Chapter Text
Safe Harbour from Your Storm
Chapter 1: Tragic Ends and Beautiful Beginnings
Part 1: Art
“You got a heart so heavy
Far away from home
Too many people hurt you, baby
All along the road”
At four years old, Art Mullen declares he’s going to grow up to be a professional cowboy. He and his daddy get up early on Saturday mornings to watch a double feature of old dusters that come on and eat bacon and eggs. Art wears his thrift store cowboy boots his mother found and the straw cowboy hat his father won at the carnival the year before. Trigger, the stuffed horse his grandma sent him for his birthday sits between them on the couch. It always makes his daddy chuckle when Art talks about his future in the hero business.
By the time he gets to grade school the boots no longer fit, and his daddy’s convinced him to seek out a more realistic career to work towards. He’ll probably be a car salesman like his daddy. The stuffed horse and hat still sit on the bookshelf though.
By the time he’s ten, the Mullen’s have fallen on hard time. The dealership closed and his father lost his job. Now he’s a door-to-door salesman. Art’s mother has taken a job at a local diner working long hours until she isn’t able to stand anymore. It’s then that Samuel Mullen takes his son on a hunting trip and teaches him how to shoot, how to track and how to clean what he kills. Neither has a taste for it as a sport but it’s free meat the family can’t afford to survive without. Art sharpens his shooting skills securing dinner on the regular.
Despite their financial hardships, the Mullens scape together enough money to send Art to collage for the first year. Art gets a job at the collage library to earn money for his second year and get a staff discount to help with books and tuition. There he meets the girl of his dreams, Leslie. She’s smart and beautiful and for reasons that escape Art, madly in love with him.
He calls home and tells his father he’s going to propose during the thanksgiving holiday in his second year at collage. Over the moon, his father vows to tell his mother right away. Samuel hangs up the phone, gets in the family car and races to the dinner to tell his wife the great news.
Art proposes in their favorite spot, a look out near a babbling brook that’s extra quiet with everyone having gone home for the holidays. It’s romantic and perfect. Most importantly Leslie says yes. It’s the greatest day of Art’s life.
That Saturday morning doesn’t start with an old duster marathon, rather a subdued knock at Art’s dorm room door. He slips out of the cramped single bed he’s scrunched in with Leslie, trying not to wake her and answers the door. The smile that’s been permanently on his face since Leslie’s acceptance the night before falters slightly at the sight of the police officer standing there looking solemn and official.
Desperate, and high, Ronnie Keith decides to grab some quick cash to secure his next fix by robbing the local diner. It’s after hours and the place is usually empty, and the owner doesn’t do the bank run until the morning so the cash register will be full. The diner isn’t empty though, there’s two love birds sharing a slice of pie in celebration of their son’s pending nuptials. Startled, Ronnie, shoots them both dead, takes the diner’s money and the couple’s car and flees the scene.
After the funeral Art keeps tabs on the case. They know who did it. Despite not being very bright, Ronnie has managed to elude law enforcement. At the end of his second year of collage, Art’s told that all signs point to Ronnie Keith having fled the state. Manpower is short, the trail cold and with no new information, the case is put on the back burner. If Ronnie resurfaces, the case will be airtight, they just need his person to prosecute.
Art and Leslie wait until after graduation to get married, trying to put as much distance between the painful memory of their engagement and the joy they want for their big day. It’s just a small wedding, Leslie being an only child and Art just having one aunt for family now. They use the money from the sale of Art’s family home as a down payment on a house for themselves. Art gets an entry job as a salesman for an equipment company and Leslie as a receptionist. It’s the picture-perfect start to the life Art’s parents always envisioned for him.
Except Art isn’t happy. The failure of Ronnie Keith to see justice eats away at him. Ronnie broke the law. Everyone knows Ronnie broke the law, but Ronnie is free because no one can or will find him. Aren’t the heroes suppose to stop at nothing to bring in their man like in all those westerns he watched as a child?
He’s passing a local job fair one day during his lunch break. He wanders through because there’s a sign promising free coffee and he has nothing else planned for his break. There are booths for all sorts of law enforcement job but what catches his eye is the marshal’s star and the words: justice, integrity, and service. He thinks about the straw hat and stuffed horse packed in a box in his attic and his father’s smile when a precocious four-year-old declared he was going to be a cowboy. He thinks about his parents’ murder and Ronnie Keith, still at large as he reads about Marshal’s tracking down fugitives. Art grabs an application form after a brief sales pitch from the recruiter.
Leslie isn’t ecstatic, but she is supportive. Art assures her this won’t get in the way of their dream to start a family.
It takes awhile to find a permanent placement. Being a rookie means Art is passed around to wherever a need for manpower is. Not having a permanent position and thus permanent home is compounded by a series of miscarriages. Eventually, Art gets situated at the Lexington Office in Kentucky but as they purchase a home in Lexington, they both have doubts about the future prospects of filling the extra bedrooms.
It's Art’s idea technically. He was more making an off handed comment than actually proposing they do it, but as Art continues to debrief his wife on his day and the sad tale of child welfare and little Riley Straut who is now in custody of the state since Art and another marshal returned his father to Little Sandy, Leslie says yes, they should consider fostering.
Art shoots down the idea at first. But a week later Leslie leaves out a pamphlet with adorable faces of kids that need a home and Art thinks to their empty bedrooms upstairs. The next morning over breakfast he tells Leslie, he’ll do it.
They foster nine kids over five years. None of them stay very long; the state tracking down relatives that are willing to step in and take custody within a few weeks of taking in a child. The longest stay is two years for a baby boy. It rips their hearts out when the court says the mother has completed all the requirements to regain custody and the now toddler is to go back to her care. It’s not that they don’t want little Mason to be reunited with his mother, but they fell in love with the kid too and are losing a family member. They don’t take another child again for two years.
They weren’t planning on ever taking in another child in the hopes of avoiding further heartbreak, but a friend of Art’s casually mentions a child with no relatives to claim him and the current foster parent up on charges the friend served a warrant on. Art tells himself he’s not going to inquire about it, but at the end of the day he’s calling CPS to get information on the situation.
He tells Leslie all about it when he gets home, explaining this time is different because there is a very real possibly, if they like the child and he likes them, they’ll be able to complete a formal adoption process- no one will be able to dismantle their family.
Nelson is a quiet boy whose interests don’t expand very far past playing football, fishing and astronomy. School is a struggle, but he shows up everyday and tries his best. After dinner the three of them sit around the table and work at figuring out Nelson’s homework. Art doesn’t remember the fifth grade being this hard. Every Saturday morning instead of westerns, Art watches sports movies with Nelson. Leslie pretends to like the outdoors when they take fishing vacations on Art’s rare time off.
At the end of the year, they formalize and finalize Nelson Dunlop’s adoption. There’s ups and downs and growing pains as they all learn to become a family. As far as Art is concerned, they have the perfect family.
Part 2: Rachel
“Sacrifice can be torture
When it’s in the name of love
Oh, in this world they call you the monster
If you’re living for the truth”
Rachel Brooks isn’t Art’s case; she’s not even a potential part of any case he’s working on. The only reason he’s aware of her existence at all is the bright precocious little girl is sitting in his office chair as he reports in for the morning. “And who are you?” asks Art, assessing the little girl in an overly comedic way that gets her to smile big and bright.
She can’t be much older than five. It’s been a while since Art’s been around a small child, Nelson being ten when he first arrived at the Mullen’s house, but he thinks he still remembers how to keep kids entertained.
Getting on her knees on the chair, she points to the name plate on the desk. She locks eyes with Art, daring him to contradict her.
“Deputy Marshal Art Mullen,” reads Art. “What a coincidence. That my name too.”
“She’s here for Callum’s case,” says Marshal Radier as she walks by to get a coffee out of the breakroom.
“Callum? Isn’t he lead on that grifter?” asks Art, glancing around the room to see if Callum is even around.
“Mmm hmm,” hums Radier. “She’s his daughter.”
“We’re questioning five-year-olds now? Think she can fit the interview in between nap times?”
Radier just shrugs her shoulders like ‘what are you going to do.’ “That’ll be for her case worker to decide.”
“Where are they?”
“Running late.”
“Well,” says Art turning back to Rachel, “that sounds like you have time for a hot chocolate and a snack.” He sticks his foot out and pops open the bottom drawer of his desk. The drawer slides out revealing a bright package of cookies.
“Cookies!” says Rachel scrambling to grab one, pigtails bobbing along.
Art goes and grabs the drink and a second chair, pulling it up to the side of his desk. He picks Rachel up and plops her in it and hands her a note pad the three different colored pens he has. She draws him a whole stack of pictures, most of them are of various animals having what looks like a tea party by a stream.
Art entertains her until a flustered social worker arrives spouting apologies about her workload and being late. Art just smiles and sends Rachel on her way to the conference room. Rachel goes skipping into the meeting where Art can see them ask her questions. He waves and motions for her to turn around every time she stands on the chair turning around to look at him through the conference room window.
Running to him after the meeting, she opens his bottom desk drawer and steals a cookie from his stash. She keeps a weathered eye on him as she does it, but Art just smiles and pulls the drawer out further to reveal the box of granola bars further back- the ones with the rainbow chocolate chips that Nelson secretly enjoys.
He waves the social worker off, indicating the girl is fine for a minute if she needs to talk to Callum. Eventually the social worker comes to collect her, suggesting Rachel thank Art for the cookies and to say goodbye.
Rachel makes some kind of chirping sound around a mouthful of cookies that Art interprets as goodbye. “Bye-bye,” he says in an overly friendly voice he only ever uses for people under the age of eight and waves as they hit the elevator.
It’s been a long day. Mostly Art’s been cooped up in a car driving to various addresses in what seems like the whole state and gotten nothing for his trouble. He just needs to finish a few reports and he can close out for the day and get home for family game night. He’s a little thrown when he gets into the office and his chair is swiveling around.
“Well, if it isn’t Deputy Marshal Art Mullen. Nice to see you again,” says Art putting his hand on the back of the chair to stop Rachel from spinning it around like the teacup ride at Disney land.
Rachel giggles looking up at Art with a big smile before reaching down to pull at the handle on desk bottom drawer. The drawer doesn’t open. Rachel looks up with an exaggerated pout.
Art pulls out his key ring and unlocks the drawer. Rachel opens it, looking disappointed when there’s nothing inside but a stack of files.
“Sorry kiddo, you cleaned me out last time. But I think someone brought donuts in today. I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Art returns from the breakroom, dragging a second chair along and donut with bright yellow and blue sprinkles.
Rachel scrambles off of Art’s chair happy to take the donut and spare chair.
“There’s something different about your smile there, kiddo,” says Art.
Rachel puts the donut back on the plate and pulls her lip down to show off the new gap in her teeth. “It ‘ell out,” she informs, still hanging onto her lip.
“I bet the tooth fairy was excited about that.”
Nodding emphatically, Rachel pulls out a little case from her pocket and shows off her collection of miniature animals she got from the tooth fairy.
“So sorry,” apologizes the social worker, stepping out of the conference room with Callum.
“She’s fine,” insists Art. Given who he usually deals with throughout the day, it’s an absolute pleasure.
“Come along, Rachel. It’s time to get you home,” says the social worker, extending her hand out for Rachel to take.
Art waits until they’re inside the elevator to ask, “What brings the kid back?” He looks at Callum curiously.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” says Art, intrigued. As far as he heard, the case was open and shut and Rachel’s father was in lock up awaiting trial. Easy warrant, straightforward case- just required a little leg work to track the guy down.
“Buy me a drink,” insists Callum.
Art glances at his watch. “Just one,” he relents, “I have to be home tonight.”
“So this guy has a hand in everything. Like a real international jewelry thief kind of vibe. Jobs are pretty flawless, plays the scenarios smart,” explains Callum, stopping to pull a sip off his beer.
“He got caught. I think that’s a snag in the flawlessness of it,” counters Art.
“Mmmm,” hums Callum, trying to swallow. “Trusted the wrong people or more importantly was hired by the wrong people. The lesson is you should always be aware of the integrity of your employer. They’re the ones that sold him out. He wouldn’t have been on the radar otherwise.”
“No honor among thieves.”
“Anyways, he stole some stuff from and even bigger asshole, including a data file he was going to use to blackmail the bigger asshole. Since he’s unlikely to be able to see his daughters graduate in person, his lawyer is looking to cut a deal. The data file to harpoon a much bigger fish who we have an open case on, in exchange for a reduced sentence. Still going to be looking at ten plus years but probably not twenty.”
“Daughters? Plural?”
“Yeah,” says Callum looking regretful. “Two. Rachel and an older one. Different moms. The older one is with the mom and had visitation with the father. Rachel’s mom passed so he had her full time. The first baby momma said she’d take Rachel.”
“So why is Rachel appearing in the office every other week?”
A sly smile appears on Callum’s lips. “This is the part you’re not going to believe. He put the data file in a stuffed animal, so it was less conspicuous bringing it home. Only Rachel got a hold of the stuffed animal before he could remove the chip and she’s hidden the animal somewhere and won’t say where. He was looking for it for three months before we arrested him. The whole deal is dependent on finding it and the kid is staying mum.”
Like it’s routine, Rachel makes a beeline for Art’s desk the second she gets off the elevator. Art has the drawer open before she even gets around the side of the cubicle. This time he’s ready for her. Leslie spent the weekend baking all sorts of treats for Art to take into work.
The social worker and Rachel’s sister’s mother have been trying to coax the whereabouts of the missing stuffed animal in a homier setting while Callum’s been trying a more formal approach in contrast to see if she’ll slip. They’ve even tried bringing her father into the office to see if he can get her to break.
Art’s impressed that the toughest nut to crack so far in this office is a five-year-old girl. It would all be funny except Art can picture the day Rachel is anything but a little girl and learns her father is bound to prison for life because the deal fell through. It spurs him to try something new. He sits her at his desk plying her with treats and crayons, making small talk while she draws.
“You like to draw animals a lot,” observes Art, looking over some of her completed drawings.
Rachel nods, still furiously scribbling another masterpiece. “They’re soft and cuddly.”
“Do you have a favorite stuffed animal?”
“George.”
“What is George.”
“A giraffe. Daddy gave him to me.”
Bingo, thinks Art. “Do you still have George? I’ve never seen him with you. He must be lonely.”
“Yeah,” she hums, tongue poking out of her lips as she concentrates really hard on adding tusks to the elephant in her drawing. “But he’s having a picnic in the magic place. Everything is wonderful there. He’s fine.” She taps at the giraffe in her drawing as she tells him.
“The magic place huh?”
Rachel puts down her crayon and looks Art straight in the eye, a serious expression taking over. She puts a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. It’s a secret.”
Art leans forward conspiratorially. “Who said it was a secret?” he whispers.
“Shawnee,” she says then turns back to her coloring.
Art let’s her ramble on about the other animals at the picnic for a bit before excusing himself, leaving her at his desk.
“Well?” asks Callum.
“She definitely has it hidden away. But I don’t think she’s going to be the one to say where that somewhere is.”
“Deals not going to be on the table much longer,” says Callum, disappointed.
“Anyone talk to the sister?” asks Art, watching Rachel draw from their meeting in the middle of the office.
“No. You think Rachel gave it to her?”
“The second Brooks house was searched with the first wife’s permission. Nothing was found,” chimes in the social worker. “The mother had full custody of Shawnee. She only saw her father every other weekend at his place. The mother would drop her off. She doesn’t recall a stuffed animal ever coming back, nor did Rachel have the giraffe when she took temporary custody of her.”
“I’d take another pass at the sister. Specifically ask about the colorful tree and the magic picnic,” Art suggests.
“I’ll try if I can get a hold of Mrs Brooks and see if she’ll allow a conversation with Shawnee,” says Callum, turning intending to go back to his desk.
“Why don’t you just go with her when she takes Rachel back. Make it appear like a casual informal question. She might let something slip then,” says Art.
“Rachel’s not with Mrs Brooks anymore,” says the social worker. “Rachel’s in a group home while we try and find a placement.”
Art frowns. “I thought the ex-wife was going to take Rachel since the girls are sisters?”
“She was,” says the social worker regrettably. “Shawnee’s a handful on her own and Rachel, we’ll she’s not trouble but she’s too smart and crafty for her own good and her father has taught her some bad habits. Mrs Brooks doesn’t feel she is capable of wrangling both kids. Mr Brooks was using Rachel as a lookout and getting her to pocket things. They’ve been stopped by mall security twice and school is threatening to suspend her for stealing from the other kids.”
“They’re going to suspend a kindergartener for stealing lunches?” asks Art incredulously.
The social worker bites her lip. “More for racketeering. She’s teaching the kids how to play poker and taking their lunch money. Then encourages them to start games and take other kid’s money and give her a cut.”
Art’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline. “She’s five!”
“I told you her father was international jewel thief smooth,” says Callum into his coffee mug with a smirk.
“Shawnee’s running her mom ragged. Without the dad taking her off Mrs Brooks’ hands every other weekend she doesn’t get a break. Leaving the girls with him at the park on Fridays and picking Shawnee up Sunday night is the only thing she misses about her ex-husband. Unfortunately, with her retracting her application to take Rachel, Rachel has no other family,” adds the social worker. “It’s a group home until someone feels like they manage Rachel.”
“She’s a good kid,” says Art. He knows what group home situations are like.
“She is. But she needs someone who can give the time, attention and most importantly has the patients. It’s not always an easy sell in the foster system. The best we can hope for is a stable roof over her head.”
Art pulls his jacket closed. There’s a cold wind blowing through and it’s chilling things down. The park is empty as a result, everyone staying home in the warmth of their houses instead of coming outside to play.
Art looks at the stack of pictures in his hand and looks around the playground portion of the park again. He’s not sure why he’s here. It’s not his case and he doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it deserved a look. Every picture Rachel drew is similar in some way. It’s the same tea party just from different angles, sometimes with different guests. George the giraffe is always there though and so is a very colorful tree.
There are lots of trees but most of the leaves have been shed. Anyone of them could have been colorful but it seems odd that just one would be depicted as colorful and the rest green in the drawings. Not to mention the fall colors would only be temporary and the colors used don’t suggest autumn.
He’s just about to turn around and leave, dismissing the whole trip to the park as an imaginative interpretation of the facts, when he hears the gentle gurgle of water in the distance. He follows the sound, happening upon a narrow stream winding its way through the more forested portion of the park. Following the edge of the stream a bit, he wanders further into the trees. Just out of sight of the playground and the open field is a small clearing with a larger tree right in the middle. Art smiles as he takes in the neon-colored graffiti sprayed along the lower trunk of the tree.
He holds one of the drawings up against what he’s seeing. Overlooking the five-year-old understanding and drawing skills, the girl has a keen eye and thorough interpretation. It doesn’t take long to find the burrow under one of the roots and the leg of a stuffed giraffe poking out. “Aren’t you a cleaver little tiger,” mutters Art to himself at Rachel’s ability to practically draw them a map without breaking her sister’s confidence.
Art kneels down to fish George out, his hand hitting a metal box hidden further in the hiding spot. He pulls both out and opens the box. It’s crumpled bills, a pack of smokes, a few joints and crumpled note someone was passing in class indicating they were interested in taking Shawnee to the next school dance.
Well, now he knows why the sister impressed upon Rachel the need to keep the magic tree a secret. And why the first Mrs Brooks doesn’t have enough hands to juggle both girls.
He meets Callum at the office triumphantly the next day and the case is closed out, Mr Brooks getting a reduced sentence, not that it will do Rachel any good. The first chance at parole will be just after she turns seventeen. After the sentencing Art phones the social worker to see if they’ve found a more permanent place for Rachel.
“My wife always wanted a daughter,” he says when the social worker says no. Art and Leslie begin the paperwork the next morning.
Having a girl is different. Rachel likes tea parties as opposed to sports movies. And while she seems to enjoy the fishing trips, she’s just as happy to bounce around the house in a bright pink tutu. Art is far more aware of the intricacies of cabbage patch dolls than he ever imagined he could be. While Nelson is quieter and more reserved, Rachel is more outgoing with a reserved cleverness that seems beyond her years. Art thought criminals kept him on his toes but now wonders if he’ll be able to best Rachel in a couple years times.
Rachel’s case isn’t as clear cut as Nelson’s and both Art and Leslie, silently worry something will take away the little girl that’s wormed her way into their hearts. Their social worker doesn’t foresee any cause for Rachel to be removed from their custody anytime soon. The first Mrs Brooks has laid out the entire family tree as she knows it and with Rachel’s mother deceased, there isn’t any family around to want custody that hasn’t already turned it down. The only snag is there can be no formal adoption unless Mr Brooks agrees to sign over his parental rights.
Nelson takes to being a big brother rather quickly. He makes it quite clear his job is to walk Rachel to and from school and set the bully from the first grade straight when he pulls Rachel’s pigtails on the playground. It’s the first time Art ever has to go to the school to talk with the principal in regard to Nelson. He’s never been prouder, even if he has to spend the evening explaining to Nelson that he can’t beat kids up on the playground, no matter what they do.
Both he and Leslie become very familiar with the principal; Rachel has them treating the principal’s office like it has a revolving door for the first few years of her schooling. The trouble she causes is bigger but that’s just because her schemes, ideas and ability to execute them are unmatched. Everyone is playing checkers and she’s figuring out how to put a man on mars. The Mullens sign her up for a variety of after school programs, clubs and sports; Art trying to direct her talents for good and not evil. Idle hands being the devil’s play things and all, he wants to direct her ingenuity some place good before she starts down the same road her father found himself down.
Rachel is also different in that she has family in the area. Every Friday evening Leslie and Art alternate between one of them taking Nelson to watch the local high school football team play and the other taking Rachel to pick up Shawnee and going to a kid friendly restaurant for dinner. Rachel may be an integral part of their young family, but Art and Leslie have no intention of diminishing her connection to her biological sister.
Art paces around the private visiting room to try and dissolve the nervous energy building in him. He tries to tell himself nothing really changes if this meeting doesn’t go the way he hopes it will. The facts will remain the same, but he’s really hoping to exercise the ghosts of doubt that haunt him and Leslie at night.
Reginald Brooks enters the room with his two guard escort, looking passive as they attach his shackles to the table. The guards exit the room at Art’s nod leaving the two men alone.
“I don’t know you,” sates Reginald, eyeing Art carefully. The marshal’s badge on the man’s belt is on full display. No stranger to law enforcement’s little chats, Reginald has become rather well acquainted with the badges coming to see him. This man is new and with that comes a new agenda.
“Deputy Marshal Art Mullen,” says Art as he finally takes a seat opposite Reginald. “I’m not here on professional business.”
Reginald waves his hand, the chains around his wrists knocking against the table. “That still leaves a lot of types of business on the table.”
Art folds his hands on the table and leans forward. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but your daughter, Rachel, is in the care of my wife and myself. We’ve been fostering her for the last two years.”
Reginald nods. “I heard Tamara was unable to keep her. Shawnee… she can be a handful and Rachel can be too much like me for her own good.”
“Rachel is good at hustling kids out of their lunch money,” agrees Art.
Reginald chucks, a deep throaty sound. He looks wistful for a moment before asking, “Rachel’s doing alright?”
“She’s adjusting fairly well. Doing well in school. They’re talking about putting her in some advanced classes next year. Won the prize for most books read in one month in her class and joined the girl guides this year. Though I’m told at this age they’re called Embers.” Art reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a set of photos. He looks at the top one, hesitating slightly before finally sliding the thin pile over.
Reginald picks them up. The first is a photo of Rachel on her first day of Embers, standing against the school gymnasium wall, a big smile on her face as she shows off her new uniform for the camera. The next one is of her and Shawnee sharing a milkshake, big twisty straws looping out of the thick layer of whipped cream topping as they press their heads together for the picture. It’s some tacky dinner with bright décor and big red booth seats with cracking leather covers. The last picture is of her and Nelson playing on the beach at their last trip to the lake.
“Who’s the boy?” asks Reginald.
“Nelson, our son. Practical big brother to Rachel,” says Art, aiming to lay the groundwork for their upcoming conversation.
“My daughter, living the white picket fence life in a cops house,” he says with a snort. “Good for her.”
“It is good for her,” agrees Art. “Which brings me to why I’m here. I’ve checked on your case. You’ll be lucky if you’re out by the time Rachel’s eighteen. I want to make it clear, it is not my intention to replace you as her father or take away anything she had with her mother before she passed, but my wife and I would like to adopt Rachel.”
A sour look flashes over Reginald’s face.
“I know you banned Rachel from coming to see you. So, I have to think you want what’s best for your daughter. I can assure you, she’s happy and healthy where she is. My wife and I have absolutely fallen in love with that little girl, and it terrifies us to no end that a change in circumstance or fostering policy could see her uprooted from her life again. We’re just hoping to be granted legal custody via adoption; be the ones to make the important decisions for her and be financially responsible.”
Reginald leans back in his chair as far as the shackles will allow. He looks Art over like he’s dissecting and ant under a microscope. “You and your wife think you’re what’s best for my little girl?”
“I think given the circumstances,” says Art, tilting his head to point out that this particular conversation is happening in a visitation room in a federal prison. “I think we are the best option.”
Reginald purses his lips together.
“If Tamara Brooks wanted to take Rachel in, we would stand aside and let that happen, but she’s made it clear she doesn't feel up to the task.” It would kill Art and Leslie, but they’d do it for Rachel.
“And you and Tamara talk about it like a couple of old biddies at the hair salon?” mocks Reginald.
“No but we have discussed it several times while Rachel and Shawnee spend the day together.”
“Rachel and Shawnee still see each other?” asks Reginald, voice getting a little softer.
“Shawnee’s her sister. We wouldn’t dream of keeping them a part,” says Art sincerely.
Reginald spreads the pictures out in front of himself, taking the time to look at each one like he’s memorizing every detail in them. “You swear she’s happy?” he asks.
Art nods. “Her and Leslie just finished redecorating her room. Bright yellow walls with cartoon jungle animals. Her favorite is the giraffe. I believe she named him George.”
Reginald gets really quiet and Art’s almost ready to call the whole thing as a wash when he says, “If I do this, I want two things from you.”
Art’s gut turns. A flood of possibilities crosses his mind and none of them are good nor doable. He asks anyways, “What do you want?”
“First, you can only adopt Rachel if it’s what she wants. If she’s alright with it, I’m not going to mess her life up any more than I already have.”
“Done.” That item was already on the Mullen’s list once they knew it was a possibility. “And the second thing?”
“You promise me Rachel’s going to turn out alright, that you won’t let her become me.”
“It would be my greatest honor to do my damnedest in that endeavor.”
Art waits patiently at the bottom of the stairs. He smiles fondly every time he locks eyes with Nelson and his put upon gaze. “Never rush women,” he says, then chuckles as Nelson rolls his eyes. He checks his watch for fifth time since they were supposed to be out the door. “Why don’t you go wait in the car,” he suggests to Nelson.
Nelson gets up with a sigh, shrugging on his suit jacket before ambling out the door.
“Ladies,” calls Art up the stairs. “The judge isn’t going to be inclined to wait and this isn’t something we want to reschedule.”
Appearing at the top of the stairs, Leslie says fondly, “Just a minute. She’s fussing with her dress.”
“Oh?” says Art, watching as his vision of a wife descends the stairs to wait with him. “I thought we were in the I don’t wear dresses phase?”
Leslie brushes her recently manicured hand across Art’s shoulders as she walks by. “She’s making an exception on account of it being a special day.” She fusses with Art’s tie, adjusting the knot slightly so it sits straighter against his dress shirt.
“Well, Cinderella better hurry up because the carriage is about to leave without her,” sings Art as Leslie heads out to the car.
“Where would the carriage be going if I wasn’t in it?” asks Rachel, finally making an appearance at the top of the stairs. She twirls around making the skirt of her light blue dress with bright yellow sunflowers billow and flutter.
“You look beautiful, tiger,” he says, taking her hand as she bounds down the last few steps. Art shuffles everyone into the car in a manner akin to herding cats, but they all make it to the courthouse with five minutes to spare.
That night in bed as Leslie flips through her magazines and the house is quiet with both children asleep in their rooms, Art sits next to his wife and just stares at the signed papers formalizing the adoption of one Rachel Brooks, to Art and Leslie Mullen. Their perfect family is safe, secure, and finalized. The Mullens are the proud parents of an amazing seven-year-old girl and a terrific fourteen-year-old boy.