Part 8 (1/2)
Why not? After all, her office encouraged drop-in visits, and she always tried to stop in unannounced at least once early in every placement. Besides, letting her see what the home was like when there was no notification that she would visit also served notice on the foster family that she was watching. Angie Garvey would certainly be within her rights to refuse to let her in the door, but most foster parents never exercised that right. After all, if someone refused her a look inside a house where one of her kids lived, it would send her back with a warrant until she found out what was going on.
Her mind made up, Kate pulled to a stop in front of the Garvey house, picked up her shoulder bag and strode quickly up the walk. s.h.i.+vering in the cold morning air, she rang the bell.
The look of surprise on Angie's face when she opened the door seemed genuine, and when the woman immediately opened the door wide, Kate was already sure she would find nothing amiss.
”Kate! What a surprise!” Angie said as she stepped back to let Sarah's caseworker in. ”Come in. The house is a mess, but I think I still have some coffee.”
”I was in the neighborhood,” Kate said. ”So I just thought I'd drop by.”
”I'm so glad you did,” Angie said, picking up a jacket and hat from the sofa and hanging them on the coat tree by the door. ”Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”
”I wish I did,” Kate said, her eyes quickly appraising the room and finding it no messier than the last time she'd been there. ”I just wanted to see how Sarah's doing.”
Angie shrugged. ”Well, all things considered, I think she's doing pretty well. Would you like to see her room?”
Another good sign, Kate thought as she nodded and began following Angie up the stairs. Most foster parents-especially the bad ones-couldn't say enough about how well their charges were doing. The really good ones recognized that nothing was going to be perfect, especially at the beginning, and Angie Garvey certainly seemed to be aware of it. ”She's doing all right with these stairs?” Kate asked as they came to the top.
”Well, they're not easy for her, but she won't use her crutches and she insists she's fine, so I let her get the exercise and try to keep an eye on her in case she trips.” Angie opened the bedroom door and Kate followed her into the girls' room.
Both beds had been made and everything was orderly. The bed by the window was covered with stuffed animals, and the other bed was bare, with only a clock and light on the nightstand, and the sight gave Kate a little pang. She should have thought to bring a stuffed animal for Sarah's bed. ”Very nice,” Kate said. ”Actually, it's a lot neater than most teenagers' rooms I see.”
”Mitch and I insist on it,” Angie said. ”We bring our kids up right, and we'll do the same with Sarah.”
”How's she getting along with Tiffany and Zach?”
Angie sighed. ”As well as can be expected, I think. Needless to say, Tiffany isn't quite used to sharing her room yet, but she'll get over it. At least they're not tearing each other's hair out.”
”Has she talked about school yet?”
”I think she's a little bit behind in her studies,” Angie said, ”but she's smart and should catch right up.” Angie paused. ”It's the social part I'm more concerned about.”
Kate felt the first pang of concern since she'd arrived at the Garveys', but thought she knew what was happening. ”It's her leg, isn't it?”
”Well, that's probably part of it, I suppose,” Angie mused. ”But she's a troubled girl.” She offered Kate a wan smile. ”But then, that's why she's here, isn't it?”
Kate turned Angie's words over in her mind as she looked again at Sarah's side of the bedroom, bare of any decoration at all. She had never thought of Sarah as ”troubled,” at least not in the way the Protective Services people defined it. On the other hand, the girl had not only been torn out of her home, but away from everything else familiar to her as well. Why wouldn't she be having some adjustment problems? At least Angie Garvey seemed to understand what Sarah was going through.
”It'll all be just fine,” Angie a.s.sured her. ”We'll introduce her to the whole community in church on Sunday, and our family is one hundred percent committed to bringing her into our love. Don't worry-she'll be lucky if we don't just smother her with love.”
Kate followed Angie out of the bedroom and back down the stairs, deciding she had, indeed, made the right choice in picking the Garveys for Sarah.
”You just pop in on us any time,” Angie said as Kate walked toward the front door. ”Any time at all.”
”Thanks,” Kate said. ”I don't usually come unannounced.”
”Doesn't matter to me,” Angie said, smiling broadly. ”I'm usually here.”
Kate returned Angie's smile, then headed back to her car. For a moment she considered dropping by the school to check up on Sarah personally, then changed her mind. Better just to let Angie handle things for now. She could spend some time with Sarah by herself later.
Whatever fears she'd had about Sarah's placement well allayed, Kate started her car and headed back to Burlington. Her caseload was overwhelming right now, and each placement seemed harder and more complicated than the last. If Sarah Crane was happy and adjusting well, it was at least one case she didn't have to worry about.
At least for now.
Sarah Crane filled her lunch tray, steeling herself against the words she could already hear being whispered and the mocking eyes that were watching her limp through the cafeteria line. She paid for her macaroni and cheese and a tiny dish of fruit with the three dollar bills Angie had given her that morning, pocketed the change, then took a deep breath and turned around to face the crowded lunchroom.
Just like yesterday, almost every chair in the room was already taken. But now her backpack was starting to slide off her shoulders, and if she didn't find a place to put her tray down within the next few seconds, it might slide all the way down her right arm, bang into her bad hip, and throw her off her feet. She turned back toward the cas.h.i.+er, but another student was standing there, paying for his meal.
Maybe over by the busing station.
Now there was someone behind her, probably trying to put his own tray away.
Or getting ready to trip her.
Sarah stiffened, leaning her good hip against the metal cabinet to steady herself, getting ready for whatever was about to happen. But instead of feeling an ”accidental” b.u.mp or feeling a foot at her ankle, she heard a soft, uncertain voice.
”Can I help you?”
Was it a trick? Was someone just setting her up? But when she turned around to see who it was-sending her backpack sliding down to the crook of her elbow-she saw a face she recognized.
The boy she'd seen watching her from across the street the day she arrived at the Garveys' house.
The boy who sat alone at the back of the cafeteria yesterday.
The boy who looked down when she looked at him.
Now, instead of waiting for her to answer his question, he simply took the tray away from her. ”You can sit by me if you want,” he said, flus.h.i.+ng a deep enough red that Sarah knew he was expecting her to refuse the offer.
Hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders as soon as her hands were free, she followed the boy through the maze of tables and chairs, ignoring the whispers and snickers-and a single wolf whistle that she would have known wasn't meant as a compliment even if it hadn't been followed by a wave of laughter. After what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, they were at an empty table in the back of the room, and the rest of the kids finally seemed to find something else to talk about.
Sarah sat down across from the boy and pulled her tray close enough to move the food and utensils off it. ”I remember you,” she said. ”I saw you on the street the day I moved into the Garveys'.”
He nodded, blus.h.i.+ng again, but not quite as badly as before. ”I wasn't staring,” he said. ”I'm Nick Dunnigan.”
”I'm Sarah Crane.” She tipped her head toward the tray. ”Thanks for the help. I was afraid I was going to fall.”
”Actually, you don't need to fall for them to make fun of you. All you have to do is-” His words were cut off by a series of loud beeps coming from his s.h.i.+rt pocket. He quickly silenced the cell phone, blus.h.i.+ng again.
”Thanks for reminding us again, Nick,” someone yelled from across the room. ”We wouldn't want to forget you're a fruitcake, would we?”
So that was it-at Warwick High, Nick was in the same boat she was.
”Meds,” Nick muttered, fumbling a pill bottle out of his pocket, shaking two into his hand and was.h.i.+ng them down with a swallow of milk.
”How come the alarm?” she asked. ”They might not tease you if you didn't beep.”
Nick shrugged. ”They'll tease me anyway. And I can't trust myself to remember to take the pills.”