One of them stayed near the officers, the other—clearly an American—stepped toward them. He had a piece of paper in his hands, and he looked at Jack. “Jack Campbell?”
“Yes, sir.” Jack straightened. His voice wasn’t afraid, but resigned.
Molly hung her head. They were caught; there was no getting around the fact.
“Molly Campbell?”
She looked at the man and nodded. “Yes, sir.” This was the part where he would explain that the authorities knew about their plan. He would tell them they were being immediately deported because of their flight risk, and he would explain that Joey would be traveling with a police escort to Ohio, where his biological parents awaited custody.
Molly held her breath and waited.
The man came a few steps closer. “Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, I work for the U.S. Embassy here in Haiti. I’ve received urgent word from the United States. I was asked by order of a judge in Ohio to locate you and give you details of a message from”—he looked at the paper—“Social Worker Allyson Bower.”
A message? What was the man talking about? Again Molly’s head was spinning. She held on to Joey so she wouldn’t topple onto the floor.
Jack leaned forward. “Sir . . .” He looked equally confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”
The man held up the paper. “Let me read the message. ‘You are hereby notified that by order of Judge Randall Grove, Cleveland District Court, the case regarding custody of Joey Campbell has been dropped. From this point on, full and permanent custody is assigned to you, Jack and Molly Campbell.’”
“What?” Jack was on his feet. He looked at Molly and then at the man standing before them. “The case has been dropped?”
Relief washed over Molly immediately. Sobs tore at her, and she leaned back into the sofa, holding Joey close, rocking him. It wasn’t possible. They were here to say good-bye, to be hauled back to the United States and reprimanded for ever thinking they could outsmart the system.
But God had worked a miracle, after all. Even when they had made a mockery of prayer and faith, church attendance and this work trip. Almighty God could’ve destroyed them for what they had tried to do. But instead He was showing Himself so clearly to them, she could hardly take it in.
Jack eased back down to the edge of the seat. He was crying openly, unable to talk. He motioned for the man to continue.
For the first time, the uniformed man smiled. “I take it this is good news.”
“Yes,” Jack managed. He wiped his eyes. “Very good. You have no idea.”
The man cleared his throat. He looked back at the letter and continued. “‘New adoption release papers have been signed by both biological parents, and notarized. You are required under conditions of the release papers to accompany Joey Campbell to one additional meeting at the Child Welfare Department in Cleveland, Ohio, in two weeks, after which time you will no longer be subject to any conditions by this department. Congratulations.’” The man grinned at them. “I have a copy of the paperwork for your records.”
But Molly and Jack barely heard him.
They were too busy hugging Joey and each other, weeping and laughing and trying to believe what had happened.
“Mommy, Daddy . . . what is it? Do we have to get arrested?”
“No, baby.” Molly kissed him again and again on his cheek, his forehead, his hands. “We get to finish our trip and go home with Aunt Beth and Uncle Bill and the cousins.”
“And you never have to go on a trip without us again.” Jack stood and swung Joey in a circle. Then he settled him on his hip. “How’s that sound?”
Joey raised his fist in the air. “Great!”
The police escorted them back to the mission house, but everything about the ride was a blur. They had come so close to losing him. By now Joey could’ve been in custody, heading back to the United States never to be seen by them again. Molly was exhausted, drained, too giddy to do anything but try to somehow understand what had happened.
The Porters had changed their mind about Joey, obviously. But why? What had done it? And why the visit to the social services office in two weeks? Molly didn’t care. She would’ve traveled around the world to meet the requirements of the adoption release papers.
And what about Beth? Obviously she’d been wrong about her sister. Beth hadn’t turned them in, clearly not. Otherwise the meeting at the embassy would’ve gone very differently. Beth, her best friend, her closest ally. How could she have thought anything but good of her sister?
They reached the mission house before she had time to sort through her feelings. Somehow—as if they were floating on clouds—they made their way back inside. Beth and Bill and the kids sat around the living room, their faces tear-stained.
“Molly!” Beth stood. She looked at Jack and then Joey, and finally back at Molly. “What happened?”
Molly released Joey’s hand and closed the gap between her and her sister. “He’s ours, Beth. Joey is ours. The Porters changed their minds.”
Beth’s entire countenance changed. She started to cry and took Molly in her arms. They both apologized at the same time, and then they looked at each other and laughed.
“Beth, I’m sorry. . . . I thought you turned us in.” She kept her words quiet. Behind them Jack was explaining to Bill about the trip to the embassy while the Petty kids asked Joey about his adventure. “I figured you’d called the social worker.”
“Wait . . .” Beth’s smile faded. “I thought you were going to run. I mean, I really thought that.”
“We were! I couldn’t tell you, but you were right. Of course. I could never fool you, Beth.” Molly let her head tip back. She had never felt so good in all her life. The nightmare they’d been living for the past few months was finally over. They had Joey back, and they had their lives back. It was more than she could take in. She looked at her sister again. “Really, I thought you turned us in. I’m so sorry, Beth.”
“But . . .” Beth’s face froze, confused and afraid all at once. Guilt covered her features once more. “I did, Molly.” Her voice was so quiet it was almost soundless.
“You did?” Molly felt her own smile fade. “You called the social worker?”
“Yes.” She hung her head for a moment. When she looked up, tears filled her eyes. “And Wendy Porter. I told her Joey belonged to you, that you loved him so much. But I told her I was afraid you were going to run.”
Molly held her breath. Her head was spinning again. She wasn’t sure what to say or do. Beth had indeed turned them in, but what did it matter? Here they were, and Joey was theirs. Forever and ever more. She found her smile again and hugged her sister. “I love you, Beth. I’m not mad at you.”
“You’re not?”
“No.” She had never felt so good in all her life. “Don’t you see? In the end it wasn’t up to you or us.” Her eyes were dancing, she could feel the glow deep within her. “It was up to God. We have Joey because that was His will—just like you prayed.”
There was no other way to explain it.
While the party continued, while the rejoicing led to worship and the worship to rejoicing, a deep and abiding truth settled into the hearts of all of them. That night they had witnessed something very special. For reasons they might not ever understand, they’d been given the gift of their son for a second and final time. More than that, they’d gotten their lives back.
It was a miracle.
And before they turned in for the night, they made plans for an urgent morning call to a bank in Sweden. Jack grinned at her. “What about that medical building? It really is a good deal.”
Molly laughed and pulled Joey onto her lap. “I don’t care!” She kissed Joey’s forehead. “Buy the whole block, as long as we have this little boy.”
Before they turned in, Molly and Jack knelt near Joey’s bunk bed. This time—for the first time—they talked to God together.
Jack went first. “God”—his voice broke—“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. . . .
I’m so sorry.” He bowed his head. Then he motioned for Molly to pray.
Molly’s heart went out to him. He was thankful, but he was sorry first. Sorry for going through the motions of faith, and not until now believing there was actual power in the name of God. She found her voice and began. “God . . . thank You. We have no words that can express how grateful we are. When we get home, everything will change. You worked out a miracle for us.” She gave Joey a soft squeeze. “Now we’ll give You our lives.”
“Yes, God.” Jack’s voice was sure, strong.
It was Joey’s turn. “Hi, God . . . it’s me, Joey. ’Member I asked You if I could stay with my mommy and daddy and Gus and not have to go back to that other house in Ohio? I asked You two times, ’member?” He took a breath. “I knew You would do it for me, God. Thanks for this happy day. Gee this name, amen.”
Her precious son. Molly kissed him and Jack did the same. As they left the room, a thought occurred to her. They wouldn’t have far to go to learn how to talk to God, how to find a relationship with Him.
Their son was already showing them the way.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was the middle of September, and still Allyson Bower couldn’t believe the way the events had played out. She’d been seconds away from contacting the authorities when Wendy Porter called. Now, the meeting between Wendy and Molly Campbell and Joey was only minutes away.
Allyson sat back in her chair and tapped her pencil on the open folder in front of her. The final straw for Wendy Porter had been Rip, of course. The man had been drunk that Thursday night, the night before the Campbells’ trip to Haiti. He had been angry that Wendy was on the phone, and when she hung up, he had ordered her to tell him everything.
When he wasn’t satisfied with Wendy’s answers, he came unglued.
Allyson saw her the next day, after Rip was in custody, after Wendy was released from the hospital. She had a broken arm, stitches near her ear, a bruised liver, and two black eyes. Still she’d found the strength to call the social worker.
“You’re pressing charges, Wendy. You have to.”
“I called the police.” Wendy was crying. With careful fingers she dabbed at her tears, but still she winced from the pain. “He’s going back to prison.”
“What about Joey?”
“I told Rip I’d testify that he didn’t mean it, that it was just the alcohol making him crazy.” She sucked in a few quick breaths. “As long as he’d sign the release papers.”
Allyson hadn’t known what to say. She wanted Joey to stay with the Campbells, she always had. But Wendy needed to understand the law completely. “You know that you can keep Joey if you want.”
Wendy nodded. “His adoption wasn’t valid, right? Because Rip never signed the papers?”
“Right.” Allyson had held her breath. This was delicate territory. “Rip can go to prison and you can have sole custody of your son. It’s up to you.”
“I know.” More tears slid down her face. Quiet tears, from a deep sorrow that had already counted the cost. “But one day Rip will get out and he’ll find me again. He always does.” She wiped at her eyes again. “When that happens, I’ll take him back.” She lifted her hands, helpless. “I always do.” She looked at her lap, ashamed. “I gave Joey up once because I couldn’t stand the thought of Rip hurting him. The reason’s the same today.”
The papers were signed and notarized over the next two days, and immediately Allyson set about getting word to the Campbells. They were a flight risk, and she wanted to get word to them before they fled. It had taken two painfully long days of red tape between her and Judge Groves and the embassy before the word finally came. Police were going to the orphanage to bring Jack and Molly and Joey to the embassy, where they would be informed of the change in custody. By some amazing set of circumstances, word reached the Campbells before they could pull off whatever they might’ve been planning.
Allyson smiled.
How she would’ve loved to have been in the room when the Campbells got word that the custody case had been dropped. Joey was theirs. It was a miracle—that’s what Molly Campbell said. And maybe it was. Allyson had taken her kids to church each of the past two weeks—for the first time in years. If for no other reason than to thank God for pulling off what neither she nor the Campbells could’ve.
In the weeks since, the Campbells had filed all necessary paperwork. Joey was officially their son without any further question. Wendy Porter hadn’t asked for any visitation rights, so none were granted.
Allyson looked at the clock on her wall. The meeting was scheduled to take place in two minutes. Molly Campbell and Joey were already in the child-care room, a private meeting area set up for comfort with sofas and overstuffed chairs and baskets of toys.
The phone on Allyson’s desk rang. She pressed the flashing button and brought the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“Yes, Ms. Bower, Wendy Porter is here to see you.”
“Thank you. I’ll meet her in the waiting room.”
Allyson released a heavy sigh as she stood and reached for the door. Wendy Porter’s only request had been this: that the Campbells bring Joey to Ohio for one last visit at the Child Welfare Department.
So she could say good-bye.
It felt like the longest drive in Wendy Porter’s life.
The whole way to the Child Welfare Department, she replayed every event that had led to this moment. But especially her recent visits with Joey. Tears streamed down her face, and she looked in the rear-view mirror. You’ve gotta stop, Wendy. Right now. Joey won’t know what to think if you’re crying.
She exhaled and straightened her bangs.
Her hours with Joey had been the best in her life. In some ways, she wondered why she didn’t take Allyson Bower up on her offer. She could keep Joey if she wanted to. All she’d have to do is find a way to never let Rip Porter back in her life. That was the problem.
Even now she loved him, sick as that was. He needed help; they both did. But she couldn’t put Joey through that process—not for a minute. Rip would’ve beaten the child; she knew it as surely as she knew her name. He wouldn’t have meant it, and when he was sober he would’ve been deeply sorry.
But she loved Joey too much to ever let that happen.
He was such a nice little boy, so handsome and kind. Even though he was scared to death, even though he missed his adoptive parents and his dog and his bedroom back in Florida, he’d still been kind to her. He liked her chocolate chip cookies.
Wendy climbed out of the car, and with heavy feet, she forced herself up the stairs and into the waiting room. Allyson Bower came for her in just a few minutes.
“Hello, Wendy. You look . . . better.” She held out her hand.
Wendy shook it. She had been careful with her makeup that morning. Other than the cast on her arm, it was impossible to tell what she’d been through just two weeks earlier. “Is Joey here?”
“Yes.” Allyson studied her. “He came with Mrs. Campbell.”
A sad smile tugged at her lips. “His mommy.”
“Yes.” The social worker gave a gentle nod. “His mommy.” She took a step back. “Are you ready to see him?”
“Yes. I’d like to meet Mrs. Campbell, but then . . .” Her voice caught. She wasn’t going to cry, not now. A quick breath and she found her voice again. “Then could I have a few minutes to say good-bye to Joey? Alone?”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine.” Allyson led her down a hall past three doors, and then into a room, and there they were.
A pretty woman with dark hair and a quick smile stood as they walked into the room. Joey was playing with Legos on the floor, but he looked up, confused at the sight of Wendy. He lifted his fingers and gave her a slow little wave. Then he went to Mrs. Campbell’s side and pressed himself close to her. Like he was trying to hide.
Allyson took charge of the moment. “Molly, I’d like you to meet Wendy Porter.”
The Campbell woman came toward her, and f
or a moment it looked like she wanted to shake hands. Then she held out her arms and pulled Wendy into a hug, one that lasted longer than she expected.
The social worker left the two women and went to sit with Joey on the sofa. She distracted him with a book from a nearby table.
“I . . . don’t know what to say.” Molly had tears in her eyes. She bit her lip to stop it from quivering. “Thank you for giving us Joey.” She made a sound that was more cry than laugh. “A second time.”
Wendy looked past the Campbell woman’s shoulder to the place where her son was playing. Then her eyes met Molly’s again. “Did you ever read the story of King Solomon, the one in the Bible?”
“No.” Molly looked surprised. “But we’re reading the Bible a lot these days.” Her eyes glowed. “Last week Joey asked Jesus into his heart.”
The news was bittersweet: one more step, one more milestone that Wendy had missed. She managed a smile. “Anyway . . . the story is in First Kings, chapter 3. It made me realize something.”
Molly waited, never breaking eye contact.
“It made me know that any real mother would sooner walk away from her child than let him come to harm.” Tears clouded her eyes again. “For any reason.”
The Campbell woman didn’t quite look like she understood. But she nodded anyway. “I’ll read it later.”
Wendy tried to focus. She didn’t have long. Anything she might ever want to say to Joey’s adoptive mother, she would have to say now. “Take good care of him, okay?” The tears spilled onto her cheeks, but she didn’t try to stop them.
“I will.” Molly was crying, too. They were both mothers now. Nothing about the moment was easy.
“And if . . . if he ever asks about me, tell him how much I love him. So much that I gave him to you.”
“Okay.” The Campbell woman brought her fingers to her lips, so she wouldn’t cry out loud. “And if he ever wants to find you, I’ll help him.”
“Really?” The offer was more than Wendy would’ve asked for.