Authors: Kim Williams Justesen
Maggie swallows a bite, takes a drink, sets down her cup, and looks at her hands. “Hit and run. The Raleigh police are looking around, but there was only one witness, and he was drunk, too.”
“How did you find all this out?”
“The sheriff. He told me this morning.”
I pick up my soda cup and swirl the ice around. “We might not ever know then.”
“Chances are good they'll find whoever did it. It might take time, but they'll find him.”
“But what if they don't?”
Maggie sighs. “Well, then they don't. Does it change anything?”
I look from my cup to Maggie. “But I want the guy punished for what he did. I want him to have to suffer, too.”
Maggie looks tired. “Mike, let's not worry about it right now. The police will do their job, but for today, there's nothing you or I can do about it. We have so many other issues to deal with.”
Rocket inches closer to me, sliding his head along my leg. I look at him. His tongue pops out, licks his nose, and then disappears again.
“Can I get on the computer?” I ask. Maggie nods. I want to talk to Jayd, let him know what's going on. I log into my email. He's not online, so I send him a quick note.
Mr.Mike2U: Jayd â Not sure how to say this. Call me or something.
I stop and think. This is weird. I don't want to type in the words. I want to talk to Jayd, but I don't have his grandparents' number.
Mr.Mike2U: I really need to talk to you. Call me at Maggie's.
The phone rings with a loud chirping sound, and I jump a bit.
“Hello,” Maggie says. “Oh, yes. Okay.” She pauses and listens. I'm hoping it's Jayd, but I can tell it isn't.
“When?” Another long pause. “So now what?” Her voice sounds tense. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Who was that?”
Maggie's shoulders tighten. “It was Chuck. He got
back to his office to start checking on some issues.”
“And . . .?” I wait for her to answer.
“We don't need to worry about it right now,” she says. She tries to sound relaxed, but it isn't working. She holds onto the phone with both hands.
“But what did he say?” I stare at her face, trying to read clues.
“Well, the state of North Carolina considers your mother to have legal right to your custody.”
I bolt from my chair. “What?” I don't mean to yell, but this doesn't sound good.
“Chuck has to notify her that Rich has passed.”
I go for the phone in Maggie's hands. “Call him back. Tell him no. Tell him he can't call her.”
“He has to, Mike.” She holds the phone close to her body.
“No, he doesn't. He can wait. He doesn't have to do this now.” I hold my hand out, begging for the phone. “Please, Maggie, don't let him do this. I won't live with her. I swear, I won't.”
Maggie looks like she is growing irritated. I can see it in the lines creasing her forehead. “Mike, stop it.” She backs away from me and moves toward the sofa to sit.
Rocket is right under my feet, getting in the way of my walking.
Maggie sits on the sofa, still clutching the phone. “All he has to do is notify her. That doesn't mean anything other than call her. He doesn't have to put you on a plane and send you off today, okay? Don't overreact when we don't have all the information.”
I untangle my feet from the dog and stand by Maggie. “Just let me talk to him. Just let me tell him I can't leave here.”
“Mike, he knows what you want. But he has to abide by the law and your father's will. Your dad neglected to put me in charge of some things.” Her voice has a definite edge to it. “But there is nothing we can do about it now. We have to go with what the law says. If we don't, we could make a bigger mess of things. Understand?”
“Just let me talk to him, please.”
Maggie looks more tired than I've ever seen her. Her eyes are nearly slits, and there is no smile left to tug at the corners of her mouth. She looks at the phone, dials, then hands it to me. It rings, and a young woman's voice says, “Marshall Law Office.”
“Chuck Marshall,” I say. “It's Michael Wilson.”
There is a click, followed by elevator music, followed by Chuck's voice.
“What can I do for you, Mike?”
“Don't call Julia. Please. Just wait a few weeks. A few days.”
Maggie stands and puts her hand out for me to give her the phone. I turn my back.
“Son, I know how you feel. But I have to do this. It's the law.”
Desperation grips at my chest like tiger claws. “Can't it wait?”
“Look, Mike, it's going to take me a few days to locate a number, so don't worry.”
“But what about after that? What about after you call her?”
Chuck lets out a long sigh. “Mike, there isn't much I can do.”
“Mike. Give me the phone.” Maggie's voice is firm.
I hold up my free hand to her. “What if Dad and Maggie had been married?” I say more calmly into the phone.
“I don't know, Mike. Then I guess your dad could have asked Maggie to adopt you, butâ”
I don't give him a chance to finish. “Then I want Maggie to adopt me.”
Maggie practically yelps. “What?”
“Mike, it's not that simple.”
“I want Maggie to adopt me,” I say again. I turn to look at Maggie. Her face flexes with confusion and surprise.
“Give me the phone,” she says.
I hand it to her.
“Chuck, it's Maggie.” There is a long pause. “But is it possible?” Another pause. “Chuck, it's not about the money. Let me worry about the money.”
My heart is banging off my ribs in anxiety. I pace and fidget. “What is he saying?”
“Shh,” Maggie says, finger to her lips. “Okay, and then what?”
I walk across the room and back, then sit on the sofa. My knee bounces fast. My heel taps against the floor. I can't sit. I stand. I move to the window and look out at the yard behind Maggie's house that runs to the marsh. I
feel the humidity of the post-storm air pressing on my skin. The sky is a dark, bruised blue with thick, white clouds hanging heavy in flight.
“And how do we do that?” Maggie sounds calm, regulated.
I stare out the window. A dragonfly hovers close by. Its shimmering blue body bobs near the glass like it's eavesdropping on us. I press my forehead against the cool pane.
“Then that's our next step,” Maggie says with a note of finality.
I turn from the window and try to read her expression. She has her back to me. “It can't wait. So do whatever it is you need to do, and let's get going.” Her shoulders are pulled up, as if she might curl into a ball and roll away.
“Okay then. Thank you, Chuck. I'll wait for your call.”
“What?” I don't wait for an answer. I run to Maggie, take the phone from her hand, and stare her down.
“Let's sit down a minute, Mike. This is going to be a puzzle.”
“Does that mean you will? I mean, you'll do it? Adopt me?”
Maggie maneuvers around me and sits on the sofa where she was before. She pats the cushion next to her. I slide into the empty seat, half anticipating and half dreading whatever it is she has to say.
“First, sweetie, there are a lot of different concerns involved in this, not the least of which is Julia.”
“Forget Julia.” The nastiness in my voice surprises me. “She's not my mom. She never has been.”
“I know that's how you feel,” Maggie says, folding her hands in her lap. “But how you feel and what the law recognizes are two very different things. This isn't like going to the shelter to adopt a dog.”
“But if this is what I want, and this is what you want, then what's the issue?” It sounds simple enough to me.
“Well, first, like it or not, the law has to consider Julia in this.”
My jaw clenches, but I stay quiet.
“Technically and legally, she is your mother. End of discussion.”
“Then why are we still discussing it?” My temples begin to throb, and I rub them with my index fingers, pressing hard against the pulsing veins.
“We have one option open to us. Because of your age, you can request that your mother relinquish her parental rights and allow me to adopt you.”
“So let's do it. Chuck can do the paperwork thing, and I'll sign away on that.” I want to spring out of my seat and call Chuck back to get this plan in motion.
Maggie lets out a loud sigh. “It's not that simple,” she says, her voice growing more frustrated. “According to Chuck, the best way to proceed is to first ask the state to appoint you an attorney.”
“Why can't Chuck be my attorney?”
Maggie's hands are gripping tighter in her lap. “Because he represented your father, and he is my friend.
You need an attorney who represents only you. That person is called a
guardian ad litem
.”
“Then what? I get my own attorney, and they do the paperwork?” I'm not understanding why this is so complicated. Anxiety and frustration are swimming in my stomach, and I'm regretting having eaten my lunch so fast. I clutch at my middle and will my food to stay in there.
Maggie watches me and then closes her eyes. “Take a deep breath through your nose, and then let it out slowly through your mouth.”
I do like she says.
“Good. Now take another one.”
I do. The urge to puke slowly subsides.
“I think we both need a nap and some time to stop thinking.” She puts a cool hand on my cheek. “I know I've had enough for one day.”
The pain shooting into my left eye agrees with her, and I follow her down the hall toward my room. Rocket follows, too, and jumps on my bed even before I get there. I don't care, though. I sit on the edge of the bed, my forehead resting against the palm of my hand.
“I'll be in my room if you need me. I'm taking the phone in with me, just in case.”
“Why don't you just unplug it?” I say. I ease myself onto my side and back up until I run into Rocket.
“That's a better idea,” Maggie says. “We don't need to talk to anyone that badly for a few hours.”
My eyes close. I hear Maggie's door shut. My head pounds in time with my heart, and my mind swims with
a dizzying variety of emotions. The one parent who matters most to me is gone, and the one I care least about could be invited to waltz back into my life. I could wind up losing my dad, Maggie, my home, and Rocket without being able to say anything about it. As if he knows I'm thinking of him, Rocket's tail thumps on the bed, and he rolls over and rests his head on my legs. I manage to fall asleep.
Muffled voices in the other room cause my eyes to pop open. I strain to hear who's speaking. I recognize Maggie's voice, but the other one is lower. It doesn't immediately register as familiar. I sit up slowly. Rocket thumps his tail on the bed behind me where he has been napping with me. I stand and slowly twist the knob on the door.
“. . . have it towed when they finish the investigation.”
The other voice belongs to Sheriff Oakes.
“I'm so grateful to you,” Maggie says.
Footsteps shuffle, and I hear the front door open and shut. Rocket maneuvers around me and noses the door open. I follow him into the front room. Maggie is sitting at the kitchen table, a small cardboard box in front of her.
“What did the sheriff want?” I ask.
The room is filled with the warmth and light of the late afternoon sun. I hear the sound of a car as it crunches down the gravel-and-shell driveway toward the street.
Maggie looks up with a start. “I'm sorry,” she says. “I
didn't mean to wake you.”
“It's okay,” I say, sliding a chair from the table and sitting next to her. “What's this?”
Maggie rests her head against one hand, leaning hard on the tabletop. “It's some of the things from your dad's truck, things they found that they thought we might want and Raleigh police don't need for evidence.”
I tip the edge of the box toward me. There are some papers with my brochure clipped to them, a white square box, Dad's travel mug, his wallet.
“Will you open that white box?” Maggie asks, her voice shaky and soft.
It dawns on me what might be inside, and my hands are suddenly sweaty. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“No,” Maggie says.
I look at her. “We can wait till later.”
She starts to cry. “I don't know, Michael. I'm so afraid.”
“It's just a ring.”
Maggie looks at me, her eyes flash like lightening.