The Family Gathering (Sullivan's Crossing #3)(88)

“Then get him,” she said, giving her cane a stamp on the floor for emphasis.

Sierra jumped. “I’ll get some of his things ready,” she said weakly.

“I’ll help,” Jeanne said, standing to follow Sierra.

When they got to the baby’s room, Sierra turned on the social worker. “My God, you have to know how terrifying this looks! Mrs. Jergens isn’t capable of taking care of a heavy, rambunctious little boy! And this cousin? We don’t know anything about this cousin!”

“I’m going to try to keep an eye on things, but remember, she’s not under the scrutiny of child welfare. She hasn’t done anything wrong and she’s his closest living relative.”

“She hasn’t done anything yet,” Sierra said. “She’s mean! And careless!”

“I’m afraid I’m without options, Mrs. Boyle. She can refuse to complete the adoption process at any time. But I will check on her. On them.”

“This can’t be happening,” Sierra said. “We love him so much. He’s so happy with us.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s put a few things in the duffel for him. Let’s at least make sure he has what he needs.”

Tears rolled down Sierra’s cheeks. “I can’t,” she squeaked.

“Yes, come on. Here we go,” Jeanne said. She opened the duffel on the changing table and filled it with disposable diapers, wipes, onesies, pajamas. She went to the bureau and opened a drawer to reveal a full complement of little outfits. “Can you tell me which ones came from his grandmother? So we can give them back?”

Sierra felt as though she was wading through quicksand as she took the few steps to the bureau. She picked through the stacks and pulled out a few small items. “He’s grown since he came to us. I don’t think these will even fit him anymore.”

“Can you please part with some clothes that will fit? Shoes? Not for her—for him.”

Some fussing and squirming sounds came from the crib. “This can’t be happening,” Sierra said, lifting Sam into her arms and snuggling him close. “Oh God.”

Sam protested being hugged so tightly and he started to cry.

“Let’s get his things together,” Jeanne said. “How about some formula and baby food? Just enough to get them through a couple of days?”

“I need to change him,” she said, her heart ripped to shreds. “He’s going to be hungry. Please, can I change and feed him? Please?”

The sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard.

“What’s going on here? Sierra! Sierra!” Connie burst into the baby’s room and enfolded Sierra and Sam in his big arms. “What the hell?”

“The adoption isn’t final,” Sierra said, choking on the words. They’re taking him away!”

“Maybe not,” Connie said. “Cal is on his way. He’s calling Mrs. Jergens’s lawyer.”

“Connie, please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t let her take him. Go talk to her, please. Please. She hates me.”

“Did he just wake up?” Connie asked. Sierra nodded against his broad chest. “He’s soaked,” Connie said. “Go ahead and change him. I’ll talk to Mrs. Jergens.”

By the time Connie was back in the living room, Sierra heard her brother’s voice, as well, both of them pleading rational arguments, trying to change her mind, dissuade her from taking the little boy.

“Sierra, do I have to take the baby?” Jeanne asked. “Shall I change him and make him a bottle? Are you too upset to—”

“I’ll do it,” Sierra said. She carried on, changing him, finding some outfits that would fit him and dressing him in one, putting his bitty shoes on his feet, crying the whole time. Her emotions had Sam fretting, whimpering and wiggling around, making it all the harder.

She carried him to the kitchen to find a bottle. Jeanne had followed her, raiding the baby supplies in the kitchen and adding some to her duffel.

“Can we have the rest of this formula?” Jeanne asked. “Cereal and jars of fruit? You don’t seem to have much...”

“Sam eats food I make,” Sierra said. “I just have these jars for those days I don’t have time to make his food for him. He likes mashed bananas and oatmeal. He likes to pick Cheerios off his tray. I cook his vegetables and smash them with a fork. He loves potatoes, loves smashed sweet potatoes. I make applesauce,” she said, ending with a sob.

A short distance away Connie and Cal continued to argue with Mrs. Jergens, pleading with her to give the Boyles a few days to prepare, asking Mrs. Jergens why she hadn’t contacted her lawyer to tell him she was backing out of the adoption. Sierra gave Sam his bottle while they argued. And then Mrs. Jergens had had enough.

“Do I have to call the police to get my grandson turned over to me?”

The room went suddenly still. Quiet.

“Don’t get crazy,” Cal said. “Is there nothing we can do to make you reconsider? This young family is heartbroken, as you can see.”

“As heartbroken as I was to learn my daughter was dead? I have to do this. I can’t give up my grandson.”

“Will you at least call your lawyer?” Cal asked.

“I’ll call him,” she said. “Not in front of all of you.”