“How long have you been living in the foster home over on Spruce?” Martin asked. Since Spence was the oldest—he was fourteen to Camden’s thirteen and Jackson’s twelve—he was the one to respond.
“We’ve been there for two years now.”
Martin hesitated before he spoke again. “I talked with your social worker. She’s on her way down here now. I’d like to make an offer to you boys.”
They looked at him with distrustful eyes. They’d been in the foster-care system too long and had learned to trust no one but each other. They shared a common heartache—no one seemed to want any of them. Being alone was much better when you were “alone” with someone else. It had caused a unique bond to form—a brotherhood.
At least this man’s eyes were kind. They waited in silence to see what he had to say.
“I’d like for you to come live with me. What you did today showed me more than I need to know about your characters, and I would be honored to adopt each of you. The judge here in town is a good friend of mine. He can give me temporary papers so you could come home with me right away. Then, if you like it at my place, we could make it permanent.”
Spence took the lead again. “We’ve been lied to a lot. It would be pretty crappy of you to say something like this and then decide you hated us after a few days. They call us throwaway kids because we’re older than kids who are typically adopted,” he said with a slightly wobbly voice.
All of them were trying desperately to put up a brave front, but it was beginning to crumble as hope filled them. The pain that held all three of the boys in its grip was evident to Martin, whose heart filled with a deep sadness. What had they been through to be so wounded and so afraid? He hoped they never would have to carry that fear again.
“I understand that you don’t know me, and it will take a lot of time to build up trust, but I don’t lie and I never make a promise I don’t keep. My father taught me to always be a man of my word. You three boys gave me the greatest gift today, one that only my wife had given me before now—the life of my son. Not everyone gets the kind of second chance you gave him. You deserve a second chance at life as well. I’d feel privileged to have you come home with me. You’re not too old at all. My son is ten, right around your age. I think we could be a family if you give me a chance.”
Spence immediately turned away when a tear started to slip down his cheek. The others pretended not to see and gave him a chance to pull himself together. They never cried, at least not where anyone else could see. They’d learned long ago that tears didn’t matter from a throwaway kid anyway.
Martin Whitman did something then that no one had done for so long that the boys had forgotten what it felt like. He wrapped his arms around Spence and gave him a solid hug, and then did the same to Camden and to Jackson. All three boys were shaking with emotion by the time he let go.
Martin stood and walked to a nearby restroom so he could compose himself and give them a moment alone to discuss his offer.
“What do you think, Spence?” Jackson asked with a hopeful expression.
Spence looked at both Jackson and Camden, who stared back with a mixture of faith and disbelief. Though Jackson didn’t want to get his hopes up, the thin layer of ice that encased his heart was beginning to thaw. He wanted to believe. He wanted this to be real. If Martin took them all, they would never be separated.
The rational part of him knew that a brighter tomorrow would never come. But for the sake of Camden and Spence, he put a confident smile on his face.
“I don’t see what it would hurt to give it a try,” he said.
Ultimately, the decision lay with Spence, though, since he was the oldest. They waited for his verdict.
“Why not?” he told them, trying to look composed, but excitement burned in his eyes.
Camden and Jackson beamed eager smiles his way, hopeful for the first time since they had been dumped at the state’s doorstep when they were barely out of diapers.
When Martin emerged from the bathroom, Jackson and Camden looked at him with happy apprehension. Spence looked the man in the eye, issuing him a silent challenge: this is me—take me or leave me.
Martin smiled, not breaking eye contact for even a second, as if to reply that he would take him as he was, chip on his shoulder and all.
TWENTY YEARS LATER
“I promise you, Mom, I’m fine.”
But Alyssa’s mother kept on saying all the usual motherly things, full of worry and false cheer, not offering her daughter even the remotest chance of interrupting. Alyssa Gerard held her phone wearily against her ear. She had no more words to say, nothing that would make this nightmare end. A nine-hour flight was still ahead of her, then one connection, and she’d be home.
Or maybe not. Alyssa had waited in the crowded airport as her “on-time” flight was delayed again and again. It was already midafternoon, and she’d been in this boarding area for hours. Were there any other flights with open seats?
Not on this day of the year, New Year’s Eve. She could either wait for her original flight, or give up—which wasn’t going to happen. She was more than done with Paris, done with modeling, and done with people in general. This week had started out badly and kept on getting worse.
“. . . and I know you’ll really love it in Sterling . . .” Yes, her mom was still speaking, and yes, she should listen, but as she looked around at all the people in bright colors with what seemed like permanent smiles on their faces, she grew even grumpier and simply couldn’t force herself to respond. Not that she needed to, as her mom was speaking enough for both of them. Alyssa should be happy, should feel like celebrating, but instead she was fighting tears.
“. . . Martin is a wonderful boss. Your dad has never been happier . . .”
It was all over—everything had ended so much more speedily than it had begun. She’d set out at the tender age of fifteen, ready to change the world with all the millions she’d make, to see her name in lights, or at least to see her face on every magazine cover ever to grace store shelves and racks.
She’d gotten her dream . . . for a while. And then—poof!—it was gone. Her body tensed in anger as she found herself wedged between two large men who surely hadn’t bathed in eons.
Her mother continued to yammer away, though Alyssa was long past listening.
“. . . and you should see Martin’s boys. They are so handsome . . .”
Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. To her left, a heated debate had broken out between a man in a dark blue suit and an attractive blonde. The exchange flung her back into her own head as she was forced to think about what had happened between her and her ex.