Tears spring to her eyes, and she puts her head in her hands. Her weeping rapidly becomes full-blown sobs. I wrap my arm around her, and we just sit for a while, almost forgetting Beth is even there.
As our social worker, it felt like she needed to know of Amber’s reappearance. I wanted to protect my son on all sides. And over the years, I’ve learned trying to dodge systems only ends in despair. If you don’t follow the rules, you leave loopholes and more often than not it comes back to bite. As far as David is concerned, and my adoption of him, I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Does this need to be done tonight?” I ask Beth. “Amber’s been through a lot. A good night’s rest, and hopefully she will be able to tell you more tomorrow. She’s welcome to visit.”
“I can’t allow that. I’m sorry. She’s a flight risk with David. We can’t allow unsupervised contact until we confirm she isn’t a threat. Amber, I need you to talk to me so I can help you. I’ve arranged for you to stay in a local hotel. Let’s go.”
Beth speaks authoritatively—there is no debating with her. I appreciate her professional manner, not letting emotion get the better of her.
“I want to see my son,” she squeaks. I look to Beth for guidance.
“If Lance is okay with that, then I don’t have a problem.”
“He’s sleeping just now, but we can go up and see him. You won’t be able to pick him up, though. I don’t want to be up for the next three hours.” I smile, trying to lighten the mood, and she nods in understanding.
We all climb the stairs to David’s room. Amber walks behind me, her breathing hurrying with nerves or excitement. Probably both.
The door to his room is ajar—there’s a teddy bear decorating it with his name painted underneath. It squeaks softly as I push it open and we all file in. His white cot is against the wall, and the three of us surround it. He’s sound asleep with his thumb in his mouth.
“Doesn’t he have a blanket?” she asks. Her wide eyes dart to me, then return to her sleeping son. She stares, mesmerized. The ghost of loss skims her lips, sad.
“No, he wears his all-in-one suits to sleep. I have different thicknesses depending on how cold it is,” I explain. “To be honest, I think the salesperson in the baby supply shop saw me coming. I returned home with one of pretty much everything.”
Beth chuckles under her breath. “That I can imagine,” she whispers.
Amber says nothing, but a small sigh escapes her. She reaches into the cot and strokes his tiny hand with a single finger. We watch his sleeping form for a few minutes before retreating.
After showing Beth and Amber out, I return to the kitchen. Fuck it, I’m going to have a beer. I open the fridge door and stare at the crap selection on the top shelf, grabbing one at random and going to sit on the sofa with my phone.
Maybe I should message Katie. It’s 10 p.m., so not too late. She should still be up. I haven’t heard from her today, which is strange. Maybe she’s busy with a promotion or something.
The message shows delivered. After a good five minutes, it doesn’t change to read. Throwing my phone on the coffee table, I lie back on the couch. The house is silent, and all the questions I have about what I should do rush around my head. About Amber, about Katie, but the one that has been bothering me most lately is Hannah’s paternity.
Ever since I found Ainsley with Hamish, I’ve had my doubts. My gut tells me that their affair has been going on for longer than they’ve ever admitted. When Ainsley told me she was pregnant, I had concerns about Hannah’s due date, but I put them to the back of my mind, too wrapped up in the excitement of our new baby.
Having gone through what I have with David, not knowing of his existence, then having to prove he was Dog’s, even though his mother left him, has made it more important that I know the truth.
I considered broaching the subject with Ainsley, but I know she will shoot me down in flames. The last thing I want is her feeding Hannah lies about anything I say. I need to do this myself. But to what end? What if she’s not mine?
The next afternoon, Beth calls me with some news. I sit speechless, processing the information.
“She’s been where?” I ask, stunned.
“Living on the streets in Edinburgh,” Beth says again. “Seemingly, she fell into a bit of debt with a local loan shark in Leeds. When she couldn’t make the repayments, he threatened to take David in exchange for the debt when he was born. She was terrified, so she brought him to you and tried to fake her death.”
A pain returns I haven’t felt in months. A fear that crushes my skull when I’m stressed. “What happens now?” I ask, even though I don’t want to.
“She’s agreed to cooperate with the police. She wants to have contact with David, but she isn’t planning on challenging you for custody. Her focus is to move forward with her life. The problem is, these kinds of people tend to have a network, so we need to ensure she’s safe.”
“If she sticks to her word, I’ll support her in any way I can. She’s welcome to come to see David here. They need to startbuilding a relationship.” I take a breath. “I won’t stand in her way if she doesn’t try to take my son. But…I’ll fight her in court if I have to.”
“I doubt that will be necessary,” Beth assures me. “You’re a good man, Lance. She’s lucky to have you as her son’s adoptive father.” Unsure how to reply to her compliment, I mumble a thank you and hang up.
So much has happened over the past few days. I need to talk to someone I can trust. Now Dog’s gone, there’s only one person: Katie. I wonder if she has anything on at 11 a.m. on a Friday.
She hasn’t replied to my message from last night, which is unlike her. Her phone rings out and diverts to voicemail. Crap, I was hoping she would be free to talk.
A few minutes pass while I flick aimlessly through the local paper. It may be old fashioned, but I enjoy the feel of a real paper between my fingers. It’s all well finding out the news online, but there’s something relaxing about sitting with a cup of tea and the paper.