The plain white sheets were uninviting and would have to go. Gillian gazed scrutinizingly around her spare room. The walls were the same beige as they had been when she had moved in two months earlier following her divorce. There wasn't much she could do about that and beige wasn't really all that bad. There was no art on the walls of this room and the only furniture apart from the bed was a plain chest of drawers and a rocking chair that her father had carved when they had first gotten Sophie. She stripped the bed, folded the unused sheets and replaced them in the linen closet. The problem was more in finding sheets that would be welcoming to a child. Something colourful. Perusing the closet, she found a pale pink fitted sheet, a green flat sheet, one yellow pillowcase with a pattern of dots and a stuffy blue floral pillowcase that probably wouldn't look too bad with the rest of the mismatched sheets. She tried to focus on the task at hand and not get too nervous or excited, instead enjoying the soft feel of the fabric and the satisfaction that came from the neat bed. Studying the finished product, Gillian hesitated. The sheets were fine but the best she'd been able to do for the comforter cover was a rich, chocolatey brown. It seemed like too large an expanse of dark for a child. After a few moments of worrying, Gillian went to her own room and took the knit blanket from the foot of her bed. This she lay unevenly across the end of the guest bed. This time when she stood back to examine her handiwork, Gillian was satisfied. Next, she checked the fridge. It seemed pretty well stocked, and, not knowing what this child would like, Gillian decided it best to leave it be. Feeling unprepared but nonetheless having nothing else to fuss over, Gillian took her passport out of her office desk, slipped her driver's licence inside, put both into a pocket in her purse and, with one final visual sweep of her house, left for City Hall.
Annemarie Jackson had worked as a secretary with the Capital Children's Home for eight years now. It was safe to say that, where children were concerned, there would always be odd crises but this was something entirely new. In an effort to keep the children warm, all those who had not yet been placed in short-term foster homes had been bussed to City Hall and were now having playtime in the upstairs ballroom. The administrative staff and anyone else who could be spared had set up camp in an available board room on the main level. There were several taped-off sections of desk, each one manned by a staff member and each one with an extra chair for the short-term foster parents. It was a quarter past four and borderline mayhem; several stations were occupied by people filling out forms and anyone who wasn't busy with foster parents on the phone trying to find accommodations for the children. Annemarie sighed. It was days like these that made her wonder whether her mother had had a point with all her nonsense about working for a nice law firm or the like. It would certainly be quieter.
"Excuse me?"
Annemarie looked up. Before her stood a woman in her mid thirties with short, straight hair, blue eyes and fine bone structure. She wore a long lapelled coat unzipped to reveal a professional-looking dress underneath. The woman offered her hand with a friendly smile. "I'm Dr. Gillian Foster. I was called earlier."
"Of course. Thank you so much for coming." Annemarie stood and shook the woman's hand, then gestured to the empty seat beside her own. "Please, sit."
Dr. Foster obligingly settled herself in the chair, then opened her purse and pulled out a passport and a card. "I have my IDs."
"Excellent, thank you for bringing those." Annemarie was thumbing through the stack of files in the corner of her taped-off section. She found what she was looking for and pulled out a folder. "Foster, here we are." She primly opened the file and pulled out several sheets, all of which were already mostly complete. "I've already filled out as much as I can from your file, so if you could check these and make sure that everything is correct that just leaves the last few sections and the signatures."
Dr. Foster nodded, taking the offered pen with a quiet "Thank you." and turning her attention to the pages.
It took forty-five minutes to get through all the paperwork. Finally, Gillian signed the last page and looked up to see the nice childcare worker, Annemarie, pulling a file out from one of the stacks on her desk. She smiled kindly. "You've been paired with our Miss Lucy Howard. She's four years old and has been with us since she was relinquished at birth. She had a family lined up but their son was diagnosed with leukaemia shortly before her birth and so they had to give her up. She's lived at our facilities and in short-term foster homes ever since. She has some challenges with trust and attachment but she's not… difficult." Annemarie's fingertip slid down the page, skimming for facts. "There was also... a house fire, so she sometimes has nightmares."
Gillian was nodding, listening intently. All of this she should be able to handle, at least for the weekend.
"Lucy's been in junior kindergarten since September and though she's quiet she's progressing well." The woman grazed the file again and then, seemingly finished, looked up at Gillian. "Do you have any questions?"
She had a thousand, more, but the one that came out was "Who named her?"
Annemarie smiled and folded her hands before her. "I remember, I was the one who went to pick her up. When I got to the nursery, there was this nurse holding her. She held this tiny, sleeping baby and told me about how the hospital had been swamped with H1N1 patients and there had been this terrible car wreck overnight; and then, she said, there was this moment of calm and a new day broke with the birth of this little girl who was all alone in the world. She was born smiling. The nurse said that it used to be a custom to give the name Lucy to girls born at dawn, it means light, you see." She gave a sad sort of smile and her eyes drifted to the side in memory. "Howard was the name of the hospital."
There was a pause as both seemed to be contemplating the story, then Annemarie hesitantly offered: "If that's everything, I can bring you to meet her now."
Gillian took a deep breath, smiled and gathered her things. "Yes, please."
She was led out of the small, warm room and up the main staircase. On the second floor they took a left and entered what must usually be used as some sort of concert hall. Only it wasn't being used as a concert hall. Inside it was loud and full of children of all ages. There were a few play pens set up, some young children colouring nearby, along the walls, children were reading, playing clapping games, dozing against pillars. In the centre of the room, two children spun a jump rope while a line of their peers took turns skipping. Adults milled about, checking and soothing and scolding. Gillian's eyes swept over the masses of children, wondering which one would be coming home with her. She followed Annemarie up to one of the staff members.
"Connor, this is Dr. Foster, who will be taking Lucy in for the time being." She smiled and shook the man's hand, he had a firm grip and his hand was warm and dry.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. If you'll follow me?"
Gillian nodded, gingerly stepping around running children as the man, Connor, led her through the hall. Unable to suppress it, Gillian's innery psychologist gazed around the room. Most of the children were playing and wore expressions of enjoyment. From their dispersion throughout the hall, it seemed as though most of the children were comfortable enough in new places, suggesting a certain degree of self-assurance. These were well looked-after children. They were moving towards the colouring area, where several tables were pushed together and strewn with paper, crayons and markers. Intending to appear open and relaxed when she met Lucy, Gillian shrugged off her tailored coat and folded it, along with her scarf, over hier arm.
A little boy ran up to Connor and threw his arms around the man's leg. "Whoa! Jason!" Connor pretended to stumble sideways and the little boy shrieked with laughter. Gillian laughed. The staff here seemed to be well in tune with the needs of their charges, that was a good sign. Connor grinned back at her, then scooped the tot up into the air, settling him against his chest. Jason threw his head back and giggled wildly, as if this were the best thing in the world. The man holding him glanced back at Gillian with a sharing grin, then bounced the boy gently. "Alright, Superman, do you think you can help me?"
The boy's big, mirth-filled brown eyes rolled up to look at Connor and his laughter took on a sighing sound as he quieted, listening.
"I'm looking for Lucy, have you seen her?"
Gillian's heart warmed a little as the tiny boy nodded and pointed a chubby finger down the table. "See's over dere." he lisped.
"Ah, I see her." Connor's voice became jestingly formal. "Thank you very much, kind sir, for your aid." He gave a mock salute with one hand and placed the laughing boy back on the ground, where he quickly scrambled away, towards a group of boys building something with foam blocks. Connor turned to Gillian but her gaze had followed Jason's gesture and landed on a little girl sitting by herself near the end of the craft tables. "Is that her?"
Connor nodded, then looked knowingly back at her "If you'd like to sit with her for a little while and get acquainted, I can leave you to it." he offered.
She should say something nice about how good he was with the kids but she couldn't wait. "Thank you" would have to suffice. The look on Connor's face told her it did and, as promised, he turned from her, leaving her to approach the little girl.
Lucy's face was down, focusing on her artwork. She was dressed in a clean, if faded and slightly overlarge, brown sweatshirt and a pair of green jersey pants. Dark red curls were drawn away from her face into a low ponytail. Gillian took a measured breath.
She approached the little girl from the side, not wanting to startle her. She summoned her best comforting smile. "Lucy?"