The Cinderella Plan

“I didn’t want to say anything to Dylan until I talked to you first. Did he tell you why he ran away?”

“No. I didn’t want to frighten him by asking him too many questions. A window in the TV room was open. I think he used it to climb into the building.”

Caleb frowned. “They’re usually locked. Dylan was the last one to leave the room yesterday. I wonder if he unlocked it. If he did, that means he was planning to run away.”

“But why here?”

“That’s a good question, and one I mean to ask Dylan. Will you continue to help the others while I have a word with him?”

“Sure. Are the Givens’ coming to pick him up?”

“No, I told them I would bring him home later after I talk with him.”

“I—” Anne started to say something, then clamped her mouth shut.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s none of my business.”

“If it’s about Dylan, it is. You found him. What did you want to tell me.”

“I’ve known the Givens family for most of my life. They take in foster children as a way to make a living. They feed, clothe and take care of their basic needs, but they’re not what I would call real parents. Right now they have several children and I wonder if Dylan is getting lost in the crowd there. How long has Dylan been with them?”

“Not long, a little over a month, I believe. I’ve been trying to counsel him, but he hasn’t opened up.”

“But he comes to the center?”

“Every day after school.”

“Then you must be reaching him on some level or he wouldn’t spend so much time here. And when he ran away, he came here.”

He took her hand. The gesture surprised Anne. His warm grasp enclosed about her fingers, underscoring all her dreams where this man was concerned. If she was anyone but who she was, she might have a chance—

“Will you come with me when I take Dylan home? Maybe another pair of eyes will help me understand how to help him, how to assess the dynamics of the family.”

He was holding her hand. There wasn’t anyway she could deny him his request even though she felt inadequate to assess the dynamics of any family, especially when she thought of her own parents who were so wrapped up in their careers they never had time for her. She choked out, “Yes,” then swallowed several times before adding, “I’ll try, but counseling is your area of expertise, not mine.”

He squeezed her hand and smiled at her. “Thank you. I knew I could count on you, Anne. And don’t sell yourself short. Tiffany, Nikki and Gina rave about you.”

Her world tilted and spun. Through a supreme effort she managed not to collapse at his feet. “They do?”

“You know those little talks you have over sodas?”

She waved her free hand, her senses still fixated on the fact he held her hand. “That’s just girl talk.”

“Well, you must be saying something right, Anne. They’re listening, and that’s most of the battle with kids.”

You are not going to blush like a school girl, she ordered herself, removing her hand from his and stepping back to give herself some breathing room. Her lungs burned from lack of proper oxygen, and she still felt dangerously close to fainting in front of him. She quickly realized, however, that she needed more space than a few measly feet. His presence dominated the hallway.

“I thought you two were gonna help us with the flyers,” Gina said from the doorway of the arts-and-crafts room, a twinkle glittering in her eyes.

Anne bit down on her lower lip and hurried forward, past the girl into the room. If the heat from her face was any indication, she was sure her cheeks were five different shades of red. She wished she didn’t blush at the least little thing. She slipped into the chair she’d occupied and picked up a red marker, using it to outline the black lettering she’d done earlier. The words stood out against the white poster board.

“That’s great, Anne. I like it. Your lettering is beautiful. Don’t you think so, Caleb?” Gina grinned at her as she sat down next to her and began decorating her own flyer.

Anne kept her focus trained on her paper, but she heard Caleb’s words as he took up the chair across from her. “Maybe we should have Anne do all the lettering. It sure beats my printing.”

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. What do you think, guys?”

Before Anne realized it she had all the poster boards stacked in front of her to print the information on. She was perfectly happy to do it, because beyond the outlining of the words, she had been clueless with what she’d wanted to do next to her flyer. This way she could do what she did best and let the others be creative.

Pleased at how the morning had turned out, she glanced up to find Caleb staring at her with an intense expression on his face. She should look away, but for the life of her, she couldn’t make herself avert her gaze. She liked looking at Caleb, not just because he was handsome, which he definitely was, but because he was so kind and caring. For a blissful moment the others were forgotten, the rest of the world fading from her awareness as their gazes connected across the table and she felt his pull, strong, compelling—and dangerous to her quiet, uneventful life.

Caleb pulled up to the curb outside the Givens’ large two story white house with Dylan sitting between him and Anne. The frown on the boy’s face grew deeper the nearer they’d come to his foster home, but Dylan remained staunchly quiet even though Anne had tried to engage him in conversation.

Caleb was aware Dylan, who had lived in Richmond, had been recently taken away from his father because of abandonment. Was there more to the story than the child’s father leaving Dylan while the man was on a drinking binge? Glancing at the boy’s angry expression brought back memories Caleb wished would stay buried. His hands about the steering wheel tightened as he fought against the onslaught of emotions that he usually kept reined in. Helplessness. Anger for his childhood friend. Despair.

Please, Lord, I need Your help with Dylan. How do I reach him? I’ve tried for the past month. He’s angry and keeping things bottled up. Show me the way.

Rex Givens stood on the porch waiting for them as they walked up to the house. One small child played off to the side with some trucks while a toddler, dressed in a diaper and a long-sleeved blue pullover shirt, pressed his face against the screen door.

Caleb extended his hand toward Rex. “It’s good to see you. As you can see, Dylan’s okay.”

Rex snorted, fastening his full attention on the boy. “We were worried sick about you. What did you think running away would prove?”

Dylan’s frown evolved into a scowl, deep grooves at the sides of his mouth. Silent, he stared at Rex, his chin hiked up a notch.

The man gestured toward the six-year-old on the porch. “Take Brent inside and tell Cora you’re home.”

Dylan stomped up the stairs, but when he spoke to Brent, none of the boy’s anger showed in his tone of voice as he helped the younger boy gather up his trucks. They disappeared inside the house, Dylan taking hold of the toddler’s hand as they ambled down the hallway.

Anne moved closer to Caleb, filling the void Dylan’s absence created. A strong urge to reach out and grasp her hand for support inundated Caleb as he’d waited for the children to leave. His palms tingled as though an electrical current passed through him.

“May we have a word, Rex?” Caleb finished mounting the remaining two steps, not intending to be put off by the man.

Rex backed up, then waved his arms toward a grouping of white wicker furniture at one end of the porch. “Fine. Dinner will be soon and I’ll need to wash up. It’s quite a chore getting five children all to sit down at the table and eat at the same time.”

“This won’t take long. I’m concerned about Dylan, as I’m sure you are. Thankfully, Anne found him before he decided to leave the center.” Caleb’s gaze slid to Anne, and her presence next to him soothed some of the tension festering in him. Her sweet, caring attitude reminded him of what was good in life.

Rex sat in the lone wicker chair, leaving the small love seat for Caleb and Anne. As he lowered himself next to her, again the desire to touch her for support made him falter, and his mind went blank for a few seconds. Silence reigned while he grappled with his feelings, ones he hadn’t had in a long while.

Rex cleared his throat. “The only thing I can think that set Dylan off last night was he didn’t get to see a TV show he had wanted to. With five children in the house, he has his chores that have to be done and he wasn’t through with the dishes when the show came on.”

“I understand.” Caleb forced himself to keep his hands from clenching at his sides. Chores were an important part of a family, but, like Anne, he wasn’t so sure about the Givens’ motives for taking in foster children. He’d been around other foster parents, especially Reverend Fraser and his wife, who loved their charges and their home reflected that love. When he’d been inside the Givens’ home, he didn’t feel that kind of love for the children. They were a business to Rex and Cora Givens. “I’d like to counsel Dylan on a formal basis. He needs more than he’s getting right now coming to the center and just hanging out.”

Rex straightened his large frame in the small chair, its creaking sound permeating the porch. “You can say that again. Dylan’s more than Cora and me can handle. He resents any work we want him to do around the house. His attitude has been affecting the others in the short time he’s been here.” He crossed his arms. “Frankly, we don’t know what to do about the boy anymore. We’re thinking of calling the state to place him somewhere else.”

Caleb’s hand curled into a fist. “Let me work with him first. Give me a chance.”