Chapter 15
fifteen
Adelaide
I squeeze Denver’s hand as he hangs onto the soft toy for dear life. We’re in the elevator of the hospital and he’s finally plucked up the courage to go and see Hope.
Not just that, apparently his LT called and said she’d been asking for him.
Turns out the kid had a broken arm and a fractured leg, but no internal injuries or head trauma. From what Denver described, it’s literally a miracle she’s even here.
“I’m nervous,” he says, pulling on the lapels of his jacket.
“You’re gonna be fine.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just be yourself. Say whatever pops into your head.”
“What if I upset her?” he asks, looking down at me as if I have all the answers.
“Then you’ll have to cross that bridge when you get to it. It’s her time to mourn the loss of her family, and if she’s asking for you then it means she’s formed some kind of bond with you. It may help her recovery.”
“You’re right,” he says. “I’m just not that great with kids.”
“I’m sure you’re a fast learner.”
We find her ward and then Denver knocks on the door. A nurse is sitting with a little girl in the bed. She’s all bandaged up and has multiple cuts and bruises all over her. Plus, her arm and leg are in a cast. She’s sitting upright, watching television.
“Hello, Hope,” Denver says as the girl turns to look at him. Her eyes light up.
“Denver!”
The nurse smiles kindly, letting us come in as she takes her leave.
He waves the Hello Kitty at her. “I thought Duckie could do with a friend.”
She beams up at him and truly, my heart could break right there. “How did you know where I was?”
“A little birdy told me.”
“Duckie?”
He smiles and I melt at how sweet he’s being, perched on the side of her bed.
She looks up at me. “Who are you?”
I wave lamely. “Hey, I’m Adelaide, but you can call me Adi. I’m a friend of Denver’s.”
Denver’s eyes are on me as he clarifies. “Adi is my girlfriend, and when I told her about you, she couldn’t wait to meet you.”
Her eyes brighten. “Really?”
I do. “Yep. I brought some cookies, too. I heard chocolate chips were your favorite.”
She nods, tears brimming in her eyes. “Mommy used to make them.”
I swallow, seeing the trauma relived in her eyes. I don’t even know what to say, so I just go with my gut. “You’re a very brave little girl, Hope. She’d be proud of you.”
This poor kid is gonna need so much therapy.
“In Heaven?” she says, looking at Denver. “With my brother and sister, and Grandma, too?”
Denver takes her hand and squeezes it. “That’s right, sweet pea, in Heaven. You know they all love you very much.”
She nods, tears leaking from her eyes. “But I can’t see them, not for a really long time.”
Great, this is nice and traumatic for her.
“You know, if you want, we could come and see you, when you get settled in your new place.”
Denver told me as far as he knows she has no other family. No cousins, or aunts or uncles. What will become of her? This poor, sweet little girl without a family. Pain grips me as I watch on as she asks Denver to read her a story.
Jeez, and here I was thinking I had problems because my curling iron wasn’t working this morning. It really puts things into perspective when you take your head out of your ass.
“It’s difficult,” Jenny, the nurse, says to me when I step away. “She keeps asking for them, and from what we can gather there is no next of kin.”
“What will happen to her?” I ask.
Jenny frowns. “She’ll enter the emergency foster system and find a suitable placement to begin with.”
“What if there isn’t an emergency placement?”
“There are licensed shelters and assessment centers when no foster home is available right away. It could be a few days or weeks until the caseworker assigned figures out a long-term plan.”
I stare at her trying to fathom the words. So many troubling thoughts wash through my mind, mainly, what will happen to Hope?
It sounds so uncertain, so awful. “So, that’s it? She’ll hopefully get placed somewhere?”
“She’ll remain under the care of the state until they can find that emergency placement.” She smiles kindly. “I know this is hard to hear, but nobody plans for these things.”
I know that’s true, but it doesn’t make any of this sound reasonably okay. This kid is ultimately in limbo, and she just lost her entire family.
“So, the best scenario is she’ll get placed with a foster?”
“Yes, and she’ll be offered therapy and on-going support.
Later down the track, there’s the adoption route, but that wouldn’t be right away.
Right now finding someone, a couple or a family who specializes in fostering trauma cases like this one, is going to be the challenge,” Jenny says.
“It may be that she has to move around a little until that secure placement can be given. These things can often take time.”
“Holy shit, that just sounds like a living nightmare,” I blurt without thinking. Poor Jenny, she must think I’m insane.
“It’s certainly not without its challenges.
She’s such a sweet little thing. At her age she understands to a degree, but not fully.
She’s only five. We also don’t know the degree of trauma she’ll suffer because of the accident.
It’s all hearsay. We know she will have memories of it, and that’s where issues could lie later in life.
Trauma can sneak up on you. Children can often suppress it in order to protect themselves. ”
Was it too late to get it sugar coated?
It breaks my fucking heart, that’s all I know. “But she’s going to be okay, right?”
I know Jenny can’t tell me that, but right now I need her to lie to me.
It’s selfish. She shouldn’t have to make me feel better about a shitty situation over a child I don’t even know—that won’t solve anything, except make me feel better.
I just want to help. I can’t even imagine what this poor kid is about to go through when the realization really kicks in that nobody is coming for her.
“The authorities will certainly do their best,” she says reassuringly.
“But it’s no guarantee…”
“You’re right, all we can do is hope.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch her eyes. She’s probably seen this umpteen times. I’m not saying she doesn’t care, I’m sure she does, but she has a job to do and rounds to complete. I’m a bleeding heart. “Call out if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks,” I say with a small smile as she keeps going on her rounds, and I slump against the wall feeling small.
Why? How could this happen? What is Hope supposed to do?
This is more than a shitty situation—it’s diabolical. It’s times like this I start to think about the whys, and I give up because none of it makes any sense.
I pick up my phone and text Carrie.
Adi
Hey sis, how’re you doing?
A reply bounces back. She must be on break.
Carrie
Hi kiddo, how are things?
Adi
Great, I’m thinking a get together in a few weeks, we need to make some plans for Thanksgiving
Carrie
Oh, fantastic! Dad and I might drive to the city next week, we could do lunch
Adi
I’d love that!
Carrie
I’ll check with him what day we’re thinking to make sure you’re not working
I know Mom would love to come, but she’s still teaching, whereas Dad retired last year.
Adi
Sounds like a plan. I work mainly nights, so any day suits me
Adi
I miss you
Carrie
I miss you too
Carrie
Is everything okay?
Adi
Can I call?
Carrie
Sure
I dial, walking down the corridor. Sometimes you just need your big sister.
“Hey, sis,” she says.
I immediately burst into tears, telling her the whole saga—including me and Denver, all the way up to now.
“Well, that’s a lot to digest, but I always knew you and Denver would eventually get together,” she says, surprising me.
I frown. “You did?”
“It was obvious. After you graduated, he started to look at you differently, not just as our little sister.”
“I never knew.”
“Well, of course he never acted on it, because he’s older than you.”
“Do you think the age gap is too big?”
She snorts. “You’re reading way too much into this.”
“You’re right,” I sigh. “I just know Daryl’s gonna be mad.”
“I doubt it. He might surprise you. Some magnets just can’t be kept apart.”
I puff air out of my cheeks. “I can’t say anything to Mom and Dad until we’ve seen Daryl, that wouldn’t be fair. Plus, Denver texts him all the time, more than I do.”
“It’s gonna be okay, I promise. All any of us want is for you to be happy, sis, and if that’s with Denver, then I’m on board.”
I smile, hugging myself. “He’s really amazing.”
“You deserve to be happy.”
“As do you. How are things going with Nicholas?”
My sister recently started dating another teacher at an opposing school. Quite the scandal in our small town. “Well, pretty seriously, actually. We’re officially going steady.”
I laugh. “Happy to hear that.”
“So, what are you going to do about Hope?”
The conversation distracted me enough to forget about it for all of two minutes. “I really don’t know, Care. I feel sick just leaving her here all alone.”
“Let me guess, you’re considering helping her?”
“I don’t see how I can. Unless you mean fostering?”
“Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve always had this thing about saving everyone, Adi, it’s just in your nature.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I say. “But if you could see this little girl, your heart would break. I can’t stop thinking about what will become of her. She’ll just go into the system, and we all know the system can be flawed.”
“I know, but if you’re thinking about becoming a foster parent yourself, you have to also consider your dreams and goals. Setting up your business would be put on hold, at least for a while.”
“I know that, and I haven’t even thought about it until this very moment. I just feel so helpless.”
“Emotions are heightened because it was traumatic,” she goes on. “That’s only natural.”
I wipe a tear away. I feel sick to my stomach for Hope. I know I can’t just go and put my hand up to foster her—that’s my heart strings talking. The reality is, I don’t know the first thing about raising a child. Plus, what would I do for work because I couldn’t leave her home alone.
Why am I even thinking about this?
Because there’s a little girl in there whose future is unknown, and that makes me feel sick. It feels like I should do something, even if I don’t know how to go about it.
I should talk to Denver, but he’ll probably think I’ve gone insane.
“I know. Hey, I’d better get back,” I say. “Denver will be wondering where I went.”
“Okay, but call me anytime, I mean it.”
“I will, thanks for hearing me out.”
“Love you, sis.”
“Love you, too.” We hang up and I run a hand over my face.
Carrie is always the voice of reason, and someone I trust implicitly. I know I’d be acting on impulse if I suggested the fostering thing to Denver, and I don’t want to just jump the gun.
Maybe Hope will get placed with a family who will give her the attention she needs, and they could possibly have kids, so that could be good for her.
When I head back up the corridor, Denver is walking toward me. “Hey,” he says, looking relieved to see me. “I thought you’d bailed.”
I shake my head, waving my phone. “No, I was just talking to Carrie. I had to step out for a minute.”
“How is she?”
“She’s great, dating a really nice guy and it’s going well.”
“I’m glad.” His eyes zero in on me. “Have you been crying?”
Oh, jeez, am I that transparent?
“I hate hospitals,” I explain.
That does the trick because his face softens. “We can go?”
“No, honestly, it’s fine. Hope needs us.” I hug myself, a wash of sadness coming over me. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s tired. I told her I’d come and see her tomorrow and sneak in a burger.”
We stare at each other for a moment. “She won’t be going home.”
“No,” he says. “She won’t, but the authorities will make sure she gets her things when they find a placement.”
“But in the meantime?”
“Emergency care,” he says. It’s just as Jenny told me, but I was hoping he’d have a better answer.
“I know I don’t have a right to make this about me,” I say. “But I’m just feeling really overwhelmed right now.”
He cups my face. “I understand. It’s a fucking shit situation. That kid in there has nobody.” He swallows hard. “She asked if she could come to work with me.”
My eyes widen. “No way.”
I take a second, and I can see how hard he’s taking this. She’s five years old! She hasn’t even had a chance at life yet. “I know, that was like taking a fucking bullet.”
“What did you say?”
“I said if the doctor says it’s okay. Trouble is, she could be gone in a matter of days once they place her.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
He pecks me on the nose. “We can come back tomorrow, if you’d like?”
I nod. “I’d like that.”
Still, it’s a long time between now and tomorrow.
He slings an arm around my neck and we start to walk. “Need a caffeine hit?”
“Yes, please.”
“There’s a tea shop called The Inked Teacup downtown, they have coffee too, and light stuff to eat.”
“Read my mind.”
We walk in silence. I glance up at him. “It’s gonna be okay, D, you’ll see.” I wish I could sound more confident than I feel, but he was the one who pulled Hope out of that car, as well as her deceased family members. What the hell does that do to a person?
He nods, his smile almost forced. “I know. It’ll work out.”
“What about you?” I breathe.
His eyes meet mine. “What about me?”
“What you saw, what you did?”
He shrugs. “Part of the job. Like I said, we have counseling if we need it.”
I hesitate, but I can’t help myself. “Do you need it?”
Denver doesn’t look away, a sadness falling over his face. “Sometimes. We’re only human.”
I nod, looking away. The look in his eyes spells a sorrow that I can’t bear witness to.
“You’re a good person,” I whisper. “Truly, D.”
He pulls me closer as we reach the elevator. “I’m better when I’m with you.”