a moment later.
Harper nodded.
* * *
As bone-tired as she was upon entering his suite, Harper knew that Jacob was exponentially so. She encouraged him to take a shower and she’d call Lisa to see if food could be sent up. He insisted he didn’t want anything. While he was in the shower, however, Harper did contact Lisa and request that some tea, water, and a light meal be sent up, just in case Jacob changed his mind.
Harper took a quick shower after him, slipping into the soft robe. When she left the bathroom, she paused in the open doorway. Jacob sat on the sofa in the seating area of his suite. He wore a pair of black pajama bottoms. The soft lamplight gilded the tanned skin of his ridged abdomen and muscular arms. She saw a red and white shoebox in his lap. The lid lay on the cushion next to him. As she neared him, she saw that the shoebox was old: a Converse All Stars. He stared fixedly at a piece of folded notebook paper.
“Jacob?” she asked softly.
He looked up at her, his gaze unfocused, like he’d been miles away. Slowly, his stare sharpened on her.
“Come here,” he said, scooting aside the lid of the shoebox and patting the cushion.
She came down next to him.
“Better late than never?”
She blinked at his wry question, confused. She looked down at the box and saw several dozen envelopes, each with
Return to Sender
marked on the front in a bold hand.
A tremor went through her.
Oh God
. Was that her father’s writing?
She picked up the piece of paper he’d been reading, squinting to read the handwritten note penned in blue ink.
Harper,
It’s almost Christmas, and I’m worried. Two of my letters to you have come back to me. Others might have been returned, too, but I’ve moved twice in the past couple of months, and I might have missed them. I’m starting to think I copied down your address wrong, but you were right next to me in the courthouse that day. (Remember, your dad looked mad because we were sitting so close?) Anyway, since you were right there, I think you would have noticed if I got the address wrong. I want to try and call, but the Stevensons—my new foster family—don’t have a lot of money, and I think I’d get in trouble if I tried to call long-distance. I’ll try to save up my lunch money and call on Christmas Eve.
I’m living in Charleston now, so I’m including my new address. I’m not sure if you’ve been getting my letters or not, but just in case you haven’t . . . Grandma Rose died last October. I told you it in another letter, so I won’t go on about it again here.
The family I’m with has three other foster kids, one older than me and two younger. The littlest one is four. Her name is Abbi, and she likes me for some reason. She doesn’t really talk, just cries and grunts a lot. I think she had it really rough before she came here. She said “Jake” the other day while we were playing with her ball in the driveway, though. Judy, my foster mom, was all excited. She told me Abbi had never said a full word before, but I think she just said that to make me feel good. Judy is pretty nice, but my placement here is just temporary so I’m trying not to get too close. I think Judy and Bob (that’s her husband’s name) might adopt Abbi, though, so that’s good.
My caseworker told me that there might be a couple that lives nearby that might take me in permanently. Adoption services calls me a “special” kid—ha—because I’m so old, and no one really wants older kids, let alone a thirteen-almost-fourteen-year-old. But Miranda says this couple is “special” as well, because they’re old, too, like grandparents instead of parents.
Charleston is okay. The library is tons bigger than the one in Poplar Gorge. They’ve got computers I can use, and I’ve been spending a lot of time on them after school. Oh yeah, I checked out The Lord of the Rings yesterday. I’m already to the part where Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin get to Bree. You were
Harper nodded.
* * *
As bone-tired as she was upon entering his suite, Harper knew that Jacob was exponentially so. She encouraged him to take a shower and she’d call Lisa to see if food could be sent up. He insisted he didn’t want anything. While he was in the shower, however, Harper did contact Lisa and request that some tea, water, and a light meal be sent up, just in case Jacob changed his mind.
Harper took a quick shower after him, slipping into the soft robe. When she left the bathroom, she paused in the open doorway. Jacob sat on the sofa in the seating area of his suite. He wore a pair of black pajama bottoms. The soft lamplight gilded the tanned skin of his ridged abdomen and muscular arms. She saw a red and white shoebox in his lap. The lid lay on the cushion next to him. As she neared him, she saw that the shoebox was old: a Converse All Stars. He stared fixedly at a piece of folded notebook paper.
“Jacob?” she asked softly.
He looked up at her, his gaze unfocused, like he’d been miles away. Slowly, his stare sharpened on her.
“Come here,” he said, scooting aside the lid of the shoebox and patting the cushion.
She came down next to him.
“Better late than never?”
She blinked at his wry question, confused. She looked down at the box and saw several dozen envelopes, each with
Return to Sender
marked on the front in a bold hand.
A tremor went through her.
Oh God
. Was that her father’s writing?
She picked up the piece of paper he’d been reading, squinting to read the handwritten note penned in blue ink.
Harper,
It’s almost Christmas, and I’m worried. Two of my letters to you have come back to me. Others might have been returned, too, but I’ve moved twice in the past couple of months, and I might have missed them. I’m starting to think I copied down your address wrong, but you were right next to me in the courthouse that day. (Remember, your dad looked mad because we were sitting so close?) Anyway, since you were right there, I think you would have noticed if I got the address wrong. I want to try and call, but the Stevensons—my new foster family—don’t have a lot of money, and I think I’d get in trouble if I tried to call long-distance. I’ll try to save up my lunch money and call on Christmas Eve.
I’m living in Charleston now, so I’m including my new address. I’m not sure if you’ve been getting my letters or not, but just in case you haven’t . . . Grandma Rose died last October. I told you it in another letter, so I won’t go on about it again here.
The family I’m with has three other foster kids, one older than me and two younger. The littlest one is four. Her name is Abbi, and she likes me for some reason. She doesn’t really talk, just cries and grunts a lot. I think she had it really rough before she came here. She said “Jake” the other day while we were playing with her ball in the driveway, though. Judy, my foster mom, was all excited. She told me Abbi had never said a full word before, but I think she just said that to make me feel good. Judy is pretty nice, but my placement here is just temporary so I’m trying not to get too close. I think Judy and Bob (that’s her husband’s name) might adopt Abbi, though, so that’s good.
My caseworker told me that there might be a couple that lives nearby that might take me in permanently. Adoption services calls me a “special” kid—ha—because I’m so old, and no one really wants older kids, let alone a thirteen-almost-fourteen-year-old. But Miranda says this couple is “special” as well, because they’re old, too, like grandparents instead of parents.
Charleston is okay. The library is tons bigger than the one in Poplar Gorge. They’ve got computers I can use, and I’ve been spending a lot of time on them after school. Oh yeah, I checked out The Lord of the Rings yesterday. I’m already to the part where Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin get to Bree. You were
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