Like Dandelion Dust

  “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

  Jack 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?”

  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 poo
l 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?”