The Christmas Hope(53)

“We can’t find a lawyer and we need one ASAP.”

“How fast?” she asked.

“Now.”

There was a brief pause. “Let me see what I can do.” She put me on hold and within a couple of minutes the phone clicked.

“This is Robert Layton.” I apologized for bothering Mr. Layton on vacation. I highlighted the story again: five-year-old orphan, mother killed in a car accident, legal guardianship rights. Could they be transferred?

“Is the brother alive?” Mr. Layton asked.

“We just met with him and he wants to sign over his guardianship rights to another couple.”

“And you need this done today?”

“I know it’s a stretch,” I said, “but we’re going to have to uproot this little girl again and—”

“It’s okay,” Mr. Layton said, stopping me. “I’m happy to help.” I gave Roy a thumbs-up. Mr. Layton was going to draft new paperwork and fax it to us for Randy’s signature. “Can you give me thirty minutes? I need to boot up my computer here at home.” I thought it would take him hours.

“Thirty minutes is great! Thank you, Mr. Layton. I hope you had a great Christmas.” I hung up and knew I’d never talk to that lawyer again. I didn’t know anything about him: his age, if he was married with kids or grandkids, or what kind of man he was, but I wondered if he would ever know what he had done or how he had helped. God can use anybody or anything, the minister had said so many Christmases ago. Don’t ever underestimate who or what He’ll use to get something done. We drove to an office supply store and waited for the fax. The cover page had my name and the words “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!!” It was turning out that both of those were ringing true.

Roy and I drove back to Randy’s apartment and knocked several times before he answered. He’d been sleeping again. Poor guy. I know he was glad to see us leave once and for all. We got back in the car and Roy dialed Lynn McSwain’s number.

“He’s not going to be available the day after Christmas,” I said.

“He’s the supervisor,” Roy said. “That’s what supervisors do. They make themselves available on any day at any … Hello, Lynn,” he said, glancing at me. “Patricia and I need to talk to you about something … . No, we need to do it today.” I closed my eyes. I knew Lynn had a house full of relatives and he was going to try to put us off till later in the week. “We can be there in an hour and thirty minutes.” Roy drove and this time we made the two-hour trip in a little over an hour.

We pulled into Lynn’s driveway and I grabbed Roy’s arm. I felt nervous and sick. “This is impossible,” I said.

He patted my hand. “Keep things in perspective,” he said. “This isn’t impossible. Finding good cell service is impossible.” Lynn opened the door before we knocked and we said hello to sons and daughters and grandchildren of all ages. Lynn led us into a small office and closed the door.

“What’s up?” I didn’t even know where to start but I told him about picking Emily up and taking her to Wesley House only to turn around and drive to our house instead. He held on to the ankle that was crossed over his knee and leaned on the desk, listening. He didn’t interrupt; Lynn had always been a good listener. He didn’t pull out papers to write me up for having a child at my house for five days, although I know the thought had to be in his mind. He remained quiet till I finished and then leaned back in his chair, pressing his hands together. “So this man is the child’s uncle and legal guardian?” He held the papers in front of him.

I nodded.

“But you didn’t know that?”

“I asked if he could take Emily but apparently I didn’t ask if he was the legal guardian.”

He was quiet again. He’d talk with me about how to do my job at another time. At that time he might even write me up for improper conduct and risking the life of a child by bringing her into my home. It was within his right to do it and I was sure he would.

“It was a mistake,” Roy said. “But sometimes mistakes are good.”

Lynn glanced at Roy and Roy stopped talking.

“So Randall Weist cannot take the child but will grant legal guardianship to someone who can take her in until she’s adopted?”

“That’s right,” I said.

“Are the people Randall has in mind relatives of the child?”

“No, but they care for her very much.”

“Have you been to the home?”

“Yes, I have. It’s a lovely home with a big backyard and a dog that’s crazy about Emily. The parents would provide a loving, stable home for her.”