Kids by Christmas

“No, but I wouldn’t mind getting one. I do have a fenced backyard.”

Jack looked up, his face filled with naked hope. “Do you have a house? A real house?”

“Yes, I do. It’s not fancy, but it has three bedrooms. You could each have your own room if you wanted. And it has an old apple tree in the backyard that’s perfect for climbing. I like to garden, so in the spring there will be daffodils and a big lilac in bloom.” She could tell from their faces that they didn’t care about the flowers. “The bedrooms are really plain right now, but we could decorate them the way you liked.”

“I could have my very own?” Sophia spoke as if the idea was wondrous beyond imagining. And perhaps it was, for a child who’d probably shared a single hotel room with her mother and brother for nearly as long as she could remember.

“Yep. I thought you might like to share for a while, until you got used to living with me, but that would be up to you.”

“Jack wets his bed.”

The boy jerked as if in protest, but didn’t say anything.

“We got in trouble a lot, because the hotel managers didn’t like the smell.”

Oh, dear. Suzanne had forgotten the bit about Jack having regressed to some infantile behaviors. How did you help someone not wet the bed?

“You know what?” she said with false confidence. “He’ll outgrow it, just like other kids. Who ever heard of a grown-up wetting the bed?”

“Our last foster mom spanked him when he peed in his bed.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Suzanne saw Melissa’s face harden.

“Do you spank?” Sophia asked.

Suzanne shook her head. “No. I don’t believe in it. And besides, bed-wetting is something Jack can’t help.”

“He sucks his thumb, too.”

“I do not!” the boy flared.

Lifting her brows, Suzanne looked at his sister. “Do you have any bad habits? Things you do you’re not supposed to?”

She seemed interested in the idea. “I punched a boy at school. I had to go to the principal’s office.”

“Why did you punch him?”

“He called me a name.”

She hardly blinked, that intense gaze fixed on Suzanne, who wondered if she was being tested. What will you do when I’m bad? she seemed to be asking.

“Did you try telling an adult what he’d said?”

Sophia shook her head. “I was mad.”

“We all get mad without hitting people.” To avoid a continuing debate, Suzanne asked, “What else?”

“Mostly I just get mad. I told a teacher last year he was a big fat liar.”

Well, that had probably gone over well.

“What did you do when you got mad at your mom?”

For a moment, her long, dark lashes veiled her eyes. “I didn’t get mad at her.”

“I was mad at mine for dying. Really mad.”

“I’m not.” But that unnervingly direct gaze didn’t meet Suzanne’s.

She knew a lie when she heard one, but let it pass.

“Is there anything you want to know about me?”

They were momentarily silenced. Then Jack whispered something to his sister, who said, “Can we see your house?”

How humbling to know that they were more interested in her home than in her.

Sitting to one side, Melissa smiled. “That will be for another visit, kids. In fact, I have an appointment, so it’s time for Suzanne and I to go. Jack, will you go let Mrs. Burton know we have to leave?”

He nodded, slipped off the couch and went down the hall.

“Would we still go to the same school?” Sophia asked.

Suzanne shook her head. “I live in Edmonds, so you’d have to transfer there. I know it’s hard to move in the middle of the year….”

“I hate it here,” she said with startling vehemence. “I want to move.”

“What about Jack?”

“Kids pick on him. He doesn’t like it either.”

Oh, Lord! What was she getting into? Suzanne asked herself, knowing full well she’d long since made a decision. Jack and Sophia had no resemblance to her dream child, who neither wet beds nor slugged other kids, but were also far more real, more needy and interesting and full of promise.

She hoped they liked her, but would settle for them liking her house.

The foster mother reappeared and they said their goodbyes. The children stood in front of Mrs. Burton on the front porch and watched as Suzanne and Melissa went to the car and drove away.

“So, what do you think?” Melissa laughed. “Or do I have to ask?”

“Wow.” Suzanne felt dazed and a little limp, now that it was over. “I think I’m even more scared than I was on the way over.”

“And with good reason! Sophia is…unusual.”

“She is, isn’t she? But amazing, too. She’s so strong! At her age, I was timid and apologetic and unwilling ever to cause trouble or draw attention to myself.”

“She won’t be easy to parent,” Melissa warned. “You did notice her challenging you?”

“I suspected. But that’s going to happen with any child, isn’t it? Unless I start with a toddler.”