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Hey guys!
This is a short story I had the idea for way back when they had the picture prompt contest. I didn’t get it written for the contest, but have since wrote and rewrote it. Once again, freely critique and give title ideas! (Anyone else have that problem?) This would be one of my first finished stories that weren’t written when I was eight. 🙂His eyes looked just like Jamie’s. From the vacant, haunted stare to the green iris’ flecked with brown.
“No, Helen. Not again. Keep a hold of yourself. Remember Jamie. He’s just another little boy.”
“Mrs. Parr? This is Andrew.” The social worker’s words jerked Helen from her thoughts. A little boy with shaggy, dirty blond hair stood with the social worker, Susan. Helen and her husband Dean had agreed to take another foster child in. Helen hadn’t expected this…
“Stay focused, Helen. Just show take them upstairs.” Helen knelt down to Andrew’s height. “Would you like to see your new bedroom?” He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look like he heard. Helen took his hand and began to lead him through the kitchen and up the steps. His cold hand sat limp in hers. Susan followed with his suitcase.
“There, Andrew, is your bed.” Helen said kindly. “Two other boys, a little older than you, sleep in the other one. We’ll put your clothes in that dresser over there. And here,” Helen walked over to a plastic bin. “…are some toys.” For a split second something flashed in Andrew’s eyes. He wordlessly pointed to a pistol on the top of the bin. “Do you want the pistol?” Helen asked. “ There is a entire costume that goes with it.” Andrew didn’t reply, but Helen retrieved the costume and pistol and put it on Andrew. As she did, she noticed a big bruise on his arm.
Once they came back downstairs, Helen asked, “Do you want to go play outside, Andrew?” Once again he made no reply. Helen guided him out the back door into the lawn, where there was a swing set and three other children playing. As he went and sat down under a oak tree, Helen sighed. “How are you supposed to take care of a child that won’t talk?” Looking at Susan, Helen asked, “ Is there anything else you can tell me about Andrew that isn’t in his file?”
“Not much. He was severely abused, but you already know that. We are in the middle of terminating his parent’s rights.”
“Have you ever heard him talk?”
Susan shook her head. “I’ve never heard him make a sound.” For once her eyes softened. I”I don’t know how you do it. It’s hard enough for me to read the reports and be responsible for placements. I could never take care of these kids day after day like you do.”
Helen was surprised. Susan never really talked all that much, especially about personal things. “Well, it takes a lot of prayer, and even then, it’s pretty tough.”
Susan just shook her head. “Well, good luck,” Susan said as she started heading to the door.
“Thanks,” Helen replied as she followed Susan to the door. “Have a great day.”
“You too.”As Helen went and sat down at the table she couldn’t stop the flood of memories. Jamie was six when he came to her and Dean. “Mom, look at me!” He lived to climb trees. Especially the one Andrew was sitting under… Until… “Mom, why do I have to leave? Why can’t I say here forever? Don’t you want me?”
“No, Jamie, dad and I love you very much. Don’t ever forget that!” Tears stung her eyes, just like they did that day. “The state decided you need to go back to your parents.”
“I don’t want to! They hurt me! Can’t I just stay with you?” Jamie’s last look went straight to Helen’s heart. She couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face as she gave Jamie a long hug. The last one she would ever give him…
As the social worker drove away, something froze inside of Helen. She no longer allowed herself to love their foster children. She cared for them gently and tenderly, but never let herself go any further. Until Andrew. One look into his eyes and she was gone. “Get a hold of yourself! He is just another boy.” Try as she might Helen couldn’t keep her distance. The little boy under the oaks that wouldn’t talk and wore a cowboy costume had stolen a piece of her heart forever.
That evening after dinner, Dean asked, “So, what do you think of Andrew, Helen?”
Helen sighed. “He’s…well, he’s so much like Jamie.”
“Oh, honey,” Dean put his arm around Helen. They sat there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. “Are you going to be able to handle this?”
“I think so,” Helen’s voice started to quiver. “What if they take him back to his parents like Jamie? Have you read his file? His parents were brutes!” Helen was crying now.
“Shh, Helen,” Dean rubbed her back. Slowly, her tears began to stop and her sobs grew farther apart. “We can’t live in fear of what might happen. It is all in the hands of God.”
“I know, Dean. But, it’s so hard!”
Just then her eyes wandered to a picture they had on the wall. I was a photograph of a forest glade, with a tranquil stream running through. Printed over it, were the words, “…Perfect love casts out fear…” Whenever Helen saw this verse, it made her think of how foster kids often came to them; full of fear and often times anger. The only thing that helped them was to know that they were loved, even when they didn’t seem to want to be. Something Helen hadn’t been very good at lately. The rest of the verse came to mind, “He that feareth has not yet been perfected in love.”
She knew it was specifically talking about fear of judgment, but she though it fit well here too. Right then she prayed silently, “God, forgive me for not loving others how I should, and for not trusting you. Please help me to love these kids and to trust YOU with their futures.”
While all this was running through Helen’s mind, Dean was sitting there thinking as well. “Should I have not agreed to take in Andrew? Are all these kids too much for Helen?” These torturous thoughts were soon quieted by the peaceful expression that stole over Helen’s face. Wondering at the cause of it Dean asked, “Are you okay?”
With a small smile, Helen replied, “I’m better than I’ve been in a while. I need to trust in God’s love for these children. Do you want to pray with me?”
In response, Dean just smiled. Right there at the couch, they both knelt, hand in hand, and prayed for strength, trust, love, and most of all, for all the children in their home. With that they rose, turned off the lights, and headed upstairs.Hey Jada, I liked it! Well done— only one thing I would suggest. Seeing as Andrew is pretty central to the story, I would have liked a little more of him in there. As it is, he’s not really woven irreplaceably into the cloth of the story. If you took him out, the story would still have meaning in and of itself. Helen and Dean could be having this conversation anytime, under any circumstances— Andrew doesn’t really matter except as the inciting incident, which could just as easily have been something or someone else. That’s not good. You want to find a way to make this story about all three of them— Helen, Dean, and Andrew.
But still, unique angle you took on the prompt! I’m afraid I wasn’t able to get past the ‘cowboy factor’. 😛
Great story, Jada! It would definitely be a good start for something bigger if you wanted to. 🙂
Something I’d fix, you have her thoughts at the beginning in italics and quotation marks. I think only the italics are really needed here.
Enjoyed reading it!
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