Barbara said a silent prayer that the girl would hang in there and that her parents would feel relief instead of fear on their drive home.
When they were settled in the office, Esther, Emily’s counselor, came in, holding a mug of coffee. “We’re so excited about Emily’s graduation,” she said. “It’s a huge accomplishment to stay the full year. I worry so much about the ones who don’t. We had one walk out just this week, and she was a very tough case. Broke my heart. I have a really bad feeling about her.”
“Who was it?” Lance asked.
Esther shot him a grin. “Lance, you know the confidentiality rules. I can’t talk about it. But we’re thrilled when the others see one like Emily get to the finish line. It reminds them that they can do it too.” Setting her mug down, she opened a file, pulled out several papers. “Are you ready to have her home?”
“Depends,” Lance said before Barbara could answer.
“We can’t wait to have her home,” Barbara said. “It’ll be so good to get things back to normal.”
“Barbara, we’ve talked about this in family counseling, but I have to go over it again, because it’s so important. Emily’s doing great, but you need to keep your expectations realistic. Maybe you should be looking for a new normal.”
That wasn’t what Barbara wanted to hear. “I hate that phrase. I still don’t know what that means.”
“It means that Emily’s not the same person she was before she started using drugs. And she’s not the same person she was when she checked in here a year ago. You’re not either. So don’t expect her to settle back in as if she hasn’t been away for a year. She may have problems adjusting. And temptations.”
“I’ve been to all the counseling sessions you’ve offered me,” Barbara said, “and I’ve gone to Al-Anon and my church support group, so I think I’m prepared. I know there are going to be temptations, but she’s doing so well. It’s been a year, and she doesn’t seem to crave drugs anymore.”
“Maybe not here, because drugs aren’t available. But that could change when she gets out in the world where they’re easy to get.”
Barbara’s expression fell. “I know you’re right. I want this whole thing to be over.”
“Don’t worry, Barbara. Emily’s well equipped to fight those feelings. But she might be a little moody, and she may want freedoms you’re not willing to grant. That’s why we have the families come in before the graduation.” She folded her hands and leaned forward. “It’s important that you decide now what Emily’s rules are going to be. She’s nineteen, so you have to give her some freedom, but she understands the need to rebuild trust. The more you outline and discuss ahead of time, the fewer problems you’ll have when things come up.”
“You’re talking about curfews? Who her friends are? Things like that?”
“Curfews, yes, for a while. As for her friends, she knows she can’t step back into the circles she was in when she was using. That’s going to be a huge temptation. She may be really lonely for a while, until she makes new friends.”
“So how do I make sure those people stay out of her life?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lance said. “I’ll make sure. If she even starts to hang out with her old group — ”
“She’s starting college in January,” Barbara cut in. “She’ll make a whole new group of friends there. And she’ll be living at home for the first year or two, so we can support her and help her.”
“Good. Just remember, she may still have some addictive behaviors. When my son came home from treatment, he wanted to sleep all day and stay up all night. He was late for work almost every day. Some days he just didn’t go. He left messes all over the house and expected me to clean them up. He wasn’t using, but he fell right back into his old habits.”
“Sounds like a normal boy,” Barbara said.
Lance gave her a sarcastic smile.
“Emily’s had structure here,” Esther said. “She’s going to need it at home too. She has a schedule already—what she’ll do on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays … She really needs to have her time filled up and planned out.”
The last thing Barbara wanted to be was a warden.
“So what about her car?” Lance asked. “Wouldn’t you say it would build character in her to share it with me?”
Esther laughed. “I can’t advise you about the use of her car, Lance. Nice try, though.”
“I’m just sayin’, she hasn’t driven for a year, so maybe I could drive her around for a while. Then when I get my license, she and I can share the car — ”
“Lance,” Barbara cut in, “your permit lets you drive with a parent, grandparent, legal guardian, or instructor. Not your nineteen-year-old sister.” Why were they talking about this now? Lance had gotten them off subject. Barbara looked at her watch. She had to be at work in an hour, so she needed to move this along.
She heard chattering voices through the wall. “Sounds like choir practice is over. Lance, why don’t you go talk to the girls for a while? I’ll finish up here.”
Lance sprang up. “Sweet. You don’t need me, do you, Miss Esther?”
Esther chuckled. “No, you go ahead.”
He went through the door, then leaned back in. “Hey, don’t talk her into giving me any more structure, okay? I have all of it I need.”
Chapter 3
Lance waited outside the community room until the girls came outside. As they did, he accepted their adoring hugs and hellos and followed Emily and her friends to the pond. His mom had been right—the girls loved him here, and that’s why he never missed a visiting day. But he supposed it was time for Emily to come home. She’d grown up a lot in the last year, and he was pretty sure she could cut it on the outside without going back to drugs.
“Did you hear about Jordan?” Emily asked him in a low voice as they ambled across the grass.
“No — did she have the baby?”
“We don’t know,” Emily said. “She took off in the middle of the night a few days ago.”
Lance stopped walking. “No way. You’re kidding, right?”
“Lance, don’t take it personally.”
He couldn’t help it. The crisp air whipped his hair into his eyes as he stared at the pond, trying to imagine why Jordan would do a thing like that. He should have known his fifteen-year-old classmate couldn’t keep her commitment to stay sober.
Before she’d come here, Lance and Jordan hadn’t been very good friends, since she hung out with druggies and thugs. But when he found out she was pregnant and still actively using crystal meth, he couldn’t hide his disgust. One day when she came to school clearly high, her belly beginning to show through a tight T-shirt, he confronted her.
“You know, it’s your business if you want to be a loser, but you should really think about what you’re doing to your kid.”
She squinted up at him. “What is your problem?”
“Pregnant junkies make me sick.”
She reared back and slapped him. Lance caught his breath and stepped back, pressing his hand over the burning spot on his cheek. “You’re out of control, Jordan, just like my sister was.”
“My life is none of your business.” Her tears surprised him. He’d figured she was too cold to get her feelings hurt. Feeling guilty, he leaned back against the lockers, staring at the ceiling. He shouldn’t have been so harsh. She was human and she had feelings, even if she was stupid. He forced himself to look into her blotchy face. “Look, I know where you can get help.”
“Nobody can help me.”
“Yes, they can. If my sister can change, anybody can. She was bad off.”
Jordan wiped her face on her sleeve. “I remember her.”
“But she’s different now. She went to treatment, and she’s learning how to live sober.”
“I don’t have any money,” she said. “My mom … no way she’d ever spend a cent on that.”
“You don’t need money. Churches and Christian people support the place. It’s a good place. S
he likes it.”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t handle all that Christian stuff.”
He saw pain in her eyes and a desperate need to break free of her chains. Maybe she really didn’t want to be like this. “Just take a step, Jordan. Do it for your baby.”
She touched her stomach, and for a moment, he thought she might listen.
She didn’t. Not then.
But a couple of months later, as her pregnancy began to show and the desperation in her eyes grew more intense, she came to him after algebra. Leaning over his desk, she said, “Can you help me get into that place?”
He looked up at her. “What place?”
“That place where your sister is.”
Lance caught his breath and got up. “Sure. They know me. I can get you in.” He hoped it was true, that they wouldn’t make her wait for a bed the way Emily had had to wait. If they did, she might change her mind. “We could go by there and you could talk to them. I could get my mom to take us today. She’s picking me up after school.”
That afternoon, he and his mother took Jordan for a tour of New Day. When they told her she could check in without paying a dime, she worked up the courage and agreed. Her mother, who needed treatment herself, had reluctantly signed the papers, probably glad to dump her on someone else.
Up until now, Lance had considered this one of his great personal accomplishments. He saw Jordan every Saturday when he came to visit Emily, and he’d watched her progress with pride.
Now she was gone, without a word of warning, without giving him a chance to talk her out of it.
He stepped to the edge of the water, picked up a rock, and threw it to the center of the pond. It dropped with a plunk, ripples spreading. He thought about Jordan’s few visits from her abusive mother and brother, visits that always left her in tears. Why would she go back to that?
Emily put her hand on his back. “You okay?”
“Why did she leave?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “She didn’t talk to any of us about it. But I don’t think her mom really wanted her to get well.”
“I know why she left,” someone behind him said.
Lance turned to see Amanda, one of Emily’s roommates. “Why?”
“She was fiending for dope, that’s why.”
He hoped not. She’d begun to care about the baby she was carrying, but using meth while she was pregnant could seriously hurt it. “Do you think she went home?”
“Probably,” Emily said. “But it’s terrible there. And she’s due any day.”
Lance had felt the baby kick and had been amazed by the ultrasound picture Jordan carried in her purse. What if she had gone back to drugs?
“Maybe I could try to call her,” he said. “See if I could talk some sense into her.”
Emily swept her blonde hair behind her ears and studied him for a minute. “It’s worth a try. Tell her we miss her.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “If I find her, I’ll talk her into coming back. I got her here the first time. She listens to me.”
Chapter 4
Barbara hated working on Saturdays, but that was the day furniture stores made most of their money. She should be grateful just to have a job.
Last year, she’d had her own interior design business, with an assistant and a construction crew. She’d been among the designers considered to renovate the governor’s mansion. But a crisis with Emily had forced her to prioritize, and she’d wound up losing the opportunity. As a result, she had to lay off her staff and give up her studio. She’d taken this job to keep her head above water while she did design work on the side. Though she still got an occasional client, she hadn’t yet built back her business enough to warrant quitting this job.
She walked among the dining room tables, clipboard in hand, looking for browsers. Working on commission was tough, especially when the economy was bad. But her background and experience gave her an edge. Last week she’d helped a family whose house had burned. They were rebuilding and needed to furnish every room. The commission had been a blessing from God. They’d said she was the blessing, since buying from her was like having their own interior decorator.
Even with that commission, things would be tight when Emily came home. Barbara would have to resume paying Emily’s car insurance, buy her some clothes, pay tuition for the college classes she’d be taking in January. She hoped she could manage it all. Ever since her husband died five years ago, keeping her family financially afloat had been her responsibility. She would make it work somehow. She always had.
Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it out of her pocket and saw that she had a voicemail. She’d noticed it vibrating earlier when she’d been with a customer, but she’d ignored it. Now she listened to the message and smiled as she heard Kent Harlan’s voice.
“Hey, Barb. Sorry I missed you. I was just … thinking that maybe I could take a day or two off and come to Emily’s graduation Monday. Don’t know if you want me there or not.” There was a long pause. “If you think it would be better for Emily if I weren’t there, no problem. I want her to have a really good day.” Again, he hesitated, as if some unspoken question hung between them. “I want you to have a good day too. Hope you’re having a good day today.”
The awkward message made her smile again. For a tough homicide cop, there was something very vulnerable about Kent.
She thought of calling him back but didn’t know what to tell him. Should he come, or shouldn’t he? For the last year, they’d talked on the phone a lot, and he’d found excuses to come to Jefferson City a couple of times to see her. But distance made it difficult to pursue a serious relationship. Focusing on her children was the most important thing.
Emily had been so troubled after her father’s death. Barbara feared doing anything now that could revive those feelings. Depression and grief could trigger a relapse. Besides, she wanted graduation day to be about Emily, and if Kent were there, Barbara’s attention would be divided. Emily’s victory after committing a year to her healing was too important to diminish in any way.
Still … Barbara would really love to see him.
“Barbara!”
She turned and saw Lily, one of her co-workers, coming toward her with a disturbed look on her face. She waited as Lily crossed two rows of recliners. “That homeless guy is back,” she whispered.
Barbara looked over Lily’s shoulder. The scruffy man was sitting in a Lane recliner, his feet up and his jaw hanging open. He was sound asleep.
“I’m going to call the police,” Lily said. “We can’t have him in here scaring the customers.”
Barbara touched Lily’s arm. “Just wait, please. I’ll take care of it.”
Lily looked back at him. “Okay, ten minutes. If he’s not out of here by then, and completely off the premises, including the parking lot, I’m having him arrested.”
It wouldn’t be the first time. Barbara walked up the row of La-Z-Boys to the Lane section and sat down in the chair next to the man. Touching his arm, she said, “J.B., wake up.”
The man stirred, and his eyes opened — bloodshot, as usual. His breath smelled rancid, and red, inflamed skin showed through his sparse, unkempt beard. His ski cap was threadbare and filthy, as if he’d found it in a garbage bin. “Hey,” he said, groggy.
“J.B., I told you, you can’t hang out in here.”
“It’s cold out,” he said. “Jus’ needed a place to get warm for a while.”
“You have to do it somewhere else. You know that.” She glanced toward the desk, aware that her co-workers watched. “I talked to your mom.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Aw, no.”
“She’s really worried about you.”
“Then why won’t she let me come home?”
“Because last time you were there, things didn’t go so well.” There was no point in mentioning that he’d given his father a black eye and pawned his mother’s jewelry.
“I won’t stay here long.”
“You can’t stay at
all. They’re going to call the police. They gave me ten minutes to run you out.”
Sighing, he reached for the lever to lower the footrest but couldn’t find it. She helped him lower it, and he sat up straighter. “All right, I’m going.”
“Come to my car with me,” she said softly. “Your mom sent me some things for you. A warm coat and some gloves.”
He rubbed his neglected beard. The corners of his mouth trembled, and he covered his eyes with a filthy hand.
“J.B., your mom said the offer is still open for you to go to treatment. She’ll come and get you and take you herself.”
“I don’t need treatment,” he slurred. “I don’t have a problem.” He pushed himself up with great effort and took a few steps, wobbling. “Haven’t eaten all day,” he said. “Got a few bucks?”
She took his arm and walked him toward the door. “I can’t give you any money, J.B. But I have some food in the car.”
As the glass doors slid open, the cold air blasted her. Sorrow crushed her heart at the thought of him being exiled into this weather. She wanted to take him home with her, but if his own parents couldn’t trust him, neither could she. Six months ago, after he’d beaten up his father, his mother had joined Barbara’s support group for parents of prodigal children. When she’d shown Barbara a picture, Barbara had recognized him as one of the homeless men who wandered into the furniture store now and then to escape the summer heat and the winter chill.
He had choices, she reminded herself. He didn’t have to live on the streets. He could go to a shelter or a treatment center. If he worked, he could get his own place. He could even go home if he would just stop using.
But J.B. wasn’t able or wasn’t willing to do what it took to live a functional life. She felt him shivering as they crossed the parking lot. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and popped open the trunk.
The bag J.B.’s mother had sent sat next to the box of crackers and jar of peanut butter Barbara had bought for him the last time she went to the grocery store. “Here’s something to eat,” she said.