Chapter Twenty-Seven
brEANNA
I’VE ALWAYS considered myself a ‘good aunt’, but I think I’ve realized the true category I fit into is ‘fun aunt’. It’s true that I’ve always distanced myself from babies because no matter how much time has gone by, it still hurts, but I think I might have been a little too distant.
As Nova peed, I realized the toilet is way too big for her; her hair is a mess; there is dirt under her unclipped fingernails; she has no clothes, and I don’t have any ‘kid’ food in my house.
If I were to switch this precious little girl with a horse or a cow, I’d have all the proper instruments; I’d know exactly what to do about cleaning any dirt or debris; I’d pull blankets, binders, or tack from most any place I spend a lot of time; and I’d just grab one of my many treat bags lying around.
But she’s not an animal.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
So, I call the person who knows everything there is to know about being a mother and pour my heart out.
Marley slipped into my issue as if it were an old, comfortable shoe; she asked what felt like a hundred questions I didn’t have all the answers to, and she told me to hold tight and she would be here as soon as she could.
Then I had to call Leslie and ask her to cover the on-call phone for the hospital for today. Since it’s Sunday, I’ll have to pay her weekend on-call rates, but I can handle it.
To say that I’m a little overwhelmed is an understatement. There are two small children in my apartment with the man whom I’ve sworn to hate the rest of my life. I can feel the structure and routine of my very controlled life quaking under my feet.
Do I regret offering my help to Mato and the children last night? No, it was the right thing to do. Especially after seeing the horrible conditions they were living in and the big brown eyes of that precious little girl, I would do it again.
But then I saw Mato and Nova this morning.
Pure affection was written all over his face when he asked her if she was cold as he started to lift the blanket covering him to give to her, and the tight lump in my throat was immediate.
Is that how he would have looked at our child?
My eyes got hot as reality reminded me I’ll never have that with anyone.
After Mato went out to get breakfast and sat down with the kids at my little dining room table, I excused myself to go take a shower and get ready for the day. Standing under the hot stream of water, I close my eyes and take a breath.
Can I do this?
I remember what it felt like when Koda wrapped his arms around my neck, trusting me. Needing me.
Of course, I can.
Can I do this with Mato?
That’s the real question. That’s what makes my skin tight and my stomach quiver at the same time.
So much information has been tossed into my lap in such a short amount of time that I don’t know if I’m right to still be so angry at him.
Then I remind myself of how I felt for so many years because of him.
Because I missed him.
Because I thought he abandoned me.
Because I needed him more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and he wasn’t there.
But he didn’t know.
He thought he was helping both of us in his own messed-up way.
My circular thinking is giving me a headache, so I close my eyes and think of something else as the hot water runs over my head. But all those thoughts are replaced with thoughts of Koda and Nova and how in the dark I feel about what’s going to happen.
I’ll have to ask Kinley if Rhys knows anyone I can talk to about family law and the foster system. Turning the water off, I grab the towel off the hook outside my shower.
That’s when I hear that voice. The lady who was at the trailer last night. The CPS lady.
She’s in my apartment.
She said she would stop by today, but she said sometime in the afternoon.
Quickly drying myself off, I throw my clothes on and squeeze most of the water out of my hair before I jerk the door open and step out of the bathroom.
The same big bag slash purse is over her shoulder, and she’s still holding that damn folio notebook in the crook of her arm, but she looks more put-together today, instead of like she just rolled out of bed.
The front door is still open, which is probably intentional on Mato’s part to make sure she knows the way out.
Mato is standing between her and the table where the kids are sitting with their empty breakfast plates in front of them.
His posture is rigid, and his arms are crossed over his chest like a guard dog protecting its pack.
Koda is watching the exchange, his eyes alert and wide, and Nova is holding his hand under the table.
“…probably in the best interest of the children to come with me.” Her tone sounds rehearsed, like she took an entire semester in school to learn deescalation and empathetic communication.
“Says who? They just finished breakfast; they slept in a warm bed; we are going to get new shoes and clothes this afternoon, and they seem happy to me. There’s no reason for you to come here demanding they go with you.
It will traumatize them more.” Mato’s voice is calm, but the anger in his tone is clipping his words.
Her eyes travel over the dining table and the rumpled covers on the pull-out couch before they land on me. This woman is really getting on my nerves, and I’m in the perfect mood to give someone a piece of my mind.
Stepping next to Mato, I lock my eyes with hers. “What’s going on?”
She sighs and lifts her chin in a cool, professional way. “Look, Ms. Harlow, Mr. Blackwell, I agreed to let the children come with you for the night because the sheriff was right, it was late and they are familiar with you. But I don’t have a file on you, and…”
“What if we were related to them, would you need a file on us then?” I ask, trying to control my temper.
Her cool mask slips a bit, and she shakes her head once with a small huff. “Well, no, but you’re not family.”
“Do you know what nation they’re with?” Mato’s question catches her off guard, and she blinks at him.
“Uhm, let me double-check.” She opens her leather folio and flips a page over the top. “It looks like their mother was a part of the Cherokee Nation, but she was using DHS resources because she never completed her enrollment.”
“And their father?”
Her eyes flick over my shoulder to the children, and she lowers her voice. “The father listed on the boy’s birth certificate is in prison serving a twenty-year sentence; he is Caucasian.” She flips another page in her folio. “There is no father listed on the girl’s birth certificate.”
Mato uncrosses his arms and slides his fingers into his front pockets. “I’m an enrolled citizen of the Cherokee Nation, and I’m pretty sure Indian Welfare would prefer they stay with someone with tribal connections. I’m closer to family than any foster home you have.”
She clears her throat, and her lips press into a tight line, and I notice the stress lines across her forehead as she takes a deep breath.
“Mr. Blackwell, I would love to walk back to my car confident in my decision to leave the children with you, but I have no background check on either of you. I have rules I have to follow, or I lose my job.” She looks across my apartment and takes another deep breath, “And this apartment is too small for two children and two adults.”
My eyebrows fly up my forehead as my face flushes partly from humiliation and partly from anger. “Are you suggesting my home isn’t better than where they were?”
Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and she shakes her head with a nervous chuckle. “Of course not. I’m merely pointing out that it will get cramped in here with two children, and we have foster homes that are much more appropriate.”
“That’s why they’ll be staying at the Harlow Ranch.” Marley walks through the open front door, holding several bags in each hand. Behind her are Kinley and Sloane, each with more bags and stuffed animals tucked under their arms. I didn’t even see them, and I wonder how much they heard.
Everyone turns to look at the three pregnant women, each one in a different stage and size of pregnancy. Relief spreads over me and my fast-beating heart flips in my chest with happiness when I see my sisters.
Kinley sets her bags on the unmade pull-out bed, her eyes slide over me and Mato with dissent standing next to each other, and then she steps up to the woman with her hand out.
Her stomach is the biggest of the three because she could pop at any minute.
“Hi. My name is Kinley Abbot. I’m one of Breanna’s sisters. ”
Marley is setting her bags down next to the ones Kinley just set down, a small smile tugging at her lips.
The social worker is surprised by the sudden addition of bodies in my ‘small’ apartment. She takes Kinley’s hand. “Morning, I’m Lauren Briggs with Child Protective Services.”
Kinley smiles, polite but sharp enough to draw blood. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Briggs. I heard what happened last night. This is such a horrible situation, isn’t it?”
Ms. Briggs self-consciously pulls at her suit jacket and nods. “Uhm, well, yes, it is.”
Kinley places her hands on the backs of her hips, her stomach protruding even more, and looks at the children at the table. “Breanna told me all about it, I can’t imagine living in those conditions.” She turns her head back to face Ms. Briggs. “Can you?”
Catching on to the point Kinley is trying to make, she huffs a breath. “No, I cannot.”
“Oh, good.” Kinley says conversationally, “Because I could have sworn I heard you criticizing Breanna’s clean, warm home with food in the kitchen after those babies have spent years in a drug house with no food.”
Ms. Briggs straightens slightly. “I’m merely assessing the suitability of the placement.”
“Of course you are,” Kinley says smoothly. “And I’m sure the children will miss the trash and the active felony activity tremendously.”
Ms. Briggs’ face is turning red, and I say, “Kinley.”
But Kinley ignores me and smiles at Ms. Briggs. “For the record, they won’t be staying in Breanna’s apartment. They’ll be at our family ranch in Claremore. Plenty of room. Safe property. Stable environment. Hot water. Food. Heat. Love.” She tilts her head slightly.
Ms. Briggs clears her throat. “I understand everyone’s emotional right now, but—”
“No,” Kinley interrupts gently, perfectly composed. “Emotional would’ve been me saying what I thought when my sister called this morning and told me where those children were sleeping.”
Kinley folds her arms over her round stomach.
“What Breanna and Mato did,” she said, her smile falling and her voice revealing the sharp tongue underneath, “was take in two terrified kids without a second thought just after their mother died. So, I’d appreciate it if we focused less on square footage and more on the fact that they’re warm, fed, and with people who already love them. ”
Ms. Briggs at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “I am just doing my job, Mrs. Abbot, and part of that job is to assess living conditions.”
“And I’m just trying to protect two small children from a system that left them in a drug house with no food and felons swarming around them for years.
” Kinley pauses to take a calming breath.
“This is what’s gonna happen. We’re all going back to the ranch today, and the next time you want to check on the children, you bring the sheriff with you to assess the suitability of the placement, you’ll find that it’s very suitable.
He and my father are good friends, so he knows where to find us.
You’ll find out we’re all very cooperative. ”
In my periphery, Mato’s arms drop to his sides as he says, “They’re staying with us.”
The room is silent as Kinley and the social worker have a tense stare-off. After a few moments, she stops staring at Kinley and looks around at the rest of us. She lost the battle today, and she knows it. With a deep breath, she looks between me and Mato before she says, “I will be in touch.”
Mato nods. “I look forward to it.”
Sloane quickly closes the door as soon as she walks out, and Marley puts her hands on her hips. “That might have been a little too rough, Kinley.”
Kinley looks at Mato and they have an even more tense stare-off before she turns around to walk to the bed and slowly lowers herself onto the rumpled blankets with a breath of relief once she’s off her feet, lifting them to point and flex.
She leans back on her hands and lets her head fall back.
With her eyes closed, she smiles at the ceiling, even though she looks miserable. “No, that woman is a horrible person.”
Sliding her hand over her own belly, Marley huffs a small breath. “I hope it didn’t make things worse.”
“I think it was just right.” Sloane’s soft voice pipes up behind Marley.
“Thank you, Sloane.” Validated animation is in Kinley’s voice at Marley’s expense.
Marley turns her head to the two small bodies sitting at my dining table and smiles. “So, these are the two angels I’ve heard so much about.” She’s looking at them when she says it.
Koda holds her gaze, but Nova moves closer to him, her eyes on the table in front of them. I haven’t heard her say a word yet, and I’m a little worried about that. What if she’s been traumatized so badly she doesn’t talk?
Marley walks to the table, lowering herself to her knees, one hand on the back of the chair next to her, and holds out her other hand to Koda. “Hi, I’m Marley, Breanna’s sister.”
His eyes flick to Mato, who nods, and he slides his hand into Marley’s. “Do you help the horses?”
Her smile spreads from ear to ear, and she straightens her shoulders. “I do.” She looks at me over her shoulder and back at him. “I guess my sister’s been talking about me?”
He looks up at me and nods, and I smile back at him with a wink. “Koda got to meet the colt you brought to me yesterday.”
Marley nods her head. “Oh, yeah. He’s going to be a great companion for someone when he trusts again.”
Koda’s still holding Marley’s hand, and his eyes brighten. “How do you know?”
“Because he was curious instead of angry after he was dropped off at my stable.”
Koda’s eyebrows twitch in confusion, and Marley laughs. “Tell you what. Since you’re coming to my house, I’ll show you. How does that sound?”
He looks at Mato. “Is Nova coming?”
Ever the protective brother.
Mato nods.
Another breath goes by, his eyes still locked on Mato, and he asks, “Are you coming?”
Mato nods again. “Where you go, I go.”
There it is. Bond complete.