“Has a nice ring to it, right?” I ask her.
“Cooper.” She lowers the jersey and gives me a look that I can’t quite explain.
“It’s you! It’s really you!” a young boy says, racing into the room.
I lean into Reese and whisper in her ear, “I love you.” That’s the best I’ve got for her. She needs to see it, and she needs to hear it.
“It’s really me,” I say, pulling back from her. “What’s your name?”
One by one, the boys take turns, shaking my hand and telling me their names. Reese stands next to me and passes out all the goodies to each of them. The smiles on their faces, and hers, is a smile I will never forget.
I’ve never really thought of myself as much of a celebrity before, but today, seeing the looks on their faces, and their eyes light up, I vow to use this new-found fame for good. Sure, I was popular in college, but this… it’s an all-new level. I could actually make a difference, and with Reese at my side, together, we could make a huge impact. It’s something I need to think about, but definitely an avenue I want to pursue.
Five hours later, the mini carnival has been cleaned up, and the boys are still bouncing with energy. “Do they ever slow down?” I ask Carla.
“Nope. Many of them have never experienced anything like today, so their high is going to last for a while. And you—” Carla pauses to glance over at me. “You made their year by being here and being so good to them. Thank you for that.”
“Thank Reese. I wouldn’t be here without her.”
She nods. “She’s a huge asset to us.”
“I’m glad that’s not going unnoticed.”
“Cooper!” one of the boys calls out. “Come toss with us.”
“Duty calls,” I say, standing to stretch my legs and join the boys where they’re gathered just a few feet away. “All right, how about some drills. I’m going to toss each of you the ball, and you toss it back then go to the back of the line. That will get us all warmed up,” I say, holding up my hands for the ball. Joey, one of the smaller boys, rears his arm back with all his might and tosses it to me. It doesn’t even make it halfway. I hold in my laugh and move forward to retrieve the ball.
I spend the next twenty minutes or so letting them toss me the ball. “All right. We’re going to mix it up a little. I’m going to yell go, and you take off running, but keep your eyes on me. I’m going to toss you the ball, and you’re going to try and catch it. This works on your speed as well as your hand-eye coordination,” I explain.
Pass after pass, the boys try their hardest to catch the ball. A few of them made it happen, and the others, the smaller of the group, came pretty close. There have been a lot of laughs, and today has reminded me why I love this game. I don’t know how many nights after dinner my dad and I would do this very same thing. Then when we moved next to Reese, she and her dad would join us while our moms watched from the lawn chairs.
It feels as though every part of my life is entwined with hers, and I love it. I love her for it. She has been there when I was just a kid with big dreams, and now, today, she’s here living that dream with me. At least I hope she will be.
“Boys!” Carla calls out. “It’s time to come in and get cleaned up for dinner.”
“Aw, do we have to?” one of them complains.
“Hey, now,” I chime in. “You need to listen to Carla and the other adults. They’re just looking out for what’s best for you.” There is some collective grumbling, but they nod as each one of them lines up to give me a high-five.
“You’re good with them,” Reese says, walking toward me.
“They’re all good kids. I hate that they’re here.” I point to the large building.
“Yeah, me too. However, what’s worse is that this place is better than where they were. This gives them structure, stability, a safe place to lay their head and food in their bellies,” she says sadly.
“You’re doing good work here, Reese.”
She shrugs. “I’m their social worker. It’s my job to look out for what’s best for them.”
“I agree, but you went above and beyond today. No one before you has ever taken their own time to plan something like this for them.”
“You were a hit,” she says, ignoring my compliment.
“We make a good team.”
She smiles up at me. “Yeah, we really do.”
Reaching out, I entangle my fingers with hers and lead her to her car. With a quick peck on the lips, I promise to see her at home.
Home.
Reese is my home.
Chapter 12
Reese
Reaching for my coffee cup, I find it empty. With a heavy sigh, I toss it into the trash can and debate on running out to grab another. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day. When my phone rang at four this morning, I knew it wouldn’t be good. It never is in my line of work. Cassie, a little girl who just turned six, was removed from her home. This is the third time she’s been removed, and this time there were signs of abuse.
I wasn’t working for the county the first time she was removed, but I was there the second during my internship. Luckily, we were able to place her in foster care. Her parents did the required rehab, and she got to go home. This time, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I have to wonder when is enough enough? When does the court system not see that this isn’t what’s best for her, to be bounced around?
I’ve been trying to place her in foster care all day, but I don’t have any families who can take her on. Not yet. There are many who are in training, but there just are not enough foster families to love and care for these kids. It breaks my heart.
Glancing at the clock, I see it’s already five o’clock. I’ve done all that I can do today, and it’s time to go home. I don’t need more caffeine. I need sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. Saving the court document I was working on, I close down my computer, and instead of packing up and bringing work home with me, I leave it all here. I need a night without it. I just need… to decompress from the sadness of the day.
I work for the county, but my office is in the children’s home. Normally, I go and say goodbye to all the kids, pass out some hugs. I know I’m breaking the cardinal rule to not get attached, but I can’t seem to prevent it. It’s not in me to not care about these kids. That’s the huge part of my frustration with my job. I don’t feel as though I’m making a difference. Instead, I feel like a hamster on a wheel, just going through the motions. Just like Cassie. This is her third time being pulled from her home. Third time. I know we want to keep families together, but is that really what’s best for her if that’s the kind of environment she’s living in? I’m conflicted and disappointed in our system.
I’m unlocking my car when my phone rings. Stopping, I dig it out of my purse and see Cooper’s face smiling at me. “Hey,” I greet him, unlocking the car and tossing my purse into the passenger seat.
“How’s your day going?”
“Don’t ask.”
“That bad?” he asks.