have to kill her before she’d let her son go.

She and Beth were too busy at the pool to have more than a minute to talk, but afterward they went to Beth’s house. Joey was asleep by the time they got there, and Molly cradled him in her arms and laid him on the sofa. Beth walked Jonah to his room and laid him down, and the older kids put a movie on in the family room.

Molly found a pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator and poured glasses for her and Beth. This wasn’t happening. The phone call was the one thing she had feared since she and Jack first considered adoption. She had to talk to Beth now, before she imploded. All those other times—days represented in the photo album—came to mind. Beth was there when Molly’s boyfriend publicly humiliated her, she was the strong voice of comfort and reason when Art Goldberg died, and she was the only one Molly could turn to now.

Jack would take care of the details, but still she needed to talk, needed to share the fears she’d been running from all day. The moment Beth returned to the kitchen, Molly looked at her and opened her mouth. But no words would come. Where could she start? The entire situation was like a scene from someone else’s movie. She hadn’t had time to put the details into words.

“Hey . . . what’s wrong?” Beth met her near the kitchen island. Her voice was gentle, tender, the way it was with her children when one of them was hurt. But this time fear had a place in her tone, too. “Molly, talk to me, sweetie. What is it?”

“The call . . .” She felt her face twist up. Sobs choked out the rest of her sentence.

Beth searched her eyes, and then her expression changed. “The call? You mean the one from the social worker?”

“Yes.” Molly took her tea and dropped to the nearest dining-room chair. Nothing made sense, not a bit of what she was about to say. “Joey’s adoption paperwork was forged.” She gripped the arms and stared at her sister. “His birth father never signed it.”

“What?” Beth grabbed her glass and sat down beside her, facing her. Shock settled in the fine lines on her forehead. “Well, that’s not your problem . . . is it?”

More tears, and Molly covered her face with her hands.

“Is it, Molly?” Beth put her arm around her shoulders. “I mean, that’s something the social services people have to work out with the birth parents, right?”

“No.” Molly dropped her hands and dabbed her fingertips beneath her eyes. She felt the fight rising up inside her. All morning at the pool, her feelings had warred within her. She’d be swimming next to Joey and she’d surface for air just as sharp terror made it impossible to draw a breath. Joey was everything to her—they wouldn’t dare take him. Then she’d dive down to the floor of the pool and suddenly she’d be a mother bear, willing to do anything, all things, for the sake of her child.

Now she looked at Beth and grabbed a quick breath. “A judge in Ohio ruled earlier this week that custody will revert back to his birth parents in a few months. Because someone forged the father’s name.”

“It was probably the mother.” Beth leaned her shoulder into the sofa. Her eyes never left Molly’s. “Didn’t you say the father was in prison for domestic violence when you adopted Joey?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms and pressed them to her waist. “He’s out now.”

“So if the mother forged his name, isn’t that something the two of them have to work out?”

Molly narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. “The social worker said they didn’t know who signed his name. So I guess they’re ruling out his birth mother.”

“That’s crazy.” Beth’s voice rang with frustration. “What sort of protection does that give any adoptive parent?” She waved her hand in the air. “If birth parents can come back years later and complain about the paperwork, then no one’s safe.” She hurried on. “You’re fighting it, of course.”

“Jack’s on his way to Miami right now. Our lawyer recommended some big shot in the city.” Her shoulders had been tense, and she lowered them.
Relax, Molly. . . . Everything’s going to be okay.
“Jack says not to worry; he’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” Beth stood and put her hands on her hips. “The whole thing’s insane. Imagine, taking a healthy child out of the only home he’s known, the place where he’s lived for nearly five years.” She clenched her fists. “No one in their right mind would do that.”

“Exactly.” Molly savored the strength of Beth’s words. Beth had always been more a fighter than a victim. “We should know something later today.”

Beth’s expression softened. “I know it’s going to work out. It has to.”

“It will.” Molly repeated the words in her head for good measure.
It will work out; it will.
She drummed her fingers lightly on her knees. “Still, I wish there was something we could do today, this afternoon.”

The fight left Beth. She sat down next to Molly. “There is.” She held out her hands. “We can talk to God.”

“I don’t—” Molly started to bristle, but immediately she changed her mind. Beth had a Bible verse for every occasion. Suddenly, Molly wanted to know. “What would the Bible say about this? About a child’s future . . . or losing a child, fighting for a child?”

Beth didn’t hesitate. “Well, Scripture has a lot to say about children and the battles we fight in life.” She held out her thumb. “First and most important, there’s a verse in Jeremiah that says God knows the plans He has for us, plans to give us a hope and a future and not to harm us.”

Molly thought that over. If it was true, then God had plans for Joey. Good plans. The news settled some of her anxiety. “What else?”

“I could get you a Bible promise book. That way you could look at Scripture by topics.”

“Okay. I’d like that.” Molly could hardly believe this was her talking. But with Joey’s future on the line, she was willing to try anything. She looked at her watch. “As long as Joey’s sleeping, maybe you could show me some of the verses now.”

Beth did exactly that. Until Joey woke up from his nap they looked at Bible verses, and before she left, they even held hands and Beth prayed. All her life, Molly hadn’t paid God any heed whatsoever. It seemed unfair that she should wait until now—her most dire hour—to consider whether He was really there, whether He could help her. For that reason, their conversation about God felt strange and even awkward. But when they finished talking, Molly had something she hadn’t gotten from Jack or from the knowledge that he was at the attorney’s office, or even from Beth.

She had peace.

Chapter Ten

W
endy was giddy with the way things were working out.

As long as she didn’t think of her son’s adoptive parents, as long as she didn’t dwell on the loss they were about to experience, she went through each day happier than she’d ever been. Rip was home and handling himself carefully. He was looking for a job, and he’d already had two interviews at the movie theater. The manager position looked like a lock—which meant maybe in six months they could afford a bigger rental. But most of all, their son was coming home.

His name was Joey.

Allyson Bower had given them more information after the judge ruled in their favor. Now, in ten or fifteen minutes, Allyson would stop by to make sure their home was suitable for a child. After that, there’d be nothing left but the waiting. Joey would make his first visit to Ohio in two weeks.