Chapter Ten

THE NEXT MORNING, Mom, Dad, and Kenny went to their respective jobs, and I stayed home with Ricky, Addie, and Allan. Allan. Allan. It’s better than calling him Kenny Jr., I said a few times as I kissed his sweet cheeks. Kenny had tucked him in with me before he went off to work. He grinned broadly, squirmed, and fake snored even though for the past half hour he’d been poking me and pulling my eyelids up asking if I was awake. I took him downstairs to the kitchen. He got up on a kitchen chair and began lining up his plastic animals. The phone rang before 9:00 a.m. Pastor Grind. Nothing good had ever come from a phone call from Grind.

“Lorraine, Reverend Grind here. I wanted to tell your mother that the same County social worker who placed Addie at McGerber’s house will be coming to your house this morning to pick up Addie and take her to a new placement.”

“Momma’s at the clinic. Dad’s at the lumber yard. Christ, just what I need—some bureaucratic-do-gooder with more questions than sense and too much time on her hands,” I said to Grind over the phone.

“Lorraine, could you try to have an open mind and try not to use the Lord’s name in vain? This worker was just doing her job. I doubt she intended for Addie to get pregnant and miscarry.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” I hung up the phone and surveyed the house.

A few minutes later Addie awakened and joined Allan and me in the kitchen. Ricky entered a few seconds behind Addie. Ricky and Addie were meeting for the first time as far as I knew, but Ricky fawned on her like they were long-lost litter mates. He brushed Addie’s hair and prattled on about her perfect skin. Addie ate up Ricky’s attention like she’d been starving for it.

All I have to offer you is my old room and cereal for breakfast.

“Do you really think I’m pretty?” Addie peered at herself in Ricky’s hand mirror.

“You are stunning.” Ricky fiddled with his color wheel and told Addie which shades of eye shadow were best for her.

“Allan and I are playing Antarctica today after breakfast.” I placed a box of Cheerios on the table. “Well, Allan has already started actually.” The kitchen table glistened with whipped cream, coconut flakes, powdered sugar, and melting ice cubes as Allan tramped plastic polar bears, penguins, and seals across the arctic tundra. The day before Allan and I had glued an igloo together with flour, water, and sugar cubes. I pushed the igloo to the side and made room for some cereal bowls and the carton of milk.

Addie rested her chin on her hand and stared at Ricky like she wanted to kiss him or eat him.

“I have some plans today too.” I had planned on writing a letter to Charity while Allan busied himself hunting seals with polar bears. I planned to ask Charity if our relationship had died while I wasn’t paying attention and if so, could it possibly be resuscitated?

Ricky and Addie ignored me. They giggled together as they over-sugared their cereal and Ricky tested lipsticks on the back of his hand.

“I should be writing to the vet school.”

“I thought you were already a vet.” Addie held Ricky’s hand with the lipstick samples up to her face as if that accomplished anything.

“No, not yet. I got another letter from the school. They received my most recent transcript of college credits, but my spot would be forfeited if I don’t confirm my enrollment date in the next ninety days.”

I was emotionally wrecked, but Addie and Ricky didn’t seem too interested. While they diddled with makeup and moisturizer and Allan played with his animals, I worked on a letter to Charity. Wads of failed white paper littered the floor like snowballs. Allan had sticky but edible fake snow and ice all over his hands, arms, face, and part of his head.

“Oh crap, I forgot to tell you, Addie. Your social worker is coming this morning.”

I doubted official County folk abided messes very well, so I abandoned the letter I couldn’t seem to write and began cleaning the kitchen. The sound of a car pulling into the yard jolted Addie off her chair.

“Marin is here. I better get my stuff. Thank you, Ricky. I hope I see you again some time.” Addie kissed Ricky quickly on the cheek and bounded back to the bedroom where she’d slept the night before.

I performed my reconnaissance through the kitchen window. A bright red Toyota truck, clean and undented, was parked next to my piece of crap rusted, battered, filthy truck. The dogs, Pants, Sniff, and Satan, barked and jumped at the window and door. Pants had green rollers along his sides, and both Sniff and Satan sported pink rollers and hair nets. Ricky had gotten to them earlier in the morning. No wonder they didn’t come out until a car approached. I hushed the dogs and opened the door for the social worker.

I’d never met a County social worker before, but I was prepared to hate her or at least make it clear I she’d pissed me off. How could she have placed that young girl with McGerber? How unfit did a mother have to be for her child to be better off at his house? I was ready to give the social worker one of the few pieces of my mind I had left. Damn it, my other parts were reacting strongly to seeing this woman.

I expected someone matronly, dressed in monochromatic shades of vomit and smelling like Lysol, part prison guard and part janitor, but she’s a cowgirl. She showed me an identification badge with her picture—not half as pretty as the real thing—and the emblem for Jewitt County Human Services. The dogs sniffed at her and dropped to the floor, presenting their bellies for rubbing despite the curlers in their fur. She didn’t get to them right away.

“I’m Marin England from Child Protective Services. I’m here to see Addie. Are you Miss Tyler?” she asked as she put out her hand to me.

“God, no! I’m Lorraine Tyler—the daughter. Momma’s at work at the clinic.” I shook her hand. It was a soft, warm hand; the pads of her fingers were pillowy. I detected no scent of Lysol, but perhaps the faint hint of lavender. I was still holding her hand when Ricky materialized in the kitchen and made a fuss about Marin’s hair and skin tones, breaking the moment I shouldn’t have been having. Marin listened to Ricky’s patter as she scratched the dogs’ undercarriage and told them what good boys they were. Ricky acted like Marin was speaking to him.

Momma would have described Marin as a big-boned gal—not fat, but tall and sturdy. I suspected she could pick me up and carry me some place. I blushed. Why’d I think that? I shouldn’t be thinking that. She couldn’t be much older than me.

Ms. England wore black cowboy boots with aqua accents in the tooled leather, black jeans, a black shirt with white pearl snaps. No cowboy hat on that French braided cascade of chestnut hair, but I would’ve bet good money one sat on the seat in her truck. I couldn’t tell if she had tanned from outside work or was naturally bronzed.

“Please have a seat, Miss England,” I said. “Could I get you some coffee?” I hoped she’d politely say no because I hadn’t made any coffee.

Ricky butted in between the social worker and me. “Maybe some time you and Lorraine should go out for a real drink, maybe at the Lake Tavern. It’s a local hot spot, do you know it?”

I punched Ricky’s arm. “What’re you doing? Get out of here. Don’t you have some dogs to manicure, pedicure, or marinate?”

He appeared wounded, but at least he gathered the dogs and left the kitchen.

“Ricky is studying cosmetology,” I said.

“Is he your husband?” Marin asked.

“Ricky? God no. He just lives with us, Momma found him, and he followed her home. He’s my new best friend, but he’ll never be anyone’s husband.” I offered Ms. England a cup of coffee again.

“Thank you. Call me Marin. I’m too young to be Ms. anything. I’ll skip the coffee—I never learned to like the taste of it.” She put her black canvas bag on a chair and inspected the kitchen. Then she gravitated to Allan. He stood on a kitchen chair where I had stationed him, washing pretend snow off his polar bears and seals.

“And who are you?” she asked him.

Allan splashed and jabbered his name, but Marin didn’t catch it.

“Are you raising this fine young man? Is this your son?”

“Yes, I mean, no. Well, I’m raising Little Man, I mean Allan, but I’m not his mom. His mom, my sister, Becky, died. Now, Allan and his daddy live with us—that is with me and my parents and Ricky too.”

“Sounds like this farm is the place to go if you need sanctuary,” Marin said.

“It’s more of a sanitarium,” I said.

Marin laughed and took a pad of paper and pen from her bag. “What can you tell me about this situation with Addie? She’s here, right?”

“Yeah, she’s grabbing her things from my room.” I waved my hand in the direction of the bedroom. “I’m not in that room too. I’m upstairs with Ricky, Kenny, and Allan. Not in the same room or anything.” God, stop your babbling and overexplaining What’s wrong with you?

“How did you meet Addie?”

“Drenching McGerber’s sheep. I’m almost a vet.” I stood a little taller. Then I remembered I planned to dislike the social worker. In a more serious voice, I said, “As you know, Addie is being fostered by McGerber because her momma… I really don’t know what her momma did.”

“I think there are a lot of similarities in values and passions between women who choose to be social workers and veterinarians.” Marin tapped her pen against her chin as she looked over at me. “Don’t you think?”

Marin had incredibly full lips. I lost my train of thought. The word “passions” pulsed in my brain. “To be honest, I’ve never compared or contrasted social workers and veterinarians, but I’ll make a plan to give it some thought.” I smiled like a fool.

“Did Addie tell you anything about the way Mister McGerber treated her?”

I shook the cobwebs and tendrils of lust out of my head.

“Let’s see. She called him a smelly old fart, or maybe I called him that first. I’m not sure. I know he asked her to drown a litter of kittens. Then, I learned from Momma and Twitch that McGerber got her pregnant. Twitch is Doctor Twitchell, he’s our local veterinarian.”

Marin jotted something down on her note pad. “I talked to Doctor Twitchell at his office before I came out here. I’ll ask you what I asked him.” Marin separated the words of her question like she addressed an imbecile. “Did Addie say to you that Mister McGerber had sexual relations with her?”

I thought about the question and tried to remember that day at the clinic. “No, but who else could’ve done it? She lived with him and—”

Jot, jot, scribble, jot. Marin cut me off.

“I just need to know specific details,” she said and kind of smiled and winked. “Did you hear directly from Addie that Mister McGerber touched her sexually?”

Uh oh, another person on McGerber’s side. “No.”

More jotting.

“Lorraine, did you ever witness any sort of inappropriate touching by Mister McGerber?”

“No.” All the good feelings I had about her cowgirl outfit went right down the toilet. This felt like an interrogation designed to exonerate McGerber. I couldn’t possibly like Marin if she grilled me and defended McGerber. I wanted to read what she wrote. All the writing made me think of Momma and her notebook. This can’t be good.

“I didn’t see it and Addie didn’t tell me specifically that McGerber was sexual with her. Momma said McGerber brought Addie to the clinic for a heavy period and she had a miscarriage. It just seemed obvious that it must’ve been McGerber. You don’t know him, but he’s pure evil.”

“Actually, I do know him.” Marin wrinkled her nose like she knew she was delivering more bad news and she was right. It stunk. She said, “He and his wife have fostered children for short periods before. His references are good. I know he’s religiously conservative, but there’ve never been any allegations of this kind or any kind against Mister McGerber.”

I hoped the woman’s boots were tight.

“This morning I visited your momma at the clinic and caught her before she started her morning shift,” Marin said. “She told me she didn’t ask Addie specifically if McGerber touched her and Addie didn’t volunteer any information. I need to ask Addie what happened. I won’t do it here. I’ll bring Addie back to my office and interview her there, so I can put the interview on tape.”

“Well, don’t assume he’s perfect just because he goes to church.”

“I won’t assume that, but I also can’t assume he molested a minor without some proof. Besides, as you probably know, at sixteen, it isn’t illegal for Addie to have consensual sex.”

“With her foster parent? With someone older than dirt?”

“No, having sex with a foster parent would be criminal for the foster parent. Having sex with someone older, if it is consensual—you know, informed consent and not coerced or an abuse of authority—is not necessarily prosecuted as statutory rape. It’s complicated.”

“That’s dumb. Can a sixteen-year-old give informed consent?”

“You don’t have to answer, Lorraine, but how old were you when you first had sex? Was the man or woman older?”

I bit my lip. I wanted to tell her I was over eighteen when I first had sex, but my brain froze. She mentioned the possibility I’d had sex with another woman.

“Addie may have a boyfriend.” She handed me a business card and a shiny brochure about a Girl’s Ranch. “Addie will be staying at this ranch for the time being. You can visit her if she puts your name on a visitors’ list. I’m headed there after I interview Addie at my office.”

“Will Addie be safe at this ranch?”

“Yeah, the people and horses are safe for Addie. She will get a good rest and time with some amazing animals. You might like it yourself. I could take you riding. You could bring your nephew too.”

Maybe I imagined it, but it seemed like Marin blushed when she asked me to visit the ranch. Or just maybe, the heat came from my own cheeks. I felt like my body had betrayed me in responding to this McGerber-defending cowgirl. Just then Addie came in the kitchen.

“Hey, Marin. Am I staying here or going with you?”

“We need to have a talk at the office and then I think it’s time to go to that horse ranch I told you about when we first met. There’s an immediate opening and I think you’ll really like it there.”

“I know I’ll like the animals better than most people I’ve met,” Addie said. “It’s fine being here too. My baby died. It wasn’t very big I guess. My body wasn’t ready.”

My heart sunk at how casually she said the words, like Allan repeating that Becky died. So young for such reality. Addie wore her own clothes again. Momma had washed and pressed them. She carried the pink scrubs she had been given at the clinic and offered them to me.

“You can keep them, if you want. They’d make good pajamas,” I said. It seemed a small consolation. “The clinic won’t miss them.”

“Goodbye, Lorraine. I hope I get that kitten sometime.” She hugged me quick and stood next to Marin.

The kitten. The sweet girl had just lost her first baby, but she called in her marker for the promise of a kitten. I swallowed hard.

“Thanks for being a good friend to Addie, Lorraine. I hope I see you again.” She seemed to mean it. Marin put her pad and pen in her bag and slung the bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll need to talk with you again. I mean, our family will want to know what happens—you know, with Addie.”

“I won’t be able to disclose information about a case to anyone without a release. Other topics of discussion are, of course, legal and welcome.” Marin looked from me to Addie. “But you could visit Addie at the ranch if it is okay with Addie, and maybe she would tell you what you want to know.”

Addie stepped forward. Right then, she didn’t seem the timid girl I first saw in the barn.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know right now, and you can still come to the ranch anytime you want. I didn’t have sex with that old fart McGerber if that’s what you’re all thinking, but I’m not saying anything else. Tell Ricky goodbye again from me.” She turned and walked out the door.

Marin raised her eyebrows and smiled at me before she followed Addie to the truck.

Crap. I knew I shouldn’t be disappointed that McGerber wasn’t a child molester, but for some reason I felt let down. At least Marin didn’t say “I told you so” before she left.

I turned my attention to Allan. He’d washed and rinsed his plastic animals. I came up behind him and planted raspberries on his neck below his blond hair. He giggled and squirmed but persisted in his task. He lined up his animals on the kitchen table by type and loyalty—first came the polar bears, then the seals, and penguins. I picked up one of his penguins as I considered attempting another letter to Charity, but before I got even a word on paper, Ricky buzzed back in the kitchen like a pestering mosquito. He stood close to me.

“So? Did you ask her out? Don’t tell me, she asked you to a rodeo?”

“What’re you talking about? You goof!”

“Rodeo, you doowf,” Allan mimicked.

Ricky lowered his head and leered at me through his dark eyelashes. “You had to know that girl likes girls. Are you telling me you didn’t notice?”

“How do you know? What makes you an expert on recognizing lesbians?”

“It’s a gift. Whenever I meet a lesbian I either want to tell her all my secrets or repair her wardrobe, makeup, and hair.”

“Which thing did you want to work on when you saw me?” I regretted the question as soon as it left my mouth because of course he told me.

“Everything.” Ricky rolled his big brown eyes. “No offense, Lorraine, but you’ve a lot of work areas. Don’t get me wrong, you’re pretty in that wholesome farm girl way, but you dress like a scarecrow, your hair always looks like you live in a wind tunnel, and you waste your beautiful eyes and high cheekbones by forbidding them to know makeup and people get distracted wondering what happened to your hair.”

“Wow, at least you didn’t mean to offend me.”

“I can help you if you want to do some fixing up for a date with Marin.”

“Why would I date Marin? I have a girlfriend, Charity.”

“You keep saying that, but I’ve lived with you and your folks for weeks now and I think I have glimpsed her only once.” Ricky put the polar bears in compromising positions with the seals. “I’m beginning to wonder if she’s really your girlfriend.”

“She’s still my girlfriend.” I hoped. “At least she’s not some photograph that comes with a new wallet.” I regretted the statement but didn’t stop myself.

“She’s a girlfriend,” Allan said.

“I’m sorry I said that, Ricky. Charity is a sensitive topic and well, I did notice Marin, but I felt kind of wicked about it.”

“It’s not wicked, it’s natural. Did I hear her invite you to a ranch to ride horses?” His eyes got big.

“Yeah, so?” I knew what he meant, but I refused to divulge my plans.

Ricky disengaged the polar bears and seals, stood up, and whispered into my ear, “Horse riding is incredible foreplay, or so I have been told.” He wiggled his little butt as he left the room which made me wonder if he had ridden some horses himself.

I thought I would wet my pants laughing.

“What do you think, Allan? Would you like to see some real horses?”

“Yes.”

Maybe God or the universe talks to queers too. Was He saying, “Get ye to a ranch for girls?” And if God says that to a queer girl, what’s she supposed to do?