Chance and I quickly scarf down a couple of sandwiches. He must get back to his job site, but he offered to walk me back to work first. The kids are outside playing as we arrive in front of the fence.
“Are those the kiddos in your house?” Chance asks.
“They sure are.”
“That little girl over there, the one who’s singing, is adorable.” Zooey is sitting on the swing herself, singing to the sky.
I laugh a little, watching her. “She’s a little firecracker. Amazing kid.” I can’t say much more about her, but I could talk about her for hours.
Chance closes his eyes and inhales sharply. Dammit. This world sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?
“She’s our littlest. I have a soft spot for her.”
“She’s a cutie pie.” He smiles adoringly at her. “I used to swing for as long as I was allowed, hoping I’d eventually make it to the moon.”
“Yeah, the swings are her favorite now that she knows how to pump her legs.”
“How many kids are in the house?” Chance asks.
“Right now, there are nine.”
“Well, I better get back to work. I need to finish the shingles on this job I’m at today. It’s supposed to rain again tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll be at your house around six. Is that okay?”
“That’s perfect.” Chance wraps an arm around my neck and kisses the top of my head. “Give those kids a hug for me.”
“I can’t,” I tell him. “We’re not allowed to.”
“I know you’re not,” he says. “Do it anyway.” Chance winks at me and waves as he walks off.
After settling back down at my desk, thoughts, and ideas of breaking through impossibilities poke at my brain.
The rules and regulations are endless, but when a situation favors a child, sometimes a person can move a mountain, or so I’d like to think.
I spend my day drafting emails and making phone calls, which isn’t the fun part of my job. In truth, most days, I see more heartache than happy endings. I try to look at these situations as if I’m saving children from having less than perfect lives but being without a family takes a toll on those never chosen. I hope that someday, each of the children that stay here with us will be given a home full of love, like Chance. He was one of the lucky ones. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Keegan had been taken from his parents at an early age. His mother was an alcoholic for as far back as he could remember, and his Dad, though non-abusive, was a mute and shallow puddle that people would step over. Keegan might have had a different outcome if he had been in foster care. After finishing a round of emails, my phone buzzes again. I thought it might be Chance, but it’s May this time.
May: Did you fix things yet?
Me: You’re starting to hover.
May: I will call Chance myself if you don’t tell him you’re sorry and want to see him.
May has been making threats to me since Monday morning when I called to tell her what happened. Chance made his way onto May’s good side early on. Plus, she’s been begging for a double date. However, I haven’t been in a rush to face Tuck again after the boob-grab incident, but I’ll have to get over that, I guess.
Me: He called me. I answered. We’re having dinner tonight. Now you can stop worrying.
May: Thank goodness. Don’t screw it up again!
I don’t know what I’d do without May’s daily inspirational advice.
A small knock on my door at four-thirty allows me to shut down my computer for the day. “Come in,” I say.
“Miss Tay?” It’s Zooey. Her cheeks are a little pink from the sun, and she’s gained a few more freckles on her nose. She didn’t have freckles when she first came here, so it’s been cute to see them pop up more and more lately.
“Who did your hair today, missy?” Zooey combs her fingers through her one-sided ponytail that’s missing half of her hair. “Me.” Her squeaky voice is my favorite.
“You did your own hair today?”
