When We Found Home(48)

Hanna gave her the name and the address, along with the safe phrase that would allow Noah to be released into her care.

“They’ll need to see ID,” Hanna told her.

“Not a problem.” Callie didn’t have a driver’s license, but she did have a state-issued ID. “I’ll call you as soon as I have him, then again when he’s settled.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate this. I’ll owe you forever.”

Callie hoped that meant the other woman would be forgiving when she found out the truth. A problem for later, she told herself as she searched out her supervisor.

Vern, a barrel-chested guy in his fifties, listened while she explained that she had to go help a friend.

“I’m happy to stay late and make up any time I miss,” Callie said. “I know I’m new and it’s asking a lot, but—”

Vern adjusted his baseball cap. “Don’t sweat it, Callie. I have kids. Four girls, if you can believe it. I know all about them getting sick. Go help your friend, then make up the time. It’s all good.”

“Thank you.”

She hurried out and requested a car. Two minutes later, it pulled up in front of the warehouse.

They drove north. Callie tried to pay attention—her driving instructor wanted her to learn her way around the city—but she got mentally lost as soon as they exited the freeway.

When the driver pulled up in front of the school, she hurried inside. After showing her ID, she said, “Mariners rule.” The receptionist grinned at her.

“They do, but my computer tells me that’s the secret phrase, so you’re good to go. Let me have the nurse bring Noah out to you.”

The ten-year-old was pale, shaking and smelled of vomit. When he saw Callie, he started to cry.

“I want to go home.”

“Of course you do. Come on, let’s get you there right now.”

She led him back to the car and held him all the drive. He stopped crying after a few minutes, then moaned. Callie made a quick call to Hanna to let her know she was on her way with Noah.

“My stomach hurts,” Noah said. “I’m going to throw up again.”

The driver met her gaze in the rearview mirror. Callie pointed to the street.

“Right here, then third house on the left. Hang on, Noah, we’re nearly there.”

She got him out of the car where he promptly threw up on the lawn. When he could walk again, they made their way up the front steps. Noah gave her the code to open the door and they went into the house.

She let him lead the way to his bedroom. Once there, she pulled back the covers, then got out his pajamas.

“I’m going to step out of the room,” she told the boy. “You get changed. I’ll take your clothes to the laundry while you get into bed.”

More tears filled his eyes. “Don’t go, Callie.”

“I’m going to be right in the hallway. I’ll talk to you the whole time.” No way she was staying in the room while he got undressed. Her crime had nothing to do with children, but she didn’t want any misunderstandings.

She knew she was probably overreacting, but she couldn’t help herself. Everything about the situation made her uncomfortable. She barely knew these people and there was no way they would understand.

She stepped into the hallway. “Where does your mom keep the thermometer?” she asked through the closed door.

“In the hallway closet.”

“Great. I’ll get it and we can see what’s going on.”

They talked for another minute then Noah said he was changed. She went back into the room and got him into bed.

His face was flushed and his skin was clammy. The kid obviously had a fever, so a bug rather than food poisoning, she thought. Maybe some kind of stomach flu.

She found the thermometer. It was the kind she could run across his forehead. His temperature was 101. She knew that was higher than normal but wasn’t sure if it was just a little bad or if it was very, very bad.

“Your mom said there was ginger ale in the refrigerator. Why don’t I get a little and we’ll see if you can sip that? It might make you feel better.”

Noah nodded listlessly.

Callie grabbed the clothes and hurried out of the room. She put his things on the washer before heading downstairs to the kitchen where she found the soda and poured some over ice. She was shaking a little herself, but her reaction had nothing to do with being sick—instead she was terrified that Noah was worse off than she realized. When that was added to her general worry, it was not a happy combination.

She got back in time for Noah to throw up again. He managed to avoid himself but totally got the sheets. He started to cry again.

She got him out of bed and onto the window seat, then wrapped his comforter around him. He huddled there while she changed the sheets. She got him back into bed and handed him the drink. He took a sip. They both waited for a second, then he took a second one.

“That’s really good,” he said. “But I’ll drink slow.”

“I think that’s smart. Let me get rid of the sheets. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t be long.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

She ran downstairs, dumped the sheets on the washer, then hurried back only to find Noah had set the glass on his nightstand and was now asleep. She watched him for a few seconds before backing out of the room. She would wait at the top of the stairs—that way she could hear him if he woke up.

What seemed like hours later but was probably less than twenty minutes, the front door opened and Santiago’s mother raced into the house. Callie went downstairs to greet her.

“How is he?” Enriqua asked.

“Sleeping. I checked on him five minutes ago and he’s still asleep. He’s thrown up twice since I picked him up. Once outside and again in his bed. I changed the sheets and put the dirty ones on the washer.”

Callie wrung her hands together. “When I picked him up at school, I used the safe word, then we took an Uber here because I don’t have my license yet. You can verify the trip with the driver. When we got here, Noah changed into his pajamas while I waited out in the hall. I wasn’t in his room with him at all.”

She knew she was talking too fast, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her eyes began to burn.

“I took his temperature and it’s 101. I don’t know how bad that is.”

“It’s not too high,” Enriqua assured her. “We’ll monitor him. I’m sure he’ll bounce back quickly. You’re the one I’m worried about. What’s wrong, Callie? You seem upset.”

“I know. I’m sorry it was me. I mean I want to help but it shouldn’t have been me.”

Santiago’s mother shook her head. “Why would you say that? Callie, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s not anything, except it’s everything and I never wanted you to know or not like me anymore. Not that I’m saying you like me now, it’s just your family is so nice and Santiago is, well, you know what he’s like and I didn’t mean...”

Enriqua’s eyes were kind as she touched Callie’s arm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Callie swallowed against the rising bile in her throat. “I’m a convicted felon. I served nearly six years in Oklahoma.” Callie quickly explained the circumstances and how she’d moved to Texas when she got out and was allowed to leave the state.

“I never did anything like that again. I’m not a bad person. I just want to start over and be normal.”

Enriqua’s expression was impossible to read. “How long have you been out?” she asked.

“Three years.” She felt tears in her eyes.

No! She didn’t cry—she couldn’t be weak. She couldn’t. Only suddenly she couldn’t stop them.

Without thinking, she turned and ran. Ran from the wonderful woman in front of her, ran from the house, ran from what could have been with Santiago. She ran until she couldn’t take another step, then she sat on the curb and gave in to the tears.

* * *

Callie worked an extra hour to make up for some of the time she’d been gone. Vern had told her to make up the second hour tomorrow. She would have argued but she was so exhausted, she could barely function. She took the bus home and once in the house, she went upstairs.

It was Tuesday so Keira was eating out with Malcolm before he took her to her therapy session. Carmen had taken Grandfather Alberto to a dinner with some old friends of his. She had the house to herself—something for which she could be grateful.

After checking on Lizzy, who was sleeping in the center of Keira’s bed, Callie retreated to her own room where she stood for several minutes, trying to decide what to do. No, that wasn’t true. She was trying to figure out if Santiago knew yet or not. Because it was just a matter of time until his mother told him. Until she told the whole family.

She twisted her fingers together and tried to ignore her growing sense of dread as she admitted she was going to lose them all. Not that she knew Hanna and the kids all that well, but still, she’d liked them. And his mother was so warm and friendly and she always made Callie feel special. What would Paulo do? Would he tell everyone at the warehouse? What would people say when they found out the truth about her?