“I’ll be nearby. I need to put in a few hours at the office, but I’ll have my cell phone the whole time. Call me for any reason, day or night.” She tapped the file. “Everything’s in here. Joey knows that he can telephone me or his . . . parents if he needs to.”
Wendy caught the way she hesitated on the word parents. Joey had no idea what was happening, that his understanding of “parents” was about to change. Allyson stood and put her hand on Joey’s shoulder. “Remember what we talked about? You can call if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” He took another cookie and broke it in half. “See you tomorrow.”
The social worker bid them good-bye, and then they were alone, Wendy and Joey, with Rip in the other room. She folded her arms and rested them on the table. “Did you like your plane ride?”
“Yes.” He dipped the cookie and stuffed most of it in his mouth. When he could talk he gave her a crooked smile. “Sometimes I take plane rides with my mommy and daddy. Once we went to Mexico and watched the dolphins.”
“Wow . . .” Wendy wasn’t sure what to say. This was something else she hadn’t thought of. Joey’s adoptive parents were obviously rich people—taking Joey on trips to foreign beaches and giving him opportunities she and Rip could never afford. She straightened herself. Never mind all of that. A couple didn’t need money to be good parents. They needed love, that’s all. And who would love Joey more than his real parents, his biological parents?
“Also I took a plane ride to France once.” He finished chewing and swallowed. There were cookie crumbs on his lips and cheeks, and he looked beyond adorable. “I saw the iceberg tower.”
“The iceberg . . .” She squinted. “The Eiffel Tower, you mean?”
“Yeah, that one.” He gulped the rest of the milk. When he set the cup down, he had a white creamy mustache that only added to his charm. He looked straight at her. “Do you have a dog here?”
“No.” She looked around. The cat must’ve been in the back room with Rip. “We have a kitty named Tigger.”
“Oh. I have a doggie named Gus.”
The lump in her stomach grew. A doggie named Gus. One more reason it would be hard for Joey to make this transition. Harder than she’d ever thought. “Well . . . we might get a dog someday. I think dogs are nice.”
He scrunched up his face. “’Cept dogs eat cats.”
“Oh, Joey . . . not always.” She heard the alarm in her voice. “Sometimes they just chase cats.”
“I guess.” He looked around. “So where is he? The kitty?”
Before she could answer, Rip’s voice sounded in the hallway. “Is she gone?”
“Yes.” Wendy stood and met him halfway across the living room. She lowered her voice. “Joey’s doing much better. Probably just needed time to get used to us.”
Rip nodded, but he looked suspicious. “He doesn’t like me.” He peered over Wendy’s shoulder to the table, and her eyes followed his. Joey was swirling his glass, playing with the last few drops of milk and cookie crumbs.
“That’s ridiculous.” She kept her tone hushed. “He doesn’t even know you.”
“Well, he’d better start.” Rip thrust his shoulders back and stuck out his chest. “I’m his daddy, after all.”
“Rip . . .” She held up her finger. “Don’t go saying anything about that. Mrs. Bower told us, remember?” She peered at Joey. “He doesn’t know yet.”
“Okay, I get it.” He made a mock show of putting his finger to his lips and zipping them closed. “I won’t say a word.”
Rip led the way back to the kitchen table. Wendy took her chair, and Rip sat on Joey’s other side. “Hey, little man.” He patted Joey’s back, maybe a little too hard. “How’d you like the cookies?”
Joey lowered his chin. His eyes got big and he slid closer to Wendy. “Good, thanks.”
“You don’t need to be shy, kid.” He stood and took Joey’s hand. “How ’bout we show you to your room?”
“No, thank you.” He leaned into Wendy and pulled his hand free. “I just wanna sit here.”
Rip wore a look of disbelief, and Wendy wasn’t surprised. People simply didn’t tell Rip Porter no. He took Joey’s hand again and this time gave him a tug that brought him to his feet. “We have to put your suitcase away, little man.” His voice was stern. “Around here if I say we’re doing something, well, then that’s what we’re doing.”
Joey had no choice but to be pulled along. Rip grabbed the boy’s suitcase on the way, and Joey started to cry. He pointed back at Wendy. “I wanna sit with her.”
“You can sit with her later.” Rip tugged Joey again and this time the boy fell into step beside him.
Wendy understood what Rip was doing. He wanted to show Joey the bear, the stuffed animal he’d brought and so proudly set up on the child’s pillow. But this was no way to do it. He should’ve waited until Joey was tired. Then they could’ve taken him back to his room together and the surprise might’ve been a good thing. She stood and followed them. God . . . please let this go well. “Rip . . . wait for me.”
It was too late. By the time she reached the bedroom, Joey was sobbing and shaking his head, pointing back to the door. “I wanna be with her.”
“Look!” Rip gave his arm a sudden jolt. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to make him stop crying. The fact seemed to please Rip. He relaxed a little and led Joey all the way to the bed. “See there.” He nodded to the stuffed bear. “I bought you a gift.”
Joey nodded. His shoulders still shook, but he wasn’t making any noise now. “Th-th-thank you.”
“Well . . .” Rip picked it up and handed it to Joey. “You can hold it if you want.”
“I already . . . have Mr. Growls. He’s b-b-back home.” He pointed to his suitcase. “And Mr. M-m-monkey is in there.” The child’s words were quiet, but from the doorway Wendy understood them. Obviously he already had his favorite stuffed animals. He pulled free of Rip’s hand, unzipped the top of his little suitcase, and brought out a well-worn stuffed monkey. “Th-th-this is Mr. Monkey.”
“Fine.” Rip’s face showed his hurt. He fired the bear back at the bed, and Joey jumped, dropping the monkey to the floor. Rip brought his face close to the boy’s. “One day soon I’m gonna teach you some manners, little man.”
Rip’s tone and mean eyes must’ve scared Joey even more. He started crying and this time he dropped the monkey, ran around Rip and spread out, face down, on the bed. Wendy met Rip’s eyes and Rip gave her a look that said, What? He glared at the weeping figure on the bed and then back at her. “I’m doing my best.”
She shook her head, walked past him and sat on the edge of the mattress. If Rip was going to make a mess of things, then it would be up to her. She stroked Joey’s back. “Honey, I’m sorry you’re upset.” She reached down to the floor, picked up the child’s toy, and tucked it in near his shoulder. “Here, Joey. Here’s Mr. Monkey.”
He only cried harder. “I wanna go home! Please!” He lifted his tear-streaked face and gave her a look that broke her heart. “I want Mommy and Daddy.”
“That’s it.” Rip slapped the wall and took two threatening steps toward them. He grabbed Joey’s arm and jerked him into a sitting position. “Let’s get one thing straight.” He brought his face inches from Joey’s. “As long as you’re here, this is your home.”
“Rip . . . don’t!” Wendy tried to pull him from the boy, but he wouldn’t budge. She knew better than to get in his way when he was at the start of a rage, but she wouldn’t let him hurt Joey. Not even if it meant laying down her life. She snapped at him. “You’re going to ruin everything.”
“No.” He put his arm hard around her shoulders. “I’m just clearing things up.” He glared at Joey again. “Like I said, when you’re here, this is your home.” He jolted Wendy even closer to him. “This is your mommy.” He grinned but it was the meanest look he could’ve given the boy. “And I’m your daddy.” He shoved Joey back down on the bed. “Understand?”
“Y-y
-yes.” Joey’s face was pale.
Wendy watched Rip’s anger fade as quickly as it had come. He looked down for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he turned and left the room in a hurry, without looking at her or saying another word to the child.
The moment he was gone, Wendy instantly returned to Joey’s side, stroking his back, sheltering him. She could’ve spat at Rip for what he’d just done. If the boy said anything, Allyson Bower would run to the judge, and that would be that. Joey would stay with his adoptive parents for sure.
“Honey, it’s okay,” she whispered near Joey’s ear. “He’s just a little uptight. He isn’t always like that.”
Joey was whimpering. “He . . . he’s mean.”
She cursed Rip under her breath. She’d told a few of the girls at church to pray for them, but nothing could make Rip behave the way he should all the time. Not when Rip had a will of his own. She smoothed Joey’s hair. He rolled onto his side and looked at her. His breathing was uneven, his body still shaking with sobs. “Why is he . . . mad at me?”
“He’s not.” She sorted through her words, trying to find the right ones. “He just wanted you to like the little bear he bought you.”
Joey nodded. He made his hands into fists and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe Mr. Monkey could be friends with t-t-two bears.”
A ray of hope shone on Wendy’s heart. “Yes, that’s it. Maybe so.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost dinner time.” She rubbed his back some more. “Think you could come out of your room and have some pizza with us?”
“Yes.” He sat up slowly and looked around the bed. He found the bear on the other side of the pillow and he picked it up. “It’s a nice bear.”
“It is.” Wendy held her breath. If only Rip could see the child now . . .
Joey took the bear and placed it carefully on the pillow. Then he took the monkey and set it right next to the bear. Last, he took the bear’s paw and the monkey’s arm and crossed them so it looked like they were holding hands. “Listen, Mr. Monkey. This is your new friend—Mr. Bear. He’s not Mr. Growls, but monkeys can have t-t-two bear friends. Okay?”
Wendy watched, fascinated. Just minutes ago Joey was cowering on the bed, falling apart under Rip’s harsh words and hands. But now he was directing his attention to helping his toys get along with each other.
Dinner was less eventful. Joey asked Rip if he could have pineapple on his pizza.
“No.” Rip snarled at him. He seemed to be making no effort to recover from the earlier disaster in Joey’s room. “Pineapple’s terrible on pizza.”
“Okay. S-s-sorry.” Joey didn’t speak to him again the rest of the evening.
Rip spent most of the night watching a baseball game on television. Halfway through the pizza, Joey tugged on Wendy’s sleeve. He talked quietly, as if he was too nervous to speak up with Rip around. “Is he watching baseball?”
“Yes. The Indians.” Wendy was still mad at Rip. He could’ve done so much better for Joey’s first night. She smiled at the boy and put her arm around him. “The Indians are from around here.” She looked at Rip. “He watches all their games.”
Joey nodded, but he yawned at the same time. When dinner was over he helped Wendy clean up. Having him work at her side was amazing. All those years without him Wendy had wondered what it would be like to be a mother, to have the incredible privilege of raising the infant boy she’d cradled that day in the hospital. Today, for the first time, she had a chance to know the feeling for real.
As she tucked him in, she could only hope about the future, that this would be the first of countless nights of tucking him in, knowing that her son was asleep down the hall in the same house as herself.
Just as she thought he was falling asleep, he sat up, his eyes wide. “I need to call home. My mommy and daddy told me I could.”
Wendy hesitated. She had hoped they could get through this first visit without his making any calls home. Otherwise how was he going to get used to them in just a handful of trips? She eased him back down onto the bed. “Let’s call in a little while, okay?”
His eyelids were heavy. “Promise?”
“Promise.” She rubbed his back until she heard little snores coming from him. Then, when she was sure he wouldn’t hear her, she whispered close to his head, “Good night, Joey. Mama loves you.”
As she left his room, a thought hit her. Rip had better figure out how to get along with Joey, how to treat him. Because now that she’d found Joey, one thing was sure.
She wasn’t ever going to let him go.
Joey wasn’t sure how late it was or how long until morning. His eyes opened and he sat straight up. He looked around. Where was he, and why was his bed different? He could feel his heart bumping inside him. Hard and fast. His fingers moved around his pillow. “Gus . . . Gus where are you?”
But there were no little dog noises, no furry tail wagging beside him.
Then he remembered.
He wasn’t at home tonight. He was with the other mommy and daddy, sleeping in a strange bed. His hands reached around some more and . . . there he was. “Mr. Monkey!” He held the fuzzy friend close to his face. Then he whispered so only Mr. Monkey would hear him. “I wanna go home.”
A light was coming in through his window, so he could see Mr. Monkey’s face. I wanna go home, too, Mr. Monkey was saying. But I like my new friend, Mr. Bear.
“Yes, Mr. Bear is nice. I think Mr. Growls will like him.” He patted his pillow and found the other stuffed friend. Then he held them both close and lay back down again.
The daddy at this house was very mean and mad. Not like his own daddy at all. Plus his arm hurt where the man grabbed him. He blinked in the dark. His heart was still bumping loud and fast. Then he thought about the mommy at this place. She was a nice lady. She made good chocolate-chip cookies, plus she had soft hands. Her eyes had nice in them, and that made him not so scared about the mean man.
He wasn’t sleepy, but it might be a long time until morning. Mommy’s words from a long time ago filled up his head. Sleeping makes the nighttime go by a lot faster. That’s what she told him. He closed his eyes and tried. Sleep. Sleep . . . sleep . . . sleep!
It isn’t working, Mr. Monkey told him.
“I know it isn’t.” He lay very still, but he opened his eyes and looked around. What did the mean man say? That as long as he was here, this was his home and they were his mommy and daddy? A scared feeling happened to him and his heart bumped even faster. Why would he say that? Maybe the nice lady would tell him tomorrow at breakfast.
He closed his eyes again, but still he couldn’t sleep. He remembered the Indians. He knew Ohio was an Indian place, but how come no teepees? He shivered a little.
That’s when he remembered about God. He smiled, and next to him Mr. Monkey and Mr. Bear smiled, too. This time he kept the words quiet, just in his heart. Hi, God . . . It’s me, Joey. Thanks for being with me on the plane today and at this house. Remember, God? A few times I was scared, only then I could feel You beside me. He smiled again. That’s why I know You’re real. Even though You’re ’visible.
He felt a little tired come over him. Can You do something, God? . . . Can You please stay with me tomorrow and on the way home, too? ’Cause Mommy and Daddy and Gus aren’t here, remember? And also can You tell my family something, ’cause I didn’t get to call ’em? Tell them I love them and I can’t wait to get home. He tried to remember the ending, the way Jonah ended his prayer. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he said it in his heart anyway. Gee this name, amen.
Mr. Bear was already asleep, but Mr. Monkey tapped Joey’s arm. I like when you talk to God, he said.
“Me, too.” He was much more sleepy now. “I like it ’cause it means I’m not alone.”
You’re not alone, Mr. Monkey said. You have me.
“I know.” He smiled a little, but he was almost asleep. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Monkey, but he liked having God even better than his fuzzy friend.
Because God was the strongest one in the whole universe. And that made him feel very safe. Safe enough to close his eyes and sleep. Because God was stronger than anyone.
Even the mean man who lived at this house.
Chapter Fifteen
Their plans came together at Fuller Park.
The place was quiet and close, and it gave them complete confidence that Joey wasn’t listening to their conversation. Molly still couldn’t believe it had come to this, but Jack was right. They were out of options. She settled in against the park bench and watched her husband, the man she trusted and loved with her whole life. He was pushing Joey on the swing, saying something about airplanes or pirates or reaching the sky. Molly appreciated the distraction.
Joey had been home just fifteen hours, and already she’d replayed his homecoming a dozen times in her head.
She’d been wearing out a path along the kitchen floor waiting for his return. When he walked through the door with Mrs. Bower, she rushed to him, dropped to her knees and held him close.
“Mommy! I missed you so much!”
“Me, too, buddy.”
But even before she could ask questions or tell him hello, the social worker tapped her on the shoulder. “Can I speak with you . . . alone?”
Jack had been in the workout room upstairs. At the sound of Joey at the door, he hurried down and into the entryway. He, too, stooped down and pulled Joey into a hug. His words were tight with emotion when he could finally speak. “We missed you, sport. I’m so glad you’re back.”
Molly motioned to him that Allyson Bower wanted to talk to them. Gus was the perfect distraction. The dog trotted up and nearly knocked Joey down in his hurry to say hello. “Gus!” Joey sounded happy, healthy. Normal. Molly could finally draw a complete breath. Her son was out of danger. For now.
They followed the social worker into the kitchen where Joey couldn’t hear them. She opened a file and took out a single sheet of paper. “You’ll see four fingerprint bruises on Joey’s left upper arm.” Her face was shrouded in concern. “The Porters told me about it. Their story goes that Joey was falling or he needed help up.” Her words dripped disgust. “Apparently, Mr. Porter took hold of Joey’s arm to help him.” She showed them the piece of paper. “It’s all here in the report.”