Surly, more like. Her one-word answers to the social worker were as monosyllabic as all Jenessa’s interactions with her had been in the past two days. She’d bet her entire inheritance on the fact that the only reason the girl hadn’t tried sneaking away again was how content her younger siblings seemed.
Which attested to the fact that somewhere underneath Colie’s leaden gaze and sullen silence was a big sister’s caring heart.
“And the last time you remember seeing your father was . . . when?” Carmen’s slight accent added an extra softness to her voice.
But so far, her gentleness had done nothing to ease Colie. “I already said it was a long time ago.” She huffed, and apparently decided to throw Carmen a bone. “It was last Thanksgiving.”
Jenessa replaced the carafe and picked up Carmen’s mug. She’d tried not to intrude too often as Carmen spoke first with Violet and then Colie. But she hadn’t liked the idea of leaving the girls alone with a stranger either.
Carmen had let Violet off the hook only a few minutes into their conversation. Thankfully, the younger girl seemed completely oblivious to the import and implication of Carmen’s presence. She was happily occupied by Toy Story 2 in the living room now.
Jenessa carried the mug into the dining room and set it in front of Carmen. She darted a glance at Colie, but the girl refused to meet her eyes.
Carmen gave Jenessa a thankful nod. If she was bothered by Jenessa’s loitering in the past thirty minutes, she hadn’t let on. “Is there anything else you can tell me about your dad, Colie? Something that might help us locate him? I know you said he drives semis. When he came home in the past, how long did he stay?”
“A few days.” Colie slouched in her chair. “Sometimes a week.”
“And were he and your mother . . . friendly to one another? Was he nice to you and your sister?”
A shrug.
“He never met Cade?”
A shake of Colie’s head.
“Was there ever a time—maybe a long time ago—when he wasn’t traveling all the time? Did he ever live with your family?”
Colie’s hooded gaze was trained on her lap. “When I was little.”
“Little like Violet? Or like Cade?”
Jenessa nearly jumped from her perch under the kitchen doorframe when Colie slapped her palms to the tabletop. “I’m not a child. You don’t have to treat me like I’m dumb or something. I was seven, okay? That’s when he left the first time, and I didn’t see him again until I was nine. And I don’t know where he is now and he probably doesn’t even know Mom’s dead. Or Grandma.”
A deafening silence filled the room. And if Jenessa had felt a pull at her heartstrings when she’d first laid eyes on the kids in her cottage Friday night, if her heart had twisted and melted with each hour spent with them over the weekend . . . it simply fell apart now. Not at the blunt anger in Colie’s voice, but in the haunting pain hovering just behind it.
The urge had become all too familiar—to go to Colie and pull her into a hug whether she liked it or not.
But before she could move, the squeak of Colie’s chair lanced into the pulsing quiet. She stood. “Is that all?”
Carmen laid down her pen, wrapped both hands around her mug. She nodded.
Without the barest glance Jenessa’s way, Colie stalked from the room.
“It’s only been a few months since her mom passed. And with her grandma, I’m sure that accounts for her . . . irritability.” Although Colie had confirmed what Violet had implied earlier—that their relationship with the grandmother hadn’t been at all affectionate. That theirs hadn’t been a happy home. Jenessa dropped into the chair Colie had abandoned.
“She’s scared and hurting,” Carmen affirmed. “I just wish she’d been able to tell us a little more about”—she glanced down at her notes—“Dustin Hollis. Even so, it shouldn’t take too long to locate him. We’ll work closely with law enforcement. Until then, there’s another staff member at DHS who will be able to help with arrangements for the grandmother.”
“And then what? What if the father’s not fit to take care of them? You heard Colie. He didn’t even come home for the birth of his son.”
Carmen sipped her coffee. “Yes, but we don’t know the situation. Until we know more, we have to take this one step at a time. Meanwhile, I made some calls on my way here. I’ve got a respite placement lined up already. If it takes more than a few days to locate Mr. Hollis, we’ll look into alternate arrangements. That is, unless we can locate other relatives, although from everything Colie says and my quick initial background work, I’m not thinking that’s going to happen. So foster care is probably—”
“Wait. Please. I . . .” Respite placement? Foster care? She’d known that was the likely course of action, but the thought of it had kept her awake half the night. “They’ve already had to deal with so much change. They had to leave their house, they camped out in my cottage, then settled in here. They’ve been through so much and . . .”
And the idea that had set her tossing and turning overnight spilled out now. “Why can’t they stay here?”
Carmen eyed her over the rim of her coffee mug, her expression impossible to read.
“I’ve clearly got plenty of space.”
“Didn’t I see a For Sale sign out front?”
“It’s going to take me a while to get the place ready to sell.” Although, now that Lucas had practically begged to help, it might go faster than she’d anticipated. She still couldn’t make sense of his offer. But she’d been so focused on the kids Saturday night, she’d barely given it any thought.
Other than to send a quick and grateful text of acceptance Sunday afternoon. If you’re sure you want the job, it’s yours. But I’m going to pay you.
He’d texted back minutes later. Better idea: Let Noah and I stay in the cottage rent-free. That’s compensation enough.
That made even less sense than his insistence on helping in the first place. Why would he want to give up a comfortable room at the Everwood to stay in a neglected little four-room house? And where had this Noah come from anyway?
But once again, she’d been too distracted by the kids to argue. So at some point today, Lucas would be showing up with his mentee and moving in to Aunt Lauren’s cottage.
“Miss Belville—” Carmen began.
“Jen.”
“Okay, Jen, I can see you have a lot of compassion for the children. And you’ve obviously taken good care of them in the past couple of days. But you’re not a trained foster parent. This could go on indefinitely and I’m not sure you’re prepared—”
“Will they be split up if they’re placed in foster care?”
“Obviously, we’ll do our best to keep them together but—”
“You can’t separate them. They need each other.”
“Jen—”
“I can childproof all the cabinets. I’ll double-check all the smoke detectors, the carbon monoxide detector. If the crib I found in the attic won’t work, I can buy a new one. And car seats, too. I can provide food, shelter, and safety.”