Concern
"Carl," Harriette said as they were getting ready for bed one night, "we need to talk."
"Uh oh," Carl said as he draped his bathrobe over a chair. "What'd I forget?"
"Nothing," Harriette answered. She still had her robe on and wasn't in any hurry to untie it.
Carl's eyes moved from side to side as he thought. "One of the kids do something?"
"No," Harriette shook her head.
Carl thought again. "The neighbors complain about Mama playing her music too loud again?"
"No," Harriette repeated as she walked over to him.
"Then what is it, sweetheart?" Carl asked.
Harriette looked at him with a slightly pouty expression. "It's about Steve Urkel."
"Oh boy," Carl dryly responded, "What about Steve Urkel? What did that kid do now?"
"Nothing," Harriette answered. "But Carl, I'm concerned about him."
Carl did a double take. "Why?"
"Carl...do you think it's possible that his parents are...abusing him?" Harriette asked.
Carl did another double take. "Harriette, where'd that come from?"
"I don't know," she shrugged, "it's just that I've noticed some things, and it kind of bothers me, Carl."
"Like what?" he asked as he stood in the middle of the room with his hands at his sides.
"Well...like he told Eddie and Laura that his parents don't feed him every day," she answered.
"Oh," Carl waved dismissively, "I'm sure he was joking."
"Well maybe, but Carl, he is small for his age," Harriette said.
"Well have you seen his father?" Carl remarked. "Good Lord, it's probably a miracle the kid's as tall as he is."
"And how about the first time he set foot in our house? He said his parents wouldn't allow him back home before 10," Harriette said.
"If he was my kid, I probably wouldn't either," Carl retorted. "Harriette, this is not proof of anything."
"Okay...how about the fact he's always hanging around over here?" she asked. "Doesn't that strike you as a little odd?"
"Harriette, the kid eats mice, everything he does strikes me as odd," Carl answered, "very odd."
"Carl, I just can't shake the feeling that something's not right over there," Harriette said. "There's just something not right about a boy's parents not wanting anything to do with him and forcing him to stay out of the house at night. Carl, every time they go on a vacation anywhere, they leave him home alone, that can't be good for a boy his age."
Carl paused for a moment, then looked at her and asked, "Well has he actually said they're abusing him?"
"No."
Carl sighed. "Well, sweetheart, then there's just nothing we can do about it. I'm a cop, I work abuse cases all the time, and it's hard enough to get a court order when there is actual physical proof or a complaining witness."
"What about reporting it to a social worker?" Harriette asked.
"Well now we can't do that either," Carl said in his reluctantly logical tone, "for one thing, we don't have any proof, for another, they wouldn't have probable cause to get into the house and ask questions, and third, Harriette, that kind of thing is an absolute nightmare to put a family through if they're innocent. Once a family has been suspected of abuse it could take months of fighting in court just to get their name cleared. Besides, number four, if we did that and we were wrong, Mr. Urkel would be sure to make all of our lives a living hell, mine especially."
Carl stopped and thought for a moment. "Hm...you know, Harriette? The time Steve went with me on a ride-along and we got locked on that boxcar...he told me that he wished that I was his dad." He sighed, "I guess that's why he's made it his business to tag along on everything Edward and I do, ice fishing, camping, shooting pool, why he helped me conquer my fear of heights in a hot air balloon...hmm, you know, Harriette, Steve's an annoying kid...but he's actually the kind of son most fathers would want, he's actually eager to do things with me even when Eddie's not."
"Well think about it, Carl," Harriette said, "he's eager to have a father/son relationship with you because he can't have one with his own father."
"Oh boy," Carl sighed, "that's a good point. Just think, if Mr. Urkel was more like me, Steve would be more like our kids who are always trying to get out of spending time with us."
"Carl, isn't there something we can do?" Harriette wanted to know.
Carl sighed. "Not really. If Steve ever actually says his parents are mistreating him, then we can look into it, until then...and it kills me to say it," he added with a tone of dread, "all we can do is...let him continue coming over here and hanging around us...and hope that we can fill whatever gap there is in his home life."
"You really mean that, Carl?" she asked.
"I'm not thrilled about it, but yeah," he answered, "I mean it."
"Have I told you lately that you're my favorite husband?" Harriette asked as he put her arms around Carl and kissed him.
Carl chuckled under his breath and responded, "No, but say it again, I like hearing it."