“What do I need to do?”
“Well, first things first, you need to get a family attorney. There are resources to pair you with a pro bono attorney if money is an issue.”
“No, I can get a private attorney. Money is no problem.”
“Good. So an attorney will be the one to help you with all the legal things, paperwork, petitioning, and help you appear fit. You’re her father, which will inevitably tip the scales in your direction, but an attorney will help you look good on paper, too.” Debbie continued on for a few moments, but her words swirled in my head. Confusion and overwhelm crowded my thinking.
“Wait, wait, Debbie.” She stopped. “So you’re saying it’s possible I may not get rights?”
“Potentially. After a panel reviews your information and petition, a judge will make a decision in Sunny’s best interest. Also, Sunny has to consent too, due to her age.”
I hadn’t expected so many variables. I just wanted my daughter. Wanted her to have a family. A home. And never experience displacement or neglect again. “You said something about me appearing fit. What does that mean?”
“The court wants to see you’re going to provide a stable home for her. That means a place to live, income, some semblance of family life, etcetera. The bar may be a little higher for you, too, because of your background and everything.”
None of this had ever crossed my mind. Why was I under the impression this process was going to be signing some papers and a few legal fees? I rubbed my forehead with my palm. Nerves were setting in. Just when I thought we were getting near the end. Would they find me good enough?
Am I good enough?
Fear reached up out of my gut and gripped my heart.
“Okay, all this makes sense. What can I do right now to make myself seem stable?”
“Well again, an attorney would be a better one to talk to about this. But here are the basics: income, a roof over her head, and family life. When we get further along in the process, me and some others will come out and study your home, see what the living conditions will be like for Sunny, and make sure we are handing her off into a good situation.”
Family life? I didn’t even know what that meant anymore. “I’m—I’m single. Like, do I need to be married?”
“Not necessarily. Marital status only plays a part up to the Judge’s discretion.”
Why was I getting a sinking feeling? “Ah, okay.”
“Patrick, I’ve worried you. Don’t stress. You are herdadand that’s the most important thing. It sounds like you’ve had a difficult journey too, so if there are areas of your life you need to get in order, do so. This is a slow process. You have time.”
She gave me some final instructions, but I couldn’t focus.
Why did I feel like an idiot? I had to provide a stable home for Sunny. Money wasn’t the issue in stability.Iwas the issue. I was fresh out of Riverbend and would be the thing the panel and Judge would pore over. They’d look at my criminal record, my time in prison, and the jobs I’d held. They’d go through my life with a fine-toothed comb.
She led me out of the visitation room another way. Didn’t get the chance to see Sunny again. My head hung as I walked toward the Tacoma.
* * *
Jules made quesadillas for dinner. It was one thing she’d learned to make, and she was pretty darn proud of it. She texted me to brag about her success and demand me to come have some with her. She insisted I skip the shower and come right away because they were hot, she was hungry, and she couldn’t wait another minute to hear about Sunny.
An offer I couldn’t refuse.
She opened her door wearing burgundy skinny jeans and a creamy lace top with open shoulders. Her hair flowed down her back in waves. It was tossed to one side, like she’d just got done running her fingers through it.
I swear. Sometimes I thought she was trying to kill me on purpose.
The sight of her almost knocked the wind out of me. I puffed out a breath.
“Wow.”
She giggled as she pulled me in. “What?”
Jules was playing dumb. She knew very well what.
I wrapped her in a ginormous hug, forgetting about all the sawdust. The familiar scent of her hair engulfed me, and I took a deep breath of it, hoping to dispel a little of the tension I’d been carrying since my conversation with Debbie.
