A Daughter's Trust

“She’s a fake, Ms. Bookman. A lie.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, call me Sue.”

He couldn’t be distracted. There was no place in his life for an attractive woman. Not now. And probably not ever again. Not a nice woman like Sue Bookman. She had to be nice to be approved for the responsibility of caring for needy babies.

“Aside from the fact that my mother doesn’t know the meaning of love, other than wanting it for herself, she’s dangerous because she doesn’t look, speak or act like what she is.”

“And what, exactly, is she?”

“A drug addict. Her parents died when she was a teenager, leaving her with nothing. She ran away from her foster home and got into drugs as a way to make money, at first. At least that’s how she tells it. She was a good front for the dealers on the streets. No one suspected her.”

He was saying more than he’d meant to. Sue Bookman was easy to talk to. “She had me when she was seventeen,” he continued. “I don’t think even she knows who my father is.”

Rick focused on his hostess, but was still aware every second of the baby lying on the floor with his blood in her veins, could see her out of the corner of his eye. Carrie was on her back. Staring at him.

“And there followed eighteen years of chaos,” Rick said. “When she was sober, my mother looked like a candidate for mother of the year. She was funny and attentive in public. She was in all the right places at the right times. Showed an interest in my days, in my little happenings.”

“You loved her.”

What kid didn’t love his mother?

“I learned very quickly not to believe in her,” he countered. “Because she never stayed sober long. I don’t know, maybe the memories were too strong for her to fight, to avoid or get away from. I’ve wasted too much of my life trying to justify why she did what she did.”

“People are complicated.”

Hannah hadn’t been.

“Life shouldn’t be that complicated. Not for kids. As soon as I’d get settled in a new school or apartment, or both, I’d come home to find someone from child protective services waiting for me, to take me to yet another foster home.”

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t want her pity. Or her compassion. Not for himself. Not unless it had to do with helping him get Carrie.

“I was lucky. Every single home I was placed in provided a loving environment, a chance to be a kid. Problem was, I didn’t get to stay in any of them. My mother wouldn’t give me up. And it didn’t seem to matter how many times she faltered, she still managed to convince the state that she would get better. And that I was better off with her—my real mother.”

“She’d get well, you’d go home and then she’d use again.”

“Right.”

“You think she did the same thing with Christy?”

“I know she did.”

“And you think she’ll do the same thing with Carrie.”

With his gaze steady, and implacable, he faced her. “Don’t you?”

“I’ve never met the woman. How could I possibly know….”

Sue’s hand had found Carrie’s foot, her fingers caressing the skin just above the baby’s ankle. The unconscious response of a mother?

“You’re a professional,” Rick said. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, but he knew that he needed her. Carrie needed her. “You hear the stories. And have to be familiar enough with the statistics to at least have an opinion.”

“But it’s not a professional one and…”

Carrie rolled, her downy curls flattening and springing back as she moved. And Sue Bookman caressed the baby’s cheek. Rubbed a hand over the top of her head.