her chair around, then said to Jake, “Follow me.”
Jake followed the deputy inside and looked around. The house was old, the furnishings just as old, but everything looked clean and comfortable. From somewhere overhead, he heard children’s voices. Happy children’s voices.
In the old-fashioned kitchen, introductions were made. Jake set his duffels down and was about to shake hands with the woman in the wheelchair when he saw her swollen, disfigured hands. She smiled and said, “I’m sorry.”
The words just flew out of Jake’s mouth. “It looks painful. Is it?”
“Very,” Angelica said quietly.
“I’m Fancy, and yes, that’s my real legal name,” Fancy said, a touch of defiance ringing in her voice. Suddenly, she wished she’d taken a few more minutes with her hair and maybe used some of the concealer makeup she used for special occasions. Vanity, thy name is woman. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone so good-looking staring at her. Or at her scar. Normally, the stares didn’t bother her, but she had to fight the urge not to bring her hand up to cover the ugly blemish on her face.
The deputy handed Fancy a clipboard. “Just sign at the bottom, Ms. Dancer. It just says I am releasing Mr. St. Cloud into your custody.” He almost said he’s your problem now , but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded to the two women, then turned and walked away.
The silence was awkward. And then it was pandemonium as a gaggle of kids of all ages whooped through the house. Fancy sighed. “Welcome to the Dancer Foundation, Mr. St. Cloud. If you don’t mind, why don’t you go outside and walk around until we get breakfast out of the way. I’m sorry we aren’t more prepared for you, but Judge Broussard caught us off guard yesterday. We’ve never had a live-in volunteer before so we... Just go outside. We’ll call you after breakfast.”
Jake looked at the kids who were swarming all over the place, some big, some little, some in-between. And then the dogs started barking and the cats were hissing and the kids were laughing and giggling. “If you tell me where I’m bunking, I’ll take my bags there.”
“Well, you see, Mr. St. Cloud, that’s the problem. We don’t have a place—a room for you. My mother thought... thinks you can sleep in one of the schoolrooms. We’re going to try to find you a cot, but you might have to use a sleeping bag. And, of course, there is no shower in that building, so you’ll have to do all that over here in one of our bathrooms.”
“Well now, you see, Ms. Dancer, that isn’t going to work for me. I require a certain amount of space, even if it is a small space. Nothing was said about accommodations other than that I may not use my own funds to improve their quality; therefore, I think I have the right to assume I’d get the equivalent space and bunk as I would have in a jail. So, before we go any further on this, you need to call someone, and I’ll call my lawyer. I’m sure we can come to some kind of mutual understanding.”
Fancy copped an attitude right there on the spot, her face turning beet red. “It’s not like we had anything to say on the matter, Mr. St. Cloud. You were foisted on us. We did not ask for you or your help. Meaning you specifically. Furthermore, Mr. St. Cloud, I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.”
Foisted? As other volunteers arrived to get the day under way, Jake bristled as he tried to control his temper. The kids were jabbering and poking each other as they jostled for the first shift at the table in the dining room. Angelica Dancer looked as if she was going to cry. Not so her daughter; Fancy Dancer looked as though she were going to chew nails and spit rust.
“Just go outside, and we’ll deal with this when breakfast is over,” Fancy said through clenched teeth.
Outside, Jake dropped his duffels on the back porch. He walked down the steps and around the yard until he found a place to sit
Jake followed the deputy inside and looked around. The house was old, the furnishings just as old, but everything looked clean and comfortable. From somewhere overhead, he heard children’s voices. Happy children’s voices.
In the old-fashioned kitchen, introductions were made. Jake set his duffels down and was about to shake hands with the woman in the wheelchair when he saw her swollen, disfigured hands. She smiled and said, “I’m sorry.”
The words just flew out of Jake’s mouth. “It looks painful. Is it?”
“Very,” Angelica said quietly.
“I’m Fancy, and yes, that’s my real legal name,” Fancy said, a touch of defiance ringing in her voice. Suddenly, she wished she’d taken a few more minutes with her hair and maybe used some of the concealer makeup she used for special occasions. Vanity, thy name is woman. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone so good-looking staring at her. Or at her scar. Normally, the stares didn’t bother her, but she had to fight the urge not to bring her hand up to cover the ugly blemish on her face.
The deputy handed Fancy a clipboard. “Just sign at the bottom, Ms. Dancer. It just says I am releasing Mr. St. Cloud into your custody.” He almost said he’s your problem now , but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded to the two women, then turned and walked away.
The silence was awkward. And then it was pandemonium as a gaggle of kids of all ages whooped through the house. Fancy sighed. “Welcome to the Dancer Foundation, Mr. St. Cloud. If you don’t mind, why don’t you go outside and walk around until we get breakfast out of the way. I’m sorry we aren’t more prepared for you, but Judge Broussard caught us off guard yesterday. We’ve never had a live-in volunteer before so we... Just go outside. We’ll call you after breakfast.”
Jake looked at the kids who were swarming all over the place, some big, some little, some in-between. And then the dogs started barking and the cats were hissing and the kids were laughing and giggling. “If you tell me where I’m bunking, I’ll take my bags there.”
“Well, you see, Mr. St. Cloud, that’s the problem. We don’t have a place—a room for you. My mother thought... thinks you can sleep in one of the schoolrooms. We’re going to try to find you a cot, but you might have to use a sleeping bag. And, of course, there is no shower in that building, so you’ll have to do all that over here in one of our bathrooms.”
“Well now, you see, Ms. Dancer, that isn’t going to work for me. I require a certain amount of space, even if it is a small space. Nothing was said about accommodations other than that I may not use my own funds to improve their quality; therefore, I think I have the right to assume I’d get the equivalent space and bunk as I would have in a jail. So, before we go any further on this, you need to call someone, and I’ll call my lawyer. I’m sure we can come to some kind of mutual understanding.”
Fancy copped an attitude right there on the spot, her face turning beet red. “It’s not like we had anything to say on the matter, Mr. St. Cloud. You were foisted on us. We did not ask for you or your help. Meaning you specifically. Furthermore, Mr. St. Cloud, I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.”
Foisted? As other volunteers arrived to get the day under way, Jake bristled as he tried to control his temper. The kids were jabbering and poking each other as they jostled for the first shift at the table in the dining room. Angelica Dancer looked as if she was going to cry. Not so her daughter; Fancy Dancer looked as though she were going to chew nails and spit rust.
“Just go outside, and we’ll deal with this when breakfast is over,” Fancy said through clenched teeth.
Outside, Jake dropped his duffels on the back porch. He walked down the steps and around the yard until he found a place to sit
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