They knew each other. Yet she didn't want to live the next chapter here.
Her cell phone rang-a new number-and she fished it from her purse, checking the caller-ID before she answered it. Seeing the number on the screen filled her with purpose and joy. She felt especially glad that it wasn't John calling. He'd kept his word about giving her this time here. She hardly recognized the guy anymore. What on earth was she getting herself into?
She answered, the caller-ID having alerted her that it was her attorney. Quick hellos, a brief amount of small talk. Bursting with curiosity, Matthews asked, "Did you speak with the judge?"
"I did."
"Has he made a determination?"
"There are waiting periods."
"But the relatives declined custody." They'd been through this so many times. It seemed so simple to Matthews. Why did the courts get involved and make it so complicated? She had butterflies. She wanted an answer. She knew she might lose John if this came to pass, and that worried her. A part of her questioned the wisdom in losing the one thing currently working in her life. She was happy for the first time in a long, long time.
"Yes, but a further search for blood relations must be made. We'll have to petition the court again on your behalf, and I'd be remiss if I encouraged you about the outcome."
"And in the meantime?"
"State custody."
"Which means exactly what, after the hospital stay, the incubators?"
"An institution for the waiting period. A foster home if she's lucky after that while the paperwork makes her available."
"Can I visit her?"
"In all likelihood."
"And if I'm first in line for adoption?" She felt like reminding her attorney she'd handled an illegal adoption case a few years back. She knew a lot more about providing a good home than anybody would ever know.
"The watchword right now is patience, Daphne."
"Patience," Matthews repeated into the phone. She pulled the front door of the houseboat shut angrily, and it locked her out.
"None of this is bad news," the attorney said. "But you have to stop thinking about this in terms of being first in line. The court looks at qualifications."
"And I'm a single mother," she said. "You're saying that hurts us."
"Not at all. Plenty of single mothers adopt. I'm saying you need patience. That's all."
"I can handle that," she said, knowing it was the truth. She told herself repeatedly that she could handle it. She felt a wreck. "But I don't think it's best for her."
The attorney chuckled on the other end of the call. "I'll call you as her situation changes. And you call me if you change your mind."
"I'm not changing my mind on this," Matthews said.
"No," the attorney said, "I don't believe you are."
Matthews said good-bye and tripped the call to disconnect, returned the phone to her purse, and started down the dock. She stopped and grinned as she saw him.
Up under the shadow of a tree, staying out of the heat, John LaMoia was smiling that shit-eating grin of his. John LaMoiashe still couldn't get over it. He held a picnic basket in his right hand. An incongruous combination if ever there were one.
But then again, John LaMoia had proved himself, if anything, unpredictable.
Please visit Ridley Pearson's website: www.ridleypearson.com