just lost his father!” Kip said. “Wouldn’t it be cruel to snatch his sister away from him so soon? Without warning? Forever?”
“You think it’d be easier for him to lose her six months from now? Will he love her any less then? Need her any less?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I know it’s sudden, but there doesn’t seem to be a good time to break up the only home they’ve ever had. And yet, it’s going to happen. One way or another. Ada is not their mother and as much as she loves the kids, she’s no longer able to raise them. In one sense it seems cruel to prolong this for any of them. Including Ada.”
“Jonathan knows something’s going on.” Kip’s words were so soft she barely heard them.
“He said that to you?” She stared at him, finding it difficult to breathe.
Kip nodded. “He’s sure I noticed that his skin is a lot darker than his sister’s.”
“Oh.”
“At the same time, he was quick to point out that other than her hair, Kayla looks pretty much like us and he asked me if I thought there was any chance you or your mother would take her. He wanted me to know that he didn’t have to come along if that would hurt her chances any.”
Tears sprang to Leslie’s eyes and she didn’t even try to hide them. “What did you say?” she whispered.
“I told him you and your mother are good people and that the color of his or Kayla’s skin would not make any difference to you at all. And I told him I liked his hair because it reminded me of his dad, whom I miss very much.”
She wiped at the tears sliding down her cheeks. “And you think you aren’t father material?” she asked him before she remembered she wasn’t going to say anything he might construe as pressure to take custody of her nephew. An unwanted guardianship wouldn’t be fair to him, or to Jonathan.
“I have no idea where the words came from,” Kip said.
Silence fell for a moment. The bell over the door tinkled again and a man in his early twenties, wearing jeans and a black parka, took a seat at the bar. If he was looking for some action, he’d come to the wrong place.
“My home is…impersonal,” Kip said next. “Decorated by a professional, cleaned once a week by a professional.”
Was he considering this, then? Her heart pounded heavily.
“I hardly think a child’s happiness would be irreparably damaged by either of those factors.”
“It’s in a gated community that doesn’t allow children.”
Well, that could present a problem.
“Kip?” She wasn’t ready for this. But then, she’d hardly been ready for most of the big events in her life. Starting with her father’s death.
He glanced up at her, his brows raised. He wasn’t classically handsome, but there was something about Kip that had captured her heart at twelve or thirteen and pretty much never let go.
Not that she was the only girl whose heart had been affected by him. Kip’s list of women could rival that of Hawkeye Pierce from all the MASH reruns she used to watch when her roommates were out partying. An especially exciting weekend for her was those thirty-six-hour MASH marathons a local cable station used to run.
“I’ve been thinking….”
He took a sip of what had to be warm beer. “What?”
“I’d like us to talk to Jim Brackerfield. Find out if I can take both kids. I mean surely…” When it looked like he might interrupt, she rushed on. “If Cal gave me Kayla, the court would acknowledge that he found me a suitable parent.”
“He gave you a little girl.”
“I hadn’t pegged you for a sexist, Kip Webster.”
“I’m not,” he said, scaring her with his seriousness. Things would go much easier for her if she had his cooperation on this.
“Mothers raise boys all the time,” she reminded him.
“Cal grew up without a father.” Kip’s voice had lost all compromise. She didn’t recognize this adamant, straight-faced man. “It was hard on him. A lot harder than you probably know,” he continued.
She’d bet her life he was wrong on that one.
“He doesn’t want that for his son.”
“Surely he’d prefer it to foster care.”
He motioned for another round of drinks, waiting while their glasses were removed and replaced. Then, after a long swallow, he continued.
“I did some reading on the Internet this afternoon.”
He’d been in her mother’s home office when she’d come down from speaking with Nancy.
“Like you said before, one of the most dangerous, life-damaging challenges biracial children face is a sense of not belonging anywhere. They’re often unable to feel completely part of one culture or the other. They can suffer terrible insecurities and even self-loathing that sometimes leads to a life of bitterness. Their belief systems can be shakier. I mean, think of it…” He paused for a second and Leslie stared at him. She’d thought about all of this in the past twenty-four hours, of course, but hadn’t worked out how to handle these challenges.
Cal’s children were just that. Children. Her dead brother’s children. Her niece and nephew who needed love. Not black. Not white. Not mixed race. Just children.
“…who are they on Martin Luther King day?” he continued after another sip of beer. “One of the people still fighting for equal rights, avenging their forefathers? Or one of those—like you and me—white race who feel guilt for the actions of people who lived before us, people whose actions were completely separate from us and over which we had no control?”
“I don’t know.” They were children. First and foremost. They needed a home. Security. Love. It was all she could take on at the moment. “You make it sound so hopeless.”
“It’s not hopeless.” He reached across the table, took her hand. “In all the accounts that I read today—and I read about a hundred firsthand accounts on some blogs I found—the insecurities commonly felt by children of mixed heritage can be effectively counteracted within a strong family unit.”
Did that mean he wouldn’t fight her if she tried to keep Jonathan out of foster care? Reading him as though he were an important investor, Leslie remained quiet. Waiting.
Or maybe she was just too scared to speak.
“I…” He stopped, glanced at her, and she almost started to cry again when she saw his obvious emotional struggle. “I find that I can’t turn my back on them, either.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE WORDS WERE the last thing Leslie had
