After he’d left the courthouse with Roberta, he had wanted nothing more than to go straight to Julia and Pippa with news of what he’d done. But Roberta had cautioned him that the court proceedings might take time, and worse, getting the girls’ hopes up again would not be fair. There was one person, however, whom he had to tell.
The next morning, he walked up the steps to the front door. Candace opened the door before he could.
“Good morning,” he said, pulling his cap off his head. “I’m sorry to come by so early, but it couldn’t wait.”
Candace looked distracted. “I’ve been up for hours as it is; don’t worry.” Then, after regarding him more carefully, “Is everything all right?”
Wendell swallowed hard. “I wanted to tell you in person. I applied for guardianship of Julia and Pippa.”
Candace’s mouth fell open. “You did what?”
“As you know, Julia came to me with this idea a long time ago. And like you, I thought it made no sense.”
“It doesn’t!” Candace said. She glanced behind her, then stepped outside, lowering her voice. “Have you lost your mind, Mr. Combs?”
Wendell stared at his hat in his hand. “That may be,” he allowed. “But I feel it’s the right thing to do. The girls and I have become close, and I believe I can help them have the life they want. Here in Saybrook.”
Candace scoffed. “Let me guess. With my dead brother’s money.”
Wendell shook his head sharply. “No, it’s not like that at all. I know that money is in a trust for the girls, and I have no interest in a single dime of it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can provide for them comfortably all on my own, until they’re old enough to inherit. By then they can spend it as they choose.”
“It takes money to care for them comfortably, and if you think there is any in it for you, let me reiterate, you are mistaken. As for the girls, I question your intentions, and I will fight this, Mr. Combs. I will fight it all the way, and I have the means to do so.”
“Please,” Wendell said. “It’s not like that. I knew Alan. Better than you, perhaps.”
He watched this register on her face, but Candace said nothing.
“These are great kids. They came to me. They asked me to take care of them. And though I wasn’t sure at first, I am now.”
“You are?” Behind them, Julia stood in the doorway. Her eyes were wide with distrust. “You’re sure?”
Candace spun around. “Julia, this is a private conversation.”
“This is about me,” Julia snapped. “I should be part of it.” She faced Wendell. “Do you mean what you said?”
Wendell wished he could push Candace aside; wished he could apologize to Julia for taking so long to figure it out, and call to Pippa. But this was it. “Every word of it,” he told her.
Julia’s expression was not one of glee, as he’d hoped. Instead, she burst into tears. “So you do want us?”
Wendell swallowed hard. “I do. It’s why I’m here now.” He looked at Candace. “Please, can we sit down together? I think this is a solution that would benefit everyone, if you’d just hear me out.”
Candace held up both hands. “Please leave this property. Immediately.”
“But—”
“Now!” Candace barked. “I will send you your last week’s pay. And you will be hearing from my lawyer.” She ushered Julia back inside.
“Wait, let’s hear what he has to say!” Julia protested.
But Candace was furious. “Inside, now. We will discuss this with Mr. Banks.” She slammed the door behind them.
Wendell was left holding his hat on the stoop, his chest pounding. He had expected no less, but still, it came as a shock. He was fired.
Behind him, the door opened. Julia rushed outside. Before he knew what was happening she threw her arms around him and hugged him.
“Thank you, Wendell.”
“Easy now.” He clapped her on the back gently, then stepped back. “Nothing is decided yet. It’s up to the court.”
“In the meantime, be nice to your aunt, and whatever you do, let’s not tell Pippa yet.”
Julia squeezed him once more and let go. “Promise.” Then she ducked inside and closed the door.
Wendell turned around, his gaze resting on the lush rise and fall of White Pines, the open fields dotted with Queen Anne’s lace and cornflower. The shade of the wetlands and the glassy reflection of the pond. The birds were in full song as the sun made its daily climb overhead. Wendell put his hat back on his head and went to his truck. As he steered down the driveway, his heart in his throat, he had no regrets.
It was a full week later until the hearing was called. Each day Wendell worked on his property, trying to stay busy. Trying not to think about the courthouse or the girls. He made calls to old friends in and around town, putting out the word that he was looking for work. When Ginny came by, he tried to be present for her, but he knew it was unconvincing. Luckily, she seemed to understand. “You’re a good man,” she told him. “Trying to provide a family for those girls. Your parents and Wesley would be proud.”
Wendell had turned away, hiding his grimace. What Ginny didn’t understand was that that was the last thing he wanted to hear. Over the years, Wendell had finally come to accept the loss of his family. What he wasn’t sure of was whether he could stand to lose another.
The morning of the hearing, Wendell dressed in his best suit and drove to pick up Roberta. They rode in silence the whole way to the courthouse. When he parked the truck, she reached over and placed her hand over his. “Whatever happens, you did all you could. And you are deserving.”
Wendell could not reply, but he squeezed her hand back. He hoped she knew what he felt.
When they entered the courtroom, Judge Bartlett looked flushed. It was an unusually warm Indian-summer day, and Wendell, too, was feeling stifled and uncomfortable in his suit. It was déjà vu, all the players back in their places. Julia and Pippa were there, along with Candace and Geoffrey Banks. Jamie Aldeen sat between the girls, only this time, it was Wendell’s hearing. He did not have a lawyer. He had Roberta.
“Good afternoon,” Judge Bartlett said finally. He rolled his sleeves up and clasped his hands, as he had that first hearing. Wendell found himself mimicking this, willing his hands to stop shaking. A bead of sweat ran down his shoulder blades.
“This application has been a challenging one,” the judge began. “I have been assigned not one but two children, who have lost both parents, and who have only one surviving family member to care for them.
“Add to that, the older child petitioned the court for emancipation because she did not feel it was in her or her sister’s best interests to reside with their appointed guardian.” He wiped his brow. “Now we have an application for guardianship.” He looked at Wendell, who nodded. “Who is not family, and does not have a family of his own, but who claims he possesses a family bond with said children.”
As Wendell listened, he had to remind himself that the judge was describing him. And to his ears, told as such, it did not sound like a promising situation. He took a deep breath, pushing the thought away.
“It has always been the position of the court,” the judge continued, “to keep families together when possible but, ultimately, to rule in favor of what is in the best interests of the child. In this case, children.
“Traditionally, blood relatives were given preference. It did not matter where they lived, how far the children might be forced to travel to relocate, or, often, how the children themselves felt about the relatives awarded custody of them. Family was family, and if it existed and could be located, that was where the children went.
“These days, however, the definition of family has changed. The state still recognizes the significance of biological family. That said, we also recognize the preferences and needs of the children. Attempts are therefore made to keep children in what I like to think of as the least restrictive environment. In other words, to keep their lives as normal and familiar as possible. In this case, Mr. Wendell Combs’s application for guardianship, we have a man who resides in the same town as the children. Who can keep them in their same school district and maintain their existing bonds with friends and neighbors and community ties. This is also a man who has known the family for most of the children’s lives, a man whom they clearly feel comfortable and safe with, and a man who has expressed a sound desire to care for them until they are of adult age.” Here, Judge Bartlett addressed Wendell. “Am I correct in those statements, Mr. Combs?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I stand by all of those statements.”
“Very good. There are, however, challenges. You are a single man, which the court does not hold against you, but it does place added burden in that you do not have a partner or spouse with whom you can share parenting responsibilities.”
Wendell nodded, but his will began to sag. All of his years of staying away and staying alone might not be to his detriment alone.
“You have no children of your own, and I don’t think I need to tell you, Mr. Combs, that parenting is the toughest job you’ll ever love. As a parent of four, I cannot imagine doing it alone, or starting out as a brand-new parent, not of a baby but of a teenager and an elementary-aged child.” The judge held up a piece of paper. “Plenty was reported about you from the guardian ad litem. But I have only one question. What have you learned about parenting during this process?”
Wendell had answered this question before: during interviews with the guardian ad litem, with DCF, with Bertie, when she tried to help him prepare for this moment. But now he found himself speechless. “It will be a challenge,” he managed finally.
“Is there anything else?”
Wendell cleared his throat. “What I can tell you is that when I served my country in the National Guard, which is its own sort of institutional family, I learned basic principles to survive. The first was teamwork. I can only do so much as one. But as a team, I have members who count on me, as I do them, and who make me stronger as a result. When I returned from Afghanistan, I rejected that notion. I had lost loved ones, and I didn’t want to feel that pain again. So I cut myself off from the rest of the world. And as I was doing so, I came to meet the Lancasters.
“They wouldn’t let me cut myself off. Sure, they respected my privacy, but over time, Alan and Anne invited me in. And their girls—Julia and Pippa—well, they just wouldn’t take no for an answer. They would follow me through fields when I worked, or call on me to help when the horse bucked them off. No matter what I did, they were always hanging around, asking questions, telling me stories, testing my patience. Somewhere along the way, they got under my skin. They grew on me. When Julia asked me to be their guardian, I thought it was crazy. I thought I was better off alone and they were better off without me.
“But now, after all I’ve been through with them, I don’t want to be alone. I like the commotion and the chaos they bring. I like the quiet moments when Pippa grows heavy against my chest right before she nods off. Even the angry moments when Julia cries foul because she disagrees with a decision I’ve made. It’s raw and real. And hard. And now that I’ve had that experience, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without it.”
Judge Bartlett listened to all of this, his face expressionless and still. Finally, he pushed his chair away from his desk, but he did not get up.
“I think I’ve heard all I need to. I will recess for fifteen minutes and deliver my decision.”
As the courtroom emptied, Wendell remained seated. He wasn’t sure whether he’d said the right thing or not, but he’d told the truth. He was not seeking guardianship of the girls out of honor or a sense of duty. He needed them.