Her Forever Family (6 page)

B
en muted the Monday evening news while he considered his daily conversation with Randy. It hadn’t gone well. Being an experienced lawyer, Randy quickly recognized Ben’s questions for what they were: a cross-examination. Things started out friendly enough, but when Ben insisted on funding a third-party review of all political action committees who’d expressed interest in supporting his Congressional bid, Randy’s back went up like a black cat’s on Friday the thirteenth.

“Did you fall on your head over the weekend, my friend? You know I’d rather kiss a rattlesnake on the lips than give somebody our hard-earned money just for their opinion,” Randy objected.

It wasn’t worth getting into an argument. There was plenty more for Randy to manage, so Ben would handle this himself. After all, it would be his name on the ballot. In that regard Ali had been one hundred percent correct.
It was up to Ben to ensure every alliance he made was credible and in line with his values.

And while he did believe children were ultimately better off with the family than placed in foster care, something Ali said had haunted him all weekend.

Life has been a series of battles since I was about eight years old.

Did Ali know firsthand about living in a dangerous home? His gut told him survival might be the key to her strength.

He’d missed the presence of the unpredictable lady on Sunday. Wished she’d stopped by yesterday so they could get to know each other better.

The mantle clock chimed seven times. She was later than usual. But then Ben really didn’t know what
usual
meant for an attractive single woman with the demanding career and volunteer responsibilities she shouldered. She’d shown amazing courage and insight in taking him to task on Saturday night. Ben suspected there was a lot he could learn from Ali if he could get her to slow down and answer more questions than she asked.

A door slammed in the driveway.

“The lady and I must be on the same wavelength,” Ben muttered through a pleased grin. He pushed up and out of his recliner, clicked off the television and tossed the remote on the end table.

“I hope you brought Yahtzee tonight but I’ll settle for another game of Scrabble,” he teased loudly as he yanked the door open.

“I told you our candidate had a sense of humor.”
Randy stood on the doorstep accompanied by a tall, white-haired gentleman Ben didn’t recognize.

“Hey, buddy.” Ben reached for his friend and pulled him into a brotherly embrace. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Evidently. But I’m pretty fair at Scrabble if that offer still stands.”

“Ben Lamar, welcome to my home.” He extended his hand to the stranger, then waited for an introduction.

“Sanders Boyd.” The man’s handshake was unnecessarily firm.

Another guy who thinks crushing my fingers will impress a former NFL player.

“Ben,” Randy explained, “Sanders is the founder of the Parents First Alliance. I called to set up a meeting for later in the week, found out he was free and took a chance that you might be able to give us a few minutes tonight.”

“Sure, I can always spare some time to talk shop.”

Over their shoulders Ben watched Ali’s SUV whip into the drive. God’s timing proved He had a wry sense of humor. Ben needed to get Ali past these guys and upstairs to Ethan. If introductions were made all around, there was a good chance an altercation, if not a full-blown incident, would break out.

Her scuffed ropers clipped a determined path for the front door but Simba strayed toward the grass. Ben stepped aside and wasted no time ushering Sanders into the house, then turned to Randy.

“Why don’t you take Mr. Boyd into my study and as soon as I have a word with Dr. Stone I’ll join you.”

Randy nodded. But after one step across the thresh
old he balked, turned back. “Wait a minute.
The
Dr. Stone? The woman who rescued Ethan?”

“I made the pickup but the rescue is always a team effort,” Ali said modestly as she approached. She seemed worn out, as usual.

Ben had come to accept Ali’s harried look as part of the very unique package—boots in need of polish, collar smashed beneath her shoulder strap and silky strands of red hair pulling free of her braid. Even so, her one-of-a kind beauty rocked him back on his heels with each encounter.

Randy’s expression filled with questions. He cleared his throat and looked expectantly at Ben. There was no civilized way out. May as well get it over with.

“Doctor Alison Stone, I’d like to introduce my old friend Randy Mason.” As the two exchanged greetings Ben exaggerated a stage whisper. “Don’t get too chummy with this guy. He’ll get
lawyer
on you.” The joke only provided a brief chuckle, then Ben was forced to continue, especially since Boyd had rejoined them on the front step.

“Ali, this is Sanders Boyd. He and Randy just dropped by for an impromptu meeting so feel free to go on upstairs. Ethan’s expecting you and you’re in for a nice surprise.”

Ben made the last part up. He’d apologize profusely to God and Ali later.

As Boyd extended his hand Ben watched her normally pleasant expression morph into contempt. Not good.

“Mr. Sanders and I have met,” she acknowledged, refusing to accept his handshake.

Though she kept her eyes on Boyd, Ben felt himself locked in the heat of her peripheral vision. If he so much
as squirmed, she’d pounce like a starving dog on a bone. And speaking of dogs, hers sidled up and took a seat. Could things possibly get more uncomfortable?

“I’m sorry?” Boyd seemed puzzled.

“It was in a courtroom two years ago.”

Yep, there was plenty of discomfort to go around.

Boyd waited for more detail. Clearly he could not recall the meeting.

“Surely you remember twelve-year-old Jason Maxwell. He’d been removed from the family home by Child Protective Services.”

Boyd nodded. “Ah, yes. And I believe the court found in favor of the parents and returned the boy to their custody.”

“Yes, that’s right. And do you know what became of Jason?”

“I presume he’s a high school student by now.”

Ali’s smile was brittle, not at all genuine.

“I guess you could say that. He’s in the Texas Department of Corrections’ secondary education program. Jason’s serving twenty-to-life for the murder of his father. I visit him regularly, that is if he’s not on suicide lockdown.”

Sanders Boyd’s spine stiffened. “And your point, young lady?”

Ali sighed and closed her eyelids, clearly exasperated with the man’s feigned innocence. When she raised her gaze it was focused on Ben.

“This is your home. Do I have your permission to go there or would you prefer I ignore the question?”

“You don’t need my permission, Ali. Say what’s on
your mind.” Ben meant it. If a fight broke out, he’d just step aside and let Simba handle it.

Ali’s amber eyes flecked with gold fixed on Boyd. The crimson glow that had been creeping up her neck reached her jaw and shot through her cheeks. The passion she felt for the subject was undeniable. But Boyd showed little emotion. In fact, a self-satisfied expression fixed on his pale face like a silent challenge. Ben would have given in to the desire to laugh if he hadn’t known the Rock was about to crash down on the old man’s arrogant head.

Ali’s voice was steady when she spoke. “My point, sir, is that protecting parental rights is not the same as protecting the child.”

“The system is broken,” Boyd insisted. “We have to take a stand for the family.”

“But the consequences, Mr. Boyd, fall on the lives of the children.”

“Doctor Stone, that’s precisely why the Parents First Alliance is interested in supporting Ben’s bid for Congress.” Randy stuck his nose into the discussion and his neck into the noose. Ali was quick to tighten the knot.

“Mr. Mason, you’re either naive or uninformed.”

Randy shoved his hands in his pockets, a sign he was offended. Good.

Ali continued. “As an attorney and Benjamin’s close friend you should take time to review the court battles involving Mr. Boyd’s organization. What the PFA wants is a hammer to come down on their side of court cases to earn big dollar donations. And in return I bet he’s willing to pass some of that money on to the campaign you’re planning to manage.”

Both men blustered, insulted.

“Now, wait just a minute,” Randy insisted.

“Who do you think you’re speaking to, little lady?” Boyd demanded to know.

Ben was torn between pride for Ali and embarrassment for his involvement in the scene. Tomorrow he and Randy would go over their funding offers with a fine-toothed comb. Ben had to get some answers for himself, stop blindly accepting Randy’s judgment.

“Gentlemen, please.” Ben held his palms outward to silence any further discussion. “I’m afraid this impromptu meeting was not such a good idea after all. Dr. Stone has an appointment with Ethan and we need to speak beforehand.”

He stepped to the left and motioned for Ali to see herself into the house. She moved inside without further comment. Simba, who followed close behind, paused to defend her mistress with a dark glance at Randy and soft growl for Boyd. Then the dog did something curious: she intentionally passed close enough to brush against Ben’s pant leg.

Is she warning me or protecting me?
Who knew with animals?

“I’m sorry about this,” Ben began.

“That woman is the one who needs to be saying she’s sorry,” Boyd snapped.

Ben blinked several times, glanced from Boyd to Randy and back again. “I was apologizing for not being able to meet with you. I don’t know that Doctor Stone needs me or anybody else to apologize on her behalf.”

“She does seem quite capable,” Randy admitted.

Which is more than I can say for some people.

“Voilà!” Ali plunked four letters on the end of Ethan’s last turn, then spelled aloud.

“B-L-I-N-D-N-E-S-S.”

“Hey, you can’t do that!” he insisted.

“Oh, yes I can,” she corrected him. “Check the rules. I can add letters to the front or back of your words all day long.”

He studied the guidelines printed in the top of the game box. She actually had no idea if what she’d done was legal or not, but Ethan cooperated as long as she kept him engaged in the game and that’s all that mattered.

“And guess what else?” She smiled as Ethan looked up from his determined search to prove her wrong. “With my double-word bonus, I just turned your piddly score of eight into my whopping twenty-four!”

“A real mom would never take advantage of a kid like that,” he muttered.

Her scalp prickled, signaling a teachable moment.

“Pleeeeease,” Ali groaned. “First, I’m not a mom. And second, you can’t expect me to believe your mother never got the better of you when you played games together.”

“We didn’t play that many games together.” He kept his head down, perusing the list of rules.

“Then what did you two do for fun?”

“You’re trying to distract me, so you can keep me from finding out you’re cheating.”

“Let me see that.” Ali took hold of the box and pulled it from Ethan’s grasp. She tossed it to the side. “Look, you can memorize the rules after I leave. If it turns out I was wrong, then we’ll start off the next game with me fifty points in the hole.”

Ethan’s brows rose as he considered the offer. “Fair enough,” he pronounced.

“Cool. So, tell me about hanging out with your mom.”

“When I was little we spent a lot of time at the park or in our pool. And during soccer season she was always taking me to practice or watching my games.”

“
Soccer?
Why not football, like your dad?”

Ethan grinned and for the first time Ali saw a pleasant memory gleam in his eyes.

“Mom used to say I started kicking and chasing a ball as soon as I could walk. She claimed I chose soccer just to get my dad’s goat.”

Ali fished for new letters. “Yep, sounds like typical father-son rivalry.”

Ethan shook the head that had recently been washed and groomed, probably the pleasant surprise Benjamin had mentioned.

“No, it wasn’t that way. I just didn’t like seeing my dad and his friends getting pounded on the football field. I wasn’t a sissy or anything like that.” Ethan’s eyes widened as he emphasized the point.

Ali took several mental notes. This was the first time she’d been able to get Ethan’s mind off his obsessive subjects long enough to learn something about him firsthand. He cared how he was perceived, an encouraging indicator.

She glanced around his room. “I don’t see any signs of you being a soccer fan. No posters or team colors.”

“That was when I was a kid. I quit playing in middle school.”

“How come?”

He waved away the subject. “Aw, it’s lame.”

“No, please tell me.”

“Things changed.” Ethan scrunched his face, ducked his chin and rubbed his left hand through the shaggy blond hair that fell over his forehead.

“I think that’s when I caught Asperger’s.”

Ali wanted to smile at his choice of words, but humor now might spoil things. Instead, she nodded as if understanding.

“Ethan, tell me why you believe that.”

The boy sat very still, examining his memory of the illness, maybe for the first time.

“Because I couldn’t keep up. Soccer was too fast and too loud. People didn’t stick to the game plan. I only cared about going to the library after that.”

“Where you could study?”

He nodded. “And where it was quiet.”

Another revelation. Middle school meant an adolescent surge of hormones, not an uncommon time for signs of mental illness to first appear or in the Asperger cases worsen. Instead of diving headfirst along with his peers into their teenage years, Ethan fashioned a world for himself that excluded everyone and everything except a subject he could master. And in his private world he’d found a hushed haven for the hearing that was becoming acute.

An idea was taking shape in Ali’s mind.

“Ethan, when was the last time you visited the library?”

He ignored the question and took his turn instead. Carefully adding five tiles to the Scrabble board he spelled aloud, “A-Q-U-I-F-E-R. That’s a rock formation that stores groundwater—”