Page 89 of An Unfinished Story
“No, really. I had no right. And I didn’t mean any of it. I’m just a basket case right now. We’re about to walk in and see where he lives. I feel like I’m just stepping deeper and deeper into David’s secret life, and I’m just terrified. That’s all. It has nothing to do with you.”
He pulled her into a hug. “I forgive you. And I understand. It’s heavy stuff.”
She squeezed and whispered another sorry.
Letting go, Whitaker said, “I’m glad you came.”
“I guess I have no right to be mad at you for going without me.”
He touched her chin. “I think I’ve been beat up enough for the day.”
After knocking on the door, Claire heard some commotion before a brunette in a USF MOMapron revealed herself. Probably in her early fifties. She greeted them with a smile that could melt ice.So this was what a woman with a true heart of gold looked like,Claire thought.
“Jacky?”
“That’s me.” She had a soothing voice and a calming demeanor that illustrated a certain poise under pressure.
They followed her inside and heard boys laughing somewhere deep within. “You must forgive me,” she said to Whitaker. “I have had my hands full, so I haven’t had the time to read your book. But I did see the movie. It was a gorgeous story.”
“Thank you very much. Even from the little bit I’ve heard, what you do sounds so much more amazing.”
Claire looked at the shiny floor’s hardwoods, the neat row of children’s shoes lined against the wall. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Gosh, most of my life. Almost thirty years. We just passed the two hundred mark.”
“Two hundred kids?”
“Yep, two hundred boys have been through here.”
Claire smiled in awe. She couldn’t even imagine.
Jacky turned to lead them through the house. Lots of cheery decor: paintings of flowers, bright-colored rugs. “We all have our calling. I grew up in the system, and there were a few adults along the way who saved my life. How could I do anything else? But thank you for saying so.” She turned left down a hall packed with photographs—presumably from the boys who’d lived here. “Oliver’s in the shower. He’ll be down in a minute. Oh, and Kari’s in the kitchen.”
“How many kids are living here?” Claire asked, taking her time to look at the photographs, her heart heavy and hopeful at the same time.
“We have five at the moment. One boy was just adopted, so we have an empty bed waiting for someone.”
Claire turned away from a photo. “How long will that take to fill?”
“We’re putting our feelers out. Not long.”
Whitaker shook his head. “How do you do it? I can barely take care of myself.”
“Never a dull moment,” she drew out.
They entered an enormous kitchen with three circular dining room tables, two built-in large refrigerators, and a giant island. They’d clearly remodeled to cater to these boys, their loves.
Kari, Oliver’s case manager, was sitting in a chair in the corner by the window. She looked up from her computer. “Hi, guys.”
Claire and Whitaker said their hellos.
“I’ll be here if you need me. Just hammering out some emails.”
Jacky took a plate of cookies off the granite island and held it toward them. “We bake a lot around here.”
Claire and Whitaker each reached for one.
“How could I resist?” Claire took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie, which was still warm and gooey in the middle.
