Not long after starting school, Naima joined girl scouts. So once a week, I pick her up an hour after school gets out. I pull up to the steps and see Claire sitting there. Girl Scouts hasn't let out yet, and she's alone.
"Are you in Girl Scouts?" I ask her softly.
She shakes her head.
"Ok, so how come you're still here?" I ask.
"Mommy must have forgetted about me again. It's ok, I just have to walk home. I should have got started all ready, but I was going to wait for Claire to come out so I could stay goodbye to her," she says.
"You were going to walk home?" I ask.
She nods.
"That's two miles. There is no way you could have made it before it got dark."
"I know I shoulda already left. I get in trouble when I get home after dark," she says, standing up.
"Honey, I'll give you a ride home," I tell her.
"Ok, but I don't think I should go to your house again," she says.
"You know it isn't your job to take care of your brother. It's your mother's job."
"He was hungry, and he got a diaper rash," Claire says with her head down.
"And that was your mom's fault. She knew that you were going to be gone. It was her son. She heard him crying. She should have done something about it."
"But she didn't, and if I was there I could have," Claire said.
Just then, a heard of Girl Scouts come running out of the building.
"Did your Mommy forget about you again?" Naima asks. My heart clenches as I realize that this must be something that happens on a regular basis.
"Honey, what if we stopped by your house, and took Johnny with us to our house?" I ask.
She grins, "If you really don't mind."
-0-0-0-
Johnny is perhaps the most clingy child I have ever met. He tries to cling to his sister, but I fear for her back. So the whole time that he's at my house, I let him cling to me. He rubs a snotty nose on my shirt in a way that could be interpreted, by someone with an imagination, as a snuggle.
"Can you read Johnny a story?" Claire asks.
"Sure, why don't you go pick one out," I ask her, knowing that as much as she loves her brother, she is asking more for herself than for him.
-0-0-0-
I am almost asleep when I hear my husband sigh. I roll over and look at him.
"We could file," he says.
"There is no way that anything would come of it. She hasn't done anything illegal," I tell him.
"I know," he says, "But she sure as hell doesn't deserve those kids."
"Where do you want them to go?" I ask him.
"I want them to come here, forever," he says.
"That's not going to happen," I scoff.
"Why not?" he asks with startling intensity.
"You really want to expand our family?" I ask.
"Maybe," he mutters.
"We could have another baby," I say.
"No, I don't want to expand my family that way. If we're going to have more kids, it's going to be foster kids that no one wants. I've… I've pushed that part of me down for so long. But there is a part of me that is still a terrified eight-year-old. Someone that never landed in one of those really good foster homes. I mean, I never had a bad one. I never got abused or neglected or had to put up with anything like what that little girl is putting up with right now. But I never got loved and accepted as a member of a family. I… want to be there for her. And if not for her… for someone."
"I see myself in that little girl as well," I say.
He nods, "I figured so. Raising a little brother."
"It wasn't like that… with me," I explain, trying to vindicate my father.
"I know it wasn't. But… I think it was a little more like that than you think it was," he says.
"So… how do foster parents get chosen?" I ask.
He laughs lightly, "It's not a lottery. If you want a foster kid, and they determine you are good enough, you get it. They need more foster parents than they have."
"So they just give away children?" I ask in shock.
He nods.
"And there was no-one to take you? At least, no-one to take you forever?" I say sadly.
"So, do you really want to do this?" he asks me.
"I think our family is ready to take on a few kids that really need us," I say.
"You know that they probably won't be Claire and Jonny, right?"
I nod my head, "But we can keep helping them out too, right?"
"No way we're going to stop that," he assures me.
-0-0-0-
"The Jacksons are here!" Claire exclaims, running out of her bedroom as I come to pick her up the next Saturday.
"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Mrs. Moore says.
"I was just going to have your children come over to my house and play," I say.
"She said we could have a sleepover!" Claire says excitedly.
"Why ya always taking my kids?" she asks.
"I like them. They're good kids. My kids are good friends with them," I explain.
"I'm a good mother," she says firmly.
"I'm not saying you're not," I'm thinking it real hard though, "Friends spend time at one another's houses."
She eyes me critically, but suddenly I feel like she's not judging me, but judging herself.
"You'll bring them back tomorrow?" she asks.
"Of course," I say with a smile.
"They're my kids," she reminds me.
"I know they are," I tell her. She turns away.
I take her son out of the little girl's arms, and into my own. Then I walk out into the van and adjust my son's seat to fit her son. I don't have to adjust Eshe's to fit Claire anymore. I bought another car seat for Claire. I'd get one for her brother too, but there just isn't enough room in the van. If our family is really going to be expanding, we're going to have to think about a bigger vehicle. Or we'll just have to take two cars every time we go somewhere.
"Mommy was mad at you," Claire says.
"No, she was just wanted more time with her kids," I offer, trying to a positive spin on it.
"I didn't think… she wanted me around," Claire says with a sigh.
"Someone would have to be crazy not to want you around," I say with a smile.
-0-0-0-
There is screaming in the middle of the night. I run into the girls' room. It's Eshe, with a look of terror on her face. She's reaching into the darkness and screaming. I slide down onto the bed next to her, and hold her tight to me.
"It's ok, honey, it was just a bad dream. Mommy is going to take care of you. Mommy loves you, everything is all right. You are perfectly fine, honey." I keep cooing words to her until she goes back to sleep.
I stand up to leave, but I am stopped by a tiny voice. "Mrs. Jackson, I think I had a nightmare too."
I lay down on the floor where she is sleeping in a sleeping bag. "You know, honey, anytime you want to be held or hugged or kissed, you can just ask for it. You don't even have to have a reason."
She leans against me, "This makes me feel so safe," she whispers.
"Me to," I confess, "And loved. My Mommy used to cuddle me every night before I went to sleep. After she died, I used to cuddle my little baby brother like this. And then he told me that he was too old for it, and I missed it for many years. When I grew up I married Daniel, and then I cuddled him. And then we had babies, and I cuddled them."
"I didn't know that babies were supposed to be cuddled. If I knew that, I would have been cuddling Jonny. Do you think I messed him up, because I didn't know?"
"Naw, kids are more resilient than that. You're ok, and your mom didn't cuddle you, right?" I ask.
She nods her head.
"Your brother is going to be fine."
"He'd be more finer if he lived here, like Danny," she says.
I don't know how to respond to that. I agree with her 100%. But saying that out loud would sound more like calling her a bad mother than calling her mother one to her ears. "Honey, Jonny is going to be fine."
"You should take him away," she says plainly.
My breath catches, "It doesn't really work like that. You can't just take people's babies away from them."
"What if you could? Would you take Jonny to live with you, if my Mommy said you could?"
I know that Daniel said we shouldn't mention anything to the kids. That we shouldn't get anything close to a promise. That anything I say is just going to result in more pain and disappointment for her down the road. But I can't help myself.
"If we could, we would take both of you."
She gasps turning to me in surprise, "What about Matt?"
"That's your big brother, right?" I ask, remembering that she mentioned him once.
She nods.
"How old is he?"
"He's twelveteen," she explains.
"Twelve?" I ask in shock. There is a twelve-year-old out there who ran away from home. A twelve year old that is scared and alone and trying to take care of himself? "When is the last time you saw Matt?" I ask.
She's silent.
"Honey?" I prompt.
She's crying.
"You're going to be mad at me."
"No," I assure her, "There is nothing you could ever do or say that would make me mad at you."
"I'm not supposed to lie, but Matty told me that it is a secret."
"So you see him more often than your mom does?" I ask.
"Yeah, he comes sometime when he knows that Mommy isn't home. And he brings us groceries, and sometimes toys. But we keep the toys hidden from Mommy. You can lift up the floorboards, and I hid them there," she explains.
"Is Matt ok?" I ask softly.
She nods her head, and I realize that she has no idea. To her, her brother is a grown-up. It would never occur to her to worry about him.
"Yeah, honey, if Daniel and I could, we would take all three of you," I say, "But I really don't think that is going to happen."
"Mrs. Jackson, you're a really good mother."
"And you are a really good kid," I tell her.
-0-0-0-
"Where is Claire?" I ask a few days later as I pick up my daughter from school.
"She wasn't in school today," Naima explains.
My stomach clenches with worry about all the horrible reasons that she might not be in school.
"Claire never comes to school on Tuesdays. The daycare person doesn't work that day, so she has to stay home with Jonny."
My heart suddenly soars. I know that this might not be a normal reaction to news like this, but I see an opening for something good in this. It looks like her mother actually is doing something that is illegal. "So, you're telling me that once a week Claire misses school to look after her brother?"
Naima nods as she locks herself into the car seat.
"And she is alone, just her and the Jonny?" I ask.
"Yep," Naima says cheerfully.
I rush over to their house. Sure enough, the two of them are all alone. Suddenly, I feel really bad that I was excited about this. These kids were in danger. They have been in danger once per week for who knows how long.
"Claire, were you alone all day?" I ask her, taking her into my arms and kissing her forehead.
She nods, "Am I in trouble?"
"No, honey. Let's get Jonny, and come to my place," I tell her.
"Jonny is napping," she says.
"Ok, we'll wait for him to wake up," I say.
"Yeah, I've never got to play at Claire's house before!" Naima says excitedly. I flinch; I would never allow my daughter to play in a place like this. Mrs. Moore will be pissed if I clean her house, but… I don't see another option.
"Girls, you want to play spick and span?" I ask.
"Yeah!" Claire exclaims, at the same time that that Naima says, "Not falling for that one again."
I smile at her. "Ok, what kind of cleaning supplies do we have?" I ask. Claire opens up a cupboard, revealing a nearly-empty bottle of pine sol and a sponge in there. My heart sinks. There isn't even a way to make this place clean. "Well, I guess we have the challenge of playing spick and span with soap."
A half an hour later, Naima is bored with the "game", so I allow her to play in the (mostly) clean kitchen. But Claire stays by me the whole time, watching every move that I make. My heart breaks when I realize that she is learning how to clean.
After a bit more than an hour of cleaning, Johnny wakes up. I offer to keep cleaning, but I can tell by Claire's face that she wants desperately to go to my house, so we leave the house half-cleaned.
-0-0-0-
"Ok, time for paperwork," Daniel says sprawling it across the kitchen table that night after the Moore's have been returned to their house, and our own kids are in bed.
"I think we need to do other paperwork than working to be foster parents tonight," I tell him. "Claire was left alone with Jonny all day today."
"You've got to be kidding me," he says with raised eyebrows.
I shake my head. "Well," he says, with a note of resonation. "Luckily, I picked up that paperwork when I was in the office as well. So, let's write down every single thing that we know."
"Do you think it will be enough to get them put in foster care?" I ask.
"I don't know. All the foster kids that I knew were removed for far bigger stuff than that. But the ones with more stable lives might have had relatives to fall back on so they didn't end up in group homes or with the families who took several children at a time. Honestly, sometimes the system gets overwhelmed, and all they can do is deal with the really bad cases. The ones that would give you nightmares. The kids who are resilient, the ones that are going to survive it, they're the ones that often get forgotten."
"So basically, she's being punished for her ability to persevere?" I ask.
"Pretty much," he confesses.
I look away from him, and work hard to stop the sob from coming out of my throat.
He pulls me into a hug, "Its ok. We're going to be there for them one way or another. The Moores are going to be fine."
"Daniel, they are not fine. One of them is living on the streets. And every night when I drop those kids off, it breaks my heart to send them into that dark, dingy house with no food and no love. I can't… I don't know if I can keep sending them back. Doing that forever."
"What choice do we have?" he asks, "You want to stop picking them up?"
"Never," I say firmly.
"Ok, I know this hurts, but that is what we have to do for these kids. At least for now."
Suddenly my eyes go bright, "If she has contact with Matt, we should be able to get him to come live with us."
"That would be considered harboring a fugitive," Daniel says, shaking his head.
"What is that?" I ask. I hate how every now and again I still don't understand my adopted culture.
"It means we could get in trouble for it. We could be fined if we didn't tell the police we knew where he was."
"And if we did tell the police?" I ask.
"They'd send him back to his mother."
"That's not happening," I say with a shake of my head.
"I'm not saying we're going to turn him away if he shows up here, Sha'uri. I'm just not proposing that we go looking for him."
"Ok, husband," I agree.
