A Roof Over Their Heads

CHAPTER FIVE (#u2f1dd2b2-3011-5f2c-ac7f-2306b161c122)

TWO DAYS LATER, Alexi shouldered open the front door of the house, Callie in tow, carrying the last box from the U-Haul trailer, a plastic tub of cloth scraps and stuffing for her craft business. Matt sat on the stairs to the main level, his shoulders slumped.

Poor kid. She’d relied on him to carry load after load and then help her wheel and lift the furniture when not four days ago he was packing it into the trailer. She set down the tub and sat on it, suddenly aware of how good it felt to take the weight off her sore ankle. “I’m sorry, Matt. You must be exhausted.”

Callie sat beside him, her way of showing sympathy. He shrugged. “I’ll live.”

His answer recalled what Richard would say to the kids whenever they howled about a scrape or a bruise. He hadn’t. He was killed on impact in a head-on collision on the highway south of Fort McMurray on his way home after a twenty-one-day stint in the oil patch. Since then, only Callie cried over a scraped knee or a bruised elbow. Alexi wished they all would. Tears were normal.

“Listen, I’d like you to treat yourself. Go on up to Mac’s. Get yourself a slushie, okay?”

“Should I ask Seth Greene if he wants anything?”

Seth was jury-rigging the kitchen sink with planks and sawhorses and running pipes underneath. Time he could be profiting from his jobs that she knew from the calls on his cell were stacking up. Yes, she didn’t want Matt getting chummy with Seth. He was a good part of the reason she’d kept Matt busy with unpacking. The last thing the already complicated adoption process needed was the introduction of a relationship between Matt and this man, but no sense making a big deal out of a small courtesy, either.

“Yes,” she said. “You should. Make it clear that I’m paying and it’s my pleasure.” She couldn’t resist adding that last bit, knowing full well Mr. Grumpy could hear every word.

Matt shot up the stairs while Alexi headed outside to sweep out the back of the U-Haul, Callie right behind like a devoted puppy.

She barely had broom in hand before Matt popped his head in. “He said thanks but he’s okay. Should I get him something anyway?”

Richard again. He’d always get her a treat even when she specifically said she didn’t want one because he didn’t want to ever leave her out.

“It’s enough that you offered.”

She handed him a twenty, and told him to make sure he pocketed the change before taking the drinks. She skirted the house into the backyard, Callie on her heels. Amy was riding a stick with her posse of imaginary friends, her bow legs for once looking appropriate. Callie broke away to join Amy, while Alexi scanned the yard for Bryn. Where, oh, where, oh, please—

There. Under the weeping birch, lost in the shadows with Seth Greene’s old baseball bat. He was pounding it into the ground with a rock. She was about to call to ask the reason for that when her phone sounded. It was a number without a name. The landlady?

She tapped the green bar. “Hello.”

“Alexi. How are you?” It was the measured voice of her caseworker.

She was so not prepared to take this call. She climbed the stairs, careful with her bad ankle, to the back deck, so the kids didn’t overhear. Callie—miracles of miracles—watched her leave but turned back to Bryn and Amy when Alexi stayed within sight.

Alexi drew breath and aimed for a tone of airy confidence. “Oh, hi, Brenda. Fine. And you?”

“I must admit to a little confusion. Weren’t we supposed to meet yesterday?”

Shoot, she’d forgotten to reschedule, which would’ve bought her time before having to officially notify Brenda of a change of address. “Oh, yes, right. That’s my fault entirely. I forgot to tell you that I wouldn’t be able to make the meeting.”

“Did you also forget to tell me that you’d moved?”

How did she know? Alexi turned away from the open kitchen window where Seth was working and kept her voice low. “No. I mean, yes. Yes, I did move. To Spirit Lake.”

“Spirit Lake. I’ve heard of it. Near Red Deer, right?”

“Yes, about ten minutes west.”

Brenda groaned softly. “Oh, Alexi. This is not good.”

Yes, it was. It was. It just didn’t look that way. Stay confident, she ordered herself. “I told you that I needed to get out of that house for Matt’s sake. He bolted every single week. The house was toxic for him.”

“Given time—”

“I gave it almost a year! It was only getting worse.”

“But a move? Not just to another house but another community? What will be the effect of that, Alexi?”

A question she’d asked herself a million times and every time she’d consoled herself with the answer she now gave Brenda. “Since the day I promised him we were moving, he hasn’t run off. That was two months ago. I had to keep my end of the bargain. And he hasn’t run off here, either.” Alexi wasn’t about to tell her Matt was out of sight and off the property right now.

“But, Alexi, this triggers new questions. How will you manage your business from a new location?”

“Nothing changes. It’s a home-based business. I still have my own website. I’m still on Etsy. That doesn’t change. It’s business as usual.”

“And how is business, Alexi?”

“It’s business as usual, Brenda. I was paid last week and I’m expecting payment on two more orders today, as a matter of fact.” Which was the truth. The other truth was that they’d barely cover the minimum payment on her credit card.

Brenda’s sigh felt like a puff of cold air in Alexi’s ear. “I hope things go well for you. I really do. However, the consequence of your change is that we will have to reopen parts of Matt’s file. Likely do a new home study.”

What? No one could see this wreck of a house. Alexi pressed her fingers to her temple, forgetting that her head bruise was there. She bit back a squeak of pain. “When?”

“I’m not sure. You’re out of my territory. I will send the paperwork to the Red Deer office, and a new caseworker will be assigned. Today’s Monday, so...perhaps as early as next week.”

There was no way this place would be in shape by then. She drove her fingers into her hair, bunching it so hard it hurt. “Listen, Brenda. This is the thing. The house here is still being renovated. There’s a—a—man working on it even as we speak but if the new social worker sees it like this right now, without knowing who I am, it won’t look good. Is there any way you can delay the transfer?”

There was a loud thud from the kitchen. Alexi whirled to see—nothing. Then Seth rose from where she guessed the sink was. She wondered how much he’d overheard. Her voice had risen, and now there was silence on Brenda’s end. Alexi was about to ask if she was still there when the woman who had guided her and Richard through three adoptions, was taking her through the last stages with Matt, who had championed their cause time and time again, who knew Alexi’s life story and hadn’t judged, finally spoke. “I can’t stop what will happen. And I’m telling you now this process is only going to get worse. The office up there has some good people but there are others—others who might not be as sympathetic.”

“What do you mean, not as sympathetic?”

“I mean that there are people,” Brenda spoke slowly in a clear effort to be diplomatic, “who are more concerned about filling in the paperwork and putting in the hours than the lives they are affecting.”

Great, all Alexi needed. A caseworker who wouldn’t listen.

“I have no control over who will be assigned your file. But, as you know,” Brenda went on, “I have a heavy workload and transferring your file may take longer than I originally anticipated.”

Alexi breathed out. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Brenda said. “I am doing this for the sake of your family. And for Richard. To be honest, I don’t know if he would’ve approved, Alexi.”

As soon as the call ended, Alexi opened her phone photo of Richard. All she could see was Richard’s smile and open face. “I was right, wasn’t I?” she whispered.

All he did was smile at her. It was all he’d done for the past year.

The door opened and out came Seth. “Sink’s in,” he said with his usual verbosity.