As I’m coming out of our room from checking on Anna and Taylor again—something I find myself doing every few minutes—I see Rake Sabin coming up the stairs with a gym bag in his right hand, its contents causing the muscles in his flexing arm to bulge against his tight athletic T.
“Hey, John,” he says when he sees me. “I want you to know that I’ll be keeping an eye on your room tonight too.”
“Thank you.”
“Rest easy and get some good sleep,” he says. “I got this. I appreciate all you’re doing—the inspiring talks and helping to find out what happened to little Magdalene. I know that’s a lot on you, so just don’t worry about your family tonight. They’re safe.”
“I really appreciate that,” I say.
He nods toward Hal Raphael’s door. “Can you believe the balls on this bastard? Walking in here like he owns the place, demanding a room, acting as if we don’t all believe he’s the one responsible for what happened. Wonder why he’s back? Why now?”
“I hope we can find out.”
Charis opens the door of Rake’s room and steps out on the landing with us. “You’re all ready,” she says. “Not my best work, but probably my quickest.”
“I just appreciate you doing it,” Rake says. “But you really needn’t have bothered. I won’t be sleeping—or even using the room much for that matter. But thank you just the same.”
“Pleasure,” she says.
“Well, I’m gonna go grab a quick shower so I can be fresh and alert the rest of the night,” he says, and disappears into his room.
“That was very nice of you to do,” I say.
She shrugs. “It was nothing. Besides, it helps keep my mind off . . . other things—like what the Frankford man found and . . . things like that.”
I nod. “I know everyone around here focuses on Keith and Christopher’s loss and grief, but yours has to be very similar.”
Tears appear in her eyes and she nods. “They only had her a little longer than I did,” she says. “And part of me will always feel like her mother. Can I tell you something in confidence? I need to tell someone and . . . there’s no one else around here I can tell.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“I genuinely love Keith and Christopher,” she says. “It took me longer to come around than it should have, but . . . I got there eventually. I just got to thinking—I mean back when Demi told me they were planning to adopt Magdalene—there’s no couple who could adopt her that I would agree with everything about them. I just needed to know that they would love her and take good care of her no matter what. I’m a work in progress.”
“We all are,” I say.
“And I’m not saying I agree with gay marriage or whatever, but I could see that they both had a lot of love to give and they planned to give it to her. That was good enough for me. I mean, I still wanted her to have a mother, but . . . I’ve fostered a lot of kids over the years and I’ve learned that the thing that matters most is finding them a good placement where they will be loved and cared for. There are no perfect people or places, but . . . a good one is good enough. As you can imagine I’ve wanted to keep nearly all the children I’ve fostered over the years, but some of them—like Magdalene—have an even more special place in my heart. And they always will. So yes, she still feels like mine. I feel like her mother.”
I nod and give her an understanding look. I genuinely feel for her—more so because of how much I’m missing Johanna.
“Here’s the secret I’m keeping that I need to tell someone . . .” she says. “As much as I love and care about Keith and Christopher, and as much as what I’m doing to help I’m doing for them, I’m doing it far more for Magdalene. And if . . . I know this is a very big if and isn’t likely, but if . . . we somehow find her alive . . . I plan to sue for custody, to . . . try to adopt her myself. And it’s not because Keith and Christopher are gay. It’s because they didn’t protect her. They didn’t keep her safe. And maybe it’s just because their home is like this public house with strangers coming and going or maybe it was that party and all the drinking and whatever else went on, but . . . they left that sweet little angel vulnerable somehow and I just can’t stand by without trying to stop that from happening again. It’s nothing against them, and I realize that chances are I will lose, but I have to try. I have to. I get that it could’ve happened to anyone, but as much as I care for them my first responsibility is to Magdalene. Do you understand that at all?”
“I do,” I say. “Of course. Keeping my children safe is more important to me than anything else. I feel like it’s my first responsibility, so I certainly understand.”
“I know the chances of getting her back alive are . . . minuscule, which breaks my heart. The only thing that breaks it more is her being alive out there somewhere and being abused and tortured. Anyway, it’s a very long shot and even if it happens, no judge is ever going to give me custody. I know that. And I know that I will lose them as friends—them and Derinda and probably even Demi, but I’m hoping that by trying it will inspire Keith and Christopher to be better, more cautious parents. I’d rather try and fail than not try at all. I’d rather lose them as friends and risk never seeing her again if it means she’ll be safe then . . . Please tell me you understand—at least a little.”
“I do,” I say, nodding, my eyes locked onto hers, which have tears in them.
“And please don’t tell anyone. I want to be able to keep helping, to stay close, to be a part of everything that is being done for her. We’ve formed a kind of family and I’d be devastated if I lost that too.”
“I understand,” I say.
“I feel so much better having told you but now I’m scared you’ll tell them.”
“I won’t,” I say.
“Oh, thank you,” she says, and steps forward and hugs me. “Thank you so much.”