Like Dandelion Dust (28 page)

“Exactly.” Bill turned off the television.

George Brett loped into the room and wagged his tail.

“Thanks for talking.” Beth started for the door but did a double-take at the dog. “Who let you in here?” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Bad dog. Come on, let’s go outside.”

As she put George Brett outside, Beth closed her eyes and tried to connect the pieces. Yes, Molly and Jack were trying to be proactive. They were making phone calls, asking for a hearing, begging God for a miracle. When she thought of it that way, her fears were completely unfounded. Molly and Jack weren’t going to run; they were going to wait for God’s will. Everything Bill had said made sense, except the obvious. And it was the obvious that kept Beth awake most of the night and into the morning.

Why, in the middle of all that was going on with Joey, would Molly and Jack need a million dollars? Even though she shouldn’t have snooped, shouldn’t have looked, it was a question that needed answering. By noon the next day, Beth made up her mind.

As soon as the moment seemed right—whether Molly got mad at her or not—she was going to ask.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he door closed and Molly let herself fall against it. She reached out and took hold of Jack’s hands. Gus whimpered a few feet away.

“I hate this. . . . I can’t do it again.”

“I know.”

Joey had just left for his third visit. This time he was less tearful, but more afraid. He had come home without any bruises after his second visit, but he was stuttering again, and he didn’t want to talk about Rip Porter.

“He doesn’t like me, Mommy,” was all he’d say about the man. Then he’d change the subject.

“Does he hurt you, buddy?”

“No!” Joey shook his head fast. “He doesn’t hurt me. P-p-promise.”

Her son had never lied to her, not as far as she knew. But his quick answer and fearful eyes made her worry. Regardless of their plans, she would not let him go back to the Porters if the man was harming him. It had been hard enough to let him go back a second time after the bruises on his arm.

Now, her stomach knotted and her heart pounded against her chest. “Every time I say good-bye to him, a piece of me goes dead until he comes home.”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. He looked exhausted. “Can you imagine having to let him go forever? In three weeks?”

“No.” She came to him, put her arms around his neck. “I told Beth it was like knowing he was about to die, like we all were.”

He studied her. “That’s all you’ve told Beth?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re sure she didn’t see the loan papers on the desk?” His words were slow, weary, as if he couldn’t stop running through the possibilities.

“I’m pretty sure.” She pressed her fist against her forehead. “That was so stupid of me. The mail came that morning. . . . I opened the stuff from the bank, and Joey needed sunscreen on his back. I set the mail down and made a mental note to put it away before we left.” She lifted her hands. “I don’t know how I forgot.”

“But you don’t think she saw it.”

“No.” She pictured that day. “Beth got a phone call from Bill, but it was quick. Besides, if she’d seen it, I think she would’ve asked. Beth and I don’t keep secrets.”

“Well . . .” He pulled her closer, tucked her head against his chest. His tone was sad. “You do now, love.”

A pain pierced her heart and she closed her eyes. “Yes.” She was counting down the days. They were down to fourteen. Fourteen days until the trip. Fourteen days until they would walk out of their home for the last time. Two weeks until she had to start wearing a blonde wig and going by the name Tracy Sanders. Worst of all, fourteen days until she had to say good-bye to Beth, her sister and best friend.

She survived most days by telling herself that somehow—someday—they might be able to find their way back. The Porters would die off, or the case would be forgotten. They could slip into the United States, spend a week with Beth and Bill and the kids, and be on their way again.

But the reality was something entirely different.

Jack nuzzled her. “You okay?”

“It’s more than I can think about.” She let herself melt into his arms. At times like these he seemed strong enough for both of them. “I wish I could be like Joey and talk to God whenever I’m scared.”

She felt him stiffen. No matter how much time they spent meeting with Beth and Bill, no matter how many church services, Jack was no closer to a genuine faith. It was all simply a necessary part of the plan. “You can talk to God whenever you want.” A hint of sarcasm crept into his voice. “Ask him to make the fake passports good enough to pass inspection.”

“Jack . . .” She didn’t like when he made light of God, or the idea of God. “It wouldn’t hurt if you did a little talking to Him yourself.”

He exhaled in a way that betrayed his frustration. “Maybe someday—when we’re sitting on the beach in Cayman with too much time on our hands.” He kissed her lips, slow and tender. “Right now I’m too busy making this happen to ask God about it.”

Molly wanted to add something, remind him that Beth and Bill were praying for God’s will, and that maybe she and Jack were going about this all the wrong way, and maybe they really should be calling politicians and lawyers and asking for hearings. But it was too late for any of that.

She leaned back. “How’re the plans going?”

“Good. Money’s taken care of, and I’m getting the passports next week.” His tone sounded heavier than usual, full of sorrow. “But there’s something we need to talk about.”

“What?” Gus came up to them and sat against their legs. Molly pushed him back a little. “Go lay down, Gus.”

Gus did as he was told and Molly looked up at Jack. “What do we need to talk about?”

“Him.” Jack looked at Gus. “We can’t take him, Molly. You know that.”

“What?” She took a step back, horrified. “Why haven’t we thought about that before? Jack, we have to take him. Joey would be crushed.”

“I
have
thought about it, and there’s just no way.”

Molly let out an exasperated cry. She went to Gus and dropped to the floor beside him. “We’re leaving him at the kennel, right? When we go to Haiti?”

“Right.”

“So let’s pay someone at the kennel to ship him over to the Cayman Islands at the end of the week.”

Jack came to her. He eased himself down onto the floor and rubbed Gus behind the ear. “The whole state will be looking for us by then. Maybe the whole country.” He tilted his head, doing everything he could to help her understand. “It’ll be big news, Molly.”

“But we’ve kept the story out of the news on purpose.”

“Right. But the Porters will be talking to every reporter who knocks on their door once they figure out we’re not coming back.”

Gus yawned and pressed his head against Jack’s hand. “Good boy, Gus.”

Molly looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. “So you’re saying the people at the kennel could notify the authorities and tell them we left our dog with instructions that they ship him to the Cayman Islands?”

“Exactly. We can’t risk everything for Gus, honey. We can’t do it.”

“If it makes the news like you think it will . . .” Her eyes found his again. “They’ll be looking for Molly and Jack Campbell.”

“Right.”

“So let’s use a new kennel. I’ll wear my blonde wig and explain that we’re moving to the Cayman Islands and we need someone to ship our dog to us in a week.”

“I don’t understand. How’s that any different?”

Molly took hold of Jack’s shoulders. “It’s easy.” She could feel her whole face glowing. “We’ll register with the kennel as Walt and Tracy Sanders.”

“Molly . . .” Jack’s eyes welled up. He patted Gus and nuzzled his face against the dog’s. When he looked at her, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to change his mind. “I can’t risk our future—our lives—just so we can keep him.” He bit his lip. “We’ll use the same kennel as always. That way when we don’t come back for him, Beth and Bill will bring him home.”

Beth and Bill? Gus didn’t even know them. Suddenly the reality became clear for her, too. No matter what they did, what name they used, it wouldn’t take more than an hour to call every kennel in town and ask if a yellow lab had been shipped out of the country. Jack was right.

They’d have to say good-bye to Gus, too.

Molly looped her arms around the dog’s neck as the tears came. Gus was Joey’s best friend. Why hadn’t she thought about what would happen to him? It was a blow, one that took her breath away. Poor Gus . . . He would never be the same without his family—even if Beth and Bill did take him.

It was another blow, and with Joey gone to the Porters again, it was enough to do Molly in. The losses were so great, she could barely imagine them all happening at once. Sobs racked her body, and her tears spilled onto Gus’s furry coat. He made a whimpering sound and looked up at her, his eyes gentle and trusting.

Next to her, Jack rubbed her shoulders. There was nothing either of them could say to fix the situation. They would say good-bye to everything they knew and everyone they loved, and they would do it all willingly for Joey. Then they would do the thing that would hurt Joey most of all, something he would never understand.

They would say good-bye to Gus.

Joey was finally asleep, and Rip had left for the bar—same as nearly every night for a week. Wendy lingered on the edge of Joey’s bed, watching his small sleeping body as it finally relaxed.

She was falling head over heels for her little boy, no question about it. This time he smiled when he walked through the door with Allyson Bower. Even though he didn’t exactly run and jump into her arms, he wasn’t crying, either, so that had to be a good sign.

He still talked about missing his mommy and daddy, and Wendy was puzzled. The Campbells should’ve explained things to the boy by now. That was part of the deal. By the third visit he was supposed to know that he was going to come and live with the Porters in Ohio. That they were his new family.

It didn’t matter. Rip told Joey every chance he had. Tonight was no different. They were eating dinner—chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese. Rip waved his fork in the air. “You can start calling me Daddy now. That’s what the judge says.”

Joey blinked. He looked both puzzled and frightened. “My d-d-daddy lives in Florida with me.” He poked his fork into another bite of macaroni.

“Doesn’t he know yet?” Rip looked at her. For once he wasn’t angry, just curious.

“I guess not.” Wendy wasn’t hungry. She pushed her plate back and smiled at her husband. Anything to keep him calm. “It’ll be obvious soon enough, Rip.”

He looked back at Joey. “Here’s the deal, little man.” He waited until Joey’s eyes were on him. “I’m your
real
daddy and this,” he gestured to the small living area made up of the kitchen and living room, “this is your
real
home.” He leaned over the table so his face was closer to Joey’s. “The Campbells adopted you, only there was a mistake.” He pointed at Wendy. “Me and her, we’re your real parents and the judge says you’re gonna come stay with us. Starting in three weeks.”

Tears gathered in Joey’s eyes and he shook his head. “My Mommy and D-d-daddy and Gus are in Florida.” He dropped his fork. “That’s my real f-f-family.”

Rip was getting madder by the second. Just when it looked like he might throw a glass of milk at the boy, he jerked his chair back, stood, and grabbed his car keys. “I’ll be at the bar.”

That was that. It took Wendy an hour to calm Joey down, and she did it by agreeing with him. Yes, his real parents were in Florida. Yes, that was his real home. “But we’re like your mama and daddy, too,” she told him. Because if she didn’t say so now, how would she explain the situation when he came to live with them in three weeks?

Joey looked confused. He didn’t finish his dinner, and he talked to the Campbells on the phone longer than usual. He didn’t really relax until Wendy led him into the TV room and turned on
SpongeBob SquarePants.
Halfway through the program, he even laughed a little. The sound of it made Wendy dream of the days ahead, days when the transition would be over and having Joey could be part of their regular routine.

When the program ended, Joey wanted to watch more cartoons. They found
Bear in the Big Blue House
, and after it got started, Wendy did something she’d been wanting to do since Joey’s first visit. She reached out . . . careful not to startle her son . . . and she took hold of his fingers.

He looked at her and smiled. Then without hesitating, he tucked his hand the rest of the way into hers. The feeling of that single touch was so amazing, so right, it stayed with her the rest of the night. Even when he said his bedtime prayers.

“Please, God, bring me home safe and fast ’cause I miss Mommy and Daddy and Gus so so so much. Gee this name, amen.”

Now Wendy looked at his sleeping form again and gently patted his back one more time. “Good night, Joey. Mama loves you.”

She wandered down the hallway and back to the kitchen. Along the way she picked up her Bible. Actually it was her grandma’s Bible, but lately she’d been reading it. Taking it with her to church on Sundays and trying to find meaning in it. Strength or peace or wisdom. Something to help her be the sort of mother Joey needed.

She’d been reading a part called First Kings, because that was where Solomon made a lot of decisions. That’s what the pastor had said a few weeks ago. And no Old Testamant person was as wise as King Solomon. Of course, Rip didn’t like her reading the Bible. Made him nervous, he said. But Rip wouldn’t be home until well after midnight.

She looked out the window and sighed. Rip had hit her again the day before, this time on her back. She hadn’t looked, but she was pretty sure she had a bruise. He was sorry, he told her so. When she looked at the big picture, he did seem to be doing better with his rage than he’d done before he went to prison.

But things weren’t headed in a good direction. He’d quit his job at the theater. Too stressful, he’d told her—working nights when he was trying to learn how to be a father. Wendy wasn’t sure how hanging out at the bars was helping, but she didn’t ask.