I Speak For This Child: True Stories of a Child Advocate (19 page)

“Which post office?” I asked.

“Williamstown.”

I opened my file until I found what I was looking for: the address label cut from the package. “I sent it UPS. Here is the original label.”

Lillian kicked my leg under the table and suppressed a smile.

Nancy cleared her throat. “There is no point going on. I have heard enough to ask you to remove Cory from the MacDougal home this afternoon. “

“Absolutely not!” Phyllis Cady’s lips contorted in anger. “I will take the matter to court before I will allow your office to determine where our foster children will be placed.”

“I already have the legal papers drawn for that possibility,” Nancy said finally.

Phyllis Cady shifted in her chair. “Perhaps we can work out a compromise. If Gay wants to talk to Cory, she could schedule visits with him at HRS.”

I waited a beat for Nancy or Lillian to jump in, but then could not restrain myself. “I am a volunteer Guardian ad Litem, not an abusing parent. If I am going to follow the judge’s order that I continue as his guardian, I will meet him at his home or at his school whenever I feel it is appropriate.”

“I can understand why you feel that way,” Mitzi said, trying to be conciliatory. “Maybe it would be in Cory’s best interests if you resigned and they appointed someone else, who Mrs. MacDougal could accept. That way Cory can stay with the MacDougals, where he is happy.”

“I don’t have an ego problem with this case. Nancy can use me however she prefers. If you like, I’ll leave the room and you can make the decision without me.” I reached for my purse.

Lillian placed her hand on my shoulder and kept me in my chair. “Gay, you are Cory’s guardian. What would you like to do?”

“I don’t have adequate information about this child’s state of mind to make a decision.” I thought quickly. “I would like to meet with Cory today and then I want him to have an appointment with a therapist within the next three days. Then I will make my recommendation.”

Phyllis Cady shifted in her chair. “Let me talk to my staff and Mrs. MacDougal for a moment.”

In the hallway Lillian shook her head admiringly. “What possessed you to bring that package receipt?”

“You did tell me to document
everything”

Mitzi opened the door. “Would you be available to go to the MacDougal home right away?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“With Lillian along as your supervisor?” Phyllis Cady added.

“Sure,” I said.

Lillian nodded that it was fine with her.

Phyllis Cady glanced at Renata MacDougal. “Will that be agreeable to you?”

Renata MacDougal looked directly at me and nodded. “I never had met a guardian before you came to my house, so I thought someone had singled me out to check on. Apparently I misunderstood.”

The coolness and logic of her speech disarmed me. What had she been told when we left the room? “What about a visit with him and his sister?” I asked.

“That won’t be a problem,” Mitzi Keller filled in. “I’ll make the arrangements for that as well as with a therapist.”

Phyllis Cady stood up, as did Renata MacDougal. She lifted a tote bag that had been by her side during the meeting and unzipped it. Out popped the head of her cat, Juniper, who blinked his eyes in the bright light.

Forty minutes later I crossed the bridge and turned down the country road with Lillian following close behind. The sky ahead was blackened by an approaching thunderstorm.

Renata MacDougal came to the door. “I called the boys to come in from the barn. Don’t want them to be out when this storms hits.”

Hearing a scuffling sound, we turned. The three boys were wiping their feet on a mat by the back door.

Lillian pointed to the fifteen-foot Christmas tree under the highest point of the vaulted living room, and smiled. “Sounds like you boys had a wonderful Christmas.”

“Cory, why don’t you show these people your gifts?” his foster mother said.

Cory slipped off his shoes and came toward us silently. He lifted a radio-controlled truck off the shelf.

“Nice!” I said.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I got lots of cool stuff.” There was a fragment of the twinkle I had noticed when we first met.

He held up a pair of brown cowboy boots, a Walkman, and then pointed out a sweater and some slacks.

“Don’t forget the Disney season passes,” his foster mother prompted. “Did you do your homework?”

“Yes, I finished the math assignment. Look.” Cory turned to a short division page and showed it to me.

I checked the neat column of answers. “Looks perfect to me.”

The sky rumbled. Lillian glanced at her watch. “Let’s go out for a snack, okay, Cory?”

The boy gave his foster mother an inquiring look. She nodded and said it would be fine.

The three of us contorted ourselves into Lillian’s racing green convertible. “Can you put the top down?” Cory asked.

Lillian looked at the tall trees, which were swaying against the charcoal sky. “That would guarantee rain.” She put the car in gear. “Where shall we go?”

“There’s only the convenience store and the tavern,” I explained. Without blinking, Lillian pulled into the Sandy Lane Tavern. I loved Lillian’s style. If I had done it, though, Mrs. MacDougal would probably have called Phyllis Cady to complain I had plied the kid with six rounds of beer and bought him a pack of cigarettes.

“Did you like your trip to Disney?” I asked Cory once our eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

“Yeah, once we got there, but we almost didn’t go because of what Rudy did.”

“What was that?” Lillian wondered.

“It’s too personal to discuss.”

The Cokes were served and I covered the hush by chatting about Alicia. After he drained his glass, Cory blinked his bright blue eyes. “Rudy, well … he wets his bed, then he doesn’t tell anyone.”

“That must have been embarrassing for him,” I said, also thinking about Cory’s similar problems.

“Yeah, it freaks him out when they find out, which they always do. You got to learn not to let them get to you. See, I always think of every day as a fresh place to start. Even if the past was dirty, the future can be clean.”

Lillian gave me a sideways glance. “Where did you learn that?”

“Not from my father, I’ll tell you that!” Cory chuckled. “Dad used to say, ‘What’s in your dirty little mind?’ and I would reply, ‘Dad, my mind is clean.’ “

Silently, I tried to decipher what he might be trying to tell us about Alicia’s sexual abuse, or possibly his own. Then Lillian asked, “If you could return to your Dad tomorrow, would you want to go?”

“Yes!” he replied unequivocally.

“Until that is a possibility, do you want to stay where you are?” Lillian continued.

“I’ll stick with the MacDougals until I can go home because it’s a cruel world out there on the streets.” Just then a bolt of lightning splintered the silence.

After we stopped laughing, I said, “I guess that proves it, Cory. But sometimes it feels safer to remain somewhere you know because there always could be something worse, but there is a chance that there might be something better.”

“I’m not taking any more chances.”

“Okay, then do you have any other requests?” I asked.

“I still want to see Alicia. You know her and me, we’re going to get married.”

Lillian looked at me quizzically. “It’s a joke they have,” I explained.

Lillian handed Cory a business card with the Guardian ad Litem office number and told him how to make a collect call.

Cory put it in his shirt pocket. “I’ll give it to Renata when I get home.”

“No, Cory,” Lillian said in a solemn tone, “you put this one in your pocket. I’ll give her one later.”

When we returned to the house, Conrad MacDougal came out to the car and opened the door on Cory’s side. He was rail thin and way over six feet tall. I had never met him, nor had Lillian, but he ignored us. “Just the young man I needed to see.”

Cory got out quickly and stood ramrod straight. Conrad MacDougal, towering above him, waved the math paper I had looked at earlier above Cory’s head. The page was now covered with red X’s beside every problem. “You’ll have to do this disgraceful work over before supper.”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “but I checked the paper and the answers were correct.”

“Oh, is that so? Didn’t you notice that he copied every problem backward? See”—he showed me the book—”it’s supposed to be eighty-one divided by nine, not nine into eighty-one.” He crumpled the paper and threw it on the ground. “Now go in the house and do something the right way the first time for a change.”

Without a glance backward, Cory hurried up the path. “Just a minute,” I called. “I have something for you.” Fumbling with my keys I opened my trunk and lifted out the UPS package with the label cut off. “Your Christmas present was returned to me by mistake.”

Cory took it. “Better open it later,” he said, then rushed to the porch as nickel-size circles of rain began to pelt the pavement. At the door, he turned, grinned, and said, “Hey, thanks a lot!”

“He doesn’t deserve treats when he is doing so poorly in school,” his foster father said. “That’s why I came out and showed his mistakes to you. Humiliation goes a long way to burning something into the memory.”

Lillian opened her mouth, then decided against making a comment. “I’ve got to be going. Gay, could you direct me back to the highway?”

We got back in our cars and started down the road. As soon as we were out of sight of the farm, Lillian sped up, passed me, then signaled she was pulling over by the convenience store.

“That man is worse than his wife!” Lillian seethed as we talked, windows open, sitting in our cars. The pouring rain formed a curtain between us.

“I don’t understand why Cory defended them. We gave him lots of opportunities to raise a red flag, but he wouldn’t do it.”

“He can’t allow himself to be truthful because he has no reason to trust us,” Lillian said, shaking her head sadly. “Behind those gorgeous eyes is a wall of fear. If Cory hasn’t been able to admit his father might be at fault, he certainly can’t do it about the only other caregivers he knows.”

“So, does that mean he has to stay in that”—I started to censor myself, then burst out—”that concentration camp! I think they take in those boys so they can have slave labor.”

“It’s definitely an unhappy home. But if Cory won’t say anything, then all we can do is keep the pressure on the MacDougals to comply with the agreements we reached this afternoon so you can monitor the situation.”

Alicia’s foster mother, Ruth Levy, phoned the next day. Finally arrangements had been made for Cory to see Alicia on Sunday. “I’m going to pick up Cory and take him to a church picnic and a concert of religious music. Mrs. MacDougal said it was okay with her, but she wanted to check with her husband. I can’t see anything in my plans he would object to, do you?”

An hour later Ruth called back. “The visit is off. Mrs. MacDougal said that her husband did not want Cory to be rewarded with dinners and concerts when he was doing so poorly at school. Can you help?”

I sighed, and said I would call Lillian, but she was out. Since I had just been informed of the next date that Cory would have to go to court, I decided to call Mrs. MacDougal myself.

For once Renata MacDougal and I had an amicable conversation. She was pleased that the case was progressing against Mr. Stevenson. “Cory won’t settle down until he begins to accept his father is not the man he idolizes.”

“I was hoping he could work that out with a therapist.”

“He’s going next week.”

“That’s excellent. I understand Alicia might be seeing him this weekend.” Mrs. MacDougal explained her convoluted reasoning about why Cory could not have special outings until his behavior improved. “I realize that, but this is important to Alicia. Considering what that girl has been through …”

“We aren’t trying to prevent them from visiting with each other, we just don’t want Cory to have a fancy dinner or see a concert until he earns it as a reward.”

“But he could get together with Alicia?”

“Not at the Levy house, because they might go against my rules. But she can come here.”

I phoned Ruth Levy, who erupted. “That woman! She makes me sound like a heathen.” I dared not respond. “Okay, let’s call her bluff. The concert is on the way to Williamstown. I’ll take Alicia there before the concert and pick her up afterward. It’s a pain in the rear for me, but this time I won’t let Renata weasel out of it.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You are wonderful to do this for the children.”

Monday morning I called Mrs. MacDougal to see if the visit had taken place. “Oh, the little tramp was here all right. Alicia wore a sweater so tight Rudy’s eyes were popping out of his head. Then Cory fought with Chris over their chores and I had to take away television from both of them for the rest of the month. Even worse, I caught Alicia and Cory using foul language in front of Rudy. He doesn’t know better, but those Stevenson brats certainly do.” Before I could respond, Renata continued, “I’ll tell you one thing, Alicia knows what a jerk her father is. She told Cory that he was never going back to their dad, so he should make the best of it. If the Levys were firmer with her, she’d turn out all right, but they’re going to let her run wild.”

“Well, thanks for allowing them to visit, and let me know what the therapist says,” I responded with every ounce of control I could muster.

Thursday of that week there was an urgent call from Mitzi Keller. “Mrs. MacDougal has thrown Cory out. Yesterday I moved him to the home of Birdie Rose and Patty Perez in Kensington Heights.”

“What did he do?”

“He was caught smoking. Renata gave him some punishments, but he refused to do them, so she said she would contact me and Cory said, ‘Go for it!’ “

“May I call Cory now?”

“Sure. Patty is a different type than Renata MacDougal.” She told me the phone number.

When I put down the receiver, I found my hands were trembling. Poor kid! He hadn’t wanted to leave, and now, probably because of my actions, he had lost one more parent figure in his life.

After I introduced myself on the phone, Patty said, “Why don’t you come over? Cory would love to see you.”