Shar said, dismayed, “Oh, hey, now! This is good news.”
“How’s her placement?” I asked. My voice sounded thick, like I was choking.
“Excellent!” Shar assured me. “I know Mrs. Beale. She’s a former schoolteacher, retired. Hannah is her seventh foster, and her only one right now.” I still couldn’t seem to stop the awful shapes my face was making, and Shar petered out. Her voice got cooler, a little more reserved. “It’s not permanent. Hannah is going on the adoption track. It was my impression that you were looking for this girl because you wanted her.”
“I want her,” I said, immediate and raw. I think we were both relieved to hear the truth, ringing in those simple words as clear as bell song. “It’s just a lot. It’s very fast.” Damn Julian, the kid had been right all along, and I was not prepared. “I only have one bed. She’ll need a bed. And sheets. Sheets with whatever ten-year-old girls like on them, and I don’t know what ten-year-old girls like.”
Now Shar was the one with an odd look on her face. I could not read it.
She said, “It’s always like this, when a kid comes into your life. You’re not going to be a hundred percent ready. But we’re going to get you ready enough.”
“When can I have her?” I said, changing lanes again, raw and abrupt.
“Have?” Shar said, eyebrows rising. “That’s going to take a while. We’ll need to do the standard background checks, inspect your house, and give her time to work on the transition with her therapist. Most importantly, you two need to get to know each other. So have is going to take a little time. But visitation? If you call this lawyer, Delany, and you and I conference with the caseworker today, they can get you shoehorned into family court Monday or Tuesday. You could start visitation next week.” She looked at me, hard, and said, “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes. I want her,” I said again, and damn, but the truth had such a ring to it. Then I amended, “We both want her—I have a brother. She has a brother, too.”
“Yes, you said so in your fifteen thousand messages,” Shar said, and that look was back again. I placed it this time. It was pride.
Now my smile felt as wide as hers had ever been, and my eyes felt hot, although I didn’t cry. I thought I’d likely pull my own eyes out and throw them in a fire before I cried in front of Shar Roberson. But ye gods, I was so grateful to have her here to help me.
I think she knew it even before I told her, “Thank you. You don’t know what this means.” But that was crap. She did.
“Now, let’s get this to-do list going,” she said briskly. “I really do have to get back to my office this afternoon.”
I bent over the legal pad, and together we laid out a plan to get the wheels of DFCS spinning. Government wheels, so they would spin slow, but we were headed in the right direction. Top of my list was to make contact with her lawyer and her therapist, while Shar set up a conference call with the caseworker.
After Shar left, I sat on the sofa, feeling shell-shocked. I was going to meet my little sister. Next week. She had no idea that I existed, and Kai, the bridge between us, was ashes. In a box. Somewhere.
I imagined her on a shelf inside some ugly government storehouse, like the warehouse at the end of that Indiana Jones film. I saw her lost, anonymous, her box filed in rows and rows of plain white boxes, all the same, full of the ashes of unclaimed people. I knew then that I would not leave her there. I would find her, and I would claim her. But not today. I had to see to Hana, who was whole and living, first.
What if Hana didn’t like me, I wondered, and then laughed. I never gave two shits if anybody liked me. It was a foreign feeling. I didn’t care for it. Damn Kai and her long way home.
I took my laptop back to my desk, along with the sheet of contact information and my to-do list. I had calls to make before five P.M., and once those were done, I had some housing problems. What if Hana was a dog person? We would need a yard. Great schools. I wasn’t even sure what grade a ten-year-old was in. Fifth? I needed to find a Realtor and go look at some of Julian’s damn listings.
I stared off into space, thinking I should keep the loft regardless. Most people in my income bracket had two houses. I’d hold on to it for noontime meets with Birdwine. After all, I couldn’t very well have a strange man with a drinking problem doing overnights. Not with DFCS looming in the background. More than that—I’d have a kid in the house.
I couldn’t swallow. And I sure as hell could not pick up the phone and make all this begin. Hana didn’t know me. She didn’t even know that I existed.