Page 91 of An Unfinished Story
“It’s the first thing we do when we wake up,” Jacky said.
Back in the kitchen, Jacky offered them a glass of ice water, which they happily accepted. Kari was still working away. Jacky invited them to the large backyard, which was lined by a tall white vinyl fence. They sat by the well-maintained pool under the shade of an umbrella. A basket overflowed with footballs, Frisbees, soccer balls, and other activities. Beyond the pool, a tall oak tree with a long branch running along the ground stood alone in the Bermuda grass.
They discussed the wild string of events that had led Claire and Whitaker to this moment. “I know we dropped some heavy news on him yesterday,” Whitaker said as he wrapped up his story. “How’s he handling it?”
“Oliver’s a tough kid. Sometimes I can make the mistake of thinking he can handle anything. He’s very good at hiding it sometimes. He had such an awful childhood, so he’s learned to dig in and deal. But I know he’s not immune—just tougher than you and me.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“It’s easy to think of Oliver as a young adult,” Jacky said, “but he’s only fourteen. I don’t know about you, but fourteen was difficult for me.”
Whitaker itched his arm. “I have a feeling my definition ofdifficultis much different than yours and Oliver’s.”
Jacky smiled and nodded. “His therapist has come by three times since Oliver found out about David, including yesterday after your meeting at the park. To an extent, Oliver feels like it’s his fault. That if he hadn’t broken into that car, David would still be alive.”
Claire’s stomach tightened. “That breaks my heart. And it couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
They spoke about the stages of grief and what Whitaker and Claire could do to help Oliver work through his emotions. Jacky was seasoned in helping children work through trauma, and Whitaker listened intently as she expounded on what it was like to be fourteen and in Oliver’s shoes.
“Can I ask a strange question?” Claire asked, taking a detour in the conversation. “I don’t mean anything by it, just trying to learn.” He looked at her. “Why haven’t you adopted him? I mean, it seems so hard to be a foster parent. You’re always saying goodbye.”
Jacky nodded. “I’ve raised my kids, and they’re all grown up. Fostering is something I do because it fills me up inside. Some of these kids don’t want to be adopted, which is fine by me. And the ones that do, I want to help them find their forever homes.”
Something about that idea of a forever home struck Claire hard. Not like a punch in the face, but like a rumbling earthquake below her feet. Was that what Oliver wanted? A forever home?
“How does that work?” Whitaker asked. “I mean, the adoptive process.”
“I’ll get a call from their case managers about a prospective parent, and we’ll set up a matching meeting. If it goes well, we have a few more meetings. If it’s meant to be, then these parents start the adoption process.”
Claire could see the face of the mom she’d met so many years before, the one who’d ended up giving her baby to someone else. She shook the memory and asked, “What does Oliver want?” And she thought she knew the answer.
“Oliver is a little jaded after having such a tough go with his mom. I think he might be happy aging out of the system.”
Claire’s heart kicked at her chest. A reel of another life Oliver might have lived spun by in her mind. She could see David and him fishing from the end of the dock at their old house in Coquina Key, Claire joining them with a picnic lunch.
“Is that why I didn’t see his picture on the websites?” Claire asked. “The Heart Gallery and the others?”
“Yeah, he doesn’t like being on there. It’s tough for some kids, especially teenagers, to be on display on the internet. Other kids might pick on them.”
Claire totally understood. “And he could stay here until he’s eighteen?”
“Absolutely. I don’t play favorites, but Oliver is truly one of a kind. Such a sweetheart. If I was ever to consider adoption again, he’s the first that comes to mind. You should see the way he cares for the other boys. He’s the leader, always showing the new ones the ropes.”
They turned to the sound of an opening door. “Well, there he is.”
Oliver walked outside onto the patio, dressed in jeans and a green polo. He attempted eye contact but dropped his head again nervously.
Claire and Whitaker stood and shook his hand.
“How’s it going, buddy?” Whitaker asked.
Oliver shook his hair off his eyes. “Good.”
Claire couldn’t tell if Oliver was being sincere.
After they shook, Whitaker said, “If you ever meet my dad, be careful shaking his hand. The man will crush your bones.”
Oliver pretended to laugh.
