Charley. “And I’ll bet you want that Popsicle, young man.”
“Yes, please.” Charley beamed.
She looked at Grace. “Coffee? I have decaf. Or there’s iced tea.”
“Iced tea would be nice, thank you.”
“While I fix the tea, why don’t you bring in your bags.”
“Will my car be okay? I mean…”
“For tonight it will be fine.”
And then what? Grace wondered. Could any of this be happening?
Charley ate his Popsicle while Grace got their bags from the car and sat them in the bedroom. Then it was time to settle Charley down, to insist, despite the newness of his surroundings, that he put on his pajamas and brush his teeth.
“I want to watch TV,” he said, and she was afraid he was going to pull one of his “terrible fits,” as she called them.
She drew one of his favorite books out of his bag, and he snuggled against her. It was a short simple book called A Happy Sad Silly Mad Book, which she found effective with children when they were upset. Not that she did much therapy these days. No time for it since she’d taken on Charley. The book asked children how they felt, described the emotions, told them it was okay to feel them.
The method never failed with Charley.
She turned the last page and bent to kiss her little boy’s forehead.
“Good night, Mommy,” he said, and he hugged her around the neck.
“Good night, sweetie.”
She stood, whispering up a prayer of relief. This was impossibly rough on him. Bad enough for her, but Charley was the innocent one, the victim of an unjust court system. He shouldn’t have to suffer. Damn, not this beautiful child.
The ice was practically melted in her tea before Grace finally sat across the kitchen table from her hostess. Down the hall, the door to the bedroom she was to share with Charley was open, and the sound of the TV and the teenage girl talking on the phone came from the living room.
She looked up from her glass and caught the woman’s gaze. “I…I feel so awkward,” she began. “It isn’t that you haven’t been most gracious…It’s just that…”
“It’s your first night,” the woman put in. “And you don’t know where any of this is heading and you’re scared to death.”
“In a nutshell, yes.”
“You have to take it one day at a time. If you’re strong for your son, you’ll succeed. Things work out.”
“Do they?”
“Often enough.” The woman nodded, an inner strength shining through. The glow made her look beautiful.
Grace tucked a stray strand of mousy hair behind an ear and adjusted her glasses on her nose. Oh, she knew she was a plain Jane and a little timid at that, and she couldn’t help wondering, if she’d been more outgoing and assertive in court, would the judge have ruled differently? If, for instance, she had carried herself more like this woman, would she be in this mess?
“I wish I could give you all the answers,” the woman was saying. “But that would be impossible. Everyone’s situation is so different, you understand.”
“Of course.”
“There are a few things I can tell you, though, and maybe they’ll help.”
Grace gave a strained laugh. “That would be nice.”
“And a piece of advice here. Don’t let yourself become emotionally entangled in other sponsors’ lives. In my experience, most people who take you in are pretty closemouthed, but there’ll be some who’ll virtually dump their troubles on you. You’ve got enough problems of your own right now. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”
Grace let out a breath. “Yes, completely.” She nodded. Oh, God, she thought, it was all too real.
“As for your car…you’ll need to stash it with someone, a good friend, a relative, whoever. Use the bus or train, whatever feels comfortable. And keep moving. I know how awful all this sounds, but you need to lose yourself and, of course, Charley.”
“Is this…forever?” she ventured, gripping her glass of tea whitely.
“Yes and no. Everyone’s situation is so different. I can tell you my own, if it helps.”
“Please.”
“Well, I was on the underground railroad for three years.”
“Three…years,” Grace gasped.
The woman smiled ruefully. “And my case, unfortunately, is very typical. I’ve heard of women and their children being on the run for…Oh, never mind, you really don’t—”
“Tell me. How long?”
“Ten years, longer. And even now they live under false identities.”
“But…”
“But how? How do they manage? You meet people on the route. People who can help with new Social Security numbers, new names, jobs, everything.”
“I didn’t…realize.”
“Why would you? But that aside, you need to stay on the move until it’s impossible to trace you. You need to change. Become someone else. And you need to be strong. Above all else, you can never give up. It’s your child you’re protecting. It will be hard. Worse than hard. I hope you don’t think I’m a doomsayer. I’m simply being straight. But better to know now just how tough it can be rather than to be shocked later on.”
Grace said nothing.
“Anyway, tomorrow you should leave Denver. Leave Colorado, in fact. And I’ll warn you, other than maybe parking your car with them, stay away from family and friends. The authorities will be watching them for a very long time. If you decide to ditch your car with them, do it soon and do it quickly. Just get rid of it and take off. You don’t want to put friends or your family in jeopardy. It’s bad enough as it is. You’ll just have to learn to be alone in this. You and your child.”
Grace bit her lip.
“I know, that’s the worst. It’s not forever, though. Someday your son will be old enough to take care of himself. And after what he’s been through, he’ll be strong. You’ll never have to worry about that.”
“But I won’t ever be my real self again, will I?”
She shook her head. “There will be charges against you. Federal charges. They won’t disappear.”
And then Grace had to ask. “But you, your job…? I mean, how did you manage?”
“I was lucky. One of the lucky few. My ex-husband never contacted the authorities when I disappeared with our
