Except, of course, when confronted with a psychotic lunatic who’d gone off his meds in a big way and had started hacking people with a kitchen knife. Even now, as she was nearly asleep, Scarlett flinched as she remembered the terrifying sensation of the knife plunging into her side, the horrific pain, the way the blood had gushed out of her. She’d been convinced she was going to die then, especially since the boy had raised the knife and was nearly ready to stab her again until he’d been tackled by the security guards at the group home.
She had passed out after that, not even aware when the paramedics had arrived, or being rushed into the ER where they had stitched her up, given her a transfusion, and enough pain meds to knock out a small horse. When she’d finally been lucid enough, a woman named Kate had come to see her, introducing herself as Scarlett’s new case manager.
“It’s a disgrace that you were ever in that sort of group home to begin with,” Kate had raged. “Once my manager learned about what happened to you, Christy was not only taken off your case but fired. So I’m here to assure you, Scarlett, that we’re going to find a much better place for you once you’re discharged from the hospital. In fact, I’m working on something right now, talking with a couple I’ve worked with for years. They’re wonderful women, though they mostly foster special needs kids. But I’ve got a good feeling about this. God knows you deserve a break after the hell you’ve been through over the years.”
But Scarlett had taken Kate’s words with a grain of salt, having long ago lost any and all hope that anything good would ever happen to her. When Margie and Roz had agreed to take her in, she’d been dubious about the offer, fully expecting that they would change their minds at the last minute.
And even now, after having been tucked into bed and fed a delicious homemade lunch, Scarlett wouldn’t allow herself to believe that this was going to last. Sooner than later, she thought sleepily, her new foster mothers were going to realize just what they’d gotten themselves into and call Kate to take the little troublemaker away.
But for now, she was far too tired to worry about what tomorrow might bring, and allowed her drug-induced sleep to take her over.
***
Two Months Later
Andy beamed at Scarlett as she set a plate of toaster waffles, swimming in extra butter and syrup, in front of him.
“Thank you, Scarlett,” he told her sunnily. “That looks yummy. Waffles are my favorite.”
She smiled as he dug hungrily into his breakfast. “No problem, Andy. You need more juice?”
Andy shook his wheat blond head. “Nope. I can get it myself if I want more. I’m not a baby, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. Just checking. How about you, Marcus? You good?”
Marcus gave her a thumbs up and a nod, taking a sip of his protein smoothie through a straw. Despite his disability, he was fiercely independent and tried to do as much as possible for himself. Scarlett had learned early on that he hated needing to have someone cut up his food for him and hand feed him, He had specially designed utensils and bowls to make eating a little easier, so she mostly left him to ask for help only when he really needed it.
With both boys settled in with their respective breakfasts, Scarlett spread a thick layer of strawberry jam on her toast and took a bite before washing it down with chocolate milk. Not the healthiest of breakfasts, she supposed, but she was still stick thin and needed to cram as many calories in as she could.
She’d made a full recovery from the knife wound that had come within inches of killing her, with the exception of the nasty looking scar that wouldn’t be fading anytime soon. But while the wound was fully healed and the pain completely gone, she was still on the frail side, far too underweight for her doctor’s liking. Margie and Roz, who were both on the statuesque side, were constantly urging her to eat, and made sure the fridge and pantry were always filled to overflowing with her favorite foods. Though after years of rarely having enough to eat, Scarlett wasn’t particularly fussy about food. Long ago she’d adopted an instinct for survival, and that included eating most anything that was available, whether she actually liked the taste of it or not. But her new foster moms tended to spoil her a little, having learned about her sad, sorry life from Kate’s extensive files. Margie, who was basically in charge of the household and looking after the kids while Roz worked at the hospital, was an excellent cook and liked to bake from scratch as often as possible.
But even after two months of living here, Scarlett still didn’t feel totally secure, was still wary of letting herself get too close to her foster mothers, and wouldn’t allow herself to believe that something this good was going to last for very long. Sooner than later she would find a way to screw things up, and Margie and Roz would sorely regret the day they had ever agreed to take her in. They would call Kate to come and get her, and Scarlett would find herself packing her bags and moving on to the next place.
At least, she thought wryly as she refilled her glass of milk, she actually had bags to pack this time around. After she’d been living here about a week, Margie had declared she was strong enough to go out shopping for some clothes and things. Scarlett, who would have been more than content to just have a couple of new outfits and one pair of shoes, had been speechless with shock when Margie had bought her considerably more than that. Oh, none of the jeans or T-shirts or cotton undies or shoes had been expensive, everything having been purchased at Target, Walmart, and Old Navy, along with toiletries. But Scarlett had never had so many clothes before, especially brand new clothes that no one but herself had ever worn. She’d been so overcome with emotion that this time she hadn’t been able to hide her tears from Margie. Rather than make a big deal out of it, though, Margie had merely patted her on the shoulder and moved her along to the next store.
Margie had been true to her word and little by little had cleaned more stuff out of the small home office that had been hastily converted to a bedroom for Scarlett. She now had half the closet to herself, and the small desk had been cleared off to make room for her notebooks and the rather ancient but still functioning laptop that Roz had procured from somewhere for Scarlett’s use.
Aaron had moved into a specialized residential home for the severely autistic about two weeks ago, and Scarlett had not only noticed how much quieter the house was now but also how her foster mothers seemed a lot less stressed. It had taken a great deal of energy and time to devote to the boy, and Margie had admitted to feeling completely overwhelmed and not at all qualified to give him the care and attention he really needed. She and Roz had offered to let Scarlett move into his old room, but she’d gently refused, for two reasons - one, she had overheard the two of them conversing and knew they really needed the money they would receive from taking another special needs kid in. While Roz made good money at her nursing job, it was really their only source of income since Margie was a stay-at-home mom and rarely had time these days to work on her furniture making. And up until a year or so ago, they had been helping to pay the fees for Margie’s mother at her assisted living facility. Margie’s mom had passed away subsequently, but now she and Roz were trying to save as much money as possible so they could retire early. Roz’s job in the ER was extremely stressful, and she and Margie had dreams of buying an RV and traveling around the country one day.