Maybe that was it. Maybe the distance was because of Molly’s struggle with faith. Beth faced the words on the overhead screen. Then there was the other possibility, the one she hadn’t wanted to talk about with anyone—not with Bill, and certainly not with Molly.
Though Molly reported nearly every day that she was making phone calls to officials, and Jack was contacting attorneys, they seemed to be making no progress. If someone were going to take away one of Beth’s children, Beth would have the story on the news by now. There would be reporters hounding the judge, asking him why he’d allow such a terrible ruling to stand when it would only hurt the child involved.
Molly and Jack seemed almost passive. Maybe they were in shock, paralyzed from fear and grief and hoping for some last-minute miracle—the miracle Beth and everyone else was praying for. It could happen, of course. It
would
happen somehow. Beth believed that. What she didn’t believe was that this was all the effort Molly and Jack were willing to make on Joey’s behalf.
Miracle or not, she would’ve expected Molly to be going crazy by now, pulling out every stop, turning over every stone, willing to fight the judge herself if no attorney would take the case. Instead, her sister’s conversations centered mostly on her latest phone calls to various politicians, and on the upcoming work trip.
“What type of clothes are you packing?” was her question last week. And, “Are you getting your kids immunized before you go?”
Beth wanted to scream at her, “Molly! Wake up! They’re about to take your son away, and all you can think about is whether Joey should take long pants or shorts to Haiti?”
Beth squirmed in her seat. If her sister was riding out the journey in blind faith, then more power to her. God was Almighty, powerful enough to keep Joey at the Campbells’ house if that was His will. But that’s when the other possibility crept into Beth’s conscience.
Maybe Molly and Jack weren’t worried because they had a different plan, a more drastic one. Could that be why they were attending church and coming along on the trip to Haiti? Was it possible they were thinking of fleeing the country and taking Joey with them? Beth focused on the words to the song they were singing. No, Molly would never do that. Never. Beth hated when her mind took that path. It was an awful thing to think about her sister. Molly and Jack were law-abiding citizens. They wouldn’t consider fleeing the country, living in hiding, and going against the authorities. They were fine, upstanding people, connected to their community and their neighborhood the way most people only hoped to be.
Beth sang another few lines.
Right?
There was no way her sister and her brother-in-law would take Joey and leave, would they? Beth chided herself and dismissed the thought. Molly had a right to be distracted. Life probably felt like it was spinning out of control. Of course she wasn’t acting like herself. She was in shock.
Still, when the service ended and they finished up with yet another meeting on the Haiti work trip, Beth pulled Molly aside. “You’ve cleared this trip with Joey’s social worker, right? I mean, with the custody thing pending, I’m sure you’ll need her okay before you take him out of the country.”
For the briefest moment, Molly’s expression became one of sheer panic. Maybe it was Beth’s imagination, but she could’ve sworn Molly looked absolutely terrified at the idea of clearing this trip with the social worker. But just as quickly, she rebounded. The corners of her lips lifted in a gentle smile. “Of course, Beth. We’ve already gotten the okay.”
“Good.” Beth nodded. Relief filled her heart and soul. “Just wanted to make sure.”
All the way home, Beth allowed herself to feel relieved. She must’ve been loopy to think her sister would take Joey and flee the law, flee the United States. She was probably just distracted with finding an attorney or a politician who could help them. And someone
would
help them. They would get their miracle.
Beth believed that with every breath she took.
Allyson Bower hung up the phone and replayed the conversation in her mind. It was Tuesday afternoon, and she’d just spoken with Molly Campbell, calling with a special request. She and her husband wanted to take Joey on a work trip. They would go to Haiti with their church for five days, work on repairing an orphanage, and spend time with the children who lived there.
That would be okay, wouldn’t it?
As a state-certified social worker, Allyson was trained to recognize red flags. Children were her business, and children did a poor job of knowing when they were in trouble. That’s why in many cases they needed a state-appointed adult to help decide whether a situation was safe or not. A person working on their behalf.
Now this couple faced the loss of their only son after having him in their lives for nearly five years, and a week before they would lose custody permanently, they wanted permission to take the child out of the country?
Normally the answer would be an easy one.
No way.
Allyson couldn’t open herself up to that sort of potential trouble, that sort of scrutiny if things went awry and the Campbells disappeared. Once the adoptive parents were out of the country, even if they bought a house in Port-au-Prince and posted their names on the front door, it would be difficult to get them back to the States.
Still, for some reason, the idea appealed to Allyson. A last vacation, a last time to bond with Joey and show him what was important to them. Besides, maybe Joey would make friends with one of the orphans, and maybe the Campbells would go on to adopt that child. A Haitian child.
It was possible.
The trouble was, Allyson hadn’t seen any mention in the Campbells’ file about church or faith, about religion being important to them. She had asked Molly Campbell the name of the church, so now it was easy, really. She could do a little checking, and if their story held true—if they really were signed up with their church to go on a work trip—then Allyson would take the situation to the judge and recommend that permission be granted.
She didn’t need a judge’s order, not for this. At the time of the trip, the Campbells would have joint custody of Joey. Not until the Friday after the trip would they lose custody forever. If they wanted a farewell trip with their son, she wouldn’t deny it.
As long as it checked out.
Allyson found the number for the Campbells’ church. After being transferred to the secretary, she explained why she was calling, that she was a social worker and needed to verify the attendance of a few of their members.
The secretary was pleasant. “Go ahead.”
“Their names are Jack and Molly Campbell. They tell me they’ve been attending regularly as members.”
A series of clicking and tapping sounds filled the lines. “Just a minute, I’m checking the computer.” She paused. “Yes, here they are. Jack and Molly Campbell.”
“So they
are
members?”
“Let me see. Yes . . . their information chart says they’re members.”
“Which means they’ve been attending for how long?”
“Oh, well . . . that varies. We don’t have specific requirements for membership.” She thought for a few seconds. “But I’d say most people don’t become members until they’ve been going here for at least a year.”
Allyson smiled. Things were checking out. “Is there any record, any way of proving that the Campbells have been members for a year?”
“Well, we don’t take attendance. But we do watch the pattern of giving. Our members tend to be regular contributors, as well.”
“What about the Campbells? Have they been regular givers?”
“Let me scroll down here.” Another pause. “Yes . . . why, it certainly looks like it. The Campbells gave regular donations every month for the past, let’s see, thirteen months.”
Allyson quickly jotted notes on everything the secretary told her. Then she asked about the work trip.
“It’s a special time for our members. This particular trip is for families. It gives them a chance to make a special memory with their children while they’re helping out at one of the six orphanages we support in and around Port-au-Prince. We’ve put together teams of twelve to fifteen people for each orphanage.”
“What about supervision, someone from the church?”
“Yes, a church staff member will accompany each group.”
Allyson smiled and added that information to the piece of paper in front of her. “Very good. Thank you for your time.”
That afternoon she took the issue to the judge.
He read the file, looked over Allyson’s notes, and frowned. “A work trip to Haiti?”
“You have to understand, Your Honor”—she was already passionate about getting approval for the Campbells—“work trips to Haiti happen all the time. They’ll be with a group, and someone from the church will supervise.”
He gave her a wary look. “So close to the transfer of custody . . .”
“Your Honor, the population of Haiti is almost entirely black. If the Campbells tried to get away on foot in the middle of the night, they’d be picked up at the airport for sure. They’ll stand out, believe me.” She sighed and waved her hand at the clock. “I’d like to call the Campbells with permission before the end of the day. Your Honor, this is very important to them. I feel good about it.”
The judge tapped his finger on the paperwork in front of him. After another twenty seconds he took a slow breath. “Okay.” He shot her a stern look. “I know how you feel about this case, Ms. Bower. But the law is the law.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I’ll grant permission.” He narrowed his eyes. “But you’d better be right.”
She could hardly wait to call Molly Campbell. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
Fifteen minutes later she was back at her office and on the phone. “The judge granted you permission, Mrs. Campbell. Everything checked out.” She tried to keep her tone professional, tried to keep the sound of victory from her voice. She was supposed to be a voice of the state, not someone who took sides. “You’ve been granted permission to take Joey on the work trip, so long as you stick to the dates you’ve provided this department.”
“Thank you.” Molly’s relief poured from every syllable.
Allyson felt her throat choke up. “I hope you have a good time, Mrs. Campbell.”
“Yes. It’ll be very precious time for the three of us.”
When the conversation was over, Allyson hung up the phone. She was too street-smart not to have at least a little suspicion about the reason for the Campbells’ trip. But she’d fought hard for the approval because of one single image: Wendy Porter’s heavily made-up cheek. Rip Porter was being abusive again, and if she suspected one of the couples in this situation to be lying, no question she suspected the Porters first. Besides, she’d done her part by checking out Molly Campbell’s story.
Anything else was out of her hands.
J
ack had promised Molly he’d take care of the finances, and so far he was making good on his promise. The church thing had been nothing short of brilliant.
Their first plan was to keep the trip a secret from the social worker. It wasn’t anyone’s business if they wanted to take Joey on a work trip. But when Beth brought it up to Molly at church last Sunday, they had to revert to their second plan: calling Allyson Bower and asking permission. Before they could do that, they had to be sure to cover their trail. If they told the social worker they were members at Bethel Bible Church, then they had to be able to prove as much.
Thankfully, the church had virtually no requirements for members, and with thousands attending services every weekend, they had no real way to determine the actual attendance of any one member. Except by tracking whatever money people gave. That Sunday, after Molly’s conversation with Beth, Jack went home and wrote a series of checks, each for two hundred dollars, and each dated the first of the month back some thirteen months. He put each check in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote the month on the front. Then he put all the envelopes in a larger manila envelope and hurried the package back to church.
Services were still going on—the last one had just started. He went to the church bookstore and explained that it was rather urgent, that he needed to see the church secretary. She wasn’t there, he was told. Then he explained that he had checks to turn over, and in no time the bookstore manager found someone who worked at the church office.
A college intern, as it turned out.
Jack saw how young she was, and he had to work to contain his excitement. “We’ve made a mistake, and I feel terrible about it,” he told the young woman. She didn’t look a day over twenty. He poured on the charm. “More than a year ago, my wife and I made a decision to give regularly—a set amount each month.” He held up the envelope. “We wrote out the checks and placed them in here. And wouldn’t you know it?” He made a silly face. “I thought she was turning them in each month, and she thought I was.”
“I see.” The girl looked completely baffled. “Why don’t you drop them in the collection box at the back of the church? Anyone could make a mistake.”
“Well, you see, it isn’t that easy.” He grimaced and looked over his shoulder. “My wife’s mortified about this. She thinks people will see us as heathens for not giving all those months.” He pointed to himself. “It’s my fault, so I told her I’d make it right.”
The girl shook her head and made a face. “Sir, how can I help?”
“If you could promise me you’ll take these checks and enter them into your system by date, I’d be forever grateful.” He gave her his famous smile, the one that had earned him sales bonuses every year since he’d been out of college. “What we want is for the record to show our intentions. That we planned to give this set amount every month. You understand, right? Rather than adding up all the checks and putting it in as one big donation in our file.”
“For tax purposes, you mean?” She looked nervous. “We can’t change records for tax purposes, I know that.”
He shook his head and waved his hand. “No, no. Nothing about taxes.” He grinned again. “This is July, ma’am. All I want is for my wife to feel good about our giving statement. You know, when it comes in the mail at the end of the year. I actually want it to be
less
, because half that money should’ve been given last year. See?”