Reuniting His Family. Jean C. Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ his deep voice, a voice that held the same hint of danger as his eyes and posture. But observing him with Owen, she’d seen a man who didn’t match her earlier impressions.

      “Or I can,” Suzi offered.

      “No, I’ll do it.” Suzi would have to call her or the Maddox’s caseworker with the details anyway.

      “Okay, let me know what he says. Although I think I already know what his answer will be.”

      Renee nodded. “Talk to you later.”

      She walked to her car, her pulse still skittering. What was she afraid of? This wasn’t Haiti. It was only a phone call, and one he’d welcome.

      * * *

      A half hour later Renee arrived at the three-family house in Ticonderoga where she and her sister Claire had an apartment. Before unlocking the front door she retrieved their mail, including a large padded envelope for Claire that was wedged between the mailbox and the house siding.

      “Hey. Is that what I think it is?”

      Renee jumped.

      Claire stood at the bottom of the porch steps. “I hope whatever thought you were lost in was a good one,” she said.

      Not really. The picture in her mind of Rhys leaving his son faded and her anxiety returned. She waved the padded envelope to divert Claire’s attention. “You’re expecting something from Texas A&M maybe?”

      Claire broke into a wide smile. “You know I am.” She grabbed the envelope and clutched it to her chest as Renee opened the door.

      “After you,” Renee said, smiling as she followed Claire up to their second-floor apartment. Maybe she should order in or take Claire out to celebrate and clear her mind of work.

      “How does it look on me?” Claire asked, draping her newly earned Masters in Agricultural Development degree in front of her.

      “Fabulous. It really matches your ivory complexion.”

      “Don’t you think?” Claire lifted the paper closer to her face and tilted her head.

      “I’m proud of you,” Renee said. “And I know Mom and Dad are, too.”

      She was proud of Claire. Her sister had decided what she’d wanted—a hands-on position at the Cornell Experimental Farm, and to eventually work her way up to director—and she’d focused all of her energy on what she’d needed to do to get there. All of her siblings were like that.

      “I really admire your drive.”

      “You’re no slacker yourself,” Claire said.

      “But sometimes I feel like I am, like I have no direction. The rest of you all knew what you wanted to do and were on your way there by the time you were my age.”

      Beginning with her oldest sister, they’d all achieved their dreams—mother, chef, newscaster. Even her twin, Paul, who’d wanted to take over the family dairy farm since he’d seen his first baby calf.

      “You’re on your way with your graduate work, the internship you’re wrapping up and your new job.”

      Renee pushed her hair off her forehead. “I’m headed somewhere, but I’m not sure it’s where I want to be or where I’m supposed to be headed.”

      “I knew something’s been bothering you. Talk to me,” Claire said, placing her degree on an end table and motioning Renee to sit.

      Renee dropped onto the couch. “I got my BA in sociology because I wanted to help people. When I graduated, I thought my calling was health care, so I went to Haiti. It wasn’t health care. But—” for the most part, she added silently “—I made a difference working with the families that came into the clinic. I came back knowing I wanted to work with children and their families.”

      “Now you don’t?” Claire asked.

      “I do, but my internship has showed me that I don’t want to work in child protection services.” She peered into her sister’s sympathetic face. “I don’t want the responsibility of taking a child from or placing a child back with a parent and having something go wrong with the placement.”

      Claire draped her arm around Renee’s shoulder, making Renee feel all the more the baby of the family.

      “You did everything you could have done with what happened in Haiti. You said so yourself.”

      Renee dropped her head to her chest and drew a deep breath. “Everything but heed a dying mother’s warning. The girl went willingly with her father.” Just like Owen was ready to move right in with his father. “She was too young to know better.”

      “You did everything within your power,” Claire reassured her. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

      “So, I’m home and back to square one, trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Ending my internship earlier than planned to change my job focus again, and throwing money away on a degree I may not use.”

      “Are you saying you think you should stay at CPS through August now, finish the internship?” Claire asked.

      “No.” Renee sighed. “But what if the Action Coalition and Building Bridges isn’t my place, either? Didn’t any of you have second or third thoughts about what you wanted to do?”

      Claire wavered. “I can only speak for myself, but no. Sorry. A lot of people go through several ‘first’ jobs before settling into a career, though. You know we’ll all be behind you, whatever you decide.”

      “Yes, I do.” And maybe that was the problem. Her family members had always been right there to pick her up and set her on her feet, to baby her—even Paul.

      Her thoughts skittered to Rhys Maddox, who had no one but himself to support him. Yet, through his barely concealed anger he’d radiated confidence in his ability to get custody of his sons.

      Renee blew out a breath with a whoosh that made Claire look at her. It was about time she stood on her own two feet—and her faith—and made a plan with no one holding her hand.

      * * *

      Rhys strode up to the oversize barn-style garage set across the driveway from a large log home. Neal Hazard hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said they were neighbors. The house and garage office were well within walking distance from the house he was renting on Hazard Cove Road. The buildings, nestled in the thick pinewoods that lined both sides of the private road, weren’t visible from the main road.

      He slapped the bright red folder he clenched in his right hand against his leg. He’d worn black chinos and a dress shirt—his only dress shirt—for the interview, but had had to settle for his new work boots. They’d seemed a better choice than his athletic shoes.

      Although he’d used the library to apply online for a dozen other jobs, this was his first interview. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, not sure what to expect.

      Neal’s office looked like any guy’s garage with the addition of a desk pushed back in СКАЧАТЬ