Adopted Son. Linda Warren
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and personal view of life’s real fairy tales.”
“I’d love to, but first I’d like to take a look at Brady, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Follow me.”
They walked across the hall to a room full of baby beds. A large glass window gave the nurses a clear view of each crib from the nurses’ station. Two nurses were attending to the needs of children with various ailments. Opal stopped at a bed against the wall.
Tuck removed his hat and stared down at Brady. He lay on his stomach, completely naked except for a small blanket covering his upper body. His bottom was bloodred and had ointment spread over it.
“They’ll put a diaper on him as soon as he wakes up,” Opal said. “They’ve debrided his wounds and applied a barrier cream.”
Brady’s hair had been shaved off and Tuck saw the infected sores on his scalp, too. He fought the anger churning in his stomach.
Opal glanced at him. “They had to shave his head to clean the sores and remove dead tissue. There are sores between his toes, too. It had been a while since he’d had a bath.”
Tuck kept staring at the little boy. He slept peacefully, as a baby should. At that moment Tuck vowed that Brady would have a decent home and never be neglected again.
WILMA HARPER LIVED in the projects on a cul-de-sac. Tuck parked his car and followed Opal inside the brick duplex. A neighbor and a hospice nurse were there. Wilma sat in a recliner with an oxygen tank beside her, gasping for every breath. She’d been told of her daughter’s death and held a box of Kleenex in one hand, her eyes red.
In her early forties, Wilma looked twice her age. Her pallid skin, skeletal frame and sunken eyes denoted a woman who was terminally ill.
Tuck and Opal sat on a worn brown sofa. He took in the room. The walls were made of cinder blocks and painted a pale tan, which was yellowing. Linoleum squares of the same color covered the floor. Some of the floor had eroded from wear, leaving the stark concrete visible.
Opal was right. This was the flip side of a fairy tale.
“How’s Brady?” Wilma immediately asked Opal.
“He’s going to be fine,” Opal replied, and introduced Tuck.
“This is all my fault,” Wilma wailed, then sucked in a whiff of oxygen.
“No, it isn’t,” Opal told her. “Nicole is your daughter and you trusted her.”
“I spoiled her. That’s the problem.”
“Ms. Harper,” Tuck spoke up. “We’re trying to do the best thing for Brady now.”
“Yes.” Wilma sniffed. “I want that, too.”
“Is there a relative who might be able to take Brady?”
Wilma shook her head. “My relatives are…struggling to make ends meet. I can’t think of anyone…who can give Brady the kind of care he needs.”
“What about Brady’s father’s family?” Opal asked.
Wilma took a breath of oxygen. “After Braden’s death, his parents divorced and remarried. They have new families and…I don’t think they’d be willing to take him.”
The hospice nurse handed Wilma a glass of water and she sipped at it, her hands shaking. “I wish I could take him. He needs me.” Tears rolled from her eyes.
The neighbor, a black lady in her thirties, rubbed her arm. “Don’t get upset, Wilma.”
“My baby girl is dead,” Wilma wheezed, and sucked in more oxygen. “Seems like yesterday she was watching cartoons and eating Fruit Loops.”
“I know,” the lady consoled her.
Wilma gasped for air then looked directly at Tuck. “Please find someone to love my grandson. He deserves that.”
Tuck’s throat felt dry. “I promise, ma’am. I’ll make sure he has the best home possible.”
“Thank you,” Wilma whispered. “And make sure he has his stuffed dog. He carries it everywhere…and sleeps with it.”
Tuck and Opal eyed each other. “What does the dog look like?” Tuck asked.
“It’s blue and made out of that really soft fabric.”
He stood. “I’ll see that he has it.” Tuck twisted his hat in his hand. “I’m real sorry about your daughter, Mrs. Harper.”
Outside, Opal eyed him. “You really meant that, didn’t you?”
“Sure.” Tuck placed his hat on his head. “It’s sad when anyone dies like Nicole did.”
“Yeah, but I was talking about the dog.”
“Yes, ma’am, I meant that, too.” Tuck fell in step beside Opal. “I’ll find the dog and I’ll make sure Brady gets a decent home. He’s been through enough.”
“I’ll put some feelers out. There are always couples looking for small children. In the meantime I guess I’d better track down the father’s family.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll handle that.”
“Mind?” Opal lifted an eyebrow. “You’re like an angel sent from above. You’re certainly a cut above other law enforcement officers I’ve worked with.”
“I was left as an infant, so I know what getting a good home means.”
“Well, bless my soul, aren’t you something?” Opal stopped in her tracks. “You’re one of a kind, Jeremiah Tucker. It’s good to remember where you come from, and it’s even better to give some of it back.”
“Thanks, Opal. I’ll call when I have any news.”
He strolled toward his car, feeling better about the situation. With a little luck, he was hoping that one of Braden’s parents wanted Brady.
Back at his office, it didn’t take long to track them down. Bruce, the father, lived in Dallas and had married a woman with three small children. He said his wife wouldn’t be willing to take on another child. He was sorry and hoped they found Brady a good home. The mother, Eileen, lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her new husband had had an accident and was paralyzed from the waist down. She had her hands full and regretted she couldn’t take Brady.
Tuck stared at the phone, wondering why neither had asked about Brady’s recovery or his well-being. Brady was their grandchild, their flesh and blood. Yet they seemed not to care.
Tuck ran his hands over his face, hoping that Opal could find the perfect family for Brady.
Perfect.
He thought of Grace. Uptight, repressed—that was how he thought of her. How he needed to think of her, but last night was different. For a brief second she’d let down her guard and so had he. The image was playing tricks with his mind.
And it shouldn’t.
His friends the McCain brothers teased him about Grace. He and Grace were the only two single people left in their group and they were often paired together, especially at weddings. His friends saw that as a sign. Maybe he needed to stop being so touchy. Maybe…
His thoughts halted as he noticed the time. It was Friday and he was late for a brother’s meeting. Even though he wasn’t a McCain, Tuck was included because he was Eli’s foster brother and a good friend. Eli’s father was Joe McCain, but Eli had never carried the McCain name because Joe denied he was Eli’s father.
The McCain family had been a mess. He couldn’t understand how a father could walk away from his own son, not like Joe McCain had walked away from Eli. Beau and Caleb had been the lucky ones. They had lived with their mother, but the old man had raised Jake. Now the brothers had all made peace with each other and their dysfunctional father, who had passed