Angel of Redemption (2 page)

“
Sit!
”
I say firmly as I set my purse and keys down on my desk.
The boys flop down in the hard plastic chairs next to it. I rub my eyes and
look at the clock on the wall. Seven fifteen.
“
Did
you guys eat dinner? Do you want anything?
”
I ask. Matty shakes his head.

“
I
’
m still hungry,
”
Logan whines.

“
Of course you are,
”
I snort. Logan is always hungry.

I
order a pizza from the Italian eatery down the block and hand Logan a twenty.
“
I want that pizza back here whole. And I want my change,
”
I call as he walks out with a wave and a cheeky grin.
Blowing out a heavy breath, I turn my attention to Matty. Our eyes meet, and I
see him chewing on his lip.
“
Are you okay?
”
I ask. He nods.
“
Is
this a no-talking day?
”

“
No,
”
he mumbles.

“
Then talk to me.
”
He shrugs and starts picking at his fingernails.
“
Do you want to go back to the Barkers
’
?
”

“
No.
”

“
Seriously, Matthew,
”
I say firmly.
“
You
need to give me more than these one syllable answers. Otherwise, I
’
m going to assume you want to go with
Logan regardless of how it affects you.
”
He shrugs again and I let out a frustrated growl before
picking up my phone to begin searching for a placement for the night.

Twenty
minutes later, Logan returns with a supreme pizza. He has a half-eaten slice in
his hand.

“
Sorry, couldn
’
t wait,
”
he says, mouth full. He hands me five bucks in change and
sits the box down on my desk. Despite saying he wasn
’
t hungry, Matty eats two pieces. I eat one and Logan eats
the rest.

At
eleven o
’
clock,
I
’
m about to give up and have the boys
crash in the break room when I come across one last option. It
’
s tucked into the back of my Rolodex, which I rarely use
anymore because it
’
s much easier to just plug contacts
into my phone or computer. But desperation led me to flip through it. I lift
the card.

Wyatt
House.

Wyatt
House is a group home for boys ages eleven to eighteen. I
’
ve never placed any children there,
but some of my coworkers have. I would always rather avoid group homes if
possible. They
’
re meant for higher-risk kids and
teenagers, and tend to be more like an institution and less like a home. But
right now I don
’
t have much of a choice.

Matty
and Logan are both fed up with waiting. Matty closed his eyes and seems to have
fallen asleep sitting up with his chin tucked into his chest. Logan is
restless, fiddling with papers and pens and paperclips, rocking his chair back
on its hind legs and trying to balance.

“
One more, guys, and then I
’
m done for the night,
”
I say, running my hand through my hair. I dial the number.

“
Wyatt House, this is Emily. How can I
help you?
”
a female voice answers, sounding far
too awake.

“
Hi, this is Kayla Brooks with DHS. I
was hoping you might have availability for the night
…
maybe longer.
”

“
Give me just a second.
”
She puts me on hold, and I smile. The song playing is
“
Highway to Hell.
”
Less than a minute later the line clicks.

“
This is Dean.
”
The new voice on the other end of the phone is surprisingly
attractive. I swallow dryly. Goose bumps appear on my arms, making me shiver.

“Hello?” the voice repeats.

“
Oh. Hi. Sorry. This is Kayla Brooks
with DHS. I was hoping you might have room for an emergency placement.
”
There is a significant amount of hope in my voice, but, at
the same time, I
’
m not expecting anything.

“
Yes, we do,
”
he answers.

“
Really?
”
I practically squeal. I cover my mouth, embarrassed.

“
How old is he?
”

“
There are two of them, actually. I
probably should have said that before, but it
’
s late, and I
’
ve been doing this for four hours and
—
”

“
I
’
ve got room. Names and ages?
”

“
Logan Davidson, seventeen, and Matthew
Davidson, fourteen.
”

“
Reason for placement?
”

“
Logan was reprimanded for fighting
with his foster father, and it was requested that he be removed from the home.
They
’
re
brothers. They come as a package deal.
”

“
Is this violence typical behavior for
Logan?
”
he asks.

“
It
’
s
not
…
unusual,
no.
”
I hear the panic in my voice. I have
to assume that Dean can hear it, too.
“
But it
’
s
not extremely common, either. If that makes sense,
”
I rush out, praying he doesn
’
t
immediately say no and hang up.

“
What about Matthew?
”

“
No. No violence at all.
”

The
line is quiet for a moment and I prepare myself for rejection.

“
Okay. That
’
s everything I need for right now.
Just make sure you bring me their paperwork. Do you have our address?
”

“
Yes.
”
I breathe out in relief.
“
I
’
ll have everything ready. Thank you so
much, Mr.
…”

“
Dean,
”
he says.

“
Thanks, Dean. I should be there in,
”
I look up at the clock on the wall,
“
probably twenty-five minutes.
”

“
That
’
s fine. I
’
ll be here.
”
His words are abrupt and professional,
but his voice is sexy, smooth, and gravelly.

When
I hang up, I bring my thumbnail up to my mouth, flustered. Raising my eyes, I
see both boys staring at me.

“
What the hell was that?
”
Logan bursts out.

“
What?
”

“
That. The whole
…”
He swirls his hand around his face and
bites on his thumbnail, mocking me.

“
That was me finding you guys a place
to stay. Now zip it and come on.
”
I stand up, grabbing the paperwork for
placement and their files.
“
Let
’
s go.
”

Kayla

“
So
where are we going?
”
Logan asks once we
’
re on the road.

“
Wyatt House,
”
I say flatly. I
’
m waiting for it
—
his
response. Kids in care talk, and those who have been around for awhile know the
placement options. Group-home horror stories spread like wildfire.

“
What?
”
he yells. I don
’
t even glance at him.

“
Wyatt House,
”
I repeat. Peeking back at Matty, I see that he has his
earbuds in again and is pretending not to hear a word.

“
I
’
m not going to no fucking group home. Pull the fucking car
over and we
’
ll
get out right here.
”

I
roll my eyes and shake my head.
“
I
’
m not pulling over. Calm down.
”

“
Kayla, seriously, I
’
m not going.
”

“
You
’
ve never been there before. How can
you possibly be worked up about this?
”

“
It
’
s. A. Group. Home.
”

“
Oh, come on. Have I ever put you
someplace bad?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Where?
”

“
They
’
re all bad,
”
he huffs, folding his arms across his chest.

“
So where do you suggest I take you
guys, huh?
”
I ask, trying not to get pissed off.
It
’
s
not working well, though. I
’
m tired, cranky, and ready to go home to my nice, warm bed.

“
Why can
’
t you just take us home with you?
”
he pleads.

“
Are you joking?
”

“
Why not? You like us, don
’
t you?
”

I can’t look at him for two reasons. One, it’s
dark, and I’m heading into an area I don’t know very well, and two, I can’t
stand to see the look in Logan’s eyes.

“
It
’
s not about liking you, Logan. It
’
s against the rules.
”

“
Kayla,
”
He whines, sounding like a five-year-old.

“
Give it a chance, Logan. Please.
”
Out of the corner of my eye I see him look back at Matty
again.

“
Fine,
”
he grumbles.

I
don
’
t
hear any more complaining, and soon enough we
’
re pulling up in front of a huge manor
house. The place certainly doesn
’
t look like a group home. It looks like someone
’
s private house
—
or mansion.

“
Is this it?
”
Logan asks, his eyes wide. Matty gets out of the car and
stares, his mouth agape.

“
Uh, yeah. I think it is.
”
I double check the address.

“
Goddamn.
”

It
’
s nearly midnight, but lights still
illuminate the main level of the house. Before I can even raise my fist to
knock, the door opens. In front of me stands a woman about my age, maybe a
little younger. She
’
s shorter than I am and skinny, almost waiflike. Her
shoulder-length blond hair is hanging in her face.

“
You must be Kayla,
”
she greets.

“
Yeah, uh
…”

“
Emily Wyatt. Dean asked me to keep an
eye out for you.
”
She thrusts her hand at me, and I
shake it awkwardly.

“
Oh, great. Hi.
”

She
grins and peers around me to look at the boys.
“
Well,
hello, fellas.
”

I
turn to look at Logan and try not to laugh at his scared expression. The kid is
easily twice her size. What the hell is he afraid of?

“
This is Logan, and this is Matty,
”
I say, pointing to each of the boys.

“
Come on in. It
’
s cold out there.
”
She waves us inside. We follow her through the heavy,
double front doors and into a foyer.

“
I
’
ll give you guys a tour in the morning, but tonight I
’
ll just show you up to your rooms.
”

“
They
’
ll have separate rooms?
”
I ask, looking at Matty to gauge his reaction. Before they
came into care, the boys rarely had their own sleeping space. Most of the time
they shared a bed
—
or a mattress. In the time they
’
ve been in foster care, they
’
ve
only had their own rooms once, and it didn
’
t
go well. Matty suffers from extreme anxiety, and within a few days of that
placement, he had a major attack and ended up hospitalized. Of course, that was
four years ago, so I have no idea how Matty will react this time.

“
Yes. I hope that
’
s okay,
”
Emily says, glancing between Matty
and me. Matty just shrugs. I guess we
’
ll
see.

“
That
’
s good,
”
Logan says happily.
“
Now
he won
’
t
have to pretend he doesn
’
t know when I
’
m gettin
’
busy.
”

“
No girls in the bedrooms, Logan.
”
Emily shakes her head.
“
Sorry.
”

“
What?
”
It
’
s an echo of the panicked voice he had in the car.

“
House rules. Female visitors are only
allowed in public areas.
”

“
No, no, no. I
’
m not doing this.
”
Logan turns around to leave, but I stand in front of him. I
stare into his eyes and shake my head.
“
Aw,
come on, Kayla.
”

“
This isn
’
t up for debate.
”
I expect more of a fight, but he just hangs his head in
defeat and groans.

“
I
’
ll go ahead and take you up, and then you can head to bed,
”
Emily says.
“
Kayla, would you like to see their
rooms?
”

“
Yes, thank you,
”
I say politely.

“
Great. Follow me.
”
She turns around and puts her hand on the railing of the
staircase.
“
We
’
ll need to be quiet. The rest of the
boys are asleep
…
or they should be,
”
she says, pursing her lips.

“
How many are there?
”
I ask.

“
Five. Well, seven now,
”
she says, turning to smile at Logan and Matty.

We
follow her as she climbs the stairs and walks down a long, dimly lit hallway,
stopping just outside one of the open doors. It
’
s an average-size room with wooden
floors covered by an area rug. The double bed has a sturdy wooden frame, and
there
’
s
a desk in the corner. The walls are painted a cream color, and heavy, navy-blue
curtains hang at the windows.

“
This one and the one next to it are
almost identical,
”
Emily explains,
“
except the curtains in the other room are green. The
bathroom is just down the hall.
”

Logan
throws his bags on the bed in the blue room, leaving the green one for Matty.

“
Are you guys all set?
”
I ask.
“
Do you need me for anything?
”

“
Nope,
”
Logan says quietly.

“
Matty?
”
I ask, putting my hand on his back.

“
No.
”
His head is bowed, but I can see his eyes scanning his
surroundings.

“
Breakfast is served between six and
seven o
’
clock,
gentlemen. There
’
s
an alarm clock already set. The bus leaves for school at 7:25.
”

“
Oh, I
’
ll be picking them up tomorrow morning
to get them all set up in school,
”
I explain, making eye contact with both of them to make
sure they understand.

“
Okay. If you guys need anything during the night, Dean
’
s number is on the paper above the
desks.
”
Emily says, pointing toward the desk
in Logan
’
s
new room.
“
There
’
s a house phone in the hallway. He
’
ll go over the rules and regs with you
before dinner tomorrow night.
”

They
both nod in understanding.

“
Good night, guys.
”
I smile and hope that placing them here isn
’
t a mistake. It seems nice enough, but
I never know. If Logan
’
s unhappy, he
’
s bound to blow it.

“
Good night,
”
Matty says softly.

“
Night, Kayla,
”
Logan retorts, his voice thick with agitation. He doesn
’
t look at me as he kicks off his shoes
and lies back on his bed.

I
turn and follow Emily back down the stairs. The house is so quiet. The only
noise is the sound of our footsteps as we descend.

“
So Dean is in his office,
”
Emily tells me.
“
I
’
ll take you back there.
”

“
You guys are night owls, huh?
”

“
Dean is,
”
she says softly.
“
He
doesn
’
t
sleep well. I
’
m
only on the night shift twice a week. I
’
ve got kids.
”

As
we walk down another dark hallway toward the back of the house, we pass by a
formal dining room with a table that must sit at least twelve and then a large
kitchen.

“
Sorry I
’
m in such a hurry,
”
Emily says.
“
I
’
m supposed to head out at midnight and Aiden won
’
t go to sleep until I get home.
”

“
Aiden?
”

“
My husband.
”
She stops in front of a closed door.
“
Do you know much about Wyatt House, Kayla?
”