The Perfect Child(34)

“It’s so good to see you,” Hannah had said, coming into the entryway. She’d hugged me. “I’m still trying to adjust to this day schedule. Sometimes I think I still have my days and nights mixed up. Three years of working nights will do that to you.”

“I bet it’s going to take a while,” I’d said.

“I just made tea. Do you want some?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t a big tea drinker, but Hannah always insisted, and I didn’t want to be rude.

“Janie, do you want anything to drink?”

Janie had headed through the living room. She hadn’t turned around.

“Janie?”

She’d kept ignoring Hannah and walked into her room.

“Wow, that’s harsh,” I had said.

Hannah had handed me my cup of tea. “She’s been like that since Christopher went back to work. Ignores me completely. Talks to everyone else but me.”

“But Christopher has been back at work for almost two weeks now.”

She’d forced a smile. “It’s been a long two weeks.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s got to be awful,” I’d said.

“Thank you. It feels good to hear you say that. Christopher looks at me like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. It drives me crazy that he doesn’t see how disturbing it is. I understand that she’s got mom issues, but she’s so hostile toward me now.”

I’d nodded. “Not to mention that it’s manipulative and controlling.”

“I never thought I’d say it, but I kind of miss her tantrums. At least then she was interacting with me.” Her face had been lined in stress. A frown had tugged at the corner of her mouth.

I had placed my hand gently on top of hers. “This has got to be hard on you.”

Her eyes had brimmed with tears. “I’m not sure she even likes me.” She’d struggled to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks. “I’ve never said that out loud. Not even to Christopher.”

“I know I keep saying this, but it’s going to take time. It’s only been a little over two months. We always tell families that it’s going to take about a year before things stabilize. Sometimes it takes even longer.”

“Do you think things will get better? I mean, with me?” She had looked down, embarrassed to even ask.

I had put my arm around her shoulders. “Yes, it will get better, but you’re probably going to need a lot of help.”

Luke’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “And you referred them to Dr. Chandler?”

“Yes. I respected Dr. Chandler, and she was the best at doing early-childhood work with abused kids. If anyone could help Janie, it was her.”





TWENTY

CHRISTOPHER BAUER

Dr. Chandler’s room looked more like a kindergarten classroom than a therapy office. Janie was with Dr. Chandler’s assistant playing in an adjoining room so Hannah and I could meet with her alone. There were toys and games stacked everywhere. Comfortable pillows and beanbag chairs were strewn around the room. An entire wall was covered in children’s artwork. I felt like a giant and had no idea where to sit because there wasn’t any actual furniture in the room. Hannah was eyeing the room in the same way as me. We’d fought in the car on the way over. I could tell by the rigidity in her body that she was still mad at me.

I understood how frustrating it must have been for her, but Janie wasn’t treating her the way she was on purpose, even though Hannah was convinced she was. She was only six years old. She was too young to be that manipulative. And besides, Hannah was an adult. She could handle it.

Dr. Chandler strode into the room. “So sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. I was at my other office, and traffic was a nightmare getting here.”

She was older than I expected, tall and slim with short gray hair piled in loose curls that framed her face. Faint wrinkles branched from the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her face sagged with age and was dotted with sun spots from the era when people slathered themselves with baby oil without any caution of the rays. There was a floral-print scarf tied casually around her neck. She reminded me of my grandmother, in her red cardigan, pleated pants, and loafers with thick soles for support. She plopped down on the floor gracefully and with ease, and she patted the rug in front of her.

“Come; sit. Let’s get to know each other,” she said.

We sat cross-legged in front of her. Hannah looked comfortable, but I was awkward and stiff. It felt too much like a yoga class, and I hated yoga. Hannah had been into it a few years ago, and she had dragged me to a class with her once. I’d fumbled my way through it and had never gone back. It just wasn’t for me.

“I’m Dr. Chandler, but you can call me Anne if that makes you feel more comfortable.” She folded her hands on her lap and looked back and forth between us. “Tell me a little bit about what brings you here today.”

Hannah and I eyed each other, neither of us wanting to go first.

“We recently became the guardians of a six-year-old girl who we’re in the process of adopting, and our social worker suggested we meet with you,” I said.

Dr. Chandler clapped. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations! Who is your social worker?”

“Piper Goldstein,” Hannah said.