Part I: Parting

Part II: Conditional Love

Part III: The Reckoning

Part IV: The Third Event

Chapter 4: Responsibilities

  “Well, Mrs. Caudill, taking Jessica Audrie is no easy task. She's done well academically, and teachers say she is a joy to have in her classes; however, she needs a lot of social guidance. The problem is with Jessica, there always seems to be a 'but'.” She refrained from continuing. It was her job to get Jessica into a home, not keep her at the group home.
  “Paul and I aren't worried. I'm involved with a service group that helps children that have lived through many of the experiences that Jessica has faced through what you have to describe to me. And there are always plenty of parents willing to lend a hand.” The woman spoke eloquently and smiled as she finished.
  “Yes Nancy.” Mr. Caudill took his wife's slender manicured hand into his over grown right. He looked quite formidable in his custom tailored blue summer suit.
  “I see.”  The social worker leafed through the paperwork. She appeared no-nonsense in the pale brown suit she wore. There was no evidence of any jewelry, she didn’t think it was wise to wear jewelry at this particular facility, anything could happen, theft happened every now and then.
  The Caudills were a very typical couple searching the state for that one foundling that could be called their own. The binder with profiles of all the children at this particular facility was open in front of them. They did linger a little over the younger children who were adoptable, but they still needed a ‘test child’ before they could become ‘discriminating’ parents. Jessica, their potential first foster child, wasn't exactly a needy child; at least not in the way they wanted to give themselves, but everyone had to start somewhere. He was a lawyer, making a decent salary, with a very promising career. She was appropriately dressed as the “lawyer's wife” in an equally expensive and flattering dress that highlighted her hair and hazel eyes. Both from very reputable education and very promising and a future adopting couple...if Jessica didn’t discourage them.
  In contrast, however, Jessie’s profile, which Mrs. Caudill turned to one last time, looked as trouble free as the children in the binder could be. Her school photo did make her look angelic, but it was three years old.
  “Well, I believe everything is in order. Let's go down to the courtyard and meet her.” The social worker smiled over the mounds of paperwork picking up a folder and leading the couple before her to the door.
Mrs. Caudill mentally sighed in relief. Her calm composure took years of effort at those horrendous boarding schools taught by nuns, now she was grateful for every cent her parents spent to make their daughter respected even when she was so far away from home. She had waited for an eternity for their paperwork to get this far. Paul’s job had expedited as much as possible, but the rules were still the rules, and they had to follow them to be considered a couple worthy to adopt.
  They left the nameless offices and strode down the florescent-lit hall to the elevator. People milled about in the hall, shuffling papers and talking quietly.  It was undoubtedly a slow day, but there was never an unproductive day. With caseloads of anywhere between a hundred to a hundred fifty children, there was always something that needed their attention. And if they were lucky, most of the cases by any one social worker wouldn’t be anything like Jessica. Phones were being worked as caseworkers tried to mediate court dates, housing problems, parent visitations, and other problems.
  It was a bit of showing off as the social worker marched down the hallway. Try as the other social workers might, they weren’t placing one of their kids in a home today. And not with any foster parents that were available, a couple looking to adopt, thereby insuring ‘repeat business’.  Without a doubt, there would be speculation at the water cooler later this afternoon.
  “I'm a little worried that she's attached to this sport. Has anyone tried to correct her?” Asked Mr. Caudill, his hand still firmly wrapped around his wife’s as they walked down the monotone beige hallway.
Ignoring the impulse to explain how different Jessie might be from their image of a ‘perfect’ child, the social worker continued, “Jessica Audrie has been involved in Martial Arts since she was eight. She's done remarkably well. Most of her previous foster families have noticed that it keeps her focused on the important highlights of life; many have joined a martial art themselves after meeting Jessica. She's been to a few tournaments and has her goals on the Junior National Karate tournament. What's really encouraging, is that she works now to help defray the growing expense of sending her to these places. She's very responsible.”
  They went into the open courtyard through some double doors. Small children ran through the trees and grass, giggling and such. A soccer ball bounced toward Mr. Caudill and he dodged out of the way as a horde of small children bounded in their direction. There wasn't any one really watching them there wasn't any need to since the building was built around them. Older children lounged in small groups talking and laughing. One child, however, had separated herself from the majority of the children in the play area. Off in the far corner sat reading, undisturbed by the noise and the surroundings.
  “Jessica, Jessica Audrie” called the social worker. 
  The solitary girl looked up instantly across the sanctuary of children running about. She marked her book with a leaf and pushed herself off the ledge where she had been sitting. She ran her hand through her hair. She walked over, much to the Caudills horror, with a confident stride. Her dark hair had been cut “inappropriately” short. However, she was dressed nicely, as if she was on the golf course, with tennis shoes. Mrs. Caudill tried to hide her deep disappointment; though the first image of the girl reading had helped alleviate some anxiety.
  “Jessica Audrie, this is Mr. and Mrs. Caudill.”
  “Hello,” She held a hand out to Mr. Caudill, “Call me Jessie.”
  The Caudills exchanged uneasy glances.
  “Okay, I understand.”  She withdrew her hand.
  Sensing the Caudill’s apprehension, the social worker spoke up. “Jessica would you mind going upstairs. I'll be there in a few minutes.”  No anger could be found in the social worker's tone, she was used to this from Jessie.
“All right. Nice meeting you.” Jessie knew how to excuse herself tactfully, thankfully.
  When she had gone, the social worker turned to the Caudills. Preparing for the worse, she began with an apology.
  “I admit I made Jessica sound a lot better than she appears. She has taken a lot of initiative for herself. She isn't every parent's dream at first, but she means well. The last home she was at, she helped out with several family chores that weren't even assigned to her. She even helped early in the mornings with the younger children. They were sorry to see her go.” The social worker was hoping to try and cut her losses; maybe the Caudills were open-minded.
  “If you wouldn't mind, I think my wife and I would like a moment alone.” Mr. Caudill took an authoritative tone. He was going along with this experiment for his wife, but he was only willing to invest himself and his wife so far. If Paul really had his way, Nancy would drop this whole child adoption thing.
  “Take as long as you want. Before you leave, just check with us up in room 546.” The social worker sounded hope, though her doubts were rising.
  “Thank you.” Mr. Caudill was polite, but definitely wanted to be alone with his wife. He lead his wife to an unoccupied bench and sat down with her in the shade.
  After the social worker had sashayed a distance, Mrs. Caudill was the first to speak, “Well, what do you think?”
  “She's not what we were expecting.” If nothing else he was going to be brutally honest with his wife. It did not help that there were twenty other children running loose around them.
  “Is any child?” Nancy hung on to the hope of moving through the system.
  “Nancy we can't save the world. I know how much this means to you, but wouldn't you be much happier volunteering at a day care or some local school?” He tried to control his unease as yet another herd of small children ran past them.
  “Paul, she needs someone to at least try and help her.”
  “She isn't.. She won't depend on us. She won't listen either. Don't you see? She's arrogant, selfish. We can't control the past anymore we can the future.” He was clearly worried about the different problems that seemed to be the staple of each and every child that they have come across.
  “But Paul, how can we ever have a child of our own if we don't show we are willing to give?” Her voice pleaded with the place he reserved for his compassion for her.
He was loosing ground, but still, he insisted. “How much can we give? How much can she take? Of us, money is no object; you know that. Can we afford to help correct what she's learned every where else?”
  “She won't be with us long before we can adopt a child of our choice. She's only temporary.” She appealed to his sense of time. They were only obligated to attempt to care for a foster child. Nancy had no intention of harming any child in their care, and she was certain that Paul would not harm a child. Regardless of how difficult their choice may be it was still only going to be a few weeks at the most.
  “What about us? I don't understand your obsession, we can easily afford to adopt a child from another country or...Look, Nancy, that terror, is and accident waiting to happen. Who knows what she'll bring with her?  Drugs, reckless friends, boyfriends" The mere thought of this child brining in more like her was more than he had bargined for. "What if she’s one of those teen killers?” Paul’s irrationality grew as a group of boys wrestled nearby.
  “Paul you're over reacting. She's just a girl. She's alone, and we have the means to offer our home to her. Can't you open your heart?” Her voice tugged again.
  A cry from a little girl was heard near by and a soft thump on their left.
  “Where did you throw it?” she cried. “Where did you throw the dolly?” She begged her larger tormentors, a pack of little boys who just ran off as she began to cry.
  Paul looked over and found what the little girl had been using as a doll, a battered piece of cloth that had remnants of an embroidered smile and stuffing tumbling out. He scooped up the ‘doll’ in thumb and forefinger holding it out like a contaminated cloth and dropped it in front of the little girl who scooped it up. She turned and saw her doll’s hero and gave him a thankful smile with saucer blue eyes red and puffy from crying. She wrapped her arms protectively around the doll, causing some stuffing to tumble out, but it went unnoticed.
Paul looked into his wife's intent blue eyes that hadn’t left him as he performed the gentlemanly act; he had lost this argument. He sighed and took his hand in hers again.
  “Maybe, we ought to have a talk with her before we take her home.” He conceded and her smile lit up his world.
  Arm in arm, they walked back to the building to seek out Jessie’s room.

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