I thought you might have some insight. You see, Arlen’s very troubled. Lives is his last chance,” she explained. “If he doesn’t get his act together in the next four months, he’ll be moved into an adult facility.”
“A penitentiary?” Grant frowned when she nodded. “What did he do?”
“Recently, he threatened some people, and vandalized their property. But before that he was a good kid.” She looked at Grant closely. “I can’t explain the connection I feel to this boy. I’ve prayed and prayed about him but—” She stopped, blushed. Grant was so easy to talk to. Perhaps—too easy?
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“In your counseling—” Dahlia paused and summoned her courage. “Did you ever come across someone you thought was teetering on the edge, someone you were certain would tip one way or the other with the least provocation?”
“Yes.” Grant’s attention was totally focused on her now.
“You’ve run across someone like Arlen before?” she asked, relieved to hear he understood.
“The boy I’m thinking about became progressively more problematic for his teachers,” Grant said. “He seemed almost driven to break the law.”
At the sound of consternation from Glory, Grant excused himself and rose to mop up her spilled juice. Dahlia watched, unable to contain her excitement. Here at last was someone she could really talk to about Arlen. Laurel couldn’t discuss a client, of course, and Dahlia’s other friends didn’t sense the desperation in Arlen that she did. But Grant had not only seen it before, he’d dealt with it.
“So what did you do?”
“Talked,” Grant said. “A lot.”
The air rushed out of her lungs, taking her excitement with it. “I’ve tried talking to Arlen. He doesn’t hear me.”
“I didn’t mean you should talk.” For the first time a genuine smile lifted Grant’s lips, producing dimples in both cheeks that Dahlia found she couldn’t ignore.
“What I should have said was that he talked and I listened,” Grant corrected. “I encouraged, I tried to draw him out, I pressed him to expand on things he mentioned. Anything to keep a channel open between us.” He shrugged. “In his case, talking eventually worked. He’d been brooding about things that he’d never resolved. Once he got them worked out, he saw he had options and that gave him courage to push toward the future.”
“That’s helpful.” Dahlia nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.”
Grant studied her. In fact, his thoughtful gaze rested on her for so long, Dahlia felt herself begin to blush.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I’m curious.” Grant paused. “Is your go-kart project specifically tailored toward this Arlen kid?”
“It’s a community project. I do one every year,” she repeated. His eyes narrowed, but he remained silent. “Say what you’re thinking.” She knew she wouldn’t like whatever was coming next.
“Maybe I made it sound easy to help that kid I told you about,” Grant said. His serious gaze held hers. “It wasn’t easy, Dahlia. It took months of work, for which I had trained. This Arlen—” He stopped, obviously uncertain as to whether he should voice his concerns.
“I am going to help him,” she said with firm resolve. “I’m going to do whatever I can.”
“That’s good. He could probably use an adult on his side. But be careful.” Grant laid his hand on her arm for emphasis. Immediately, a zing of reaction rippled through her and she caught her breath.
“You’re not suggesting I back off?”
“No.” He removed his hand. She edged away from his shoulder, hoping that would help her breathe more evenly. What was it about this guy that rattled her?
“I think you should be very careful. If he’s smart, he’s learned the system and mastered manipulation. He’s probably figured out how to con his parents, probation officers, maybe even you. It might be too late for you to help him, Dahlia,” he added in a soft tone.
“It can’t be.” She leaned back in her seat. She shouldn’t have said anything. No one, not even her closest friends understood how desperately she needed to help Arlen. Why had she thought Grant Adams would?
A pair of giggles made her look across the aisle. Once, children like Glory and Grace had been what she’d longed for, what she’d prayed for every day. Someone to love. Someone who cared about her, whom she could care about. Someone to share with.
She’d had that connection with her brother. He’d always been the one she’d counted on to be there for her. But she hadn’t been there for him. She’d let him down when he’d needed her most. He’d begged her to help him and she’d been too weak. Now he was gone. She missed him so much.
It was only since Arlen had come into her life that Dahlia had begun to hope again. She believed God would heal her hurting heart through caring for Arlen.
“Why is helping this boy so important to you?”
Those gray eyes of Grant’s refused to let her avoid his question, but something in her knew that she could tell him the truth, that she could trust him.
“The reason it’s so important to me to help Arlen,” she began, “is because...I want to adopt him.”
* * *
Grant wasn’t sure he’d heard Dahlia correctly. “Adopt him? But I thought—that is, he’s older than the usual age for adoption, isn’t he?”
“He’s thirteen,” Dahlia said. “He’s in trouble and needs someone who will be totally on his side.”
A single woman adopting a troubled boy who was on the verge of becoming a teenager? There were so many ways in which this was a bad idea that Grant wasn’t sure where to begin. He was about to voice his misgivings when he saw the sadness on her face.
Whatever Dahlia Wheatley’s reason for helping this kid, he felt certain it stemmed from some emotional pain of her own, and he wanted to know what it was. He’d hardly known her an hour and yet already he wanted to make things better for her.
“Why does Arlen matter so much to you?” He hated the way her hazel eyes dimmed of joy. “Please tell me.”
Dahlia glanced at the twins. Grant checked and noted they were playing one of the games they’d created together. He heard her inhale, gathering her courage.
“Because of my brother. Damon was my best friend. He was eighteen when he ran away from home.”
“I’m sorry, Dahlia,” he said, feeling the pain in those few words.
“He left because he couldn’t live up to my parents’ expectations.” Her hazel eyes grew shiny with tears. “Even though Damon tried his best, he felt he could never be enough for them. They wanted an heir for their architectural firm, a prodigy. Damon wanted to paint.”
“What
