Dani's Story: A Journey From Neglect to Love (13 page)

As the woman in Dr. Armstrong’s office at USF learned, never leave food unattended around Danielle. As soon as Willie turned his back, her little hand darted across the table and snatched a handful of fries. Aside from the fact that there were two witnesses to the theft, the evidence was still sticking out of her mouth when Willie got back with the ketchup for his now depleted pile of fries. His mouth and eyes widened at the same time. Bernie and I were laughing again, at Danielle and at the expression on poor Willie’s face. Once again, Bernie pulled the fries out of her mouth, and I broke the burger into bite-size pieces to hand to her. Bite-size, yes; mess-free, no. By the time the burger was gone, Danielle was wearing as much of it as she had eaten, so it was back to the restroom to wash her hands and face.

Except for stopping two more times to take Danielle to the bathroom and check her diaper—dry the first time, soaked the second—the rest of the trip was uneventful. We played children’s music on the CD player, she looked out the window, rocked herself from side to side, “played” with her toys in the backseat, and made lots of strange noises. Kind of a humming-moaning-groaning-growling sound that was a low-pitched monotone. And then another that was more like a high-pitched “Woowoowoowoo.” Bernie thought it sounded like a European ambulance. Was this her way of talking? Was she self-comforting in some way? After all, she was in an alien environment, going to an unknown destination with people she barely knew.

Steven was working at the north end of the island at one of the vacation properties, setting up umbrellas and renting out Jet Skis. We decided to stop there so that he and Danielle could meet and we could take her onto the beach for her first time.

Their meeting was a bit awkward. Steven was busy, and Danielle was bouncing up to her tip-toes and down on her heels, making that funny moaning sound. Steven seemed at a loss for what to do—hugging didn’t seem appropriate, and shaking hands was not an option. He reached out his hand rather clumsily but sweetly to pat her on the top of her head. She threw both arms up to cover her head, shrieked, and twisted away. Steven jumped back away from her at the same time that Bernie reached to comfort her. Clearly, Danielle did not like anyone approaching her head. Was this another souvenir Michelle Crockett had left Danielle with?

Steven looked happy for the opening to get back to work, and we turned toward the beach. The gulf was about two hundred feet across the sand, and knowing this was Danielle’s first time, we walked and talked all the way to the water. “Danielle, this is the beach. We are walking on sand. Those are seagulls. These are shells. Can you pick one up? That is the ocean. Those are waves. Do you want to go in the water? Let’s take off our shoes.” Shriek! Danielle did not like the sand on her bare feet one bit and nearly jumped into Bernie’s arms. The sand was barely lukewarm at that time of year, so I wondered what had caused her extreme reaction.

Bernie walked her into the water and set her down at about knee depth, and she was fine. More than fine. She lifted her arms over her head and turned to the sun. A slight ocean breeze ruffled her hair. She closed her eyes, and a look of complete bliss covered her face. She bounced up and down. She giggled when the waves splashed onto her chest. She sat down and rolled in the waves, taking immediately and naturally to the water, like a little mermaid. Willie sat down beside her and splashed around with her, while Bernie and I smiled through our tears. I couldn’t help but think this wasn’t only her first time at the beach; it was her first time to be truly, purely happy. Over such a simple thing.

I hated to pull her out of the water, but I told her we needed to go see our dogs, and she allowed Bernie to carry her across the sand to the car. He guessed that her diaper probably weighed as much as she did. I wrapped her in a towel and buckled her into the backseat.

Dorothy and Paul’s house was on the way to ours, so we pulled into their driveway and honked the horn. They came running out, smiling, eager to meet Danielle, but as Dorothy got closer to the car, her expression changed from excitement to apprehension. As she peered into the backseat, she blurted, “She looks like a poor little drowned rat!” I looked back at Danielle, and Dorothy was right. Danielle’s hair was plastered to her head, her skin was still so pale, her eyes were red from the saltwater and she was shivering in the towel. I told them we’d see them after dinner during the evening dog walk.

At home, William and Bernie helped Danielle up the exterior stairs to the deck on the second floor, one of them beside her and one behind her. She wasn’t used to long staircases. The dogs barked at her a couple of times, but she ignored them, and after sniffing her out, they ignored her, too. Inside, I took her to the bathroom right away to get her wet clothes off, towel her down, and put on a new pull-up diaper and another set of over-size dry clothes from her bag. I felt like I was really getting the hang of this.

We let her wander around the upstairs in the kitchen and the living room, getting acclimated to the family area. Willie was so excited for Danielle to see her room, he could barely contain himself. “Danielle, don’t you want to see your bedroom? Come on,” and he took her by the hand and led her down the hall, with Bernie and me behind them. The four of us then walked into Hello Kitty’s Pink Palace.

Danielle’s face lit up. She walked over to her bed and sat cross-legged among all of the pillows and the animals, beaming with joy. I have never seen anyone look as happy as she did at that moment. I was so glad we had not stripped the room, as the foster mother had advised. Every little girl deserves a pink room sometime in her life. This was Danielle’s time.

We had dinner on the deck, all finger foods to make it easier for Danielle to feed herself: cut-up ham, raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, cheese and crackers, watermelon, and chocolate milk. She felt everything before she put it in her mouth, and she ate it all except the raspberries, which she spit out—probably a texture thing. Blueberries were her favorite. I put milk in her sippy cup and told her it needed to stay on the table, not on the floor. I tapped the table for emphasis. She looked at me and seemed to understand. The cup stayed on the table.

Diane with Danielle in her new bedroom.

 

In the bedroom on tippy toes, which is how Danielle walked when the Lierows first met her.

 

After dinner, we all went out with the dogs for the evening walk. The morning wake-up walk was always brisk, with everyone eager to let the dogs do their business, get back home, and get the day started. But the postdinner neighborhood constitutional was a social occasion, on some nights taking as long as two hours for people to stop and chat, pick up a half pie, leftover grilled chicken, or a basket of garden tomatoes, comment on some new landscaping or outdoor lighting, or ask about the family.

Willie had one dog, I had the other two, and Bernie had Danielle as we started the circuitous route that took us through all of Laguna Shores. We ran into Dorothy right away, who apologized for calling Danielle a drowned rat. We just laughed. That was Dorothy’s way. It didn’t hurt our feelings, and we don’t think it hurt Danielle’s. We decided to take the shorter loop, thinking that everything might be too much for Danielle, being fawned over by so many strangers. Thanks to the close-knit nature of the neighborhood, everyone already knew who she was and was eager to welcome her and make a good impression.

Danielle wasn’t responding very much to the notion of making new friends until we got to Doris and Bill’s front yard and the giant pink Easter bunny with its enormous multicolored egg. Danielle pulled her hand out of Bernie’s, loped over to the egg, and tried to climb up its surface. The thick plastic shell didn’t offer a foothold of any kind, so each time she tried, she slipped back to the ground. But that didn’t stop her from trying again. I loved the determination she was showing and added that to my mental list of her hidden qualities. Finally, Bernie couldn’t stand it anymore, and he picked her up off the ground and brought her close to the bunny’s face. Recognizing an opportunity when it was presented to her, she leaned toward the bunny, and, like a baby just learning to kiss, she opened her mouth wide and planted it on the bunny’s fat pink cheek. The small crowd of neighbors who had gathered cheered her slobbery smacker. Not a bad debut for Danielle on her first night in Laguna Shores.

That warm, fuzzy feeling was short-lived. No sooner had we gotten into the house than Willie shouted, “Mom!” Bernie shouted, “Diane!” and both were looking at Danielle in horror as across the living room floor she trailed a stream of runny poop from her pants like lava running down the side of a volcano. I grabbed her up before she could reach the bedroom and carried her into the bathroom. I had dealt with diarrhea many times with my children, but Danielle was as oblivious to it as one of my baby goats back in Tennessee. She seemed a little scared when I put her in the walk-in shower stall, but I went ahead and got in with her, yelling to Bernie to bring me more towels, a pull-up diaper, and a change of clothes for her. He came in with a pair of shorts and a shirt, the next-to-last clean outfit that she had come with. I got her undressed, cleaned, dried, and redressed and sent her out of the bathroom with Bernie and a bottle of Kaopectate so that I could clean myself up.

The giant Easter Bunny in the neighbors’ yard.

 

Ten minutes later, another eruption and another trip to the shower for both of us. Bernie brought in the last of her clean clothes. I wondered what Danielle might have eaten, and Bernie sheepishly admitted that while they were playing in the water at the beach, he thought she had swallowed quite a bit. I rolled my eyes at him. We had learned through experience with Willie as a toddler that saltwater is quite a laxative.

It didn’t seem like she could have much more in her, but I was wrong. Hoping that the third time was the charm, I finally put her in her pajamas, which was all that was left in the backpack anyway.

Not knowing how long it would take Danielle to fall asleep, I thought we should start early, so I gave her the bedtime medication dose they had sent, along with a couple of pieces of cheese as a supplement to the Kaopectate. Willie was watching television, so I told him to tell Danielle goodnight. He gave her a quick little hug, which she stood still for. Then she and I went back to the bedroom. Bernie came and tucked her in and left to sit with Willie before putting him to bed. Twice while I was reading her stories and playing songs from her musical Hello Kitty pillow, she got up and walked to the door, but both times I took her hand and led her back to bed.