“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McCain,” she said. “I’m Gail Turner and I worked with Carmen on Ben’s case when his mother left him at the hospital.”
“Then you know Ben very well?” he asked, taking a chair by the desk.
Mrs. Turner resumed her seat and Jake had a feeling he was in for some cold, hard truths.
“Yes. After Mrs. Carr was granted custody, we checked on Ben for several months and saw that she was very capable of caring for him. We didn’t become involved again until Mrs. Carr called us two months ago. She knew she was dying and she asked us to locate Ben’s father.” She paused. “We weren’t aware until this morning that the Fosters want to adopt Ben. They knew we were searching for the father and they never gave us any indication that adoption was a possibility. But in all fairness I have to admit that they know Ben and his routine and they care for him deeply.”
Jake frowned. “Are you saying the Fosters would be better for Ben than me?”
“A judge will make that decision,” she replied coolly.
Same old line. “On your recommendation.”
“Well, yes, our recommendation will weigh heavily in the decision.”
Jake chose his words carefully. “So, Mrs. Turner, what you’re trying to tell me in not-so-subtle terms is that Ben would be better off living with the Fosters.”
Mrs. Turner clasped her hands on the desk. “Dr. Howard Ruskin, Ben’s doctor, a developmental pediatrician, feels very strongly that it would be detrimental for Ben to be moved out of his familiar surroundings at this time. After several visits with Ben, I have to agree with him. Ben’s taken a step backward because of Mrs. Carr’s death. I’m not sure how much he understands. All he knows is that his grandmother’s gone and he’s retreated into himself. The Fosters are working with him and I’m hoping to see some signs of improvement.”
“But you haven’t?”
“No. He was walking everywhere. Now he stumbles and falls. Mrs. Carr had him talking, but now he won’t say a word.”
“What does Dr. Ruskin say about Ben’s falling and refusal to talk?”
“That he’s grieving and needs some time.”
Jake’s stomach curled into a knot. “You mentioned you didn’t know how much Ben understood. What I’m asking is whether he’s mentally challenged.”
“At first the doctors thought so, but Mrs. Carr refused to believe that. The doctors also thought Ben would be a vegetable and Mrs. Carr proved them wrong. Ben was working on his ABCs and numbers and he was able to repeat them. Mrs. Carr felt he had the ability to learn. He just has to try harder, and I must admit I agree with her. The bottom line, Mr. McCain, is that we want Ben’s progress to continue.”
“I do, too.”
“That’s good.”
Something in her voice alerted Jake. His eyes narrowed.
“You’re not going to try to keep me from seeing Ben, are you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “You’re his father. You have every right to see him, and our goal, whenever possible, is to unite child and parent. But Ben’s case is very different.”
That told Jake more than he wanted to hear. They were pressing him to relinquish his claim on Ben. She hadn’t come out and said it, but it was there in her voice. He stood. “I understand the situation, Mrs. Turner, and now I’d like to see my son.”
“Sure,” she nodded. “Carmen will take you to the Fosters’.”
“One more thing,” he added before leaving. “I want Ben to know that I’m his father.”
Mrs. Turner glanced at Ms. Woods. “As I said, we’re not sure how much Ben understands.”
“I still want him to know—to feel that he’s not alone anymore.”
She seemed to hesitate, then nodded again. “It’s probably best.”
“Thank you,” he said, and left the room.
In the hall Ms. Woods said, “You can follow me over there if you like. I’ll bring my car around.”
Jake did as she asked and tailed her white Corolla through the busy Houston traffic. They made several stops for lights and finally turned into a residential area with brick homes and small landscaped yards. How did people live so close together? He’d grown up with lots of fresh air and space and he wanted Ben to grow up the same way, but it might not be a possibility. He had to prepare himself.
Carmen pulled into a driveway and he parked behind her. Jake glanced at the house. Very neat and clean, he thought, then realized she was waiting so he quickly made his way to the front door.
“Mr. McCain,” she said before ringing the bell. “I need to tell you that the Fosters are not pleased by this visit.”
“I’m not pleased that they have my son, but I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation. I hope they’ll do the same.”
She seemed to want to say more then changed her mind. She pushed the doorbell.
A slim, gray-haired man opened the door. Jake guessed he was somewhere in his fifties.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said gruffly.
“Yes, Mr. Foster, we’re here to see Ben,” Ms. Woods replied.
He opened the door wider and they stepped into the foyer. “This is Jake McCain. Carl Foster.” Carmen made the introductions.
“We know who he is, Ms. Woods,” a woman said as she joined them. She was also thin with graying blond hair. The expression on her face was unfriendly. Jake received that message loud and clear.
“This is Peggy Foster,” Ms. Woods murmured as if nothing had been said, then quickly asked, “Where’s Ben?”
“He’s in the den, but I won’t have him upset,” Mrs. Foster answered.
“We’re not here to upset Ben,” Carmen told her. “We talked about this and I thought you understood.”
“I don’t understand how he can have any rights where Ben is concerned,” Mrs. Foster snapped angrily.
Carl put an arm around his wife and led her to the kitchen. Ms. Woods didn’t say anything and Jake followed her into a large den. His eyes froze on a little boy sitting on a sofa with a pile of Lego blocks in his lap and a tattered teddy bear by his side. He held two pieces in his hands and was trying to fit them together. He looks normal was Jake’s first thought. He wore jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers like other kids. He was small for his age, though. And so thin.
Jake didn’t know what he was expecting, but at the sight of his son he felt as if the sun had burst open inside him, filling him with so much warmth that for a moment all he could do was absorb the wonderful feeling.
Ms. Woods sat beside the boy. “Hi, Ben.”
Ben didn’t answer. He kept fiddling with the plastic pieces.
“I brought someone to see you.”
Still no response.
“Ben, do you hear me?”
Nothing.
“I brought your daddy to see you.”
Ben slowly raised his head and stared at Jake. Jake’s stomach tensed at the sight of that precious face. Ben looked so much like the boy in Jake’s baby pictures, with his sandy brown hair and brown eyes. This was his son. The pain in his stomach shot straight to his heart. His