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“She means Achilles,” Mary explained, as she sat on Zoe’s other side.
“Then you should’vedefinitelycalled me,” Tommie grumbled.
Jazzy dropped on the recliner next to the TV. “What, no hug for Aunt Jazzy?”
Another squeal and Zoe launched herself at Jazzy. “Do you want to see a movie with us today? We can have ice cream later. Or chocolate chip cookies. Or both.” She sounded hopeful.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Jazzy said, looking at Mary over Zoe’s head.
Mary shut down the TV and took a deep breath. “Zoe, can you please come here? I need to tell you something.”
It was as if the little girl sensed her anxiety, because she frowned and plopped herself down between Mary and Tommie.
So, Mary started talking. She clutched onto Zoe’s hand, happy to see that Tommie had done the same, and broke the news.
The little girl was eerily silent at first. Then the tears started streaming down her cheeks.
“Did Britney go to the angels, like mommy?”
“Yes, baby girl. She went to Heaven to be with the angels.”
Silence. More tears followed until Zoe hiccupped. “Will the angels take me there too?”
“Not until you’re a really old lady,” Tommie chimed in. “You know, when your hair is gray, and you walk with a stick.”
Zoe’s eyes turned back to her. “And you? They can’t have you!” Little arms swung around Mary’s neck.
She slowly stroked Zoe’s back. “No, baby girl. I’m staying right here with you.”
Life had no guarantees, but right now, Zoe needed one.
As Mary comforted Zoe, who was now sobbing against her chest, she thought about Britney.
There had always been this pain surrounding her. This urgency to break free from the demons that haunted her. Britney had often told her that she couldn’t handle living in this world. A world in which her abuser still roamed the streets freely. A world in which she still felt the cigarette burns on her skin when she woke up. Mary hoped that Britney had finally found the peace she had been looking for.
They sat for about an hour when the doorbell rang. Mary looked up, surprised. She handed Zoe over to Tommie and went for the door.
There was a woman standing there, in a stiff, gray suit.
“Mrs. Rossi? Mary Rossi?”
“It’sMs.actually, but yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Clara Wilson from the Department of Social Services. I was told Zoe is staying with you.”
Immediately, a cold lump of ice settled in her stomach. “What’s this about?” Of course, she knew what it was about. She knew all too well. She’d just believed that she would have more time. Time to find a way to keep Zoe with her.
Judging by Mrs. Wilson’s face, her time was up.
“Are you a relative?” she asked.
“I’m her godmother.”
The woman scrambled to look for something on her notebook. “But not a blood relative?”
Mary didn’t like the sound of where this was going. “No. But Zoe doesn’t have any blood relatives. At least none that she has any contact with. I’m the closest she has to family. I’ve been taking care of Zoe for years.”
A look of sympathy crossed the woman’s face. “I understand where you’re coming from and what you are trying to tell me, but I can’t let Zoe stay with you. Our protocol dictates that—”