Finding Home

29. Caleb

Chapter 29

Caleb

“ T his is where you plan to live with Raine for the foreseeable future?” the social worker asks.

I clear my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

With pursed lips, she jots a note on her pad. She’s got quite a poker face, this woman. Not to mention, dark, piercing eyes that remind me of the sixth-grade teacher who hated my guts.

“The school district is excellent here,” I add, even though she didn’t ask, and she jots another note. “If that changes, I’ll send Raine to the best private school in the area. There are a lot of them to choose from.” Another note. “But I’m thinking public school is a good idea to start with, so she’s surrounded by all kinds of people, you know?” Fuck, I’m stressed. I never babble like this.

Aubrey is playing with Raine in the backyard, while I’ve been guiding this court-appointed social worker around my house. If Aubrey were here, I wouldn’t be this nervous. She’d calm me down. But that’s not an option, apparently. The social worker wants to talk to her, separately.

After her close inspection of the main living areas, all of which are now squeaky clean and family friendly, thanks to the Amazing Aubrey, the social worker asks to see Raine’s bedroom.

“Right this way,” I say, trying, and failing, to sound relaxed and casual. Man, I’m sweating bullets.

“I noticed the Volvo in the driveway,” the social worker says behind me, as we head down the hallway. “Is that your car or Miss Capshaw’s?”

“Mine. I bought it yesterday, specifically for transporting Raine. If Aubrey—Miss Capshaw—drives Raine, I’ll make sure she uses that car, too.” When the woman jots another note, I add, “My sister sent me an article about how Volvos are one of the safest family cars, so that’s what I got.”

“Is your sister coming here today?”

“Oh. I . . . No. I didn’t know she was supposed to come. I can call her now, if you?—”

“No, no. That’s fine. Your sister won’t be living here with Raine, correct?”

“No, ma’am. Just Aubrey and me. Miss Capshaw. My sister lives nearby, though. I can call her to come, if you’d like to meet her.”

“Do you plan for her to interact with Raine regularly?”

“Yes, ma’am. She loves Raine, and Raine loves her.”

“Then, yes, I’d love to meet her, if she’s available.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll text her right now and call if she doesn’t reply quickly.” I pull out my phone with a trembling hand and shoot off a text to my sister in all caps that begins with “URGENT!!!” before returning to the social worker with a tight smile. “Okay, so, this is Raine’s room here.” I motion to the doorway, but the woman doesn’t step inside. She’s too busy taking a note, apparently .

“What do you normally drive, when you’re not driving Raine?”

Why is that relevant? I’m deeply annoyed by the question, but I answer calmly, in a neutral and non-defensive tone, hopefully, listing off the three other cars and one motorcycle sitting in my garage.

“Do you wear a helmet when riding your motorcycle?”

“It’s required by law.” My heart rate quickens. Is my motorcycle a strike against me? Do good fathers not ride them? My own father rode one, but he was a horrendous father. Fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the motorcycle, although the way this is going, she’ll probably ask to see my garage, anyway. “I don’t ride it very often,” I blurt. “The motorcycle. And I’d be willing to get rid of it, if that would make a difference in the outcome. I certainly don’t want a motorcycle more than I want custody of my daughter.”

Seriously, I need to shut the fuck up now. It’s written all over this woman’s stern face: my babbling isn’t helping my cause. In desperation, I motion to Raine’s doorway, and thankfully, this time, she enters the room.

“It’s fit for a princess,” she murmurs, looking around. Is that a compliment or a dig? Damn, she’s got a better poker face than my buddy, Colin, and he’s the only one who can always beat me in cards, thanks to his stellar poker face.

I look around, trying to see the room through this social worker’s eyes, and, suddenly, it looks criminally over-the-top to me. Like I’m trying to buy my daughter’s affections. “I wanted Raine to feel safe and happy here.”

“I’m sure she loves it.” It’s the first kind words she’s uttered to me today. But then again, for all I know, she’s thinking, “Because little kids can be easily bribed.” So, I tell myself not to read into the seeming vote of confidence.

“If there’s anything you’d suggest to make this environment better for Raine, I’m all ears.”

The woman looks up from her pad and smiles politely. “I’m not here to make suggestions to you, Mr. Baumgarten. It’s my job to report whatever I see, and what I’ve concluded about it, and then to report my expert findings and opinions to the judge.”

My stomach somersaults. “Yes, ma’am.”

She scribbles a note onto her dreaded pad again, and I can’t help feeling like I’m sixteen and just failed my first driver’s test again. It was nerves that tanked me then, the same way nerves caused me to flunk every math test in middle school, even after I’d studied really hard. Frankly, the only times nerves have ever helped me is when I’m sitting behind a drum kit, getting mentally prepared to play for tens of thousands of people. Other than that, I swear to God, my nerves have always been my worst fucking enemy.

“How many nights has Raine slept here?”

I shift my weight. “Three. We just got in from Montana. She loves the beach here. Loves her room. She’s been sleeping like a rock.”

“For three nights.”

“It’s a big deal. She never had three nights in a row without a nightmare before we got here.”

The woman’s eyebrows ride up, and I know I’ve fucked up. “Raine has frequent nightmares?”

Fuck. “She just lost her mother. We comfort her as best we can. Aubrey’s mom is a school counselor, so she knows what to do. We’re doing everything she’s told us to do.”

The woman motions to the photo of Raine and me above the bed. “This is sweet.”

“Aubrey took that shot.” I’m about to add, “It’s from my first meeting with my daughter.” But when I realize the comment would only emphasize the short amount of time that’s passed since that magical moment, I shut the fuck up about that and, instead, offer, “I’m going to get some framed photos of Raine’s mother for her room. Photos of Aubrey and Aubrey’s parents, too. I have a shelf of family photos in my room, and Raine liked that, so I told her I’d make a shelf like that for her, too.”

“Is Raine included in your collection of family photos?”

I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s the first answer I feel great about. “She’s front and center. Would you like to see?”

“Yes, please.”

As the woman follows me out of Raine’s bedroom, I babble, “I’m always going to honor Claudia’s memory, and so will the Capshaws. And, of course, no matter what happens, the Capshaws will always be a huge part of Raine’s life. She loves all of them, and so do I . ”

I didn’t mean to say that last part. It just slipped out. And now, I don’t know if I’ve fucked myself over or helped my cause. Either way, the truth is the truth: I love Aubrey and her parents. Not because I’ve been forced to hang out with them for the past month. Not because of our shared love of Raine. But because they’re my family now, every bit as much as Miranda. And so is Claudia, I suddenly realize, through all the people I love who loved her.

When we get to my room, the social worker leans down to study the photo of Raine. “What an adorable shot. She’s beaming with happiness.”

My heart flutters hopefully. “That was taken at my lake house in Montana. Raine loved playing with her sand toys there. I bought her a set for this house, too, so she can continue making mud pies for everyone.”

The woman seems like she’s trying to suppress a smile. But she says nothing as she makes another note. When she looks up again, all traces of her smile are gone; she’s all business again. “All right, Mr. Baumgarten. I think I’ve got what I need, in terms of the environment. Let’s bring in Aubrey and Raine for their interviews now. I’ll talk to Aubrey first; and then to Raine in her bedroom. And then, hopefully, your sister, if she makes it here before I’m done.”

“Miranda’s on her way now.” I hold up my phone by way of explanation.

“Wonderful.”

I swallow hard and shift my weight. “I didn’t realize you’d be talking to Raine separately. I thought I’d get to be there. She’s really shy.”

“I promise it’ll be painless for her. We’ll play dolls in her room, or maybe draw or color; and while she’s playing and distracted, we’ll chat. I promise, by the end, she won’t even realize she’s been interviewed.”

“She’s really, really shy, and I don’t want her feeling stressed.”

“Neither do I, I assure you. I promise I’ll be very gentle with her. I’ve been doing this for twenty years, Mr. Baumgarten. She’s in good hands.”

I wipe my sweaty palm against my sweaty forehead, feeling like I’m going to shit my pants or puke. If ever there was a time to throw back a stiff drink or inhale a fat, juicy blunt, this is it. “Just don’t push her too hard, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

I exhale. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll go get Aubrey and Raine.”

“I’ll wait here. Mr. Baumgarten?”

I turn in the doorway.

“Take a deep breath. You’re doing great.”