Learning To Trust

Jubilee Samson came around the corner right then. She had one little boy in her arms. He was the one crying, his sweet face buried against her shoulder.

The other boy spotted Tug and recognized him from their interaction the previous day. “Hey!” he yelled. He jerked free of Jubilee’s hand and raced toward Tug. “Hey, you! Hey!”

He didn’t just grab Tug. He leaped into his arms as if searching for safety or salvation or something the least bit familiar. “You’re the copper guy. You’re the copper guy!”

“Deputy,” he told the boy as he hugged him. “From yesterday, right?”

“I remember. I remember!”

And even though the standoff ended well for the boys, Tug hoped the memory would fade in time. He held the boy and met Jubilee’s gaze over his head. “What’s up? Do we have news?”

Her grave expression shared silent consternation. “I’ve come to see Ms. Alero. She teaches third grade here.”

“Evangeline’s teacher.” He said the words as Christa came their way from the bus loop. He motioned her over. “This is Ms. Alero, Jubilee.”

The social worker turned. Then she turned back toward Tug. “Tug, I’m sure you’re busy, but can you watch the boys for a few minutes while I speak to Ms. Alero?”

“Sure.” He took the crying boy from her, then crossed the hall and opened the door to a kindergarten room. “Fellas. Let’s see what they’ve got in here.”

The littlest boy’s distress broke the deputy’s heart. Tug was a fixer. A negotiator. A guardian. Right now, all of his skills came to the surface. He guided the older boy into the room and quietly shut the door.

Normal little fellows would have scrambled around the room, checking things out.

Not these two.

The littlest one clung to him with his tousled head burrowed into Tug’s shoulder. The older boy—Jeremy—took a seat on a little chair and folded his hands. Eyes down, he sat there, alone and despondent, as if nothing could ever be right again.

Tug took a breath.

He didn’t have the words to fix whatever disaster had impacted these two little lives, but he had a few skill sets that had sat untapped once Nathan and Vangie went to school.

Without releasing his grip on little Jonah, he began singing a popular kids’ song. When the boys’ tears turned to watery smiles, he breathed a little sigh of relief.

Marta gone?

And the guy who’d held those two precious children hostage yesterday, two boys who were her baby cousins, was Marta’s newest boyfriend and drug supplier, according to the social worker. And he was gone, too.

Christa sank into her chair in disbelief.

The social worker dragged up a folding chair by the reading circle and set it down beside her. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you. The police chief in Quincy offered to deliver the news, but our office was already involved because of the boys. Ms. Alero…” The middle-aged woman sighed softly. “I’m so dreadfully sorry. Were you and your aunt close?”

Christa shook her head. It took a long moment for her to find her words because of the torrent of emotions swirling within her.

Marta had been so funny, so pretty. They’d been girls together, before Marta took up with one of the leaders of the Santiago gang in Sinclair. There’d only been three years between them, which meant Marta would have been thirty now.

If she’d lived.

The disbelief rose up again. “Are you sure you have the right person? That it is my aunt Marta? And that these children are hers?”

The woman’s expression deepened. She nodded and gripped her hands together as if in prayer. At this moment, Christa would welcome the prayers and all the help she could get, because how does a person handle grief upon grief?

One step at a time…

She’d learned that the hard way, but what if one got tired of stepping?

“We are certain.” The social worker leaned forward. “And it was by the grace of God we found you so quickly. His grace and the internet because her name was linked to yours. And to a Margaretta Alero, in California. Imagine my surprise when I plugged your name into the system and realized you’d just moved here. The Lord works in mysterious ways,” she finished softly. Then she noted the small cross hanging on the thin chain around Christa’s neck. “You probably already know that.”

Did she?

Some days. But during the dark times when she’d railed against her mother, when she’d run amok in anger, when she blamed her mother for Marta’s departure, it wasn’t God’s ways she followed. He didn’t deal in ways of darkness and deceit. How she wished she’d known that back then.

“I know this is a shock, but state law says that family placement takes precedence over foster care for bereft children, and I wanted to see how you felt about that.”

The boys.

She’d spotted them in the hallway. One safe in the clutches of the deputy’s arms, and one looking so very lost and alone. “They’ll need a home.”

“Yes. But don’t feel that you have to take on more than you’re capable of, Ms. Alero. We can find temporary placement for them, if need be.”

Shuffled off to strangers, like so many of the kids she’d grown up with. Surrounded by whomever, and good or bad, it wouldn’t be family. It wouldn’t be the people who should love them best. “I only have a little studio apartment. Not nearly enough room…”

“I understand.” The woman—Jubilee—didn’t pressure her. “I’ll find a spot for them, and—”

“No.” Christa drew herself up, surprised. “No, that’s not what I meant. Not at all what I meant. They are family, these boys. Mis primos,” she went on. “My cousins. They will stay with me, of course, but the lack of space makes it hard.”

“There’s space at my parents’ place.” Tug Moyer’s voice interrupted them from behind. The social worker turned quickly.

“Tug, your parents have helped a lot of kids over the years. Would they be willing?”

“Deputy, I—”

Christa started to interject, but paused when he came forward. He hooked a thumb across the way as he pulled another chair forward. “Mrs. Menendez is with the boys now. They’re pretty shaken up.”

Who wouldn’t be? And to be such little fellows, besides?

He sat, pressed his hands together and leaned forward to get her attention. He got it, all right. The strength of his manner, the sincerity of his gaze said this was the kind of man you could count on.

“Ms. Alero, my parents have been foster parents for nearly two decades. They’ve got a good-sized house, and room for you and the boys to stay together until you find somewhere else to move. If nothing else, it buys you time right now. Time to wrap your head around all of this. To adjust. To grieve.”

His expression said more and she remembered his look that morning, a mix of sorrow and guilt. A look she identified with because that same expression looked back at her from the mirror, every single day.

“They’ve got plenty of space and my mom might be available to watch the boys during the day while you work. At least for the time being.”

“You can’t possibly speak for her.”

He cringed slightly, but more in amusement than angst. “You’ll understand when you meet her. She is affectionately known as Hurricane Darla and generally sweeps in like a Category Four. She’s got a heart for children. Vangie and Nathan go there every day after school. I expect they’d love to see the boys.”

What could she say?

The Lord giveth. The Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Was that how it really worked or did bad stuff just happen and humans learned to adapt or not?

She wasn’t sure, but to have so many things fall into place… That meant something, didn’t it?

She took a deep breath. Stood up. Then she stretched out a hand to Tug Moyer. “I will accept your offer on behalf of your parents. If they are half as kind as their son, then I know we’ll be in good hands until we find a bigger place.”

“I’ll let them know.”

He took her hand. Held it. And for those brief moments, she wasn’t sure where her hand began and where his left off.

Not magic, like in the movies.

But belonging. As if destiny did have a say in things. And yet she understood the levels of impossible more than most.

She’d committed a crime in California. She had a record. Sure, it was supposed to be sealed, but was it? Really? This guy, this kind, gracious and bighearted man, was running for county sheriff, and there was no way in the world she was going to let this attraction ruin his job or his life.

But when he gave her hand the gentlest squeeze of compassion, she realized something else.

It was going to be nearly impossible not to fall for him, so that meant she had her work cut out for her. Fortunately, she’d been a sci-fi fan as a youthful reader. All she needed now was a cozy home and a cloak of invisibility and she’d be all set.

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