What You Said to Me Page 6

  Discarded files. Discarded children.

  Life was fragile.

  Jillian’s phone rang. The tune it sang told her it was Drew Lawson calling from the ranch where he lived with his great-aunt south of Pueblo.

  Two months ago, Jillian didn’t know Drew Lawson. Now she always took his calls. Hoped for them, even.

  She snatched up the phone. “Keep going,” she said to Tisha. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to answer any questions.”

  In bare feet, Jillian skidded out of the room and around the corner to the privacy of her office.

  “Hey you.”

  “Am I interrupting?” Drew’s smooth voice lilted.

  “I don’t care if you are. Sounds like you’re outside.”

  “The horse needed some exercise. Practically begged me to go for a ride.”

  Jillian laughed. The first time she met Drew, he was astride his white horse on his ranch, backlit by streaming spring sun.

  “I can’t wait to come down this weekend,” she said.

  “About that.”

  “Oh no.”

  “I have a chance for an engagement. It just came up.”

  “Oh. I see. If you have a chance to sing, you should definitely take it.”

  “I’ll make it up to you in a big way,” he said. “Promise.”

  “It’s okay.” Jillian swallowed back her deflation, reminding herself she and Drew were still getting to know each other. He worked on a ranch with his great-aunt, he took occasional catering jobs in Pueblo, he was the most amazing singer she knew—scheduling his life could be complicated.

  “How’s Aunt Min?” She shifted the conversation. As they chatted, she pictured the far-flung, enticing landscape of his family’s land, with views of both the West Mountains and the San Isabels and thriving wildlife.

  More time passed than she realized, and with a flash of anxiety about having left Tisha alone so long, she drew the call to a close.

  In the dining room, Tisha was stuffing her own phone into the pocket of her shorts.

  “It’s time for me to go,” she said.

  “It’s barely been ninety minutes today,” Jillian said. “The goal is three hours.”

  “I can’t stay. I’ll make it up.”

  “You were already short yesterday.”

  “I’ll figure it out, all right?”

  “We have a lot of work to do, Tisha.”

  “I have to go.”

  And she did go.

  Jillian picked up Tisha’s abandoned Italian soda. The large cup was mostly empty, and Jillian disposed of it and rinsed out her coffee mug before returning to the dining room to inspect what Tisha had done on her own.

  It only took a glance to see that on one pair of folders the spelling didn’t match. Which was correct?

  In another, Tisha had picked up a wrong spelling for a name, labeling with a version only used once while another spelling clearly prevailed with four uses on the documents.

  One red folder was empty, even though Jillian was certain she had clipped together papers under a sticky note with that name on them.

  And one of the crumbling original folders in the discard pile wasn’t empty. The most important task of all was transferring the original—and irreplaceable—source documents to secure folders, and Tisha had left some to be thrown away.

  Jillian discharged heavy breath. If she had to be physically present at every step or check and repair Tisha’s work later, what good was it to have her?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Juvenile court?”

  Nolan’s assistant looked skeptical.

  “Not court,” he said, “not even adjudication in any sense. Merely a discussion about some arrangements.”

  “But you’ll be back?”

  “Absolutely. Run over to Colfax Street, iron out a few things, be back in plenty of time for the Mertenson meeting.”

  “Okay, but I’m going to have extra scones to offer them just in case.”

  “Perfect plan.” Nolan slipped on his suit jacket and cruised down the hall to the elevator before anyone could stop him.

  The excursion shouldn’t take long. In the middle of the afternoon, everyone would be back from lunch and ready for a burst of productivity. Tisha’s lawyer was on board with what Nolan proposed for the rest of the summer. After that she’d have to keep her grades up. It would be up to Nolan whether he wanted to check in with Tisha occasionally to see if she was staying on track and offer support, but the high school principal would provide the official communications of record and make a point to keep an eye on her so she didn’t fall through the cracks. The prosecution was agreeable. They just needed to get the plan on paper. Nolan, Tisha, and her mother would present themselves to the case manager moving the paperwork along, describe the arrangement, get the necessary signatures, and he’d get back to the Mertensons. The day would still offer enough free time for some phone calls about the weekend, though he might have to make them from his truck during the drive home.

  Tisha was there, outside the building at the designated spot. Nolan’s instinct had kept him from suggesting she rinse the pink color out of her hair—or however kids got rid of what they put in their hair—but he was pleased to see that otherwise she wore pants, rather than shorts or jeans, and a shirt with sleeves and a collar. Very unTisha, but it would give a good impression.

  “Where’s your mom?” Nolan asked.

  “She dropped me off.” Tisha’s neck sank into the oversized collar of her shirt, making Nolan wonder who she borrowed it from. “She had stuff to do, as long as she was in Denver, so she’ll be back for me in an hour.”

  “Back for you?” Nolan shifted his briefcase to his other hand. “She’s supposed to be here. She already missed the last meeting. Can you call her and ask her to come back?”

  Tisha waved her phone in resignation. “She won’t do it.”

  “I’m afraid she doesn’t understand what’s happening. This is not a court appearance, but it still is a legal matter. You’re a minor. You need a parent or legal guardian with you.”

  “I’m all right on my own. I’ll sign anything they want me to sign and do whatever.”

  “It’s not that simple, Tisha. An adult has to be responsible. You need a parent here.”

  “Well, I only have one of those, if you can call Brittany that, since as you can see she made other plans.”

  “Let’s go inside. I’ll talk to the case manager. If you don’t mind, please keep trying to reach your mother.” Nolan held the door open for Tisha and scanned the block for Brittany. She was nowhere in sight.

  They got in the elevator.

  “I don’t know how many times I have to say you people don’t understand,” Tisha muttered toward the wall as she stared at her phone.

  “I’m sorry it’s been this way for you.” Nolan jabbed a button. “But I’m not ‘you people.’ And I will figure this out in a way that doesn’t drop you off a cliff.”

  Tisha jammed a piece of gum through her teeth. Nolan winced at her timing, but allowing her to chew it might be the only thing that would keep her in the building at this point. If she would just not pop a bubble in the middle of a conversation, that might be the best he could hope for.

  Tapping one finger against the side of his briefcase, Nolan offered a reassuring smile to Tisha as they took seats to wait for their appointment. Briefly he considered leaving her outside the case manager’s office while he privately explained the situation, but the risk of opening the door again and finding daughter absent as well as mother—it was enough to decide that mediating the situation with Tisha present was the better approach.

  Maddie Vasquez opened her office door. “Come on in.” She looked from Nolan to Tisha. “Are we still waiting for Mom?”

  Nolan cocked his head. “I’m afraid not. We’ll have to go ahead.”

  “Nolan, you know—”

  “I do know,” he said, cutting Maddie off, “that there’s almost always something we can work out in these s
ituations.”

  Maddie pulled her blue-framed reading glasses down from the top of her head and settled them on her nose. “All right, then. Come in, and let’s see what you have.”

  Nolan gestured for Tisha to enter ahead of him and take a seat at a small round table. Her jaw worked her gum with a steady rhythm.

  “Denver’s a great city.” Nolan nodded toward a framed historic map hanging behind Maddie’s desk.

  “I’ve always thought so,” Maddie said.

  “It was your grandmother who first came to Denver, right?”

  “Great-grandmother.”

  “Graciela.”

  “That’s right.”

  “In the silver rush days. I remember you telling me that map had been hers.”

  Maddie opened her laptop on the table. “When she was very young, she did domestic work. One of the families she worked for gave it to her.”

  “I’ve always admired it,” Nolan said. “I’ve offered you a good price more than once.”

  “Not for sale.”

  “Even back in those days Denver had a strong heritage for social services. Opportunity for young people to make something of themselves if they were willing to work hard. Kindness toward families in need. Generosity toward one’s neighbor.”

  Maddie smiled, shook her head, and exhaled. “Yes, all of that is true.”

  “I’m pretty sure if we looked closely at that map, we’d see some well-known churches that had extensive social services programs serving the women and children of Denver.”

  Maddie typed a few keys. “I take your point, Nolan, but these days social services are official and require paperwork. This is not the days of the old miners. Besides, I may be a social worker by training and even intuition, but we’re here because of a court order, and by my count we are still short one required parent in order to proceed.”

  Nolan held up a finger. “Not precisely. We will need a parent’s signature on the final paperwork for the court to give its stamp of approval, but nothing stops us from doing everything except that step today.”

  Maddie looked over her laptop at Tisha. “Perhaps you’d like an opportunity to explain why your mother is not with you today. It’s my understanding she arranged your legal representation and was present at your court appearance.”

  Tisha nodded.

  “How did you get to Denver today, Tisha?” Maddie asked.

  Tisha’s shoulders sank. “She brought me.”

  Maddie’s eyebrows arched. “Your mother brought you to Denver but didn’t stay with you?”

  “The family dynamics are a bit complicated,” Nolan said.

  “Are we certain this arrangement will be successful?” Maddie squinted at her screen and tapped a few keys.

  “We have no reason to believe one isolated glitch will sink the whole effort,” Nolan said. “As you said, Tisha’s mother arranged legal representation and was present in court.”

  Maddie made a circle with one finger. “It’s this part she doesn’t take seriously.”

  “I only became involved myself the day before yesterday. Her mother wasn’t present for that meeting, either.” Nolan pressed ahead. “Yet already Tisha has met the business owner she’ll be working with on Monday evening and begun accruing hours on Tuesday morning and again this morning. I would argue those positive steps on her part go a long way to offset the confusion on her mother’s part about what was expected of her today after providing transportation. Tisha is a minor. We cannot unfairly punish her for what the adults in her life choose to do.”

  “Well, I’m not the court,” Maddie said. “Tisha, I am required to record that your mother failed to attend this meeting, and we will require her signature before the court can formally approve any of the arrangements we’ve been discussing for alternative sentencing.”

  “But we can go ahead and create the documents,” Nolan said. “Spell everything out. Clarify expectations for all parties. Tisha. Her mother. Me. The small business owner she’s working with. I will personally take responsibility to get her mother’s informed consent to the arrangements and submit the documents to both you and her legal representation of record.”

  “Tisha,” Maddie said, “do you want to go ahead, or would you rather reschedule for a time when your mother can be present.”

  “Now is better.”

  Tisha’s voice was small, defeated, cornered as she met Maddie’s eye for half a second. Nolan hoped it was long enough to be convincing.

  Maddie paused before typing a few words. “Very well, then. Let’s proceed. Tell me about what you’ve arranged in Canyon Mines.”

  Nolan described. Maddie typed.

  Maddie questioned. Tisha answered—haltingly and in as few words as possible, but without smacking any bubbles or looking at her phone a single time. Maddie clicked boxes and typed notes.

  Question: Who lives in your home with you?

  Answer: My mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother.

  Question: Do any adults provide supervision to you during daytime hours?

  Answer: My great-grandma is home. She doesn’t work anymore.

  Question: Does she require special care?

  Answer: Not really. She’s just retired.

  Question: Do you feel safe at home?

  Answer: Yes.

  Nolan’s eyes flicked toward Tisha. The response seemed a little too smooth and practiced, but he was in no position to dispute it, and Maddie didn’t probe.

  Question: Is there anything about the tasks you are being asked to do that makes you think you cannot fulfill them satisfactorily?

  Answer: No.

  Question: Are there any special supports you require in order to succeed in this work?

  Answer: No.

  Question: Is there anything about your family situation that would keep you from fulfilling the required number of hours per week?

  Answer: No.

  Question: Do you have transportation to get there on a daily basis?

  Answer: My bike.

  Maddie glanced at Nolan. “Is that safe?”

  He nodded. “Yes. No dangerous streets.”

  Question: Let’s talk about the fall. How would you describe what kind of student you are?

  Answer: Average. Maybe above. Like B.

  Question: Are you confident you can meet the court’s requirement to keep your grades at least C or above?

  Answer: Yes.

  Question: Will you require any special supports in order to keep your grades at least C or above?

  Answer: No.

  Question: Do you have friends?

  Answer: Yes.

  Question: What do you like to do with your friends, Tisha?

  Answer: Hang out. We live in Canyon Mines. What is there to do?

  “It’s a charming town,” Nolan said.

  Maddie half smiled. “I’m sure it is. When you’re not fifteen.”

  Now Tisha half smiled.

  Question: What do you do when you hang out?

  Answer: Just hang out. Go to someone’s house and hang out.

  Question: Are your friends’ parents usually home?

  Answer: Depends.

  Maddie tapped away at her questions, some predictable to Nolan and some less so. It was Maddie’s job to make sure this arrangement had a strong possibility of success in meeting the purposes of alternative sentencing. Some questions likely gathered required information while others followed Maddie’s nose as a social worker. Nolan listened carefully to the answers, both spoken and unspoken.

  “Okay,” Maddie finally said, “I will recommend proceeding. Since Ms. Crowder is not present to sign electronically, I will print the forms and trust you to get her signature ASAP so we can wrap this up.”

  “You have my word,” Nolan said.

  “Make sure she is aware of the next scheduled in-person check-in and that I expect her to attend.”

  The printer outside Maddie’s office was already churning out paper, and she stepped outside to grab t
he sheets and slide them into a manila envelope to hand to Nolan.

  “I really do like that map.” Nolan stood.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can stop smooth-talking me,” Maddie said. “And I am never selling you my map, so don’t even go there.”

  Nolan and Tisha descended in the elevator and stepped out into the afternoon sun.

  “Now what?” She blew a bubble at last.

  “Now we wait for your mother.”

  Tisha popped the bubble and sucked it back into her mouth. “You’re going to wait with me?”

  “You did say she’d be back in an hour. It’s almost time.”

  “Brittany has her own sense of time and place.”

  “Then call her. We can meet her somewhere if we have to.”

  “Give me the papers. I’ll get her to sign them.”

  Nolan shook his head. “Not this time. Your mother and I need to have a chat.”

  Tisha blew another bubble and popped it immediately. Her phone buzzed with a text message, and she looked at it and then down the street. “We got lucky. She’s at that coffee place over there.”

  “Perfect,” Nolan said. “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t have time to order anything. The Mertensons would be waiting soon.

  Brittany Crowder, with the mixed blond hair the color her daughter’s would be if she ever stopped experimenting with neon hues, was surprised to see him. Her brown eyes widened as Nolan and Tisha slid into the booth opposite her, and she pushed a shopping bag to one side.

  “Why did you bring him?” she said to Tisha.

  “I didn’t bring him,” Tisha said. “He came.”

  “Hello, Brittany.” Nolan waved the envelope of papers. “When we spoke on the phone, I thought you understood it was important for you to come to that meeting. We need your signature.”

  Brittany shrugged. “Seems like things worked out. Do you have a pen?”

  Nolan reached into his suit coat inner pocket and extracted a pen. “When you sign this, you’ll be saying that you understand that the court is asking for your parental support of the alternative sentencing, including attending certain meetings in the future.”