“Yes,” Beth agrees after a moment. “They would have to, wouldn’t they? Anyone would.”
“What about the other things you’ve done?” I ask, deciding a change in subject might be best. “You were having counseling…?”
“Yes, that has been helpful.” She looks away, and I decide it’s too invasive to ask any more about that.
“And the observation sessions with Dylan? Those went okay?”
“They did what they were meant to, I think,” she says after a pause, her voice flat.
I decide to drop my line of questioning. “Tea’s ready,” I say as cheerfully as I can, and I bring the cups to the table.
We sip in silence for a few minutes as shadows gather outside. From upstairs, I hear Josh say something and then Dylan laugh, and I smile at Beth, but she’s not looking at me. I’m trying not to feel unduly concerned, but she seems incredibly preoccupied—but then she would, wouldn’t she? The court hearing is tomorrow, after all.
“You love him,” she says abruptly. “Don’t you?”
Startled, it takes me a second to respond. “You mean Dylan? Yes. I mean… yes, we’ve all grown fond of him. Very fond.” She nods slowly, and I can’t tell if that was the answer she was looking for, but what else could I have said? Besides, I do love him. He’s quirky and shy and wonderfully sweet. “We’ll all miss him, of course,” I add, but she doesn’t seem to hear me.
“I should go,” she says abruptly, standing up even though her tea is only half-drunk. “It’s getting late.”
“Oh… all right.” I stand up, as well. “Do you want to say goodbye to Dylan?”
She glances up towards the ceiling, as if she can picture him in his room, playing with Josh, and then she shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. He’s busy. Happy.”
“Anyway, you’ll see him tomorrow,” I say with conviction. “This time tomorrow he’ll be back with you.” Which gives me a pang of bittersweet sorrow. I really will miss him. We all will.
“Yes,” Beth says, but she sounds unconvinced.
“Look, Beth…” I say as I see her to the door, “if you want me to… if it would help… I could come to the court hearing?” I’m not sure what makes me suggest it, only that she seems so alone. “Only if you want me to.”
To my surprise, Beth nods rather vigorously. “Actually, Ally, that would be really great. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course I don’t.”
“Thanks.” She smiles at me, and then, again to my surprise, she gives me a quick, clumsy hug. “Bye,” she says, her voice choking a little, and she walks quickly out of the house, swallowed up by the wintry darkness.
That night as I’m tucking Dylan into bed, I wonder if I should say something to him about tomorrow. I haven’t, because I don’t want to make him anxious and nothing is certain, but it feels wrong to not say a word and have it all kick off so suddenly, so he’s yanked from one home to another.
Yet as I’ve seen so often on the message boards, that’s how it often works with foster care.
I don’t say anything, but maybe he senses something anyway, or maybe Beth said something earlier, because it takes a lot longer for him to fall asleep. Finally, after about an hour of lullabies, he drops off, and I kiss his forehead before I creep out of the room. It feels so strange to think this is most likely the last night he will be in our home.
As we’re getting ready for bed, I tell Nick about going to the hearing.
“That’s nice of you, to offer the support.” He smiles wryly. “I’m really going to miss the little guy, but it will be good to focus on our family again.”
“I think Dylan has been good for our family,” I protest as gently as I can. “I think he’s helped both Emma and Josh.” That evening, Josh gave Dylan a hug before he went to bed. It was just an arm quickly slung about his shoulders, but it made me smile. “Josh has played more Lego in the last few weeks than he ever did as a kid.”
“I know Dylan has helped,” Nick says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” I sigh, not wanting to be prickly.
Nick pulls me into a hug. “I know you’ll miss him,” he says, and I nod, my throat suddenly tight with emotion. I really will.
The next morning, I wake up suddenly, as if someone has poked me. Nick is in the shower and, outside, the light looks pale and gray. It’s a little before seven, but I have a sense of being late, of missing something.
And that
’s when it hits me. Beth isn’t going to show up at the court hearing. The thought falls into my head as if from the sky, and lands with the solid thud of total certainty. Her distant demeanor, the way she hugged me goodbye, how she asked me if I loved him, even the mention of those other mothers who gave up their parental rights. It all makes sense now. Too much sense.