ah, the penultimate chapter. sad how that comes about, isn't it? don't worry, though - this chapter and the next are doozies. aw, and lena's perspective was really fun to write! she's so great :)
hope y'all like it! i do ;)
Little child, be not afraid/Though thunder explodes, and lightning flash
Illuminates your tearstained face/I am here tonight
And someday, you'll know/That nature is so/And this same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and lands/On forests and sands
And makes the beautiful world that you'll see/In the morning
~ Vienna Teng, "Lullabye for a Stormy Night"
I shut off my car and take a deep breath. I just finished dropping Jude off at Connor's house, making uncomfortable small talk with his mother who was obviously trying to impress me. I generally don't like talking to other parents, especially when said parents pay my salary - it's awkward and strange and I'd have much rather gotten down on the floor and played Legos with Connor's little siblings, but they were hurriedly ushered upstairs when Jude and I got there.
Mariana went to the mall with Kelsey and some other girls, because even though Stef and I are both very anti-Kelsey these days, I needed her to be out of the house. Supposedly they're having a sleepover at Annabel's, which is good. Brandon went to Aiden's house, and Jesus went to an away volleyball tournament. He was very understanding about us not coming with him.
"Mama, chillax," he said. "Just think of all the fun stuff I'll be able to do without my moms breathing down my neck!"
I whacked him upside the head, but I was grateful for that. One of the best things about Jesus is his immortal sense of humor.
When I unlock the door, I walk in to an empty house. Silent, devoid of children. Just two weeks ago I would've given anything for a day like this, but now, it feels bleak and lonely.
I've been on edge since Stef called me from work - no amount of pacing or writing lists has helped me compartmentalize my feelings. I know, in my head, that it made sense for Stef to go alone. It was a last-minute decision, and I was needed here. Until Jude is legally a Foster, and no longer a foster, I can't leave him alone. And even so, he's been a wreck too. He begged me to let him stay, but we talked about how Callie needed to rest a little before she dove into the deep end.
As I sat with him last night, reading quietly from one of Callie's worn paperbacks, he kept looking at me like he had something to say. I asked him if anything was wrong, but he just bit his lip and shook his head.
"I love you, Jude," I whispered as I kissed him goodnight.
His eyes filled with tears as he said, "I love you, too."
I putter around the house for a while, folding towels and fluffing the pillows on Callie's bed. Finally, I take a book into the living room and start to read on the couch. But the fifth time my eyes stray from the words on the page to the window behind me, I give up. I set the book aside, clutch a pillow to my chest, and wait.
"Honey, we're home!"
Stef's voice feels so welcome against my ears. I heard them pull up the drive, but I didn't want to startle Callie by running out there and planting kisses all over her face. Some other time, I think, because I'm sure her blush would be adorable. But for now, I want her to feel as comfortable as possible.
"Stef," I say, coming into the foyer from the living room. "Hello." I kiss her gently, having missed her company beside me for the past two nights. Then I turn my attentions to Callie, who's standing close enough to the door to make my heart beat double-time.
I can't help myself. My face breaks out in a huge grin, and tears flood my eyes as I look at her. She looks exhausted, sad, and embarrassed, but I have never seen a prettier sight (except perhaps Stef on our wedding day). I hold my arms out to her and ask, "Can I hug you?"
She smiles nervously, but nods, and Stef gives her a little push as I rush forward to lock my arms around her. I can't stop myself from kissing her head and rubbing her back, as if to reassure myself that she's really here. That she's really home.
"Callie, sweets, why don't you go upstairs and unpack? Mama and I are gonna get lunch started, and we'll call you when it's ready."
I look at Stef, not wanting to let Callie out of my sight, but she tells me with her eyes that something is wrong. I disentangle myself from my daughter and give her one last peck on the cheek.
"Alright, you heard Mom," I say, but my voice sounds more sad and less joking than I'd intended.
Callie takes her bags and goes upstairs, and I watch her back until I hear her and Mariana's door open and shut.
"What's wrong, Stef?" I ask quietly, following my wife into the kitchen.
"It's been a hard couple of days, Lena," she says, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring herself some water. "That girl…" she sighs and rubs a hand across her face. "That girl has been through more than we could've imagined. Even more than what's listed in her file."
I drop down onto a stool, stunned. "There's more?" I ask softly, not wanting to believe it.
Stef nods. "Apparently, in addition to having multiple abusive foster fathers, which we suspected but couldn't confirm, her and Jude's biological father was also an abusive alcoholic."
"Oh my god," I whisper. "So she and Jude were-"
"Well, not Jude. Just Callie." Stef answers my unfinished question, and her frown tells me there's more to that story.
"Why not Jude?" I ask.
She tilts her head to me, and I think I know the answer. "I've never seen that kind of love before," she tells me. "Not from siblings, anyway."
My heart breaks. "Oh, Callie," I moan, heart full of anguish for her and anger at anyone who would dare to lay a hand on my children.
"Their father murdered their mother," Stef goes on, and my stomach sinks like a rock.
"Oh, god," I say. "How?"
"He was drunk and crashed their car. He got gross vehicular homicide - ten years - for killing another family as well as his wife."
"Ten years, that's-"
"He'll be out in four. Yeah," Stef says. "But I don't think we have anything to worry about."
"Why not?" I stare at her blankly. Surely, if I were in jail, the first thing I'd do when I got out would be to find my kids.
"Callie says she and Jude used to write him letters, but he stopped answering when she was about twelve. I don't think he cares, to be honest. And if he does come looking for Jude, I'll hit him with a restraining order. He's not gonna touch my babies," Stef growls.
I love it when Stef gets into Mama Tiger mode, but I'm still concerned.
"But, the adoption," I protest, my voice faint at the thought of losing Callie and Jude forever. "How can we-"
Stef's face is tired, and I suddenly realize that she's as scared as I am.
"I'm sorry, Stef, I'm just-" I try to explain, but she's right there, her nose against mine.
"I know, love," she whispers, her breath warm on my mouth with coffee and tenderness. "We'll talk to Bill, okay? We'll talk to CPS and figure something out. We'll make this work."
I nod, our foreheads brushing lightly, and she leans in to kiss me.
"God," I groan, her lips tugging away from mine at last. "I have missed you."
She chuckles, her throat vibrating against my shoulder. "I missed you too, Lena."
Lunch is a quiet affair, regardless of how often Stef and I try to start conversation. Callie isn't closed off, per se - she's much more relaxed with her body, and she doesn't give off that protective and angry vibe so much anymore. But she doesn't want to talk about silly stuff.
Watching her out of the corner of my eye, I notice her open her mouth several times, as though she's trying to work up the courage to say something. Stef is going on about some story they heard on the radio on the way home from the airport, and I want to shush her but I know Callie will clam up immediately. So I eat my sandwich and wait.
"I'm really sorry," she bursts out, cutting Stef off in the middle of a rant about bungee-jumping squirrels or something. I lay a hand on her arm.
"For what, Callie?" I ask. There are myriad things I imagine she's sorry for, but none of them warrant an apology at this point.
"For running away. For not…" she takes a breath, seemingly steeling herself for what she's about to say. "For not considering your feelings when I did. I guess trying not to be selfish ended up being selfish anyway, huh?"
"Selfish?" Stef asks in confusion. I know my face mirrors hers. "Who said anything about being selfish?"
Callie looks like a deer in headlights, and I wonder if we were already supposed to know about this. "Callie, did someone say you were selfish?" I ask her.
She bites her lip, and I can tell that she's afraid of answering.
"Honey, you're not in trouble," Stef tries to comfort her.
"Jude," she murmurs. My eyes widen in recognition, and I curse myself for not pushing him last night.
"That's what we argued about, after Brandon and I...he said it was like before. That I don't care about him," she chokes out, and I know those words wound her like nothing else he could've said. That girl would've laid down her life for her brother if given the opportunity. I never thought I'd feel this way, but I'm a little upset with Jude. "He said that I was gonna ruin this, just like I ruined it at the Olm-"
Her voice cuts off, and Stef and I gasp simultaneously. Callie didn't want Jude to know the truth about what happened with Liam, so Stef and I never told him. We told the big kids not to either. And I guess he really never figured it out, because he would've never said that to Callie if he knew the honest truth.
"Oh, Callie," I say, holding her hand in both of mine. She turns her head to me, and her eyes are as big and vulnerable as they were on the day I first met her.
"It wasn't my fault," she whimpers, and I can't resist the urge to hug her.
"No, sweetheart, of course it wasn't," I say, shooting Stef a worried look over Callie's shoulder. My wife looks about to cry herself. "Don't ever think that way, Callie, please. Jude didn't know. That doesn't excuse what he said, but-"
"Of course it does," Callie disagrees, pulling away from me and rubbing her eyes. "He had every right to say what he did. I was being selfish with Brandon, and I should've known better with Liam."
"Callie, hey," Stef says strongly, drawing Callie's attention. "That is not true. You were fourteen with Liam - you were a child. Even if you had known better, that does not excuse his behavior. He was nineteen; an adult. He took advantage of your situation and your age, and that is never okay. Do you understand me?"
Callie nods.
"Good. Because you can never be faulted for someone else's mistake. When I think of what he did to you…" Stef clenches her fists. "I really wanna go work out. With a punching bag. And a picture of his face."
Callie giggles, and Stef smiles softly.
"As for what happened with Brandon," she continues, and Callie goes rigid in her chair. "We're gonna find a good family therapist that the three of us can see to work on some of these things. Maybe we'll get some of the other kids involved, too, if that's okay - just so you can get so sick of hearing how much we all love you."
Callie nods, but I can see that she's not entirely thrilled at the idea. "Okay," she says.
Stef raises one of her eyebrows at me, and I nod. "Okay, Callie," I say quietly. "We were gonna wait until a little later to talk about this with you, but I think maybe it's best that we get this all out of the way while we're talking about less than pleasant things."
She's still stiff, and I rub her arm a bit to relax her.
"Mom and I have been talking about you running away," I say, gauging Callie's reaction. She's thin-lipped and tense, but she seems alright. "And while we understand why you did it - probably better now than before, so thank you for sharing with us - we want to make sure that you never do anything that reckless and heart-attack-inducing again. So we've come up with some punishments for you."
"Okay," Callie answers, her voice small.
"The first part is about you running away," Stef butts in. "You're gonna be on restriction for two weeks."
Callie furrows her brow. "Is that like being grounded?"
Stef chuckles, somewhat evilly, and I'm reminded that she can be devious when she wants to be. "Oh no, honey. You're not grounded. But you won't have access to your shoes for the next two weeks."
"If I don't have shoes, how can I go anywhere?" Callie asks, bewildered.
"I guess you won't be able to," Stef answers.
"So, I'm grounded," Callie says.
"No, you're not grounded. Just on restriction."
Callie tosses her head back and groans, and Stef and I both laugh at the typical teenage reaction.
"In all honesty, Callie," I say, once I've controlled myself. "It would make both Mom and me feel a lot better if we could see you. When we woke up and you weren't there…" I'm trying not to rehash the past weeks or make Callie feel guilty (more than she does already), but I've only been more scared once in my life; when I thought Stef might not make it. "God, we were terrified."
She nods, and I can tell she gets it. "The other part is to remind you that what you do has an affect on all of us, and we all were hurting while you were gone. Each of us - that is to say Mom, me, Brandon, Jesus, Mariana, and Jude - wrote something we want you to remember. So you're gonna copy these six lines," I pull a folded piece of paper from my sweater and hand it to her, "100 times. Seven for each of us, times fourteen for the number of days you were gone, plus two to make it even. You'll have a lot of time in the next two weeks to do this, so don't worry about finishing it all right now."
Stef grabs our empty plates and takes them over to the sink. I scoot my stool closer to Callie's and wrap an arm around her shoulder.
"We love you, Callie," I say, emotion filling my voice. "We're so glad you're home."
"Me too," she whispers. "I…" she's struggling with the words, so I sit quietly and let her sort it out. "I've never felt like that before. Like...Jude and I, we've run before. We've moved from place to place, and not once has leaving felt so awful as leaving here did. I was miserable," she says earnestly, looking up into my face. "I was miserable the whole time."
I can't stop myself. "Good," I say. "I want you to stay here forever."
Callie nestles her head into my arm, and it feels wonderful.
We spend the rest of the afternoon lounging around the house. Though I'm glad that Stef and I made the decision to get the other kids out of the house before she and Callie came home, I know from her restless shifting that Callie wants to see everyone, especially Jude. I, on the other hand, am perfectly content to hang out with my girls, watching movies and eating junk.
We order take-out for dinner, and Stef and I are curled up together with Callie tucked into my side. As the latest movie - some cheesy pay-per-view romcom - winds down, Callie squirms away from me and stands up.
"Um, I'm gonna go take a bath," she says. "I feel all grimy."
"Okay, babe," Stef says nonchalantly. "We'll be up in a little while."
Stef and I clear off the coffee table, throwing away empty paper cartons and putting leftovers in the fridge. When we go upstairs, I can't help but sneak past the kids' bathroom, hoping to hear Callie moving around.
"Lena," Stef hisses warningly at me, but I can't help myself. When I press my ear up against the door, though, I hear a faint choking noise.
Frowning, I listen more closely, and hear it again. Then I realize it's not choking, but someone trying to muffle their sobs. My heart breaks.
"I'll be in in a minute," I whisper to Stef, who throws up her hands in exasperation.
I knock softly on the door, and the crying stops, but Callie doesn't answer. I knock again.
"Yes?" She asks feebly.
"Can I come in?"
There's a pause, but no answer, so I poke my head in. Callie's hunched over, knees to her chest, and she turns her head to the side to look at me.
"Okay," she says, and I step in to the room.
"What's the matter, pretty girl?"
She looks so fragile, staring up at me from the depths of the tub. When she doesn't answer, I pull up the old milking stool we've had in their bathroom since the kids were little and grab a cup from the cabinet by the sink.
"Did you wash your hair already?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"Do you mind if I do, then?"
Another shake. I come over beside her and sit on the stool, and a hand automatically goes out to stroke her shoulder.
"Don't look at me," Callie pleads in a whisper, and her entire body is shaking.
"You don't have to be embarrassed, sweetheart," I tell her, trying to be brave for both our sakes. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."
I take her shampoo bottle and squirt a bit of sweet-smelling goo into my palm. I rub my hands together for a second, then begin to lather Callie's dark, shiny hair. She's still huddled into herself, and I just want her to feel safe, so I begin to weave a story.
"You know, when Mariana and Jesus first came to stay with us, he was the only person she'd talk to. She couldn't even look at us most of the time. He was her mouthpiece, much like you've been for Jude. He looked out for her, and took care of her."
I pull my fingers slowly through each of the knots in her hair. She doesn't flinch, but I go gently anyway. Once her hair lies flat, I move from the ends of her hair to her scalp. She gives a tiny, but happy, moan when I massage my fingers into her head, and I smile.
"But one day, out of the blue, instead of handing Jesus the shampoo bottle, she gave it to me instead. I was so afraid I was going to spook her or make her feel uncomfortable, so I went slowly. Lean your head back a little?"
Callie does as I ask, and I shield her eyes with one hand while filling the cup with my other and pouring it over her head. I repeat a few times until I'm sure all the suds are out, and then I reach for the conditioner.
"Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, Miss Thing was not pleased that I wasn't doing things exactly the way she'd become accustomed to. So she began to direct me; she would point out what I was doing wrong, and tell Jesus to show me how to do it right."
Callie doesn't laugh, but I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, "Yeah, that sounds like Mariana."
"Well, once we got her to start talking, we never got her to stop," I joke. I smooth the creamy gel through Callie's hair, and dip my hands in the water to clean them. "But she was scared of us, too."
"I know," Callie says softly. "She still is."
"What?" I ask. That can't be right.
"I, um…" Callie balks. "I wasn't supposed to say anything. I mean, you know-well, I guess you don't. Some kids who were fosters before they got adopted, they...kinda have issues adjusting. Mariana pretends like she's all accustomed to this life, but she's afraid you're gonna change your minds."
"How do you know that? Did she tell you that?" I am stunned.
"I heard her and your mom talking, actually. She thinks that, 'cause of all the lying about Ana and stuff, that you aren't gonna love her anymore."
My heart hurts. "Why didn't my mom tell me this?"
"Maybe because she didn't want your feelings to get hurt. It isn't about you, Lena," Callie says quietly. "She knows she hurt you, and she knows it's her actions that put Stef in that house to get shot. She's just afraid that you're gonna decide she isn't worth it. We all are."
"But, I-" I know it took me longer than it should have to forgive the twins, especially Mariana. But I talked to her, at the hospital, and told her we'd love her no matter what.
"I know," Callie says. "Like I said, it's not about you. When all you've ever been told is that you're worthless, sometimes it takes more than two people saying you're not to turn your brain around."
"You know we'd never do that, right?" I ask, mostly to reassure myself. "We'd never turn our backs on any one of our kids - Brandon, you and Jude, or the twins. Never."
Callie smiles a little. "Yeah, Stef said something like that. Up here, I know that," she says, tapping her head with her pointer finger. "But sometimes my heart plays tricks on me."
"Well, we'll have to work on that."
"Yeah," she says softly. "We."
