At Home on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [82]
“Are you sure you have the right woman?”
Lindsay just looked stunned.
Carrie smiled sympathetically. “We’re sure. The state office has been working on this, and they were finally able to contact her last week. I really don’t know the details, but it’s definitely the right woman.”
She sorted through some papers on her desk until she came up with the right one, then slipped on a pair of black-framed glasses. “According to our records, Noah Clete was born in Charlottesville to Amanda and Robert Clete. Shortly after his birth, the mother, Amanda, left her husband. The child lived with his maternal grandmother until her death four years later. That was when Robert Clete moved with Noah to this county. He worked as a handyman off and on and . . . well, you know the rest.”
Lindsay nodded slowly. “His father was an alcoholic whose only contact with Noah was to beat him. He couldn’t be bothered to make sure he went to school or had warm clothes or regular meals. He—”
Bridget laid a quieting hand atop Lindsay’s. “I don’t understand,” she said firmly, “why no one tried to find his mother—or even knew about her—until now.”
Cici, who had opened her mouth to speak, closed it again and gave Bridget an approving nod.
“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” Carrie replied apologetically. “No one knew about her. No abandonment charges were ever filed, there was no child support to pursue, no reason for the state to get involved . . . and when the grandmother died, the child went back to live with his father, which was, for all intents and purposes, as it should have been.” She removed the glasses. “Noah was so young when they moved here I doubt he would have even known where he was from if we had interviewed him. And I’m sure he believes his mother died when he was a baby, just like everyone else did.”
“And the mother?” demanded Cici. “What’s her excuse? She’s been living in Richmond all this time and she never once thought to inquire about her son?”
“Apparently,” Carrie said, “when the grandmother died and Robert took over custody, he moved around a good bit before he settled here. She simply lost track. She looked for Noah, but she couldn’t find him.” She glanced again at her notes. “She’s only been in Richmond a few years. She’s a resident counselor at a privately owned halfway house for recovering substance abusers.”
Lindsay blew out a long slow breath. “Wow,” she said. And again, “Wow.” The expression on her face was reminiscent of someone who had just run into a plate glass window. “What do you know about that?” she said. “Noah ends up with a mother after all—even if it’s not me. Things sure have a way of working themselves out.” Then she looked back at Carrie. “I guess someone should tell him.”
Carrie held up a staying hand. “I wish you’d hold off on that for a day or two. Amanda, his mother, will be here Wednesday, and I thought the best thing to do would be for all of us to meet, and try to figure out the best way to explain things to Noah. This will be a shock, and he’s bound to have questions. It might be best if his mother was actually here to answer them.”
Lindsay released another breath, which seemed almost to deflate her. She sagged a little in her chair, and there were lines around her mouth and her eyes that had not been there when she walked into the office. “Do you, um, do you think she’ll want to take him back with her on Wednesday? That’s not a lot of time to, well, prepare.”
“I think we can come up with a better plan than that,” Carrie said gently. “I haven’t actually spoken to the woman, you know, but I’m sure she’ll understand it will take Noah a little time to adjust to the news. There’s no need to have his things packed until after we’ve all talked.”
And that was it. They agreed to come back to the office on Wednesday morning at nine. They agreed that nothing would be said to Noah about his change in circumstances. They gathered up their things, they murmured thanks, they left the office. And no one said much of anything on the way home.
16
Making Adjustments
Although lunch was usually an informal