Chapter 21

Lena

"How do you feel about seeing Dr. Kodema again, honey?" I asked Callie.

She turned from her painting and shrugged. "I don't know."

"Are you sure?" I pressed. "I don't want to force you into something that makes you uncomfortable, but I can't know how you're feeling unless you talk to me, hon."

She turned back to the wall, thoughtfully. "I don't want to see her again." She glanced over at me quickly. "If that's okay, I mean."

"It's fine," I assured her. "I had a feeling you might feel that way."

"She's nice and all," she went on. "But I don't know if I can trust her enough to talk to her. I know it's her job, but she still turned us in."

I nodded. "You're right. Your therapist should be someone you can trust enough to open up to. How do you feel about this, Soph?" When she didn't answer, I turned around.

"I haven't seen Sophia in a while," said Mariana, looking around the room. It was the next afternoon and the girls and I were getting some painting done, while the boys were unpacking Brandon's belongings in he and Jesus's room and Stef was at work. Sophia had been helping a minute ago, but now she was nowhere in sight.

"I think she went to the bathroom," Callie said, carefully painting around the edge of a window.

"I'll go check on her," I told them, standing up.

I went into the hall, and saw that the bathroom door was open. "Soph? Are you in there?" I stopped. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What'cha doing there, sweetie?"

Sophia was sitting on the toilet, shaving her legs with Brandon's electric razor. It appeared that she'd already nicked herself, too, judging by the thin line of blood running down her leg.

"My legs are hairy," she said quietly. "Kids at school are starting to notice. And all the other girls are shaving their legs..." She looked up at me with damp puppy dog eyes.

I nodded, looking down at the dark hair on her calves, suddenly struck by unpleasant memories of being twelve. "Did someone make fun of you, honey?"

"Yes," she admitted. "The girls in gym class."

"I went through the same thing when I was your age." I knelt down in front of her and put my hand on her knee. "Sophie, I think you're the perfect age to start shaving," I told her. "But you're not quite doing it right. And that's okay, because no one ever taught you."

"Do you think... you could teach me?" she asked, sheepishly.

I winked at her. "I'd be glad to. And in the future, if you need help with something, I want you to know that you can come to me or Stef. You don't have to be afraid to ask us for things, honey. We always have time for you." I took the electric razor from her, then cleaned her cut and put a band-aid over it. Then, I found a new razor and Mariana's raspberry scented shaving cream.

"This is the kind of razor you want to use," I explained. "And you don't want to shave your legs when they're dry, because it makes them really itchy. Plus, you could hurt yourself, as you've already found out," I added with a smile.

I sprayed some foam into my hand and massaged it into her skin.

"That smells good," she said.

I took a dab of it on my finger and dotted her nose, and we both burst out in giggles. "How about I do this leg for you," I offered. "And then you can try the other one. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "It does."

I shaved her left leg, carefully avoiding her bandage. When I was done, I handed her the razor and guided her through the right leg. "You did great, sweetheart," I smiled. "That wasn't hard at all, was it?"

"No," she said.

Then, suddenly her grin became serious. "Lena, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Promise you won't get mad...?" she ventured.

"I promise," I assured her. "You know you can tell me anything, peanut."

She took a deep breath. "Well, since I'm getting adopted, I was just wondering... could I please call you mama now?" Her dark eyes were full of longing to be loved and accepted. She wanted it so badly, you could see it in her face. It was the saddest, sweetest thing I'd ever seen.

"Oh, honey," I sighed, blinking back tears. I gently squeezed her shoulder. "I could never be mad at you. I really wanted to let you call me mama the first time you asked, but I didn't want you to get hurt if things didn't work out. You understand that there's always a chance the adoption might not go through, right?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It's just that... the other kids get to call you mama. And I don't want to feel like a foster kid anymore. I want to feel like your real kid."

"Sophia, you are our real kid," I told her. "Our love for you and Callie is real, and that's all that matters. Love makes us a family, not DNA or a piece of paper. So as long as you understand that nothing is settled yet with the adoption... I'd be proud to let you call me mama." I brushed her hair back and gave her a hug. "I love you so much, baby girl."

"I love you too, mama," she said, hugging me with all her might. I kissed her cheek, giving her one more squeeze.

"What about Stef?" she asked. "Can I call her mom?"

"It's up to her," I said. "You'll have to ask her. I think I heard her come home from work a minute ago."

"Okay," she said. "Come on."

In the hall, I knocked softly on my bedroom door. "Stef, honey?"

"Come in," she called back. "Door's open."

Stef had just changed out of her uniform, and was putting it away. When Sophia saw the gun in her hand, she froze. The poor kid was scared, as scared as she was the first time she saw Stef in uniform. Slowly, she started to back away.

"Sophia, baby," Stef breathed. "It's okay."

"No!" she cried, her breathing ragged. "Get it away." She squeezed her eyes shut, and tears leaked out. Her whole body was trembling. I took her in my arms and rocked her.

"Its okay," Stef promised, opening the safe in the closet. "I'm locking it up right now." She carefully emptied the bullets, then put the gun inside and closed it tight. "See, sweetie? It's gone." She shut the closet, then approached our foster daughter.

"Are you okay now, honey?" she asked quietly. She reached out for Sophia, but Sophia pulled away. I could tell that my wife felt terrible, and my heart ached for her.

"Look at me, Soph," Stef urged, tilting the young girl's chin so she could look her in the eye. "It's me, baby. Stef. I would never hurt you. You're safe. Okay?"

"Okay," Sophia said, cautiously.

Stef sat down on the bed and patted her knee. "Come here, love. Sit in my lap."

"I'm too big," Sophia fretted.

"No, you're not," Stef smiled. "Last Winter when Mariana had the flu, I held her in my lap, and you're smaller than her."

"Really?" she asked.

Stef nodded. "Come on. I want to hold you."

Reluctantly, Sophia climbed into Stef' lap, and my wife cradled her in her arms. "I feel bad that you got so scared, love," she said softly. "I've been so careful about handling my gun around you. I really have. But there are gonna be times when you probably will see it." She kissed the girl's cheek and squeezed her tight. "I know it upsets you, baby. I do. But I want to remind you that you are safe. I'm trained to handle my gun. I keep it locked up, and I'm the only person who knows the combination. I would never put this family in danger. You guys are my whole world." She pressed her lips to Sophia's temple. "Did you know that I've never even had to use it on duty?"

Sophia looked up at her. "Really?"

"Really," she said. "And I hope I never have to. The thought of using it even scares me a little. So, I get where you're coming from, lovey, I do. It's a weapon, and it's powerful. But my gun also keeps me safe on the job, you know?"

Nodding, Sophia leaned against Stef and rested her head on her chest, calmer now. "I'm sorry I freaked out."

"You don't have to apologize," Stef said. "Just know that you're safe in this house."

My wife looked so sweet holding our daughter in her lap, it made my heart melt. "Soph," I said gently, rubbing her arm. "Why don't you ask Stef your question now?"

She lifted her head up to look Stef in the eye. "Lena said I can call her mama. Is it okay if I call you mom?"

I held up my hands. "I reminded her that the adoption isn't official until we hear it from the judge, and she understands that. But I said it was okay."

"You want to call me mom?" Stef asked, obviously pleased.

"Yes," Sophia nodded. "Is it okay?"

"Heck yeah," she smiled. "How can I say no to this cute little face?" She pinched Sophia's cheek and gave her a kiss.

"I love you, mom," Sophia told her. She reached out for my hand and squeezed my fingers. "I love both of you."

"We love you too, darling," Stef whispered. "We always will."

Stef (the next day)

I'd been sitting at my desk at the station all morning, trying to follow the leads on Lindsey and Laura, and I didn't have much to show for it. I didn't know where they lived, if they were together, and neither of them had been arrested. But I wouldn't -couldn't- give up. I had to find them, whether they wanted to be found or not. The situation was getting more desperate. Callie had woken up during the night with a night terror; she hadn't had one in so long, and she was inconsolable. Sophia was scared, so I sent her upstairs to sleep with Lena, and I stayed with Callie on the couch. This morning, though, she woke up with no memory of the night before, like always. I hated to see her like that, and I couldn't help but think that the sooner we got this mess settled, the better. For everyone's sake.

I banged my keyboard in frustration, which got Mike's attention. He scooted his desk chair closer to me. "What'd that keyboard do to you?"

I ran my fingers through my hair, sighing. "I need to find Brian's wife and daughter."

"How old is the daughter?" he asked, his eyes skimming the police database I was searching on.

I shrugged. "I haven't the slightest idea. Mid-to-late twenties, I'd guess."

"Maybe the problem is how you've been searching. What does every twenty-something have these days?" he pressed.

I turned to him and raised an eyebrow, starting to see what he was getting at. "Facebook?"

"Right," he smiled, patting me on the back. "Give it a try."

I typed Lindsey's name into a search engine, praying that she hadn't gotten married or changed her name. When the results popped up, I sucked in my breath, afraid to hope.

"I think this is her," I told Mike. The girl in the profile picture was blond with freckles, like Callie had described. I skimmed through her photos. Most of them were of herself and a toddler girl with white-blond hair. "Gracie, my little angel," she'd captioned one photo. Her profile said she lived in Arizona. Not far from here at all. "This has to be her."

I scrolled a little further down the page and stopped. There was a picture of the little girl, Gracie, sitting on the hood of a car, with Lindsey holding her hand. The license plate number was a little fuzzy, but it was readable. I reached for my reading glasses and squinted, trying to make out the letter and numbers, and jotted them down.

"Now that you have her license plate it'll be a cinch to find her," Mike smiled.

Minutes later, I was holding Lindsey's phone number in my hand. My heart thumping in my chest, I dialed it. It rang and rang, and finally, she answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi," I said. "Is this Lindsey Bowen?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "Who's this?"

"This is Officer Stefanie Adams Foster," I said. "Are you the daughter of a Mr. Brian S. Bowen?"

"Yes... why?"

"I'm calling regarding your father," I told her. "Is this a good time?"

"No," she said. "I don't want anything to do with my father. And you can tell him that." She hung up before I could even explain.

"Damn it," I muttered. I tried to call her back, but my call was sent to voice mail. I left her a quick message and my phone number. When I hung up, I felt like crying. So close... so damn close.

I stood up and grabbed my purse. "I'm taking a half-day," I told Mike, without explaining. I needed to be alone, to think.

When I got home, I changed my clothes and went to girls' room. I poured some paint and dipped a roller into it, hoping to paint away my frustrations.

Callie

My eyelids were heavy. They felt like lead. I was in English class, listening to Timothy drone on about a book I'd read half of at my last school. It was amazing how many halves of books I'd read, switching schools so often. I laid my head down on my desk, watching Emma take notes. I yawned. It wouldn't hurt to rest my eyes for just a minute...

"Callie?"

I jerked my head up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, to see Timothy standing over me. "Are we keeping you up, Miss Jacob?"

"I'm sorry," I muttered. How long had I been out?

"Callie, I tolerate a lot of things, but sleeping in class isn't one of them," he said. "Why don't you see yourself to the office?"

"But I-" I protested.

He shook his head and scribbled something on a slip of paper. "Go."

Sighing, I got up. Brandon gave me an understanding look as I left the classroom. Standing in the hall, I was shaking. No way was this the first time I'd gotten in trouble at school. Not by a long-shot. I did a lot of things I wasn't proud of in my former schools. Cheating, being one. Cutting class, being another. But in those other schools, the vice principal wasn't my foster mom.

I knocked on Lena's door.

"Come in," she called. When she saw me holding a discipline slip, she gave me a surprised, even disappointed look. "Callie. Hi, sweets. What's up?"

I handed her the note, dreading her reaction. I wasn't afraid of being punished; Stef and Lena's punishments usually consisted of grounding or taking away privileges, which was nothing compared to being beaten or locked in a closet. I was worried she'd tell Bill. Would he take us away if he thought we were having problems?

"You fell asleep in class, honey?" Lena asked, frowning.

I nodded, looking down at my shoes with remorse. "I'm sorry, Lena. It won't happen again."

She got up from her desk, took my face between her hands and looked into my eyes. "You haven't been sleeping well at all, have you Callie?"

"No," I admitted. "Not really."

"Would you like to go home and rest?" she asked me.

"Really?" I asked. "I'm not in trouble?"

She shook her head. "It's not your fault you're tired, sweetie. As long as you don't make a habit out of it, I don't see the problem with sending you home for a nap."

I sighed with relief. "Thanks, Lena."

She went to her desk and wrote out a pass. "Go lay down in the nurse's office, and I'll see if Stef can come get you."

"Okay." I went across the hall to the nurse, and gave her my pass. She took it, and waved me over to a cot. I laid down and stared at the ceiling, wondering how many germy heads had laid on the leather pillow before me, and how often they cleaned it. When that got too gross, I just lay still and listen to the clock tick while I waited for Stef.

I must have dozed off again. I woke up to the sound of a familiar voice. I saw Stef outside the nurse's window, signing me out of school, and my heart leaped. I waved, getting her attention.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," she said, coming over to me. She lay her hand on my forehead, then my cheek. "You ready to go home."

"Yes," I said, sitting up. "Thanks, Stef. I'm sorry you had to leave work for me."

"It was no problem. I was actually already home," she said. "I took a half-day off to get a little painting done in your room."

I noticed then that she wasn't in uniform. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and faded, paint-splattered jeans. Her blond hair was in a messy bun. My throat felt weird and tight. I wondered if I was coming down with something.

"I'll get that, love," she said, picking up my backpack. She took my hand and helped me up, and we went to the car.

When we got home, Stef asked me if I wanted a sandwich. "Okay," I said. "But first, can I see my room?"

"Yeah."

We went upstairs and she opened the door. I looked around, not blinking. The soft blue looked beautiful with the white woodwork. It looked like the sky, and clouds. There was only one wall left to do.

"You like it so far?"

I nodded. "It's great." I wanted to throw my arms around Stef, to tell her I loved her; I loved her so much, but once again, my tongue was paralyzed. Why couldn't I tell her how I felt?

She leaned down and kissed the top of my head. "You'll be back in your own bed in no time, slug-a-bug." She ushered me to her room and pulled the sheet back on her bed. "Lay down for a while, love. I'll bring your lunch up in a little bit."

I kicked off my shoes and climbed into bed, and she tucked me in. Then, she went downstairs. When she came back, she had a a tray with her. She sat down beside me, and passed me a plate with a turkey sandwich on it. "Lunch in bed," she winked.

When we were finished eating, she set our tray aside. "Well, I guess I better get back to painting. Will you be okay resting in here?"

"Yeah," I said, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"I'll be right across the hall if you need me," she said, fluffing the pillow for me and kissing my forehead. "Sweet dreams. I love you."

I nodded, then rolled over. She stayed for a few minutes, rubbing my back. I fell asleep feeling warm inside and out.

To Be Continued- How do you like this story so far? Please keep reading and reviewing!

Note: Lindsey Bowen is a fictional character (her Facebook is fictional too). Any similarities to real people, living or dead, are strictly coincidental :).