“He feels so cuddly and sweet,” Sierra said. “I think Connie so wanted to bring this little guy home. I didn’t know until last night that Connie is part of the foster care program.”
“A lot of us are,” Rafe said. “Fortunately, we don’t get that much business. This is the second time we’ve had a baby stay with us.”
“Connie asked if I’d think about going through their program so we could be involved if there’s a need. But I don’t know...” She jiggled the baby and absently kissed his head. “I’d be afraid to get attached.”
“Well, we do,” Lisa said. “But kids don’t get into foster care because they’re looking for a vacation. They’re in need of affection and stability. Sometimes they’re in need of boundaries, a little discipline. Love and patience and direction. There have been a couple we kept track of for a while. They weren’t with us long enough to miss us too badly but I felt pretty sure we gave them love and security while they were here.”
“She doesn’t like to admit it but she cries when they leave us,” Rafe said.
“Well, if you’re invested enough to help them, then you’re invested enough to hurt a little when it’s time to give them up, but I always felt they were going to a good place, a safe and loving home,” Lisa said.
“Doesn’t it get a little crowded?” Sierra asked. Their house was very comfortable, but small. They both laughed.
“Oh, yes,” Lisa said. Then she sat down on the sofa beside Sierra and they visited for a while. Even though Rafe was Connie’s closest friend and they’d socialized as couples, Sierra was learning things about Lisa for the first time. They’d married young and had their first child right away but the second pregnancy was very slow to come, no logical reason why. Then two in a row—bam! It was between the first and second that Lisa and Rafe got interested in foster care. Once in the program, they just couldn’t say no to a child in need of a home.
Lisa was a nurse who went to a part-time schedule when their family grew. She worked in a doctor’s office, which really came in handy with three kids and the occasional extra. With Rafe’s schedule and time off, she was able to work about twenty hours a week. Their dream was a large plot of land, something like what Connie had built his house on. “The kids need a dog and maybe a couple of horses, and I need a vegetable garden.”
“Have you ever seen Sully’s garden?” Sierra asked. “It’s like a small farm and he’s passionate about it. Lately he’s needed a little help, but he resists. If you ever want to see it, just let me know.”
“I’d love to,” she said.
“Babe, I’m going to start dinner,” Rafe said from the kitchen.
“Oh my God, is it dinnertime? I have to get groceries and get home!” Sierra said.
“Don’t panic,” Lisa said with a laugh. “Our dinners get earlier and earlier. Pretty soon they’ll be late lunches. But with three kids to get ready for bed—oops, make that four—we’re so anxious for bedtime to finally come it’s just ridiculous. Plus Sarah, our eight-year-old, has homework every night, if you can believe it.” Lisa put out her hands. “You’re going to have to give him up if you plan to go shopping.”
“He feels like an appendage,” she said. “He’s sound asleep. Should I put him down?”
“Nah, he could do with extra holding. He might not realize it, but he’s been through a lot.”
Sierra left the Vadas home feeling refreshed. New. She loved their life in their too-small house with too many kids. Of course, Sierra wasn’t completely convinced—she didn’t think she’d have a brood. A couple might be nice. A garden—she’d have started one if it wasn’t for Sully’s. She liked seeing the elk in the yard some mornings or blocking the road.
It was such a nice day, no rain for a change, that she bought hamburger and buns. Too early for corn, she got some zucchini, an onion, mushrooms and new potatoes to put on the grill. And when she walked in, she found Connie with his cell phone in his hand, watching the door. The house was tidy, there were vacuum cleaner tracks on the carpet and the kitchen was spotless.
“I was just going to text you,” he said.
She put her grocery sacks on the counter and then put her arms around Connie. “We’ve been lazy,” she said. “We have to decide on details about a wedding and get married. This is silly. We want to and our families are getting edgy. Do you think they’re afraid we’re going to split if we’re not official?”
His big hands circled her waist. “It’s already official for me, but I’m off tomorrow if you feel like getting a license.” He gave her a look. “What happened to get you in a hurry?”
“I’m ready,” she said. “I want us to be a family. I’m not sure what kind of family—I’ll look into that foster care program, but I’m not sure that’s where we’re going. Let’s start with me and you. I’m very sure of that.”
I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.
—WALT WHITMAN
7
SID HAD A real soft spot for rich chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream. And maybe a little extra whipped cream. And it appeared she was growing a soft spot for Dakota. He’d logged on four weeks at the soup kitchen, including one Saturday night that Sid didn’t go. That meant three Saturday nights of cake, ice cream and conversation with Sid. On her Saturday night off she had taken the boys to a concert, some band they were into, but she had to stay away from them and their friends so it didn’t really appear they were chaperoned.
“But was it fun?” he asked.
“Sorry, what?” She put her hand behind her ear as if she were deaf.
“Never mind.” He laughed. “Listen, Sid, I’ve invested four Saturday nights, many huge slices of chocolate cake, a dozen beers and burgers, and that’s just in the last month. And you haven’t given me any indication I’m making progress.”
“What kind of progress?” she asked, licking her fork.
“There’s no agenda, Sid. I like you and you like me. Most people would be wrestling like crazy lovers do.”
“And you think that’s what I’m looking for because...?”
He leaned toward her. “You’re an adult woman in her thirties.”
“I told you, I don’t date.”
“Yes, you do. You dragged me to a soup kitchen—it was a lure. To earn you I had to display my charitable side, but I screwed up your plan. I like the place. And this is a date. Not much of one, but a date. Last week after cleanup, while you were going deaf, I had coffee and cake with Sister Mary Jacob. In fact, I’m thinking I might be more successful if I put the moves on her.”
Sid laughed.
“Something has come up,” he said. “My sister has decided it’s time to get married. Sierra and Connie. They’ve been together about a year, lived together almost as long and they’re finally doing it. It’s going to be small. Very small. Family and close friends. No big event but a nice small party. Be my date.”
“Really? You need a date?”
“Sid, you know Sierra. You’re friends. You know Connie and Sully and a couple of the firefighters who will be there. I hear Connie’s mom and brother will come. Be my date.”
“What’s the price of admission?” she asked with a half smile.
“There’s no price,” he said. “I might lose my mind and beg sometimes but you will always be completely safe with me. Always. I won’t even hold your hand without permission.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered by your restraint or disappointed that I haven’t made you lose your mind yet.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Mary Jacob was a more accommodating date.”
“What did you two talk about?” she asked.
“Well, the homeless situation. And then she asked me for money or to find people who had money. Then she talked about some of the volunteers she knows. I asked her what she did for fun and she said she was doing it. She’s not a martyr, you know—she’s doing exactly what she’d be doing if she weren’t a nun. In fact, she’s only a nun because at this point she can’t come up with a reason to give it up. There were some priests, cardinals and popes who she prayed on a long time, apparently to no effect—her words. She’s basically a tough old broad.”
“I know,” Sid said. “I love her. Not Mother Teresa, for sure. She’s more like Ma Kettle.”
He smiled around a forkful of cake. “You’re not old enough to remember Ma and Pa Kettle.”
“Neither are you. You know who would play Mary Jacob in the movie? Shirley MacLaine. Except for the red hair. Mary Jacob is a big woman. Would you have taken her to the wedding?”
“I would, except she’d be working the crowd for donations.”
“Well, you didn’t give her money, did you?” she asked.
“Of course I gave her money,” he said. “She was staring at me over that coffee cup, those bushy brows moving around, expressing her innermost thoughts...”
“You should think it through,” Sid said. “It’s a very worthy cause but you can’t fund it. You work hard for your money.”
“I know. I’m not going to. But I’m going to hit up some people I know. And I bet there are other ways to get her what she needs. Sid, it’s been a long time since I was forced to do something I didn’t want to do. And I learned a lesson.”
“When was the last time?” she asked. “Just out of curiosity.”
“Ah...well, hell, what can it hurt. In the Army I refused a direct order and got in a ton of trouble.”
“What’s a ton of trouble in the Army?”
“Jail,” he said. “Or, as we so affectionately called it, the brig. But I was determined in the moment that I had to do it. It didn’t look great in my file. But I think I’d do it again.”