17

Once Pee Wee said his goodbyes to Mama and Marcus, he and I hurried out to my truck and drove to his elementary school. It

wasn’t far from the house, and Pee Wee spent most of the time talking about Thanksgiving and all the fun he had. As he talked

about everything but Chad, I knew he had a lot of sadness, and much of it was centered around Chad’s absence, but boys like

Pee Wee learned the hard way to find some good in any situation if they could. It was a survival tactic, and Pee Wee did it

more than most.

I admit, I was only half listening to him. They say you never worry about the child in front of you—you worry about the child

who’s out of sight. I understood that quote more than most people, especially right now.

“Have a good day, Pee Wee,” I said, reaching over and ruffling his curly hair. He looked at me with hopeful eyes.

“M-m-maybe he’ll c-c-come b-b-back today or m-m-maybe he’ll b-b-be at school,” Pee Wee said. “M-m-maybe.”

“I hope so. But you don’t worry about that. You just focus on school, and Mr. Jason will pick you up this afternoon. Just like always.” I wanted him to know his life still had some continuity and that all he needed to do, as best he could, was focus on being a little boy. I didn’t want him carrying the burden of worrying about his friend.

After dropping him off, I went straight to the group home. No one else was there, and I was grateful I’d have privacy to deal

with the drama related to Chad. As much as I didn’t want to have to call Mrs. Gates, I preferred that she heard about Chad’s

disappearance from me rather than from a police report landing on her desk. After brewing myself a pot of coffee and pouring

myself a large cup, I dialed Mrs. Gates’s number. She answered the phone on the first ring.

“Good morning. This is Shirley Anne Gates. May I help you?” she said in that efficient-sounding voice of hers—a voice that

sounded like someone who’d never had a child go missing on her watch. Suddenly I felt like a student being brought into the

principal’s office. I didn’t think I could feel worse, but once we started talking, I did.

“Good morning, Mrs. Gates. This is Miss Daniels at the Pike County Group Home for Negro Boys,” I said, and rather than draw

out this uncomfortable conversation, I quickly filled her in. After I had told her the complete story, for a long while she

said nothing.

“This is very disappointing, Miss Daniels,” she said. “We trusted you to properly take care of Chad. I will have to write this up. I have no choice but to recommend to DHS that the group home be investigated for negligence. I recognize that these boys are not the cream of the crop, but one would think that you, of all people, would do a better job of keeping them safe, what with you being Negro like them. You’ve put me in a very precarious position, Miss Daniels.”

“I understand,” I said, swallowing hard. I wanted to come back with something harsh and biting, but she was within her rights

to say what she said. “I would ask that you not penalize the group home. I take full responsibility for everything.”

“As you should,” she said in a firm voice. “But that changes nothing, Miss Daniels. You represent the group home, and whatever

you do affects it. I will be in touch. If you learn anything about Chad’s situation, please call me immediately.”

I listened as she lightly hung up the phone.

I wanted to cry, but my crying time was over. I’d created this mess, and somehow, someway, I had to fix it.

Next I made another difficult call, to Sam Arrington IV. I phoned his office, not expecting him to be there so early in the

morning, but his secretary picked up and immediately transferred the call to his office.

“What news do you have?” he said briskly.

“We still don’t know where Chad is,” I admitted. “And...” I took a deep breath. “Chad’s caseworker says she will be recommending

DHS investigate the group home for negligence.”

Sam released a tirade of angry words laced with profanity. I winced. I wasn’t used to being spoken to in that manner. A tear

slid down my face, but I kept silent.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Arrington,” I said.

“The board will be meeting about this. Today, if possible,” he snapped and hung up the phone.

Before I could process everything Mrs. Gates and Sam had told me, the phone rang. I picked it up and said hello.

“Good morning, Miss Daniels,” the woman said. “This is Mrs. Gonzalez, Pee Wee’s caseworker. I hate to call so early in the

morning, but I wanted you to know right away. Late last night, Mason ‘Pee Wee’ Harrison’s mother, Veronica Harrison, died

from a heroin overdose. The police are still trying to figure out how she got it in prison, but...” She didn’t have to

continue. We both knew that when inmates wanted to partake in drugs, they’d find a way to do it.

“Have you been able to contact her parents?” I asked.

“The police said her mother and father hung up on them,” she said. “The next step is to check about burying her, but if her

parents aren’t willing to talk, I’m afraid—”

“I’ll make sure she’s properly buried,” I interrupted in a firm voice. There were many things going on that were out of my

control, but this—this I could manage. If I had to pay for the funeral out of pocket, I’d make sure Pee Wee’s mama got a final

resting place. Plus, situations like this had happened before. If I called my church’s pastor, he’d help ensure that Veronica

Harrison was laid to rest with dignity. “Give me about an hour or two, and I’ll call you back. Just make sure they don’t...

dispose of her remains.”

“Nothing will happen before I hear from you,” she said. “Would you like for me to go to the school and tell Pee Wee?”

“No. Let him finish out his day at school. I’ll tell him when he returns to the group home this afternoon.” I needed to be the one to tell Pee Wee. It would be hard no matter who shared the news, but I felt like maybe he would take it better if he heard it from me. He tried to act as if he didn’t care about his mother, but like any other child, he truly did, regardless of their relationship.

“I’ll await your call concerning Miss Harrison’s burial. I appreciate your willingness to get involved. Tell Pee Wee I’ll

come by tomorrow and check on him,” she said.

I thanked her, and as soon as I got off the phone I called Pastor Bennett. Just like I expected, he said he’d take care of

the details. He even offered to have a small service the day after tomorrow. I was grateful that Pee Wee would get the opportunity

to say goodbye. I knew Pastor Bennett would handle things diplomatically, and unlike some pastors in town, he wouldn’t judge

Pee Wee’s mama harshly for the choices she’d made in her life. I remembered him once saying that funerals were for the living,

not the deceased.

Normally I stopped at two cups of coffee, but today felt like a three-cup day for sure. I heard a noise out front—probably

Seth and his team of workers—so I got up from my desk, poured my third cup of coffee, and walked to the front door just as

it swung open. It indeed was Seth.

“Good morning,” I said. “How are you doing?”

“Pretty good. This weather has my leg stiffening up a bit, but other than that, I feel fine,” he said. “I wanted to check

in with you before the fellows started working. I have another job site I need to go to, but I hoped they could begin before

it gets too late in the morning.”

“Thank you,” I said as I smoothed the wrinkles on my suit pants. Mama hated when I wore pants to work. She said, “A lady always wears dresses, especially when she is the boss.” Yet another thing she and I didn’t see eye to eye on, but she hadn’t said anything this morning. I guess she figured I had

bigger things to worry about than my attire.

“Is everything okay? Any news about Chad?” Seth asked, the concern clear on his face. It made me feel good that he cared.

I told him about the conversations with Chad’s caseworker and Sam Arrington IV. I also told him about the passing of Pee Wee’s

mother.

“Wow. That’s terrible. I so feel for Pee Wee,” he said. “I’ll be saying a prayer for your strength today, Kat. None of this

is easy. When I hear about stories like Chad’s and Pee Wee’s, it makes me feel awful for complaining and whining about my

situation.”

“Thank you, Seth. I have mountains of paperwork to complete before my new residents show up. If you need any assistance or

if you have any questions, just let me know,” I said, trying to make my voice as efficient and professional as possible.

He looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite identify.

“The guys are going to start on the roof,” he repeated. “That should take them about two days or so. Then we’ll get to work

on the bathroom. As I mentioned before, the bathroom will take about three weeks, maybe a little longer, but not by much.

I promise, my guys are efficient, and they don’t waste time. All of them are military vets. They have dealt with their fair

share of disappointment and shame, but they work hard, and they just want a chance.”

“The work you provide for these men is invaluable, Seth. They are blessed to have you as their advocate and support.” I hoped he knew that I meant every word of it. I knew how taxing it could be, trying to be a lifeline for others. This type of work we did, although different, was similar in a lot of ways.

“Thank you,” he said. “Kat, I—”

“I’d better get back to that paperwork.” I cut him off. I didn’t want to get into any more deep conversations this morning.

“Sure,” he said slowly. “I’ll check in with you later.”

The door closed, and I could hear him talking to the men outside. All I wanted to do was follow behind him, but I refocused

and went in the opposite direction. When I got to my office, the phone was ringing. It was Mrs. Adelaide Hendricks.

“Katia,” she said after we both said hello, “Sam is calling for an emergency meeting of the board. He’s fit to be tied.”

“When are you meeting?” I asked.

“He wanted to get together today, but I was able to buy you a bit more time. The meeting is scheduled for the end of this

week. I’m going to call the other board members and try to reason with them, but I need you to prepare yourself for the possibility

that I might not be able to talk them down from letting you go, honey.”

I closed my eyes. Sam Arrington IV had been wanting me gone since he’d stepped into the role of board president. Nothing I

did seemed to please him, and the issue with Chad became the springboard he needed to ensure my departure.

“I appreciate everything you’re doing, Mrs. Hendricks. And I’m sorry you’ve been put in this position.” I felt awful. She was such a nice woman and had always tried to support any initiative I put forward. I’d miss her once she left the board, assuming I remained the executive director until then. Of all the board members we’d had over the years, she was the only one I could honestly say was doing the work for the boys’ benefit.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on my phone conversation with Mrs. Hendricks. Jason knocked on my door to tell me the two

new boys we were expecting had arrived. It turned out, the boys were cousins. The paperwork I’d received didn’t mention they

were cousins, but their caseworker filled me in on that detail, explaining that the boys’ mothers were sisters. She also said

both boys asked if they could share a room. I reassured them that we’d make sure that happened. I wanted them to be as comfortable

as possible. The older boy, Darren, was fourteen years old, and the other boy, Charlie, was twelve.

The caseworker, Mrs. Crawley, had shared with me that both sets of their parents were arrested for selling drugs and prostituting

girls under the age of seventeen. I knew without seeing the police report that none of them would see the light of day anytime

soon.

“Welcome to the group home, boys,” I said, sitting in the recliner facing the couch where they sat. “We are happy to have

you here.”

“We ain’t staying long,” Darren said in a gruff voice, looking down at the floor. “Soon as our granny finds out where we at,

she gone come get us.”

I looked at Charlie, but he stared at the floor too. When my eyes met the caseworker’s, she shook her head. Clearly there

was more to the story than the boys were aware of.

“However long you stay, you are welcome,” I said and turned to Jason. “Why don’t you take the boys upstairs and show them

their room? Also, take them to the clothes closet and find them some clean clothes to wear.”

“I ain’t wearing nobody’s raggedy-ass clothes,” Darren said. “We ain’t no charity case.”

“Darren!” Mrs. Crawley said, raising her voice. “Do not speak that way. Say you’re sorry. Immediately.”

Darren looked away. I knew apologizing wasn’t something he was interested in doing, but I had to establish early on that the

boys didn’t run this group home.

“Darren,” I said. “We do not speak to each other that way. I know you’re frustrated and angry with a lot of people in your

life right now, but you don’t get to take your emotions out on others. Do you understand?”

He looked at me. “Yes, ma’am,” he grunted.

“Good,” I said. For now, that was enough. I suspected that he and I would have many more conversations about attitude and

behavior. “Darren, the clothes Mr. Jason will be showing you aren’t hand-me-downs. Some very nice people have bought new clothes

and donated them to our closet. We have almost any size you can imagine. I’m pretty sure we can find a few things you both

can wear until later today when Mr. Jason takes you shopping for anything else you need. We don’t want any boy to feel less-than

while staying with us, whether that be long term or short term. You’ll get to meet the other boys after school is done and

they’ll be able to share with you about their experiences here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Darren said, the exhaustion suddenly showing on his face. He’d processed all that he could for now. His cousin,

Charlie, was still silent. I hoped he might warm up to Jason once they were alone.

I looked at Jason and he read my mind, something that often happened between the two of us.

“Let’s go, boys,” he said, patting Charlie’s back. “Time to get you settled in, and Charlie, I want to hear your voice. Right

now, I’m wondering if your voice box got lost along the way.”

Charlie gave Jason something akin to a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Mrs. Crawley and I watched as they left.

I then turned my attention to her.

“Is the boys’ grandmother not an option?” I asked.

Mrs. Crawley shook her head. “The maternal grandmother, who’s the only other relative in the boys’ lives consistently, has

expressed that she’s too old to take on the burden of raising them. She has quite a few health problems and she has said that

Darren and Charlie are too much for her to deal with full-time. Sadly, there are no other relatives who are interested in

or capable of taking on raising them.”

“Does the grandmother still want to be involved in their lives?” I asked. Sometimes, in cases like this, I was able to work

with family members to at least take part in weekly, biweekly, or even monthly meetings. That often staved off a lot of problems,

but Mrs. Crawley shook her head again.

“The grandmother says it would be too hard on her because she knows they will constantly beg her to take them with her,” Mrs.

Crawley said, sadness evident on her face. “I pleaded with her to at least stay in touch with them via phone, but she refused.

I get it. Her daughters have put her through a lot. Between the two of them, they have three other children who were taken

away. Those children are with their fathers and their families.”

This was one of the most challenging parts of our job. It was one thing to have a parent or guardian die. It was another thing altogether for the boys to know they had family but that no one wanted them.

“Well, that’s that. Maybe she’ll change her mind, but for now we’ll deal with the reality of the situation,” I said before

sighing and leaning back in my chair, trying to stave off a migraine.

Today was already proving to be a day filled with tears and heartbreak, and there was nothing I could do to fix any of it.