The Cinderella Plan

“Because I want you to experience Jesus as I do.” Which was true, but Caleb wondered if it wasn’t more than that.

Caleb read the e-mail from Kimberly Forrester a second time before deleting it. He missed the theology talks over coffee they’d had while they’d both been missionaries together at the same mission in Africa. He missed their friendship, which had grown while working together, and wished an ocean didn’t separate them, but he understood her need to serve God the way she thought He wanted. In her e-mail it sounded as if she was accomplishing what she had set out to do. He was glad for her, but it left his own failure to reach Dylan as a disappointment.

Yesterday at their first formal counseling session, the boy hadn’t said more than two words—good bye—at the end of the longest fifteen minutes Caleb had experienced. He would try again today and prayed he could get through to the boy.

Shutting down his computer, Caleb rose to see what was keeping Dylan. He should have been here by now. When he walked outside, he noticed the boy sitting on the steps, chin resting in his palms, shoulders hunched.

“Dylan, I was worried about you.”

Dylan remained silent, his face averted.

Caleb eased down next to the boy who twisted away. “What’s wrong?”

“If you must know,” Dylan muttered and brought his face around for Caleb to see.

“How did you get that nasty cut?”

“A fight.”

“When? With who?”

“Today after school.” The boy squared his shoulders, defiance in his expression now, as though he silently challenged Caleb to say anything about him fighting.

“What happened?”

“I got tired of a couple of guys making fun of me. I decided to fight back.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed, his body stiff, as though he were ready to fight all over again.

“Did fighting solve your problem?”

The child shot to his feet, his hands fisted. “Yes. They’ll think twice before taunting me again.”

“What were they taunting you about?” Caleb rose slowly, weary from lack of sleep and concern over Dylan.

His knuckles whitened, his body grew even more rigid. “Because my father is a drunk. Because—” He whirled about and raced up the steps, disappearing into the center.

Caleb heaved a sigh and followed the boy into the building, the anger he felt gripping Dylan charging the air with an intensity that was thick, heavy. He found him in the TV room, watching a program. Caleb walked over and switched off the set. Dylan’s mouth firmed into a scowl, his forehead creased with deep lines. He lowered his gaze, staring at the floor at his feet.

“We need to talk about this.” Caleb moved toward the boy.

Dylan jerked his head up and stabbed him with an angry look. “No, we don’t. I don’t care what people think. I was just tired of them talking to me.” He turned away as though Caleb wasn’t in the room.

Rage encompassed every inch of Dylan. Caleb was at a loss about what to do to help him. Please, Lord. I need Your guidance more than ever with this one. I can’t fail him.

“You know, Dylan, no matter what you do, I am still here for you. I care about you, enough that I have put in an application to be a foster parent. Your foster parent.”

The only sign Dylan heard his words was a slight stiffening. Otherwise his head remained averted, his lower lip stuck out in a pout, his arms crossed over his chest. Silence eroded Caleb’s confidence that one day he would be able to reach him. He moved to stand in the boy’s direct line of vision.

“I didn’t ask you to be my foster parent,” Dylan finally muttered, his gaze lifting to Caleb’s.

“I know. I want to be.”

“Why?”

“Because I think we need each other.”

“I don’t need you.” Dylan dropped his gaze away, hugging his arms to his chest.

“But I need you.”

For a long moment Caleb wasn’t even sure that Dylan had heard him this time. Then the boy drew in his lower lip and chewed on it, his shoulders now bowed as though he were an old man. In many ways he had seen more of the darker side of life than most at his age. Thinking about the boy’s past only reaffirmed Caleb’s need to pierce through Dylan’s armor and reach him. He hadn’t lied to the child. He needed him.

Dylan was his chance to right a wrong.

Tension knotted Anne’s neck, causing her shoulders to ache and a dull pain to throb behind her eyes. She stood and stretched, rolling her head. She had spent an hour looking through the old ledgers, and yet, she hadn’t found anything to help Kelly. Maybe the answers weren’t in the books, but she couldn’t rule them out.

Checking her watch, she hurriedly shut the book and put it on the top of the stack of old ledgers for the adoption agency. She hadn’t realized how late it was. She needed to get to the youth center to help make the decorations for the carnival. With a glance out the window she noticed that dusk began to blanket the landscape.

Snatching up her purse, she rushed from her office, arriving at the center ten minutes later. The lights in the building blazed as the dark shadows of night crept closer. She was never late, but she had become so absorbed earlier in the ledgers that she’d lost track of time, which was most unusual for her. Lately she had felt many things about her life weren’t usual. She didn’t like not having control over what was going on. But worse, she was wrestling with whom she was, questioning how she saw herself.

In the arts-and-crafts room, Caleb looked up from sprinkling silver glitter all over a large star. “I was wondering where you were. I was going to give you fifteen more minutes and then send out a posse.”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen someone look at the clock so much,” Gina mumbled, whisking the star away from Caleb and replacing it with another one to be decorated.

“He was cutting out the stars until he cut off one of the points. He’s been banned from using a pair of scissors.”

Anne offered a weak smile. “Sorry I’m late. I got busy and forgot the time. What do you need me to do?”

“Help Caleb with the stars.” Gina moved over to let Anne sit next to him. “He needs help. Desperately.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Caleb muttered and proceeded to dump more glitter on the table than the star in front of him.

As Anne worked, her arm brushed against Caleb’s. She started to scoot her chair over to give them more room but noticed that Gina had her penned in. The teenager flashed her a smile and winked. If Anne didn’t know better, she would think that Gina was sitting too close on purpose. But why would she do that?

Caleb reached for another star and their arms touched again. “Sorry about that. It’s a little crowded in here.”

He turned to Nikki next to him and asked her to move over. Her chair scraped across the wooden floor maybe a whole two inches. Caleb gave her a quizzical look. The child busied herself with cutting out a star.

He bent close to Anne’s ear and whispered, “Is something going on that you and I don’t know about?”

She shrugged, unable to say anything because all her senses honed in on Caleb’s nearness that brought his scent wafting to her nose. His warm breath fanned her skin below her ear until it became hot and cold at the same time.

“Guys, give us some room here,” Caleb said after he nearly elbowed Anne in the side while reaching for another star. “Maybe one of you could work at the other table or I could—”

Nikki shot to her feet, toppling over her chair in her haste. “I’ll move. You can stay put.”

After the girl took her paper and scissors and parked herself at the other table with Billy, Dylan and Jeremy, Caleb righted Nikki’s chair, then moved it around so he could scoot his down. Disappointment fluttered through Anne now that she had breathing room.

“I tried, Anne,” Gina whispered.