The Perfect Child(92)
“They can’t go into foster care, Piper. They can’t.” His voice had wavered with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Christopher. I wish there was something I could do, but my hands are tied. They can’t stay at Allison’s, and they can’t come home. The only option is emergency foster care.” I had tried to find a silver lining. “Not all foster homes are terrible. Some of them are really good. Look at you guys. They might end up with someone like you.”
“Why don’t you take them?”
I had laughed. “Me?”
“Why not? Are you certified to take in foster kids?”
“Technically, I could, but it’s frowned on, and I never have before,” I’d said.
I’d worked with hundreds of children, and I’d never once thought of taking one of them home with me. Most of my colleagues made comments about wanting to do it, but I had never liked the idea of having kids in my home. It was one of the reasons I didn’t have them.
“Would you do it? Please, could you do it for us?” He’d never sounded so desperate.
“I don’t know, Christopher.”
He’d jumped in before I could say no. “Janie knows you, so at least you’re not a stranger. And if anyone can handle her right now, it’s you, Piper. Please. You don’t have to decide tonight. You can think about it for two days since we have until Friday. Just think about it, okay? Promise me you’ll think about it?”
I’d called him in the morning before I’d had my first cup of coffee because I’d known he’d be anxiously waiting for my call. I hadn’t wanted to take the kids but couldn’t bear the thought of saying no to Christopher. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing I could’ve done something to ease his burden and chose not to. Surprisingly, his phone had gone straight to his voice mail. I had left him a message to call me whenever he got the chance. I’d been halfway to my first appointment when he’d returned my call. His voice had been even more frantic than the day before.
“Piper? Where are you?”
“Driving to a home visit. What’s going on?”
“It’s Allison. She—”
I had interrupted him. “You don’t have to worry about Allison. I’ll take the kids until the hearing. I can come get them this afternoon.”
“You have to come now.”
“What? No. I can’t. I have an appointment. They will be fine there until this afternoon. Allison said they could be there until Friday.”
“Now, Piper. You have to go there now. Please.”
“Christopher, what’s going on?”
His voice had broken. “It’s Allison. You have to come. It’s Allison.” He’d let out a sob. “She’s dead.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
CHRISTOPHER BAUER
“What are you doing here?” Hannah asked. She grew more and more coherent every day, and it wasn’t lost on her that I was there outside of visiting hours. They’d finally found a medication combination that worked, one that muted her psychosis without turning her into a zombie. Her eyes were still lifeless from grief, but they were no longer dead from the drugs they’d been pumping into her.
“I have something to tell you,” I said. They’d allowed me to see her given the circumstances. I rubbed my hands anxiously up and down my face. I hated to be the one to tell her about Allison, but the thought of the police telling her was worse. “It’s awful.”
She pointed to the barren walls around her. “What could be worse than what I did to get here?”
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m so sorry.” I fought for composure.
She took my hand from across the table. “I understand, Christopher. I do.” She rubbed the top of my hand like she used to. Those days felt like a lifetime ago. “I wouldn’t be able to stay with me either. Not after what I’ve done, who I’ve become.”
I’d give anything to be breaking divorce news to her instead of what I was about to do. I felt so much responsibility for the moment of telling her. When she looked back on things, she’d remember everything I’d said, how I’d said it, and probably hate me for it. I thought about the scripts they taught us in medical school, the coined phrases to use when telling someone a family member or loved one had died: I’m so sorry. We did everything we could, but he didn’t make it.
Despite our best efforts, we weren’t able to save her.
I flipped through all of them. None of them were appropriate. None of them would lessen the bomb I was about to drop on her already-fragile self. I couldn’t believe I was the one breaking her heart another time.
“Christopher, what’s going on?” Her face was stricken.
My stomach churned. The room spun. My heart hammered in my chest.
“It’s Allison . . .” I couldn’t get any further.
Her eyes widened instantly. “What about Allison?”
“Something terrible happened.”
“Is she okay?”
I shook my head.
She jerked her hand away and pushed her chair back from the table. “What happened?”
How could I? How would she ever find the strength to go on?
“Christopher, what happened?”