“You two are a damn miracle,” I finally manage.
“No, we’re your family. I’m not sure what it’s going to take to get that through your gorgeous head,” Kara admonishes.
“It’s not gorgeous.”
Jennings snorts. “Whatever.”
“While normally I’d be giving my husband hell for noticing, I agree. You’re beautiful, Maris. From the inside out.”
Their words make me slightly nauseous. I know there’s nothing good inside me. Not really. “No, that was Jed.” Before they can protest, I fib slightly. “I have to get down to the floor. I’ll send you a text, Jennings. And by the way, congratulations, Daddy. Kara, I’ll call you tomorrow. My love to all of you and Kevin.”
I rush off the phone and send Jennings a quick text of what I need. But just before I’m about to slip my phone back into my jeans, I get a news alert.
Local Family Fosters Child. New Addition Makes Seven!
“You have got to be kidding me. Who is selfless enough to…” I click on the article before gasping. It’s my old school friend Sarah Li and her husband, Hung. I knew they had a few kids after graduation, but to foster kids as well? “How utterly selfless.”
Saving the page to read later, I leave my office and go to tell my antsy bartender and crazed cook help is coming.
It only cost me what’s left of my sanity to get it.
Maris
June
“I’ve seen wishes, hopes, and dreams die in my sister’s eyes. It makes me want to hurt the men who have done this to her. What’s the worst is I’m probably the worst perpetrator as I know Nick’s ‘why.’ Should I have told her? Would it have stopped everything else after?” - From the journals of Jedidiah Smith.
I hug the redhead exuberantly. “It’s so good to see you!” Sarah Michelin Li graduated the year before I did from Juneau-Douglas High School, but it didn’t stop us from being friends. Like me, Sarah’s a “sourdough.” Her family can trace its roots back to the gold rush up near Skagway.
“Do you remember when we were little, we used to dress up our Bunny Boots with stickers?” Sarah’s eyes dance as she recalls our days in grammar school.
“Which lasted until we stepped out into the snow again?” I recall drolly.
“I told that story to my youngest foster daughter the other day when she wanted to use a glitter pen.”
“What did she say?”
“Obviously, Mom, it’s because you did it in winter. You should have waited until spring.” We both double over in laughter. “I know I said it when I saw you at his funeral, Maris, but I’m so sorry about Jed.” She reaches over and takes my hand.
“I could offer you the usual ‘thank you,’ but somehow, I think you’d see right through that.” I squeeze her hand back before letting it go.
“I would. It’s a mom thing.”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk with you about.”
“Want to take one off my hands? I have several available?”
“Offering up the ones you made or the ones you brought into your home?”
“Depends on the day.” And our laughter chases one another once again. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
Just then our waiter approaches. I order the fondue. Sarah’s eyes glaze over slightly. “I knew we were friends for a very good reason.”
I amend our order. “For two.”
“Certainly. I’ll be back with that in a few moments.” Our waiter disappears.
“I saw you’re fostering five kids?”
“Yep. My husband was a foster child. We always swore we’d take in as many as we could.”
“But you’re overloaded?” My head cocks to the side.
“To say the least. We barely passed the home inspection this time.”
“Home inspection?”
Sarah goes to open her mouth to answer, but before she can, our waiter is back with a tray filled with cheesy goodness and croutons. “Thank you.”
“Bless you,” she counters.
We dive in simultaneously. After a few minutes, Sarah picks up our conversation. “It’s a huge process, Maris. You have to go through nine weeks of classes. Then there’s months of working with a licensing agent to get your home study and background investigation complete—and heaven help you if you have a fire extinguisher out of place. Because there’s always going to be periodic checks you have to pass. And if you don’t, that would mean more checks. Finally, you graduate.”
“And that’s when you’re placed with a child?”
Sarah snorts. “Honey, that’s when the social workers get involved. You could be placed with a child that night, or you could be placed with one in a few months. It depends on whether or not you agree to respite care.”
I place my hand to my forehead. “There’s so much to think about.”
“Maris, are you considering fostering a child?”
I nod. “It’s something I’ve thought of for years. Jed and I had a close friend who was fostered late in his life. It…affected me.”
Sarah falls back into her chair with a jarring thud. “You’re really considering this?” At my nod, she continues. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Possibly, but likely for something we did in high school. Definitely not for this.”
A lightning-quick grin flashes across her face before she her face sobers. “It’s not a decision to make lightly.”
“No, it isn’t.”
After scrutinizing me for long moments, Sarah nods decisively. “Okay. When’s your next day off?” She reaches for another crouton and dunks it as deep as she can in the gooey cheese.
“Sunday.”
“Then come over for the day. You’ve met my two, but I’m not sure if you’ve met my fosters. Come experience what my life is like. It’s not easy, my friend. Sundays are paperwork days.”
“Like I’m not used to those. Only mine involve kegs and lettuce.”
Sarah, chewing on her crouton, chokes. “There’s a story there.”
I realized how starved I am and reach for a piece of bread. “From a few weeks ago. Luckily, I have a guardian angel.”
“Jed?” she asks knowingly.
“No. My best friend’s husband owns an air transport business.”
“God, up here that’s worth its weight in gold!” she exclaims.
“Don’t I know it. By the next morning, I had beer, lettuce, and tiny donuts from Pike’s Place Market.”
“Bitch. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had those?”
“Educate me on everything I need to know and I’ll make sure you get a supply of them,” I promise her.
“Deal. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. The kids are crazy this time of the year.”
“Remember Rainey Jones?”
“Who could forget Rainey? She married Brad Meyers, right?”
“Yep. I tell them their kids thaw at this time of the year; they’re so out of control.”