Page 22 of RiffRaff's Reward

Jillian

I’m smilingas the call ends. Going back through our conversation, I snicker at the fact that he hinted at how he uses brown paper bags to wrap gifts in, but it warms my heart that he wants to spoil my girl by having them wrapped by others. I love that he has us on his mind while he’s out of town on club business. Hell, I just love him. I forward him the link to Kimber’s wish list then put my phone on the charger after I make sure my alarm is set. Grabbing clean pajamas, I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face before turning in for the night.

Once I’m settled in bed, I turn the television to one of the forensic crime shows I watch for background noise and snuggle down to read until I fall asleep. I know that RiffRaff can’t understand how I can watch shows that discuss violent events without batting an eye, but I don't like scary movies at all. I really don’t have an answer for him; I think it has more to do with my curious nature than anything, because while I read mostly romance books, I also like reading true crime stories.

As sleep claims me, my mind wanders to the shopping list I still need to finish for Christmas. I plan to get RiffRaff a few things, of course, but also fill his stocking with useful items, like the deodorant I noticed that he uses, a beard grooming kit since he’s got an awesome one and I want to help him keep it that way, plus a gift card to the small coffee shop he enjoys stopping at for their coffee and bakery items. Outside of that, I’ll be driving to the Harley Davidson store and browsing around for inspiration.

Kimber’s going to be a lot of fun to shop for this year. Even though her bathroom has a built-in vanity, I found a gorgeous one with natural lighting all around the mirror. There are multiple drawers for everything a teenage girl could possibly need, plus the thing that sold me completely—a place on the top that already has a thermal protectant for her curling and flat irons. She’ll have clothes, of course, and even though she can’t wear full makeup to school just yet, I’m okay with her applying earth tone eyeshadow, mascara, and lip gloss.

The last thing I remember is mentally going through the various designed wrapping paper I still have left over from last year.

I’m in the kitchen when there’s a knock on the door. Kimber’s already left for school, and I have an unexpected day off since Dr. Webber and the other vet tech are both down with the flu and the office is temporarily closed. I’ll go by to check on our patients who are kenneled there, administer meds and replace IV fluids as needed, walk the dogs, scoop the cat boxes, and feed everyone, but we’re not open to the general public today. I hate that, but both Dr. Webber and Cora are pretty sick. Tomorrowisn’t looking good either, but I’ll handle the day-to-day stuff until they’re back on their feet.

“Coming,” I holler out as I make my way to the front door. Glancing through the peephole, I see a woman in professional attire standing there, a woman that I don’t recognize. I open the door and ask, “Can I help you?”

“Hello, are you Jillian Andrews?” she questions.

“Yes, I am, and you are?” I reply, feeling standoffish. It’s not every day that a stranger shows up on your doorstep that isn’t a salesperson, and it has me leery.

“Josephine Holley, but you can call me Jo. I’m with the Department of Family and Children Services. May I come in?” she asks.

“Sure, although I’m not understanding why you’re here.” I’ve never dealt with this department before, and I’m confused about why they’d be seeking me out.

I mean, while I have Kimber, there’s never been any sort of issue that would necessitate DFCS getting involved with our family. Curious, I lead her into my formal living room and see her glance around as she takes a seat in one of the chairs and places her satchel at her feet, before reaching inside and pulling out an envelope to hand to me.

“Please, read this and then I’ll answer any questions you might have,” she says.

With shaky hands, I reach over and take the envelope as I sit in another chair and glance at it, seeing my name scrawled in a female’s penmanship. “This is strange,” I murmur, opening it up and withdrawing several pieces of paper behind the actual letter.One says Last Will and Testament which has my interest piqued. However, I have the gut instinct that the letter will explain and give me better answers than reading the will itself.

Dear Jillian,

You don’t know me, and while I don’t know you personally, I know of you. I was the woman that your husband was involved with five years ago. After the accident that killed him, I found out I was pregnant with his child. I also found out that Duncan wasn’t single as he originally led me to believe. I swear to you that I had no idea you existed before I became involved with him. Being the other woman wasn’t something I was, or ever would be, comfortable being labeled as. Thankfully, the accident didn’t hurt the baby, and if not for the fact that I’m dying, I would’ve never reached out to you and hurt you in this way. Because once I found out that he was married and had a young daughter, I was ashamed. I didn’t know if you knew about his affair or me, but I wasn’t going to encroach on your grief, even though my baby is your daughter’s half-sibling. It’s a boy by the way, and I named him Callum Andrews, giving him his father’s last name.

He’s a good boy, and very smart for his age. He starts kindergarten next year, but already knows his colors, how to count up to twenty (although he sometimes skips seven), can say the whole alphabet, and is already starting to read simple books by himself. He likes to do things all by himself, so he ties his own shoes, but sometimes they’re on the wrong feet, and he enjoys motorcycles, cars, Legos, dinosaurs, and getting muddy. LOL.

You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all of this and it’s because as I said above, I’m dying. Shortly after he was born, I found a lump on my breast, and I’ve fought for the past several years to beat breast cancer. Unfortunately, it metastasized, and I became terminal. If Mrs. Holley has given you this letter, it means that I’ve passed and right now, Callum is in foster care.

I know I don’t have the right to ask this of you, especially since I was unintentionally involved in your husband’s betrayal, but could you possibly find it in your heart to take my son in and make him part of your family? I know he’s got an older sister, and you might not be willing to do that because in many ways, you’d be starting over again, but the thought that my sweet boy might end up bouncing around from home to home is the one thingthat keeps me awake at night, especially as that’s what happened to me, I want better for him, so I hope you’ll be willing to do this for him. Not for me, because as I said, I’m ashamed and embarrassed about my involvement with Duncan.

He does have a small trust fund from me which should cover his education when he’s old enough to decide what he wants to be, and I have a girl friend, Rebel, who has all of his personal belongings, as well as some mementos for him to remember me by. I’m enclosing a copy of my will, as well as the DNA paperwork to prove he’s Duncan’s son. I’m imploring you to help my boy. He’s been the light of my life and one of the reasons I tried so hard to beat cancer.

Sincerely,

Amber Brown

My breath comes out in a rush of heated air. This boy, Callum, he’s the true victim in this entire affair. I feel for him on such a deep level that I fight the tears that gather in my eyes. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your sole parent and be thrust into a house full of strangers. I quickly flip through the rest of the papers, briefly scan the will then take a longer perusal of the DNA test. Once I’m done, I look at Mrs. Holley and ask, “What do we need to do?”

Because there’s absolutely no question in my mind whatsoever that he needs to come to live with me and Kimber. Yes, I’m goingto have to have a very uncomfortable talk with my daughter, but she’s old enough now I hope that she’ll understand that things aren't always picture perfect and people have faults. Even though I have some unresolved issues with her father, she was the apple of his eye, and they had a solid relationship. Oh, she’ll be mad about her dad, I’m sure, but she’s always wanted a brother or sister, plus she’s got a compassionate heart and won’t take her sorrow out on this poor boy.

“You’ll take him?” she asks. I see a look of relief cross her face as I nod. “I met Amber when she was given her terminal diagnosis and became Callum’s caseworker. I’ve had a few other cases that were similar to what’s happening here, but I’ll be blunt. Most of them turned the children away.”

My eyes widen as I reply, “How can they deny taking in a little kid, especially if they have kids? They’re denying them their sibling, or siblings, as the case may be.”

“Most don’t want to be reminded that their men stepped out on them,” she states. “You’re a bit of an anomaly, Mrs. Andrews.”

“Jillian or Jilly, if you prefer,” I tell her. “Because it sounds like we’re going to be in a relationship of our own while Callum adjusts. Does he know he has an older half-sister? How is he handling losing his mom? My heart breaks for him. Kimber was eight when her dad died, but this little guy never got to even meet his father.”

I know I’m babbling, but I’m kind of in shock and wish that RiffRaff was here right now to help me navigate my way through this rollercoaster of emotions.

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