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“Yes.” Doyle let out a sigh, nodded. “I know you heard the rumors that a few of the donors have inquired about adoption. Do not ask them. And remember, you are already loved, by the staff here and by your Father in heaven. Maybe some of you will go to new homes. But others might stay, and that is exactly where you’re supposed to be. And to be fair, I’d miss you all terribly.”
He got a smile from Gabriella, who stood back, one arm clutched to her elbow, a wary expression in her eyes.
Tia’s words about sending some of the older teens to university pinged inside him. She might be exactly?—
“What if they want one of us and not the other?” Kemar asked, his arm around Jamal’s neck, his eyes hard on Doyle’s.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves?—”
“Ain’t nobody taking Jamal.” Kemar found his feet.
Doyle held up a hand. “Nobody is taking anyone. This is your choice too, Kemar. You say no and it’s done. But...” He drew in a breath. “You might consider that families matter?—”
“We have a family!” This from Jaden, who glanced at Kemar.
“Yes. But some of these people need a child like... well, like you, Elias, to love.”
Elias lifted a shoulder, looked away.
“Let’s just go to the party, and please—be on your best behavior, okay?” Doyle stood up and set the chair back at the table.
“Like you were down at the docks?” Again, Kemar, and Doyle frowned.
Kemar surveyed the group. “I heard that Mr. D went all beast mode against the S-7 crew. Grabbed the X-ray machine right out of their hands, bam! Took them down!” He’d stood up, made a few hand gestures.
Aw.Doyle held up a hand. “I did nottake anyone down, Kemar. I...” All eyes were on him. “I... um, persuaded them to work with me.”
Shoot.Sort of a lie. Sort of not.
“That’s the way to do it. ‘Persuade.’” Kemar finger quoted the words. He grinned at Doyle, held up his fist. “That’s savage, Mr. D. Don’t let nobody tell you what you can’t do. C’mon, Jamal. Let’s go eat something.”
Jamal scooted off the desk he sat on and followed Kemar out the door.
Taj came up to Doyle. “Sorry, man. I should have shut that down. I heard one of the guards talking to Kemar and Jaden a couple days ago. Clearly the story got bigger.”
Not much,but Doyle nodded. “It was more God’s providence than anything.”
“Heard you traded your sweet wrist candy to liberate Mr. X-ray. Tragic.”
“It’s okay, Taj.” He had liked the watch—his sister Austen had given it to him last Christmas. “I had to think of something.”
“Betcha Miss Tia was happy.” Taj winked, walked out the door.
Not that he could tell. Seemed like she wanted to wallop him. At least, five minutesafterthe look of terror.
He followed Taj out of the room into the glittery evening. A local band played soca music, a blend of soul and calypso, the energy smooth and infectious as it lifted around the courtyard. Twinkle lights hung along the upper-floor balustrades, and in the center of the yard, food tables held the best of Hope House’s kitchen—roti, flatbread filled with curried vegetables; callaloo, leaves filled with coconut milk and crab patties; baked pasta shells with spicy seasoned meat; and of course, conch fritters. And the nuns had crafted a batch of nonalcoholic rum punch.
Fire blazed in floating containers in the fountain, and guests strolled through the front gate, greeted by Andre and the female residence director, a twenty-something woman named Anita.
Most of the guests wore flip-flops or sandals, some in bright island colors, others in fancy summer dresses, most of them talking in their own groups. Doyle had the sense that many of them already knew each other before they walked in the doors.
His gaze found Tia and stuck there. She wore her dark brown hair down in a loose braid, the wind twining a few fallen tendrils through its fingers. Her white cottage-style dress showed off her tan, and she wore it off the shoulder, with puffy sleeves and hem ruffles that fell just above her toes, which poked out from the bottom.
One of the little girls came up and gave her a side hug. Tia grinned down at her, said something that made the little girl laugh.
He shouldn’t be so hard on her. Tia cared about their well-being. She simply did it in a different way.
By the time he made it downstairs, she stood by the hors d’oeuvres table with a tiny square plate, adding conch fritters and grilled shrimp on a skewer.