Chapter 30 For The Best
FOR THE BEST
“The place is a dump,” Chance said when they pulled into the trailer park. “I wanted to take Maverick yesterday when I was here.”
Jocelyn looked around at the rundown trailers. Not even new ones, but ones that were rusted with cracked windows, even pulled away siding, sitting on uneven bricks.
“Are you going to bring him back here for visitations?”
She wasn’t so sure she could do it.
“I don’t know. If I’m told I have to, I will. I’d rather Nettie came to my place. I guess we’ll work it out.”
“You’re set up as best as you can be for now,” she said. “If the bed isn’t delivered, you’ve got the playpen.”
“Will he fit in that?” he asked.
“Nettie said Maverick might be tall, but he’s thin. He only weighs twenty-six pounds. The playpen holds up to thirty. It’s a quick fix for a night.”
“Sounds like a wasteful buy,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll need one anyway when Gabe’s baby is born. I just bought it early so you can borrow it.”
Most of the things she bought would be used for her niece or nephew. A booster seat to eat at, a bed rail for her spare bed, toys, blankets, bath toys, clothing once she got Maverick’s size. She wanted things left at her house.
The list went on and on, but she wanted Chance to feel as if he could leave his son with her when he was working at night without carting too much over. She knew Rhea would take the toddler too and she had to not get greedy, but Chance was going to need every hour of help he could get.
“You bought a lot of stuff,” he said. “How did you even know sizes?”
“I asked Nettie. I know you and you’re going to want him to have some nicer clothing and pajamas.”
The little boy’s pants were too short on Sunday, and they were worn. Most likely hand-me-downs.
“Yeah,” he said. “I figured I can deal with that stuff once Maverick is settled. I’ll order whatever else I need.”
“I got a lot,” she said.
He turned his head when he parked his truck in front. “I’m not surprised. Why do I feel you’re excited about this?”
She reached her hand over to lie on his thigh. “Because children are wonderful things. It’s not the way you thought any of this would happen in your life. I don’t even know if you wanted kids.”
It didn’t seem like a question to ask once he found out he was a father.
“I didn’t think it’d be like this,” he said dryly. “But I’m sure many from a decade ago would have pegged it.”
“Just stop,” she said firmly.
The last thing she needed was him getting in his head about who he used to be.
He wasn’t that boy.
He was a man who had made something of himself and was going to give his son a better life than he had been given.
“I’m trying to joke.”
“It’s not a joke,” she said. “Let’s go get your son. You’re bringing him home, right?”
“I am. Monica said she did all the paperwork, spoke to social services, and then Nettie spoke with them. It’s an emergency situation and I’ll have a caseworker visit tomorrow.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” she said. “Did you want me there too or to leave?”
She’d planned on helping Chance this week with whatever he needed.
“It’s up to you. I’d like you there but understand if you don’t want to get involved.”
“Of course I’ll be there. Cut it out. I won’t keep telling you I’m not going anywhere.”
She opened the door of his truck and got out before he could say another word.
They walked up the unstable, handmade wooden steps to the door. Just two of them.
There was no way social services would look at this place and allow the child to stay compared to what Chance could provide.
She knocked on the front door, and Nettie opened it. “Hi,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” Nettie said, moving back. The place smelled of something burnt mixed with a moldy odor, and a dirty diaper. “Come in. I’ve got most of his stuff packed up.”
Chance put his hands on her shoulders as he came to stop behind her.
Her gaze went to garbage bags that looked to be filled with clothing and a few toys. Just three of them. Not much for a kid’s possessions.
“Does he have a favorite blanket or anything that he sleeps with? Cups or plates? We bought everything yesterday, but it might be easier from a comfort standpoint.”
“He’s got a blanket that he sleeps with,” Nettie said. “I’ve got it in the bag.”
“Can we get it out so he can hold it when we leave?” she asked.
“I didn’t think of that.”
When Nettie was looking for the blanket, Chance moved over closer to his son sitting on the floor in front of the TV. He was hesitant but trying.
“What does he like to watch?” he asked, his head and gaze moving over the boy from the dark hair and eyes to his slippers.
“He’ll watch anything,” Nettie said. “I only get two channels. He likes noises and music.”
She was trying really hard not to shed tears over the living conditions. Chance’s body was tense, as if he wanted to grab his son, tuck him under his arms and make a mad dash out the door.
“What about food?” Jocelyn asked. “Any allergies that we need to be worried about or things he likes or doesn’t like other than bananas?”
Which she’d made sure were at her and Chance’s house.
“He’s not a fussy kid. I just give him what I’m eating and cut it up small.”
Which wasn’t much help, but they’d work through it.
“Do you have his birth certificate and any medical information?” he asked. “I’ll need that.”
Nettie moved to the table and picked up the sheets of paper. “Here. It’s all I can find. His doctor’s name is there too and where he goes. They can tell you what he needs in terms of shots and stuff.”
Jocelyn grabbed the papers. “Chance, you can call tomorrow and set up an appointment to bring him in.”
“I planned on it.”
Chance inched closer to Maverick sitting on the floor. He had the same jeans on that didn’t fit him well on Sunday, a different shirt, his dark hair was combed to the side, no sneakers on his feet, just gray slipper socks.
“Hi,” Chance said, squatting. “Remember me?”
Maverick looked up and pointed to Chance’s sweatshirt. He had one of his fireman sweatshirts on and there was a firetruck on it.
“Tuck,” Maverick said.
“Truck,” he said, the word coming out slower. At least they could figure that out.
“His speech is a little slow,” Nettie said. “But he will speak if he wants something. Or he points. I just show him things and ask.”
“I’ll go put the bags in the truck,” Jocelyn said.
“I’ve got it,” Chance said, standing up.
“I think you should spend a few minutes with your son. I’m sure the bags aren’t that heavy.”
She moved to pick one up and it wasn’t bad, then left and sucked in some fresh air.
When she was back in after the last bag, Chance had his son in his arms, a toy firetruck she hadn’t realized he’d had to give Maverick, and a smile on the boy’s face.
She almost burst into tears over the sight and pulled out her phone to snap a quick picture.
“Do you think he’s going to cry when we leave?” he asked. Everyone was so unsure.
“No,” Nettie said. “He was crying the other day because he wanted to get down and explore and I wouldn’t let him. He’s occupied with the truck. If you get his toys out he’ll be fine.”
“Did you leave some of them here?” he asked.
“A few that he doesn’t really play with. He doesn’t have much, but the ones he does, I gave to you so he’s got them.”
“Thanks,” he said, moving closer to Nettie.
It didn’t look as if the woman was even upset about this.
“Do you want to hold him before we go?” Jocelyn asked.
“No,” Nettie said. “I’ve spent enough time with him. I need a break. Call if you’ve got questions.”
Damn, that was cold.
They left with Maverick and put the child in the car seat in the back, then climbed in the front and pulled away.
“Are you letting him go back there?”
“Not if I can avoid it,” he said.
She turned to see Maverick just playing with the truck and not even concerned that he was leaving the only home he’d ever known.
“I thought she still wanted to see him.”
“She said she needs a break. She told me this morning. She wasn’t going to say goodbye because she knew she’ll see him again, but this was for the best. I can call with questions.”
“Which you don’t want to do, do you?”
“Not really after that,” he said. “I’m not sure I’m leaving him alone with her either.”
“You’ve got me and your grandmother to watch him at night. My mother offered to take him anytime we need it too, but if your grandmother can’t, I always can.”
“I can’t ask them that,” he said.
“They are offering, Chance. It takes a village. Remember that. Swallow your damn pride.”
“Shhh,” he said. “Don’t swear in front of my son.”
She looked to see if he was serious or not over that statement. The guy who dropped the F-bomb like sprinkles on cupcakes.
He was. Even turned his head to look at his son in the back of the four-door truck to make sure the boy was okay.
Chance might be scared, he might be in over his head, but he was going to be just fine.