Love And The Real Boy - Coming About, Book 2 Read Free Page A

the toilet again. Rich rubbed his shoulders while he finished being sick.
    Rich wondered at being here again, in this place of caretaker and protector of someone he loved but could never keep.
    * * * *
    November 1997
    Bonnie Dalton died on Halloween that year. The policeman who came to talk to the boys’ foster mother had said it was a massive overdose—a lethal combination of meth, sleeping pills, and vodka. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have gone into such detail if he’d known Ricky was eavesdropping. Not that it mattered much to Ricky anymore anyway. He’d seen it coming from a mile offshore. He was numb to the pain by then. He briefly entertained the possibility of not telling John-Michael; he’d spare his little brother whatever anguish he could.
    But he knew J-M would never open his mind to the possibility of adoption if he thought Mom was out there somewhere, trying to get them back. John-Michael was twelve, but he always seemed younger, innocent; he still had a ghost of a chance to find a nice family. And Ricky…well, who wanted to adopt a surly fifteen-year-old? As cruel as it sounded, Ricky needed J-M to forget about Bonnie—to let go—so that he could have a prayer of being adopted.
    So one night he sat his brother down and told him the “PG-rated” version of the news. Then Ricky held onto him all night, long after the boy had cried himself to sleep.
    “Ricky, let’s move,” whispered Elke Mendelhaussen, their latest foster mother.
    Ricky blinked away dark thoughts of his mother and hopeful thoughts of John-Michael. Sometimes the hopeful ones were the very worst. He grabbed hold of J-M’s shoulder and shepherded the boy forward in the grocery line.
    When it was their turn, Elke placed their meager selection on the belt and watched carefully while the cashier rang them up. After she was read the total, Elke handed the woman her WIC check—the insubstantial amount of money she received from the government to help take care of her five fosters.
    The cashier narrowed her eyes at them, and Ricky knew what was coming.
    “WIC doesn’t cover these,” she said, pushing a couple of items back toward Elke.
    “No, I’m sure it does. I was very careful. Would you please double check?”
    The cashier—Shelly—went to ask her manager while the other customers grumbled behind them. Elke stood very still, head held high, a placid expression on her homely face. She seemed to have infinite patience, even for bullshit. It was one of the reasons Ricky actually kind of liked her—for a foster mom.
    Ricky heard a rustling of clothing behind him, a whispered conversation.
    “…wish she’d get a real job.”
    “My tax dollars…”
    “Popping out babies…entitled to a handout.”
    Ricky turned and glared at the biddies behind him, briefly considering throwing something, but Shelly had returned. The items were indeed covered by WIC, so she hurried through checking them out and sent them off with a glare.
    As they left the store, Elke’s large, clunky cellular phone rang. She paused on the sidewalk to answer it. There was some hushed, excited chattering before she hung up. Her face was flushed with delight when she turned to face them.
    “We’ll skip the drug store today. We have to head home—a potential adoptive family is on their way to meet all of you kids.”
    That was the first time it had happened during the Dalton boys’ stay. Ricky spent the entire walk home thinking about the possibilities; wondering…who?
    That night, after the younger kids were in bed, Elke and her husband, Joe, sat Ricky down for a chat. The two of them stayed quiet for a moment, sharing nervous looks. Ricky knew what they were going to say, had prepared himself for it. Hell, he even wanted it. But, damn, could they get on with it already?
    “It’s John-Michael, isn’t it?”
    They both sagged with relief at not having to break what they must have thought was bad news. It wasn’t. It was everything he’d wanted for