The Cinderella Plan. Margaret Daley
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house. One small child played off to the side with some trucks while a toddler, dressed in a diaper and a long-sleeved blue pullover shirt, pressed his face against the screen door.
Caleb extended his hand toward Rex. “It’s good to see you. As you can see, Dylan’s okay.”
Rex snorted, fastening his full attention on the boy. “We were worried sick about you. What did you think running away would prove?”
Dylan’s frown evolved into a scowl, deep grooves at the sides of his mouth. Silent, he stared at Rex, his chin hiked up a notch.
The man gestured toward the six-year-old on the porch. “Take Brent inside and tell Cora you’re home.”
Dylan stomped up the stairs, but when he spoke to Brent, none of the boy’s anger showed in his tone of voice as he helped the younger boy gather up his trucks. They disappeared inside the house, Dylan taking hold of the toddler’s hand as they ambled down the hallway.
Anne moved closer to Caleb, filling the void Dylan’s absence created. A strong urge to reach out and grasp her hand for support inundated Caleb as he’d waited for the children to leave. His palms tingled as though an electrical current passed through him.
“May we have a word, Rex?” Caleb finished mounting the remaining two steps, not intending to be put off by the man.
Rex backed up, then waved his arms toward a grouping of white wicker furniture at one end of the porch. “Fine. Dinner will be soon and I’ll need to wash up. It’s quite a chore getting five children all to sit down at the table and eat at the same time.”
“This won’t take long. I’m concerned about Dylan, as I’m sure you are. Thankfully, Anne found him before he decided to leave the center.” Caleb’s gaze slid to Anne, and her presence next to him soothed some of the tension festering in him. Her sweet, caring attitude reminded him of what was good in life.
Rex sat in the lone wicker chair, leaving the small love seat for Caleb and Anne. As he lowered himself next to her, again the desire to touch her for support made him falter, and his mind went blank for a few seconds. Silence reigned while he grappled with his feelings, ones he hadn’t had in a long while.
Rex cleared his throat. “The only thing I can think that set Dylan off last night was he didn’t get to see a TV show he had wanted to. With five children in the house, he has his chores that have to be done and he wasn’t through with the dishes when the show came on.”
“I understand.” Caleb forced himself to keep his hands from clenching at his sides. Chores were an important part of a family, but, like Anne, he wasn’t so sure about the Givens’ motives for taking in foster children. He’d been around other foster parents, especially Reverend Fraser and his wife, who loved their charges and their home reflected that love. When he’d been inside the Givens’ home, he didn’t feel that kind of love for the children. They were a business to Rex and Cora Givens. “I’d like to counsel Dylan on a formal basis. He needs more than he’s getting right now coming to the center and just hanging out.”
Rex straightened his large frame in the small chair, its creaking sound permeating the porch. “You can say that again. Dylan’s more than Cora and me can handle. He resents any work we want him to do around the house. His attitude has been affecting the others in the short time he’s been here.” He crossed his arms. “Frankly, we don’t know what to do about the boy anymore. We’re thinking of calling the state to place him somewhere else.”
Caleb’s hand curled into a fist. “Let me work with him first. Give me a chance.”
“He’s been going to the youth center for the past month and nothing about his attitude has changed.”
“It takes time, Mr. Givens,” Anne said, shifting next to Caleb, her hand brushing up next to his fist, as though she sensed his tension and was trying to reassure him.
Her soft voice tempered Caleb, and he uncurled his hand. Lord, what do I do? Dylan needs me.
“I can’t let the boy disrupt my household and set the wrong example. I have four other children to think about.”
Caleb didn’t want Dylan to be moved from foster home to foster home if there was a better solution. “Give me until the end of this month before you make a decision. Please.” He gave up fighting his feelings and took Anne’s hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her surprise reflected in her expression, but he didn’t release his hold nor did she pull her hand away.
Rex rose. “Fine. But if things don’t get better soon, I’ll be talking to Dylan’s case manager about another foster home.”
Caleb stood at the same time as Anne, their clasped hands dropping to their sides. For a second he had a strong urge to grab hold of her again. Stunned by the need, he stepped away. “Don’t say anything to Dylan about your plans.”
“You’ve got four weeks, Reverend. Things have got to get better or Dylan needs to go back to the state.”
Anne stiffened and started to say something but stopped herself. Instead, she stalked down the steps and walked toward his Suburban. Caleb watched her until she stopped at the curb and waited for him. He, too, fought the anger roiling in his stomach. Rex Givens wanted only easy children to raise. Life wasn’t that simple. Caleb wondered how much of the man’s attitude Dylan was aware of.
“What’s her problem?” Rex asked, tossing his head in the direction of Anne.
Caleb bit back what he really wanted to say to the man about children being precious resources, not commodities to trade in when something didn’t go just right. He needed a chance to counsel Dylan and that meant going through Rex Givens. “I’ll start working with Dylan after school on Monday if that’s okay with you,” he said, rather than answering Rex.
“Fine.” The large man shuffled toward the screen door. “Personally I think it’s a waste of your time. But then it’s your time, not mine.”
Caleb hurried from the porch before he said something he shouldn’t. Anne leaned against his car, her ankles crossed, her arms folded over her chest, nothing casual about her stance. When she lifted her gaze to his, all the anger he felt was deep in her eyes. He reached around her and opened the door. She slipped inside.
When he slid in behind the wheel, the swirling tension in the small confines of his Suburban escalated to a minitornado. He twisted around to look at her and try to defuse the moment.
“I can’t believe that man! Did you hear him? Those children don’t mean a thing to him. I know foster parents aren’t always easy to find, but he and Cora shouldn’t be ones at all. I—” Her mouth closed about the words she was going to say, the line of her jaw hard.
Anne’s face in her self-righteous anger was a beautiful sight to behold. She was like a female bear protecting her cubs, intending to throw her body in the way of danger. The zeal in Anne appealed to him. Why had he never seen it before? Because she was a master at keeping herself in the background, of blending in so no one noticed her. But he noticed her now—the flushed cheeks, the blue sparkle in her eyes, the full pouty lips.
“I know. I wish I had an—” Caleb stopped, an idea forming in his mind.
“What?”
“I could apply to be Dylan’s foster parent.”
The fury siphoning from her, Anne smiled. “That would be perfect! Then he wouldn’t have to leave Chestnut Grove if there wasn’t another family to take him in. He’s been making friends here. I would hate to take that away from him. And the best part is, you can work with him and maybe help him.”
Caleb started the engine. “It might work.”
“It will work. I have a good feeling about it.”
He slanted a look toward Anne. “It’s dinnertime. Want to go grab something to eat at the Starlight Diner?”
“I—I—” Flustered, Anne snapped her mouth closed, color