Catch a Falling Star (18 page)

“This is the Rocky Mountain Family Practice. Evie speaking. How may I help you?”

“Mrs. Gardner?”

Evie stilled. “Yes?”

“This is Carolyn, down at Javan's school. I tried to reach you on your cell but I didn't get an answer.”

“I'm sorry. I don't answer my cell while I'm at work. Is Javan okay?”

“There's been a problem at school. I need you to come in as soon as possible.”

“Is he hurt?” Evie moved away from her desk, waving her hand to catch Renee's attention. “Is he sick? Have you called my husband?”

“No, ma'am. Javan isn't sick or hurt. And, yes, I tried to call your husband, but he didn't answer his cell phone, either. When do you think you can get to the school?”

“I'll be right there. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Javan got into a fight with another boy in his class.”

“He what?” Evie held up her hand, preventing Renee from mouthing questions at her. “What happened?”

“Why don't you come down to the school and we'll talk about it then. Javan's waiting in the principal's office.”

“All right.” When the phone disconnected, Evie tugged the headset from her ear.

“I need to leave.”

“What?” Renee looked at the clock. “It's only two. Dr. Kendall has a full clinic—and so does Paul. You can't leave now.”

“I have to. Javan got into a fight a school. He's in the principal's office.” She fast-walked down the hallway to get her purse from the staff lockers, sidestepping a patient who exited an exam room.
Why didn't Logan answer his phone?
Then she remembered. “Logan's in Denver today, working on-site with a client. I have to go.”

Evie unlocked the cabinet, grabbing both her purse and her windbreaker, and headed for the back parking lot. “Do me a favor and punch my time card for me, please.”

Evie stormed into the school office as if she were rescuing her son from a swarm of pint-sized ninjas. “I'm here for Javan—” She paused. She couldn't call him by her last name yet. The adoption wasn't final. “Javan.”

She knew Carolyn casually from parents' nights and other school events she managed to attend. “Hello, Mrs. Gardner. Javan's in with Mr. Edwards. Let me take you back.”

Evie stopped to study Javan through the small rectangular piece of glass inset in the principal's office door. Slumped shoulders. Eyes downcast. Bottom lip thrust out. She knew that expression so well. The principal stood as she came into the room. Javan didn't budge.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gardner.” Mr. Edwards shook her hand, his eyes compassionate behind his wire-rim glasses, and motioned for her to sit beside Javan.

“Good afternoon.” Evie tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, letting her purse slip to the carpeted floor beside her feet. “Javan, are you all right?”

Silence.

Evie focused her attention on the principal, willing her heartbeat to settle back into its normal pace. “What happened?”

“I'd prefer Javan tell us. But he's not feeling very talkative right now.” The principal leaned against his desk. “Do you want to tell your mom what happened, Javan?”

Nothing.

Maybe she should try to start the conversation. “I was told there was a fight . . .”

Mr. Edwards nodded. “One of the teachers' assistants said Javan punched one of his classmates—”

“Did not!” The little boy spat the words out as if he tasted some kind of bitter medicine and refused to swallow it.

“Javan!” Evie touched his arm, but he shrugged away from her.

“He punched me.”

The principal kept his voice low, calm. “Javan, the teacher saw you and Trevor—”

“He punched me!” Javan bellowed the words, this time looking at her with tears filling his brown eyes.

“Don't yell, Javan. We just want to find out what happened.”

“I told you. You don't believe me. The other kid punched me.” Javan crossed his arms over his chest. “I told 'em to call Daddy. He would believe me.”

Javan's accusation was a verbal punch to Evie's gut. What was she supposed to do? Let Javan get away with hitting another kindergartner just so he knew she loved him?

“I'm not saying I don't believe you.” She touched Javan's knee, trying to connect with him again. “I'm trying to find
out the whole story. If you hit someone, you need to say you're sorry.”

“He didn't say he was sorry to me!” Javan jerked his leg, pushing her hand away. “Where's Daddy? I want Daddy!”

“Daddy's at work. I'm here. Let Mamá help.”

“You're not my mamá!”

Evie's breath hissed through her clenched teeth. She refused to look at the principal. She pressed trembling fingers against her lips, searching for something to say.

“You're right, Javan. I'm not your mamá.” Evie inhaled. Exhaled. “But I want to be. Daddy and me . . . we want all three of us to be a family. And that's why I'm here. Because mamás come get their niñitos when they're upset about something.”

Javan looked up at her, his chubby cheeks streaked with tears. “My momma doesn't.”

Evie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Your momma doesn't what?”

“My momma isn't coming to get me. She left me.”

Oh, what could she say to heal this little boy's hurt? “I know. I know, Javan. But I'm here. Can I help you . . . just today?”

Evie watched Javan's lower lip tremble. Heard him hiccup back a sob. “ 'K. Today.”

Today. She'd take today. And hope for tomorrow.

Mr. Edwards's voice interrupted the brittle quietness resting between them. “Javan, why don't you go to your classroom and get your things?”

The little boy slipped off the couch and exited the office.

“Mrs. Gardner, you handled that well. I understand what's going on between you and Javan.”

“Yes.”

“I've seen other adopted children act out this way. Truthfully, I've seen children act this way with their biological parents.”

“Believe me, some days are much, much harder than others.” Evie stood, turning to face the principal. “I know Javan's angry at his birth mom, not me. I just never realized I would be fighting her for my son.”

“It's almost the end of the school day. Go ahead and take Javan home. Let him settle down. Talk to him about what he did, about needing to apologize to Trevor. And don't think I won't be having a talk with Trevor and his parents, too.”

“Thanks.”

Evie straightened her shoulders and went to wait for Javan out in the front office. She slipped into a muted-blue cloth-covered chair next to a bulletin board covered with papers: announcements about piano lessons and dance lessons, the schedule for the field day program, information about summer camps. Carolyn sat at her desk, talking to someone on the phone. Who knew what the woman thought of Evie? She probably considered her a horrible mother—unable to control her son. There was no way the other woman could understand how hard Evie tried with Javan. This was something she had to figure out on her own. One little breakthrough with Javan didn't mean he wouldn't shut her out again when they got home. What now? Was it appropriate to take a little boy for ice cream when he'd punched a classmate?

Kendall preferred to have her conversations with her girlfriends face-to-face, while indulging in corn chips and guacamole. And here she sat, side by side by side by side with Rachel, Sonia, and Melissa, waiting for a Saturday-morning pedicure. The salon welcomed a constant flow of women of all ages—young girls accompanying their moms, teens, twenty-somethings, and on up
to women who reminded her of Mina. A large-screen TV filled one wall, tuned to some action movie that added another layer of noise to the constant hum of voices and the ever-ringing phone.

Kendall should relax, but the overcrowded room, with massage chairs just inches from one another, made her feel a bit claustrophobic. “Exactly how are we supposed to decide anything sitting like ducks all in a row while we get pedicures?”

“Oh, stop complaining. We're all overdue for a little pampering.” Rachel settled back in the oversized massage chair, closing her eyes as the water in the ceramic basin swirled around her feet.

Melissa, who sat in the chair farthest from Kendall, leaned forward. “Sonia's the one with all the details. Just let her do the talking. I'm going to sit back and enjoy this pedicure.”

Why was she resisting the opportunity to unwind? Sure, they were here to talk about their summer trip. But having a chance to unwind while someone massaged her feet . . . Kendall needed to spoil herself for half an hour. Let someone take care of her, instead of being the one caring.

She readjusted her body in the padded chair, pushing away thoughts of all the other things she could be doing. This was not a waste of time. “So, what did you find out, Sonia?”

“One of Kevin's friends went to the Riviera Maya last year. It's on the coast of Mexico. Cozumel is right across the water. There are resorts up and down the coast with all-inclusive plans: airfare, hotel, meals. Even tips.” Sonia paused as a nail tech sat in front of her on a low wheeled stool. She handed the woman a bottle of bright pink polish.

“Whoa.” Kendall held up her hand as if blinded. “That's a crazy color.”

Melissa showed off a bottle of vivid blue nail polish. “What do you think of this, Kendall? It's called ‘Blue My Mind.' ”

“You're kidding, right? I'll stick with this red.” What was it again? Kendall turned over the bottle of polish and read the label: “ ‘I'm Not Really a Waitress.' ”

“I decided on a classic French manicure.” Rachel joined the conversation, not bothering to open her eyes as she tested the different massage buttons on the arm of the chair. “Who comes up with these names?”

“Now that we have that all settled, can we talk vacation?” Sonia attempted to restore order, even as the petite woman seated before her trimmed her toenails. “Does an all-inclusive deal sound good to you three?”

“Absolutely. The less we have to do once we get there, the better. I want to relax.” Melissa looked half asleep where she sat.

“Is the last week of June still the best time for everyone?”

“I had Evie block me out of the schedule.” Kendall turned the massage chair to “rolling massage,” shifting so her lower back and shoulders got a good workout.

“And both my parents are coming to help with the twins.” Melissa sighed. “My father has planned at least two trips to Toys ‘R' Us with the boys. They will be thoroughly spoiled by the time I get back.”

“I hope to have a lot of the wedding details settled by then.” Rachel's voice always pitched a little higher when she said the word
wedding.
“Remember, this trip to Mexico is also going to be our weeklong bachelorette party.”

“Oh, I haven't forgotten. I'll make sure to plan some fun things.” Sonia made a few notes in her iPhone. “And who knows? We may have found your perfect dress by then.”

Melissa sat up straighter as a technician prepared to start her pedicure. “Did your mom change her mind about that dress you tried on?”

“No. She still says it makes me look old.”

“That dress doesn't make you look old, Rachel.” Kendall moved so fast, water sloshed over the side of the foot basin. “You looked like an advertisement in a bridal magazine. Exquisite.”

“I thought so, and you thought so . . . but there's no changing my mother's mind once she's made a decision about something.”

“Do you know what kind of dress she wants you to wear?”

“One like hers, probably.”

Sonia joined the conversation. “One like hers—or hers?”

“Oh, probably hers—but it would take forever to alter that dress. I'm taller than my mother. And it's not the style I want.” Rachel pressed her fingers against her temples and rubbed in a circular motion. “I've waited for this day for so long. But how do I have what I want and what my mother wants?”