Текст книги "Equal Access"
Автор книги: A. E. Branson
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Equal Access
By A. E. Branson
Copyright 2015 A. E. Branson
Published by A. E. Branson at Smashwords
Cover Design Copyright 2015
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Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
To my husband Andy – I can’t think of any better person with whom to share this adventure called life.
“And quake, thou quaker, before the majesty of the law.”
–Response of Justice Gervaise Bennett to George Fox when Fox exhorted him to “tremble in the fear of the Lord.” The judge sentenced Fox to spend almost a year in the Derby jail on charges that included blasphemy.
Prologue
Hide me in the shadow of Thy wings from the wicked who obstruct me, from deadly foes who throng round me.
–Psalms 17:9
“We can’t just call Social Services.” Maddie spoke her words into the night as though challenging its darkness.
Paxton shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His distress was not from the way he was standing, but rather from the way this conversation on their front porch was going. “This is why we have Social Services.”
“We have it because there are people like Shad’s mother.” Maddie turned her head to look at him. Light from their living room window cast illumination across the concrete porch, so Paxton could easily see her as Maddie stood at the white railing. “In most cases I would whole-heartedly agree that’s what we should do. But in Shad’s case I have a concern that he is so … unique, he’d be lost in the system.”
Paxton exhaled as he thrust his hands into the back pockets of his well-worn blue jeans. I have a concern. Any time a woman descended from Margaret Leeds uttered those words, anyone wanting to argue against her was wise to keep in mind that he might be arguing against a will that was bigger than both of them. When their older daughter used the phrase a couple of weeks ago, Paxton had been more inclined to dismiss the notion. Erin was only twenty-two years old and not as experienced in responding to that silent voice, which was why she had sought her parents’ advice in how to deal with this dilemma.
“Every child is unique in some way.” Paxton reminded her.
Maddie regarded him pointedly. “There’s something about Shad. A formal institution isn’t what he needs right now. He’s a very troubled child –”
“Which is why we should call Social Services.”
“– and he needs far better than to be shuffled around to foster homes while case workers poke and prod him.”
“So just where do you propose we should send him?” Even as the words left Paxton’s mouth he felt his stomach flutter with trepidation.
Maddie returned her gaze to the darkened yard for several seconds before responding. “Shad’s mother agreed to let him spend a week with strangers once school let out for the summer. She hasn’t been in contact with Shad these three days we’ve had him even though we called her. I’m half ready to believe we could keep him all summer and she wouldn’t care.”
Paxton’s agitation kept growing. “And then what? Wait to contact child welfare until school starts up again? They’re gonna look at us funny, and it’s not like we can fix him in three months.”
“No.” Maddie’s tone became more solemn. “It will take a lot longer than three months.”
Paxton could hardly believe she was coming so close to saying exactly what he didn’t want to hear. “We aren’t qualified to take in a special needs child. They train foster parents to do that. We wouldn’t be fair to Shad as well as to ourselves.”
“It isn’t fair.” Maddie spoke those words as though she were confirming a profound judgment. Then she locked her gaze on Paxton’s. “I didn’t ask for this, either. When I told Erin to ask Shad’s mother if she would allow him to spend a week with us, I truly expected we would make the call ourselves.” Maddie turned her face back toward the darkened yard. “But Erin was right. As well-intentioned a program it is, it isn’t for Shad. He needs stability right now.”
“What stability can we possibly offer?” Paxton yanked his hands from the jeans pockets and folded his arms over his chest. He leaned back against the railing to face the front of their farm house. “It’s not like we can just ask his mother if we can keep him longer. There’s all the issues about guardianship and power of attorney and all that.”
“She might give him up for adoption.”
Paxton could have sworn his stomach just did a back flip. “I’m not making myself clear.” He looked directly at Maddie. “We can’t keep him.”
She didn’t return Paxton’s gaze but remained standing straight and still at the railing. Even though Maddie was dressed in the pullover blouse and khaki shorts she had worn to work about the house and garden today, she possessed the same tranquility Paxton was accustomed to seeing on her at First Day meeting when she would wear a dress. A few escaped tendrils of her upswept hair swayed gently in the breeze, but otherwise Maddie was as calm as stone.
Paxton knew to respect her silence, but at this moment it unnerved him. As he scratched at his trimmed salt-and-pepper beard just to work out some nervous energy, Paxton found himself yet again contemplating that great unanswered question.
Why?
His conscience was bothering him, and that only irritated Paxton all the more. How could they hurt anything by contacting Social Services? Shad – whose real name was Shadow but Paxton had immediately decided that sounded too much like a dog’s name – was only one of unfortunately thousands of children who suffered in neglectful or abusive homes. Why did this eleven-year-old boy start spending all his non-school time at the library in St. Louis where Erin worked? Why was she the only one in the staff to take notice of the quiet child who never bothered anything? Why was it this skinny, dark-haired, brown-eyed youth whose olive skin was already acquiring a distinct tan from his few days spent outdoors, caused the descendants of Margaret Leeds to have a concern about his welfare if they logically alerted the state to remove Shad from his so-called mother?
It wasn’t that Paxton didn’t like the boy. His heart went out to Shad. The usually silent child seemed most content to have his nose stuck in a book or newspaper or even an instruction manual. Paxton had him tag along during chores around the farm, and Shad would do anything asked of him without a murmur of either consent or complaint. To some people he might initially seem to be an okay kid.
But Shad was socially deficient. He never made eye contact, initiated conversation, or showed any emotion beyond his, well, emotionless demeanor. He did have a tendency to tremble for a couple of seconds whenever they placed a hand on his shoulder or back, yet still there was no change in Shad’s expression. It was as though he went through the motions of living in this world when in actuality Shad lived in a world within himself.
“I honestly don’t know how long we’ll need to keep him.” Maddie’s words jolted Paxton from his stewing. “But right now Shad is in our care. He was given over to us.” She cast a sidelong gaze toward Paxton. “You don’t believe in coincidence any more than I do.”
“You’re right. I believe he was given over to us so we could call Social Services.”
“Sometimes children fall through cracks in that system and I truly fear Shad will be one of those children.” Maddie remained placid but her gaze was locked with his.
As much as Paxton wanted to argue against her premise, he was also humbled by the fact he was squaring off with a “Leeds Woman.” From practically anybody else he would have regarded such words as crazy talk, but he had known Maddie for most of his life and spent over half of it in holy matrimony with her. Maddie had earned her family’s reputation for being able to hear that quiet whisper most others remained deaf to. Then again, there was another descendant of Margaret Leeds who didn’t share Maddie’s view.
“Jill thinks we should call the department.” Even as he invoked his sister-in-law’s name Paxton realized it didn’t give him additional leverage.
Jill had been at their house today – without her nearly nine-year-old daughter in tow for a change, Paxton noticed – to help her sister finish butchering the meat chickens Maddie raised to supplement her laying hens and Jill’s turkeys. Jill could always be counted upon to give her opinion about any subject.
“Jill isn’t in my situation.” Maddie smiled ever so slightly. “She’s not the one being asked to take care of Shad.”
Her last remark sent a tremor through his stomach. Asked? So he really was trying to defy divine will?
Why? What was it about the two of them that this withdrawn waif, one out of too many needy children, had to intrude upon their lives? What was it about this boy who now slept in their younger daughter’s recently vacated bedroom upstairs that it was necessary for Shad to disrupt their plans? Paxton had enjoyed his role as a father, but his task of rearing children was already fulfilled. Now he was supposed to be able to enjoy the fruits of his labors: Smile for his daughters’ wedding photos whenever that time came, then eventually bounce grandkids on his knee. He and Maddie were supposed to be entering the next phase of their lives together, and now they were supposed to backtrack and take on the care of this distressed boy who was going to hit puberty any second now? There were people who volunteered to do this sort of thing. Why did it have to be thrust upon them?
“None of this makes sense,” Paxton grumbled. “There’s laws about this sort of thing. Laws society made based upon the laws of God. Why should we disregard them now and arbitrarily take Shad ourselves?”
Maddie turned to lean against the railing and also face the front of the house. She didn’t speak immediately, and when her words finally surfaced they proceeded slowly and with consideration.
“Since when have the laws of men attained the perfection of the laws of God?” She turned her head to face Paxton. “You’re a Delaney.” Maddie paused. “You take care of your family.” A gentle smile played on her lips. “And you’re just as determined to uphold the Delaney notoriety as well.”
The uninitiated would wonder why Maddie was speaking so deliberately, but Paxton knew that words inspired from a source greater than any mere person were examined and never rushed.
Maddie continued talking, her words slow and solemn. “Those two aspects of your family reputation are just what you’re gonna need right now.”
Although Paxton was acquainted with revelation on this level himself, he knew darn good and well why he wasn’t experiencing that now. Stiff necks were a dominant trait in the Delaney genealogy. Therefore, yet again Maddie had to intervene.
She proceeded. “It’s what Shad needs right now.”
Paxton refused to look at her. The Bible was full of stories about the prophets who warned Israel to repent or they would be dispersed to the corners of the world. The thanks they usually received from the populace for this act of obedience often meant a thorough stoning. Paxton wasn’t about to throw rocks at Maddie, but he was starting to feel an appreciation for why the people of Israel became upset.
Maddie fell silent. Paxton didn’t know if she had returned to that inner struggle or was simply contemplating the words she’d spoken. Either way, Paxton knew he was licked. As much as he resisted the idea, as much as it didn’t make any sense, he was as trapped as Jonah had been in the belly of the fish. Grandpa had warned him that marrying a Leeds Woman would make Paxton bow to the will of God more than he would otherwise. And to think at the time Paxton actually believed that sounded like a good thing.
But this wasn’t fair. What on Earth could he and Maddie, simple crop farmers, offer to Shad that others couldn’t? Come to think of it, since when had a Delaney credited the Creator with being fair ever since Paxton’s great-great grandfather Quaid Delaney lost his family to famine in Ireland? Even though Quaid made his peace after settling here in central Missouri, in the generations that followed him fathers repeated to their children that they would be tested relentlessly throughout their lives. Even someone as righteous as Job couldn’t escape events that seemed like divine cruelty. And Job, while heartbroken and sitting in ashes, had asked the logical question “Why?” The eloquent answer he received basically boiled down to “Because I’m God.”
A memory surfaced in Paxton’s thoughts as his gaze slid toward Maddie. There were plenty of times when their daughters were little that Paxton would set them to a task that seemed unreasonable to the girls. Often they seemed to challenge him with the question of why they had to do it. Unwilling or unable at the moment to effectively explain how their participation was necessary for their growth and development or the family good, Paxton had been known to fire back “Because I’m Dad.”
Oh. So that’s the way this was going to be. Thanks to his mule-headedness, Paxton was used to being sneaked up on like this, so he immediately recognized that particular memory wasn’t just a random thought. This was the most explanation he was going to get. At least afterwards Paxton had made it a point to explain to their daughters the significance of their cooperation. Maybe, just maybe, when that day came that Paxton stood before God, he’d get the answers to all his whys.
Paxton watched Maddie turn her head slightly toward him, and he could see that well-known glimmer of determination in her eyes. Even though she’d professed her personal opinion was closer to his, Paxton knew what she was going to do. Even though they both knew what lay ahead would most likely be difficult, even though the timing of this event in their lives blew chunks big time, Maddie was going to obey. Paxton could either make their lives more miserable by resisting her charity or he could try to salvage what dignity he had left. Experience had taught him that Maddie was consistently right, and ultimately, eventually, just shutting up and going along with what she told Paxton to do would work out best. One of the many reasons he married her was because Maddie was a virtuous woman, and that made her the sacred vessel through whom God worked to bring out the best in him.
Chapter One
All cruelty springs from weakness.
–Seneca the Younger
That familiar anxiety wrenched Shad’s stomach as he watched the patrol car cruise toward the park. Using a well-practiced deep breath to settle his nerves, Shad stood from the bench where he had been sitting and shifted the strap of the leather carrying case for his laptop computer more comfortably over his left shoulder. With his other hand Shad jostled a firmer grip on a pink and purple day pack. He drew a second deep breath, noticing again faint petroleum fumes on the humid mid-July air in this St. Louis suburb, and began walking toward the white sedan that slowed into a parking space as they approached each other.
The car stopped and its driver, a uniformed policeman, still looked to Shad like the officer could be a recent graduate from the police academy. Initially this had created some concern for Shad, but he told himself to get over it. This man had been trained for handling such duties, and besides, Shad had plenty of familiarity with the fact there also were folks out there who looked younger than they really were.
The two men nodded to each other, and Shad asked, “So how did it go?”
“Simms was cooperative although it was obvious he didn’t like it at all.” The officer glanced toward his front-seat passenger, an older woman in civilian clothes who was getting out on the other side of the car. His voice lowered a bit. “Little girl’s eyes have been big as saucers the whole time.”
Shad nodded again and watched the woman open the back door of the vehicle.
“Here you go, sweetie,” She said in a kindly voice as she stooped toward the passenger. “This is where Mr. Delaney picks you up and you get to go see your mom.”
The social worker fumbled for a minute with the child restraints while continuing a friendly though one-sided conversation with the occupant. Shad moved around the car to her side and watched as she helped the five-year-old girl step out of the sedan.
Charissa Simms immediately locked her gaze upon Shad as she stood beside the vehicle. Before he habitually shifted his own gaze away from hers, Shad noticed that Charissa’s eyes were so dark they were almost black. Her long brown hair cascaded halfway down her back in loose ringlets except for locks on the sides of her face that were pulled back with a blue bow. She wore red shorts and a white, collared blouse which seemed to suggest Charissa had been dressed as a statement of how well-taken care of she had been for the last month and a half. Even though Shad was looking more at her mouth, he could see Charissa’s attention shift to the day pack. As she started to look up again, Shad offered a gentle smile and lowered himself to one knee before the child.
“Hello, Charissa.” He set the day pack on the pavement and offered his hand to her while briefly meeting her gaze again. “I’m Mr. Delaney.”
Charissa glanced at his hand and slowly extended her own as Shad continued. “This is all a little spooky, huh? I bet you’ve got all kinds of questions.”
Charissa’s hand settled in his, and Shad gave it a quick and gentle squeeze. She spoke as he released it, her voice soft and quiet. “Mom’s alive?”
The nature of her question made him want to shift into his more analytical ego, but Shad tried to keep it balanced with his social self. “Oh yes, she’s alive.” The analytical personality flexed some muscle. “Has someone told you otherwise?”
Charissa continued to scrutinize him as though still trying to decide whether Shad was friend or foe. “Dad said she’s dying.”
That wasn’t a lie. What concerned Shad more was just how Charissa’s father was relaying this information.
“The sickness your mom has ... it doesn’t change how much she loves you. She wishes she could’ve come to St. Louis with me, but since she couldn’t, she sent this for you instead.”
Shad picked up the day pack and offered it to the girl. With her gaze never leaving his face, Charissa gingerly took it from him.
“Your mom packed all kinds of goodies in there for you.” Shad offered his best version of a reassuring smile. Then he decided to imply a new concept Charissa was going to need to adapt to. “Your Uncle Eliot and Aunt Tess put some things in there for you, too.”
Eliot Weller was supposed to be here with Shad today, but he was a veterinarian and received an emergency call concerning a prize brood mare this morning. Thus Eliot was unable to meet Shad at the train station in Jefferson City, and Shad had been forced to show up alone for Charissa’s scheduled pickup. Having never done this sort of thing before, Shad was a little more than annoyed by Eliot’s absence. Although he usually preferred solitude, Shad had learned to value someone else’s company whenever he was thrust into new situations.
Charissa didn’t say anything as she studied the day pack without opening it. Shad stood again while the woman was taking a small blue suitcase from the car’s back seat.
“I’ll take that.” Shad offered.
After settling some final details with the officer and the social worker, Shad thanked them and guided Charissa toward the playground area of the park as the patrol car drove away.
“We have about half an hour before we need to go to the train station.” Shad set his carrying case and her suitcase on the first bench they approached. “Have you ever ridden the train before?”
He already knew the answer, so when Charissa shook her head it was the response Shad expected.
“You want to play on the playground while we wait?”
The girl only stared at him in response.
Shad sat next to the cases. Charissa remained standing at the other end of the bench. Her day pack was sitting on it although she still gripped the top strap while never removing her gaze from him.
Now that he was getting back into something more familiar, Shad drew a cleansing breath and offered another reassuring smile to Charissa. This would be much easier for the girl if Eliot were with him to provide her with somebody she knew. Too bad he didn’t have the option to pull his wife Dulsie out from her job to tag along. Dulsie would still be a stranger to Charissa, but at least Dulsie had a winning personality and a shared gender with the child. If nothing else, Shad was certainly more at ease whenever Dulsie was around.
“Or would you rather talk about what’s going on?” Sure, he was trying to obtain additional testimony, but Shad also recognized the value of allowing Charissa to speak her concerns.
Charissa’s grip on the pack tightened for a second, but then her eyes seemed less wide. “You don’t look like a lawyer.”
Shad’s response was deadpan. “I’m traveling in disguise.”
He was conscientious of speaking the truth, even in jest. Shad had purposefully worn tan slacks and a sage, short-sleeved, button-down shirt because a suit might be intimidating to the child. He also didn’t want to look “official” to others as he (and Eliot, originally) escorted Charissa back to her home. Besides, Shad hated wearing suits and welcomed any opportunity to eschew them.
The girl seemed to consider his answer for a minute before speaking again. “How much money you gonna make?”
If ever there was a question he hadn’t expected her to ask, that would be it. It was Shad’s turn to stare at Charissa with some bemusement before he responded.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Dad said you’re hauling me away only because you figured out a way to make a bunch of money.”
Demetri Simms’s evaluation fell in line with what most people, Shad included, thought about lawyers. But Shad’s motivation for tackling a situation other attorneys had dismissed had nothing to do with money and everything to do with ... justice. And it had been his thirst for justice that had driven him to this occupation. Distilling the complexities to the level of a five-year-old, however, wasn’t going to be easy.
“I’m not here for the money.” Shad leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on clasped hands. “I’m also not hauling you away. I’m taking you home.”
Charissa regarded him with unwavering wariness. “I don’t have a home back –” She seemed to reconsider her choice of words but couldn’t settle upon an appropriate substitute quickly enough. “– home.”
“Did somebody tell you that?”
Charissa finally stopped looking at him and lowered her head to study the day pack. Her slender, tanned fingers kneaded at the hanging loop on top.
Had she been coached, or more likely threatened, not to say too much? The last thing he could risk was pushing too hard, which luckily Shad was better at catching himself when working with kids than adults.
“How do you feel about going back to see your mom?”
Charissa looked back up at him, and for the split second that Shad met her eyes he thought he noticed a flash in them.
“Why do you care?”
If only Eliot hadn’t run off to save that mare there wouldn’t be so much antagonism to deal with. Charissa’s father had probably done his best to fuel the fire against her mother’s attempts to regain their daughter.
“I have every reason to care.” Shad drew another deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. Details were no challenge to him, but trying to distill them to others was much more difficult. “Or rather, you see....” He leaned against the backrest of the bench and stretched one arm across the top, still struggling to come up with the right words. “Let’s put it this way. Your mom hired me. But I’m not working for your mom to make money. I’m not even working for her just so she can get you back. I don’t –” Shad caught himself. He was about to say “I don’t care about your mom,” and this was the wrong level to make that statement. He leaned forward again. “The only reason I decided to work for your mom was because she convinced me it was in your best interest to bring you back home. I don’t care –” Shad took a couple of seconds to reconsider his words before proceeding with them. “– So much about what your mom wants or what your dad wants. What matters more to me is what you want.” He clasped his hands together in front of his knees. “Did any of that make sense?”
She studied him for enough seconds that Shad started to wonder how he was going to manage trying to rephrase that babble into something more comprehensible.
“I want Mom and Dad back,” Charissa finally said. “Together.”
Shad looked down at his hands and blew out an exhale. “You and a million other kids.” He looked at her again, managing to bring his gaze as high as her nose. “I can’t do that. I can’t make them get back together. So I have to come up with the next best thing for you.”
Charissa lowered her gaze again. “If Mom wasn’t dying, they’d be together.”
When Monica Simms first approached Shad about getting Charissa back, he was initially interested in her situation for two reasons. First, it reminded him of the story about Pap’s great-great grandfather. When the potato famine of the 1840’s struck Ireland, Quaid Delaney’s father abandoned the family because he couldn’t bear to watch them starve to death. For the rest of his life Quaid despised his father for this penultimate act of cowardice. He was so outspoken about his opinion that to this day getting called coward by a Delaney was equivalent to be being called something rather excremental by anybody else. If Demetri Simms could walk away from his wife and take their child because he didn’t want them to watch her die, Shad initially believed he might have the same color of belly as Quaid’s father.
The other reason was simply because there could be a child’s welfare at stake, which was very much of the foundation for why Shad had accepted the ludicrous idea of becoming an attorney. At first he didn’t see much hope for Monica’s goal. The couple was still legally married and Demetri didn’t have any kind of criminal record, so Shad had little grounds to initiate a custody battle.
During his initial consultation with Monica, however, Shad began to notice “red flags” in her description of their relationship with Demetri. So he asked Monica certain questions he’d devised whenever Shad wanted to verify if abuse was an element in a case he was considering. Even though she didn’t realize it herself, Monica confirmed Shad’s suspicions. If Demetri could convince a woman in her twenties that she was “crazy,” Lord knows what harm he could do to the mind of a child.
Shad’s pet questions wouldn’t work on a child, however, and he also had to take care that he neither led Charissa nor set himself up for the accusation of contributing to alienation of her father.
“Why do you think that?” Shad simply asked.
“It’s a bad thing, dying.” Charissa looked up at him.
“Tell me what’s bad about dying.”
Shad could read a river much more effectively than he could people’s expressions, but he suspected the slight frown that furrowed Charissa’s brow indicated she thought his request was a bit odd. Then her gaze lowered to the day pack, and her voice was softer when she spoke.
“It’s bad people who die.”
Shad was so consumed by all the ramifications of that answer it took him probably thirty seconds to respond. “Only bad people die? Don’t good people die too?”
“If you’re good, you get to die when you’re old.” Charissa didn’t look up. “If you’re bad, God makes you die sooner.”
On the one hand, it was a philosophy that might offer comfort to a child. Wouldn’t the world be safer if all the bad guys were struck down before they could harm the innocent? On the other hand, it negatively judged everyone who faced an untimely death.
“Why do you believe that?” Shad asked.
This time Charissa did raise her head to look at him, and her eyes shimmered. “Dad told me so.”
This was a hollow victory for him. Shad was indeed obtaining the type of testimony he needed against Demetri, but Shad realized he had a bigger issue to tackle at the moment.
“Your mom isn’t bad.” Shad knew he was notorious for getting to the point, but this seemed like one circumstance he could indulge that tendency.
Charissa regarded him for a few seconds before responding. “Then why is she dying?”
The phrase “life isn’t fair” immediately came to mind, but Shad knew he had to come up with a better answer.
Luckily Mam and Pap had already answered the same types of questions for him. “There ... is a purpose.” Shad took a deep breath as he tried to figure out how to simplify something deeper to the level of a five-year-old. “I can’t begin to understand it, because the way of God is not the way of man. But when bad things happen, if we can make good come of it, then we have done the work of God.”
He couldn’t decipher Charissa’s slight frown, but Shad doubted he had made much headway.
“The truth is ... the truth is good people die too. It doesn’t seem fair, I know. Lord knows we need all the good people we can get.” Shad didn’t consider Monica to be anywhere near sainthood, but that wasn’t his concern right now. “Your mom will always love you. And anybody who loves you has got to be good, right?”
It bothered him that Charissa didn’t respond right away, and even then she sounded uncertain. “I suppose.”
Now seemed as good a time as any to continue building on that new concept she would need to get used to. “And your Uncle Eliot and Aunt Tess love you, too. They’re gonna help your mom take care of you.”
After a few seconds of silence, Charissa spoke with the hint of a plea in her voice. “Don’t make Mom and Dad get a divorce.”
