Page 2 of Unbidden

Truth is, before my mom died, she never really talked about anyone in her family much. I preferred to believe they were all dead and it was too painful for her to talk about. Obviously, I was wrong.

“Well, thankfully we found her through our family finding program. They’ve been looking for a relative for six months, since your mother’s death, to find you a permanent home. After speaking with your aunt Alice, we feel it would be the best placement for you.”

The laugh that comes out of my mouth lacks humor. “Of course you do. I mean, what’s one more stranger? I don’t know why you don’t just place me in a group home again.” I lean back, feigning boredom.

Mrs. White stands up and walks around the desk, leaning against it close to where I’m sitting.

“Listen, Sage. You’re a good kid. Your mom raised you well. I know you’re angry at the world. You lost the most important person in your life. You’re allowed to feel those feelings. Anger, grief, sadness, emptiness. Those are all normal. However, your actions are within your control. You need to get a grip on those emotions and funnel them into something more productive. We both know you don’t want to go to a group home. This aunt could be just what you need.” I go to speak, but she holds her hand up, cutting me off. “Even if she’s not, you’ll only need to stick it out for eight more months. Do you think you can keep it together that long?”

“I guess I have no choice. When is this Aunt Alice getting here?”

“She’s flying in now, should be here by this evening. For now, just keep hanging out. Do you have any questions?”

“Where is she flying in from?”

“Chicago.”

My jaw drops. “Illinois? I’m leaving the state? Are you even allowed to do that?”

Mrs. White gives me her best dramatic eye roll. “She passed all the home studies, background checks, classes, and interviews. This has been in the works for weeks. We were waiting on some final paperwork, but your latest stunt seems to have sped the process up. The next step would have been visitation, but since the group homes are full and you’ve cycled through five foster families in the last six months, the judge agreed that it would be best if we allowed you to go home with her now.”

“Joy. Another choice taken away from me.”

“I know it feels that way now, but you’ll see. This will be for the best.”

∞∞∞

Alice Davenport is rich. No, not just rich, filthy rich. After meeting with my case worker and signing a bunch of paperwork, Alice ushered me into a waiting town car with its own driver. After forty-five minutes in the car, we arrived at a small airfield. When I asked her whose jet we were boarding, she laughed and said our family’s.

Now I’m sitting here sipping on expensive water the attendant brought me while flying back to Bridgeton, Illinois, where she’s from.

“I have you set up to start school on Monday. I thought it would give you some time to settle in. It’s the beginning of the year, so you shouldn’t miss much.”

I flick my gaze to hers. I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize she’d put her phone down.

“Can’t I start tomorrow?” I ask.

She frowns. “I suppose, but don’t you want time to settle into your room?”

I snort. “You mean your guest bedroom?”

She sighs. “It’s your room. Even if you decide to leave, it will always be your room. It will always be there for you.”

“I don’t want it. Let’s be clear here. I’m only here because the caseworker had nowhere else to put me. Once I turn eighteen, I’m out. You’ll never have to see me again.”

I’m surprised by the look of hurt that crosses her face. “I don’t want that, Sage.”

“Well, I didn’t want my mother to die and leave me all alone, but life has a funny way of not giving a fuck what we want, now, doesn’t it?”

Damn, this woman is a good actress. I almost believe the tears falling from her eyes.

“Abagail was an amazing woman. She would have never left you if she had a choice. She loved you more than anything in this entire world.”

“Don’t act like you knew her. You haven’t seen her in nearly seventeen years. The Abagail you knew was nothing like my mom.”

She pulls a tissue out and wipes her eyes. “I know she loved you enough to leave. Your mother loved you with every bit of her being. I didn’t have to know her in recent years to know that she never loved you any less.”

She’s right, but I can’t tell her that. My mom always told me how much she loved me. I knew she left the family shortly before my birth, but I never asked why. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I had her.

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