Palomino

34

By the end of the first month Timmie was riding the pretty little palomino. Her name was Daisy and he loved her the way any little boy would have loved his first horse. But far more than the palomino, he loved Samantha, with a passion that startled everyone with its vehemence and strength. He appeared at the big house every morning, knocked on the door, and waited for her to come and answer it. Sometimes it took her longer than others, because sometimes she was already making coffee and sometimes she was still in bed. But the moment he saw her, his face lit up like a sunburst, and as he wheeled in the chair that she had bought him, he always looked around him, like a puppy who's been kept outdoors all night. They had a comfortable early morning patter. Sometimes he told her what he'd dreamed about, or what one of the kids had done at breakfast, or what the palomino had been doing when Timmie sped past the corral in his chair to bid the gentle horse good morning. And Samantha told him what she would be doing that morning, they'd talk about his riding lesson, and once or twice she inquired if he had changed his mind about school, but he remained adamant on that subject. He wanted to stay on the ranch, not go to school with the others, and Samantha figured that for the first month at least she would let him settle in.

The bruises that his mother had inflicted upon him had long since faded, and the social worker called once a week to see how Timmie was, and when at the end of the month he came out to see them, he looked from Timmie to Samantha and then back again, and he was clearly stunned.

“What in God's name did you do to him?” he asked her when they were finally alone. Prying Timmie from Sam's side wasn't easy, but she had sent him to check on Daisy and tell Josh that they would be riding in a few minutes to show the social worker how well he had done. “He looks like a different child.”

“He is a different child,” Sam said proudly. “He's a child who's been loved and it shows.”

But the social worker only looked at her sadly. “You know how hard you've made it for him?” She thought he was joking and she started to smile but she saw then that he meant it and knit her brows.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know what it'll be like for him to go back to an apartment in a tenement with a drug-addict mother who feeds him stale crackers and beer?”

Sam took a deep breath and stared out the window. She wanted to say something to him. But she didn't know if it was the right time. “I wanted to talk to you about that, Mr. Pfizer.” She turned to face him again. “What about the possibilities of not sending him back?”

“And keep him here?” She nodded, but he started to shake his head. “I don't think the judge would buy that. The courts are paying for it right now, but it was just kind of a trial thing, you know…”

“I don't mean like that.” She took another deep breath and decided to ask him. What could she lose? Nothing. And she might win everything… everything… For the third time in her life, Sam had fallen in love. And this time not with a man, but a six-year-old boy. She loved him as she had never loved another human being, with a kind of depth and feeling she had never even suspected that she had, as though some sort of well had reached right past her heart into her spirit and now she was able to give him all she had to give. And there was a lot of loving left over from the men who had left her, a lot that she had left to give. And now it was Timmie's, with all of her heart. “What if I adopt him?”

“I see.” The social worker sat down heavily in a chair and looked at Samantha. He didn't like what he was seeing. He could see that she loved the child. “I don't know, Miss Taylor. I would hate to get your hopes up. His mother may still want him.”

A strange light came into Sam's eyes. “By what right, I might ask, Mr. Pfizer? As I recall, she beat him, not to mention her drug habits-”

“All right, all right… I know.” Oh, Jesus. This he didn't need, not today-not any day, in fact. People only got hurt thinking the way she did. The truth was that his mother could most likely keep him, whether Sam liked that idea or not. “The fact is that she's the boy's natural mother. The courts lean over backward to respect that.”

“How far do they lean?” Her voice was both frightened and cold. It was frightening to have let herself love the child as much as she did now, and to have to face the possibility that he might leave.

The social worker looked at her sadly. “To tell you the truth, they lean pretty far.”

“Couldn't I do something?”

“You could.” He sighed. “You could hire a lawyer and fight her, if she still wants him. But you might lose… you probably will.” And then he thought to ask her about the child. “What about the boy? Have you asked him? That could weigh with the court, even though he's still very young. A natural mother would have a strong case here, no matter how rotten she is. You know, the worst of it is that with the state rehabilitating her, we really can't afford to say now that she's not okay. If we do, then we're admitting that our whole rehabilitation system doesn't work, which it does not. But it's kind of a Catch-22 situation. See what I mean?” Sam nodded vaguely. “What about the boy, have you asked him?” She shook her head. “Why don't you?”

“I will.”

“All right. Then give me a call after that. If he wants to go back to his mother, you should let it go. But if he wants to stay here”-he paused, thinking it over-“I'll go talk to the mother myself. Maybe she won't give you any problem.” And then he bestowed a wintry smile. “I hope for your sake that she makes it easy, the boy would sure be better off here with you.”

It was an understatement but Sam let it pass. The fact was that Timmie would be better off anywhere than with her, and Sam was determined to protect the child with all her will.

They went out to see Timmie ride then, and as happened with parents who saw their children ride for the first time, Martin Pfizer, the hardened, tired, old social worker, had to wipe away a stray tear. It was incredible to see what had happened to Timmie. He was beautiful and blond and clean and happy, he laughed all the time now, looked at Sam with an air of pure adoration, and he was even funny, and the oddest thing of all was that he even looked quite a lot like her.

When Martin Pfizer left at the end of the day, he said something again to Sam in a whisper as he squeezed her arm. “Ask him and call me.” And then, tousling Timmie's hair, he shook Sam's hand and waved a last good-bye as he drove off.

It wasn't until after dinner that night when she took Timmie back to his room that she asked him, while he buttoned his pajamas and she put his braces away.

“Timmie?”

“Yeah?”

She turned to look at him, feeling something tremble inside her. What if he didn't want her? If he wanted to go back to his mother? She wasn't sure if she could stand the rejection, but she had to ask him. And that would only be the beginning. “You know, I was thinking about something today.” With a look of interest he waited. “I was wondering what you would think about sticking around here…” It was ghastly, she hadn't realized that it would be so hard to ask him. “You know, kind of like forever… I mean-”

“You mean stay here with you?” His eyes grew huge in the little tanned face.

“Yeah, that's what I mean.”

“Oh, wow!” But she knew as he said it that he hadn't understood her. He thought she just meant an extended visit, and she knew that she had to tell him it would mean giving up his mom.

“Timmie…” He had his arms around her now and she pulled him away so she could see his face. “I don't mean just like the other kids here.” He seemed puzzled. “I mean… I mean…” It was like a proposal of marriage. “I want to adopt you, if they'd let me. But you have to want that too. I would never do anything you didn't want.” She was having to fight back tears and he stared at her in amazement.

“You mean you want me?” He seemed astounded.

“Of course I want you, silly.” She hugged him tight again, the tears spilling from her eyes. “You're the best little kid in the whole world.”

“What about my mom?”

“I don't know, Timmie. That would be the hard part.”

“Would she come to see me?”

“I don't know. Maybe we could arrange that, but I think it would be harder for everyone that way.” She was being honest with him, she knew she had to. It was a big step for him to take.

But he looked frightened when she looked down into his face again and she could feel him tremble. “Would she come and beat me?”

“Oh, no.” It was a cry of anguish. “I wouldn't let her do that.”

And then suddenly he started to cry and he told her things that he had never told her, about his mother and what she had done to him. When it was over, he lay in Sam's arms, spent, but he was no longer frightened, and after she pulled the sheets up to his chin, she sat next to him in the dark for over an hour, just watching him sleep and letting her tears flow. The last thing he had said to her as his eyes closed was “I want to be yours, Sam.” And it was all she had wanted to hear.